Chapter 3:
Author's Note: Again with the writer's block, darn my muse. Anyway, thanks to all those who reviewed, but um, (cough), I could do with a few more. If that's not a hint I don't know what is.
Disclaimer: No, I don't own them.

~*~

Sarah held him for a long time, letting the young officer weep into her collar. For once the Witchblade wasn't sending her any signals, any helpful clues. Hell, it wasn't even sending her any jumbled clues. But the fact was that Jake was hurting, and even Sarah didn't need the Witchblade to tell her that.

Sarah remained uncharacteristically silent and comforting, and after a few minutes Jake ceased. He seemed to remember himself then, pulling quickly away from Sarah as if embarrassed. "I'm sorry Pez," he mumbled, swiping angrily at the eyes that had betrayed him.

"For what?"

"For letting this all down on you. It's not your thing."

"Jake please, you're my partner and I know something is up with you. I mean let's face it, that much is obvious, what I care about is why?" She touched his shoulder in a friendly, comforting sort of way, even though the gesture felt alien to her.

"You've never cared before," Jake mumbled quietly, but Pezzini still heard. The words stung a little, even though they were true. She never before had cared, in fact, she'd done her best to stay detached from her new partner. She didn't want another Danny. She couldn't take another Danny.

"Well rookie I'm here now, and I'm listening. I know myself well enough to know that that's a fair rare combination. So let's hear it. What is it about this case that bothers you so much?" That was a fair question, but then she thought of a better one. Who is Rebecca Jake?"

The blonde man sniffed. He leaned back against the plush cushions of the sofa, raising his eyes to the ceiling. He shut them tight as if in pain, his face screwing up in a wince. "Rebecca is my sister."

"Jake, I didn't realize you have a sister."

"I don't," he corrected himself quickly, which only confused Pez more. "I did. I used to. But not anymore."

"Wait, so you had a sister? Ok, I'm a little confused here."

"She's dead Pez. She's been dead for seven years." He began to tap his foot incessantly against the ground. "And this case.... Everything about this case reminds me of her. Every time I try to shut my eyes I see her, feel her. And it's killing me."

Sarah saw the tears pool in his eyes again. He drew in a deep, shuddering breath, reining in a control of his emotions. He paused for a few moments, as if gathering his thoughts. "Did I ever tell you why I decided to become a cop in the first place Sarah?"

She shrugged. "Sure. You were a surfer, but you took a real bad fall off a wave and had to retire. You've told that story, may I add in far more detail, to everyone in the precinct."

"Yeah well, I lied." That statement of truth was enough to get her attention. "Rebecca is the reason I became a cop. She's the reason I reevaluated my entire life. If not for her, I might still be some beach bum. I was eighteen, and very close to a contract to becoming a professional surfer. All I had to do was win one event down in Hawaii. Just one. It was the summer after my senior year and I was so pumped to be going on tour. So pumped...." The glazed over look returned to his eyes. He was going back again, to that time in his life where everything made sense to him. A small grin played at the corners of his lips. "Becca would be eighteen now you know. Looking at nice colleges no doubt. She was so smart."

It was odd to see him like this. He was suspended in a state between misery and happiness, wavering between both like a ghost. "It was the day before finals when I got the call. My mom. I didn't want to take it in the first place, but I did. She said that Becca was missing. I thought she was just panicking you know? I said some things to calm her down that I really didn't mean, because I was too focused on my run. I figured she'd come back. And while I surfed my way to a sponsorship," his voice caught in his throat, "my little eleven year old sister was being raped and murdered. They found her two days later, bludgeoned to death in an alleyway. I was in Cancun."

Sarah felt a pang. She felt for him, honestly felt for him. There was no Blade forcing his emotions into her body. She honestly, genuinely sympathized. The only problem was, that she wasn't sure exactly how to respond. "It wasn't you fault Jake. You were thousands of miles away."

