As requested, here's more of my personal take on Sara and Ian's friendship. Events occur about 2 or 3 weeks after Another Day. I'm not sure yet where this one is going, it sort of snuck up on me and landed in my head while I was checking on my e-mail earlier today. I am finding a lot of my stories happen like that. As always, please let me know what you think





Shadows flowed over him like a second skin as he graced the night with his presence. Every sense alert, he stalked through the darkness as if he and he alone owned the night, a dark angel full of grace and deadly beauty. Other, lesser predators scrambled clumsily out of his path, giving this Lord of Shadows wide berth on his nightly hunt. He ascended through the gloom towards the light, his goal, his beacon, knowing he would find his prey there, alone and defenseless against him.

He sighted her, his bright angel, as he alighted silently on the platform. The only barrier between them a single, fragile pane of glass. He paused for a moment to drink in her brightness, her beauty drawing him like a moth to a flame. Desire flowed through him, intoxicating him, calling the angel of darkness to this angel of light. She was as yet unaware of him as the barrier between them yielded easily to his skills and he made ready to enter when suddenly, this mighty predator of the night was brought low.

He sneezed. Twice. Violently.

It sent him careening backwards as he lost his footing and landed on his behind on her fire escape. Sara sprang up from the couch where she had been going through some paperwork and ran to the window, offering him a hand up. He took it with a sheepish grin and followed her back into the apartment, wincing slightly when he moved wrong and discovered bruised muscles.

"You okay, Ian," Sara asked, a bit concerned.

"The worst bruise is to my pride, Sara," he replied as he sat gingerly on her couch.

"I was getting worried. You're late."

"Last minute errand for Irons," Ian sighed, then breathed deeply. "Something smells good. What's for dinner?"

"Pork chops and mashed potatoes. One of the few things I can cook, and I hardly ever make it because it just doesn't work for one person. I was worried the pork chops would dry out."

"Dessert," Ian said, pulling a pint of Ben & Jerry's out from a coat pocket. "As requested, my lady."

"Thanks, Ian." Sara accepted his gift and popped it into the freezer. Ian helped dish up and soon they were sitting companionably at her small table.

"This is really good, Sara," Ian said earnestly.

"Oh, come on," Sara shot back. "You get gourmet meals from Irons' cook every day. This can't be as good a that."

"Yes, but he never adds the spice of friendship to his dishes," Ian replied.

"Ian, that's sweet." She sat back to regard him for a minute. It had only been a few weeks since they had agreed to be friends, after the Kingsman case, but she felt more at ease with him now than anyone else. She had only been this comfortable with Joe, her father, and Danny. Ian was helping her cope with the visions the Witchblade sent to her, his answers tangled in riddles less and less. She was able to get a good night's sleep more often because of it, something for which she was profoundly grateful. And now when Irons sent him to keep an eye on her, he did so in a manner that helped her, or when she wasn't working he was a companion. Tonight was one of many evenings they had shared lately, and she found that on the nights he wasn't with her she missed his company. Which brought her to her next confession.

"Ian," she began. He sensed something in her tone and laid down his fork to give her his undivided attention. "I just got word today that I have too much vacation time accrued, and Dante is making me take some of it. He's probably as sick of seeing me as I am of him. Starting a week from Monday I have an entire ten days off."

"What will you do, Sara?" Ian looked curious.

"I haven't decided," she admitted. "I don't really have the funds to travel, but I don't want to stick in town either. I was thinking of asking my cousin if I could stay at his condo in Puerto Vallarta."

"Mexico," Ian asked, shocked and dismayed. "So far away?"

"I've never been to Mexico, I'm sick of the cold, and I don't have any cousins in Florida."

"But," he was nearing panic. "Mexico?"

"Sure," she shrugged. "Why not?"

"It's so far away," he said.

"You said that already, Ian. Relax, I haven't made any plans yet. I just found out today. I may be stuck in the city anyway, if my cousin is using his condo. I can't afford both plane fare and a hotel, even if they are dirt-cheap in Mexico."

"Mexico…" Ian muttered, picked up his fork, and continued eating.

"It really bothers you to think I might go away on a vacation, doesn't it," she half-asked, half-demanded in that amused-irritated tone that Ian thought she should get patented, raising an eyebrow at him.

"How will I protect you when you are so far away, Sara," he asked, his voice almost pleading.

"I suppose you could get Irons to send you along to protect me," she mused, though not too seriously. "I bet you've never had a vacation before either."

"You would win that bet," Ian admitted, but he had a gleam in his eye. She may not have been serious about him coming along, but Ian was willing to bet if he presented it just right he could get Irons to send him anyway. He kept the idea percolating in the back of his mind as they watched a movie together, and then he took his leave of her. He stayed outside her window long enough to be sure she was settled in bed, then made his way back to the mansion to report in.

"And how is our fair Sara tonight, Ian" Irons asked. He was seated before his fireplace, the chessboard at his elbow, a glass of wine in his hand, the wolfhounds at his feet. He was every inch the sleek, regal king in his own environment. In any environment, really. Ian stood, head bowed, a few paces in front of him, giving his nightly report, much doctored. Irons would be furious with his growing friendship with Sara, Ian knew, so he left a few things out of his reports.

"She is well. I believe she is becoming used to the visions at last. She seems to be sleeping better."

"I have felt this as well," Irons replied. "She seems more…balanced of late."

"I have heard something that may interest you, Sir," Ian offered. "Captain Dante is making Sara take a mandatory vacation."

"Indeed?" Irons was interested. "Perhaps we should invite her to dinner."

"I believe she intends to leave town, Sir," Ian told his master, and Irons sat up suddenly.

"Leave town? Where to?"

"I heard Mexico mentioned, Sir, but as she has just found out she is taking this vacation I do not think her plans are set."

"Well," Irons mused, considering all the angles carefully. "Perhaps a vacation in a sunny clime would do our fair Sara some good. She works too hard. She is of no use to me if she burns herself out. You are to watch this situation closely, Ian."

Ian nodded his understanding and left the room quickly. He didn't want Irons to see the smile on his face. Irons had once told Ian that he knew not his master, but in some things Irons was all too predictable. Ian knew all it would take would be a concerned inquiry about the Witchblade's safety in a foreign country, and he would be dispatched to shadow Sara on her vacation. That is, if she actually got to go somewhere. He was trying to come up with a way to insure she got the trip she wanted as he drifted off into sleep.