The Angry Flame
By Divamercury
A friend pointed out to me that I am lacking in the romance department, so for all you Sara/Ian shippers (myself included), here's a little romance scene. Enjoy Chapter 4!
Chapter 4
"Good evening, Nottingham. Might I ask why you're here, although I'm pretty sure that I know the answer to that already," I said, lowering my gun. I had a feeling that he meant no threat.
"I wanted to speak to you, but you weren't home," Ian replied.
"So you just decided to let yourself in? Well, actually, that shouldn't surprise me because my personal privacy preferences haven't exactly stopped you in the past," I said, remembering all the times that I had come back to my house at night to find him there uninvited.
"Where were you? It's unusual for you to be out at this hour."
"It's none of your damn business where I was. In fact, my life is really none of your damn business. And besides, you wouldn't believe me if I told you where I've been tonight," I said, thinking about what his (or anyone else's) reaction would be if I told the truth.
"I'd like it to be my business, Sara."
Whoa. Ian called me simply Sara? That was weird.
"And why might that be?"
"I want to make sure that you remain safe. You are far too valuable to lose."
"Did your master tell you to be my babysitter? Because if he did, you can tell him I don't need one. I'm a big girl, Nottingham. I can look out for myself. And as for the valuable thing, well, that's a good one. Valuable to whom? Irons? Sorry, but that's not something I'd take as a compliment." I turned, heading for the kitchen. Somehow I ran into something and discovered it was Ian.
"How did you?" I tried to ask, glancing back at where he had been standing and where he was now. He could do things like that: catch bullets in his hands, appear out of nowhere (a skill he used quite often around me), and perform some other really unusual tasks. He wasn't your everyday guy. In fact, he wasn't even your everyday assassin.
"Sara" He couldn't finish his thought, and his eyes dropped to the floor. For some reason my eyes dropped as well, but I glanced down at the Witchblade as opposed to the hardwood planks. Previous to this, my counterpart had been resting in icy lethargy against my right wrist, and yet all of a sudden it came to life, burning into the skin at my wrist in anticipation of what Ian was about to do. It always had strange reactions to him, reactions that it never graced me with about anyone else, and this was merely one of them. I looked back up at him and his dark, almost bottomless hazel eyes locked with my green ones, which surprised me. He never looked me straight in the eye if he could avoid it.
"It's true that my master considers you valuable for his own selfish reasons, but you are valuable to the entire world in addition." And I could have sworn that he added almost inaudibly, "And to me as well," but I wasn't sure.
"Oh, right. The whole Sara must save the planet from evil' thing. Well, just let me make this clear, Ian. I live in New York City, and I save my little corner of the planet from evil by bringing down some of the sleaziest criminals ever imagined for committing unspeakable crimes to their fellow men and women, and I don't have a problem with this. Sometimes my stomach does, but that's not the point. However, it's a physical impossibility for me to save the entire planet from various evils anyway, not to mention I have a large collection of people after the Witchblade—and my own life—at different times. Even though I am the Wielder, and even though this—" I paused, holding up the arm on which the Witchblade rested, "—has awesome power, how come it doesn't let me use that power when I really need it? Riddle me that, Batman," I said, fingering the Batman Pez dispenser in my pocket that Jake had given me that morning. Had it been that morning? It felt like years ago. And did I just call Nottingham by his first name?
"Sara, the Witchblade trusts you. Trust it. Eventually it will open its secrets up to you, but they might not become as lucid as you want them to be immediately."
Typical cryptic Ian Nottingham response. You couldn't get a straight answer out of that man if you used a corkscrew. I voiced this thought next.
"How come no one in this town can ever give me a straight answer about this thing?" I asked angrily. Ian responded with silence, as was a habit of his.
"Fine. Listen, I'm going to bed. I've had enough of this conversation," I said, turning to go. Ian caught my wrist and turned me back around.
"Before we part, Lady Sara, please allow me to relieve my mind of something that has been nagging at it for quite a while," he said.
I cocked an eyebrow, confused. "Well, sure, whatever," I said somewhat indifferently.
"All right," he said, pulling me closer to him. Inwardly my heart was racing and my mind was reeling but outwardly I showed no emotion.
Oh, my God, is he going to do what I think he's going to do?' I asked myself.
He was, and he did. His ebony-gloved hand cupped my chin and brought it up to his. Our lips met, and the Witchblade went crazy. Without looking at it I knew that its stone was swirling madly at the connection between us. My mind was swirling about as quickly as the patterns of the stone. I had always thought that this was a complete impossibility, something buried deep in the back of the filing cabinet that was my mind under "Impossible Daydreams & Fantasies." I mean, what girl with two eyes and an imagination wouldn't think about Ian Nottingham like that? Well, maybe quite a few, since Ian didn't get out much. But any that knew he existed (like me) certainly wouldn't stop themselves from thinking that way.
The kiss lasted for what seemed like ages. Finally we broke apart and just like that, he was gone. One of his other talents: vanishing without warning.
I sat down on my bed, dazed, and remained like that for a few moments, and then flopped back on it, sighing. I smiled in spite of myself.
Wow. That was incredible,' I thought. Well, Sara, remember that, because I have a strong feeling that it won't ever happen again.'