Jake jumped up from the couch. "Exactly! I was thousands of miles away, having fun, while my sister was being tortured. I should have been at home, with my mom. I should have done something! And I mean something other than catching a wave. I got home the day of the funeral. It had to be a closed casket she was beaten so badly. Everyone was crying. There were little white rosebuds on everything, because they were her favorite. I got to see my sister be buried that day, but I never got the chance to say goodbye. That was the day I decided that no other family would have to go through that. So I quit the tour. That's why I'm a cop Sarah. Because I'm a lousy human being."

"Aww geeze McCarty, you're not a lousy human being. You were a kid. You were a kid who had his priorities messed up, but you got it all sorted out in the end. Now you're a fine officer and a good man who has saved many, many lives. Let's just make sure these kids are the next on that list huh?"

McCarty managed a weak smile. He sat back down on the couch, offering his hand for Pez to shake. "I'm with you there, partner." Sarah grasped his hand firmly in her own. And the Witchblade began to hum.

--

Bring......Bring..... bri..... "hello?" Sarah said sleepily into her cell phone. "This is Pez, make it good." Sarah blinked a few times, letting her eyes adjust to the dim light in the interior of Jake's apartment. They'd fallen asleep on his couch after sharing in a couple of beers the night before. At the present moment Jake was still asleep on the far end of the sofa, snoring softly and drooling into one of his pillows. A lock of his hair had fallen across his brow. Sarah rubbed at the crick in her neck and smiled. He looked so young, so innocent like that.

"Pez? It's Gabriele. I think I got some information on that artifact you brought over yesterday. Of course, I don't think you're gonna like it."

"I'll be right there. Don't move." She slowly stood from the couch, grabbing her leather jacket as she went. Her watch said that it was only five in the morning. She shouldn't have been surprised. Gabriele could get so wound up in something that he could forget just about everything else, including sleep.

--

The door to Gabe's little rattrap apartment was open when Pez came down the hallway. She hadn't needed to buzz, the front door never locked anyway. She just let herself in. She almost tripped over a large, ancient looking wood chest. Gabe was busy in front of his computer, his fingers flying across the keys.

"Shut the door," he said without looking up.

Pez complied, then moved over to stand behind Gabe. She leaned over his shoulder, her eyes narrowing as she viewed the picture on the screen. It was the same as the amulet she had brought to Gabe, but whole. It was the size of a man's fist. Four rays of twisting shot off from the green center stone, that even on the screen appeared to glow and move.

"What is it?" Sarah asked.

"it's an amulet," Gabe replied. "And it's old, probably as old as the Witchblade, if not older. This picture was taken in 1976, only two months before the Museum it was being displayed in was ransacked. The amulet was broken into three pieces, one of which, God knows why or how, you have in your possession now. Another piece is still on display in a private collection, and the last piece, the largest piece, is still missing."

Gabriele swiveled in his chair to face Pezzini. "But there's more. Legend has it, that this amulet has the power to give immortal life to the person it chooses worthy. But eternal life is not without it's sacrifices. The amulet derives it's power from the souls of the innocent. Of course, in granting life through the destruction of souls, your soul is condemned to eternal damnation. The last person who used it was killed a long time ago, by Joan of Arc no less." Gabriele wiggled his eyebrows and grinned. "So much for immortality."

Sarah wasn't smiling. Her lips were pressed so firmly together they almost disappeared. A muscle in her jaw twitched. "Hey Gabe, that computer wouldn't happen to tell you exactly who the amulet belonged to when the museum was ransacked, does it?"

"Funny you should ask," he turned back to the computer. "You know the guy after all. It belonged, heck, still belongs to the personal collection of one Kenneth Irons." he heard the door slam shut. "Sarah?" She was gone. She didn't really have to hear the answer, she already knew, Gabe just confirmed it.

Chapter 4

I am so royally stuck, and I am so sorry it has taken me this long. Please read and review.