Another installment, and thank you again for your encouragement, those of
you who review. It's been a long weekend, with lots of yard work and
basement remodeling, and that means lots of time to think things up while
my hands are busy doing things without needing all my brain. I hope the
results please you. Let me know. And for all of you just getting caught
back up after being gone to the convention, welcome back. I hope you had a
great time, and those of you who are over at Delphi better let us in on all
the juicy details!
Sara awoke fully refreshed the next morning to the wonderful smell of bacon frying. She pulled on a light robe over her gown and emerged from her room to find Ian, already showered and dressed, his still-damp hair slicked back out of his eyes, standing over a frying pan. He glanced at her as she padded into the kitchen area and peered over his shoulder. He had bacon going in one pan and freshly grated potatoes in another. The wonderful smell of garlic reached her and she smiled.
"It smells wonderful, Ian. What's in it?"
"Good morning, Sara," he smiled back, handing over a hot cup of coffee. "Onions and garlic and a few other odds and ends, like parsley. I hope you'll like it."
"A new recipe?"
"I asked Allyson to teach me as much as she could in the last few weeks. She has an amazing catalog of recipes she has either made up herself or modified to suit her."
"You really enjoy her company, don't you Ian," Sara said, sitting down at the table to watch Ian cook and sip her coffee.
"Not as much as I enjoy yours," he said, meeting her eyes for a long moment, then returning his attention to the bacon. Sara was quiet for a minute or so, drinking her coffee thoughtfully. She knew Ian had feelings for her, maybe even loved her, but she hadn't managed to untangle her own feelings yet. So, as usual, she pushed the problem aside and changed the subject.
"So, what was that dream you had that caused you to roll out of bed last night," she asked lightly. He glanced quickly at her, blushing slightly.
"It was nothing important, Sara."
"Were you battling in your sleep, Ian," she asked teasingly. He grinned suddenly.
"That depends on how you define battle," he said slyly. She caught his drift and it was her turn to blush.
"Ah, I see," she said, taking another sip of her coffee. He pulled the bacon and potatoes off the stove, split them up onto two plates, and brought them to the table. Sitting down across from Sara, he studied her while she began eating.
"Sara," he said hesitantly, "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."
"It's not your fault, Ian," Sara assured him. "I'm just trying to get things straightened out in my head."
"I don't mean to push you," he said softly.
"You're not," she said earnestly. "Your patience is incredible, Ian, really it is." She sighed. "I just don't know if I'm ready for the risk of a relationship."
"Why," he asked simply, and waited quietly while she thought about it.
"I…I've lost so many people I cared about. I don't know if I can go through that again."
"I understand, Sara," Ian said. "But do you want to close yourself off from ever knowing love again because of your fear?"
"No, not forever. It's just…" She paused, frustrated because she couldn't find the words to explain.
"You want someone who will outlast you," Ian guessed. "Someone who will be there for you until your last breath, and would never leave you."
"Yeah," she said softly. They were both silent for a minute, eating and thinking.
"Sara," Ian ventured. "I have the training to outlast you. And I will never leave you voluntarily."
"I know, Ian," she replied softly. "But what if I lose you, and it was because you were protecting me? Then I would be alone again, and it would be my fault you were gone."
"Not your fault, Sara," he said fiercely. "I make this choice freely, and you know I would die for you without hesitation, if that's what it came to." He took a deep breath, then continued in a calmer voice. "But I promise you I will do my best to live for you."
She stared at him, taken aback at his intensity, and she could see clearly in his eyes he meant every word. He had never spoken so plainly of his feelings for her. She had never had someone so devoted to her, either, and the thought was a little scary. She found her mind swirling in confusion, wanting to reach out to him, and afraid at the same time.
Suddenly, the Witchblade swirled to life, seizing this moment as the one to make her deal with her emotions. Her eyes blurred with tears as the Witchblade forced visions of all the people she had lost on her: her father, Maria, Danny, Joe. She buried her face in her hands, the tears spilling over, and her shoulders began to shake. Ian knew the 'Blade was showing her something, and knew she wasn't crying because of him, so he went to her side and wrapped her in his strong arms. Feeling completely safe for the first time in years and unable to delay it any longer, Sara finally broke down and mourned for those she had lost with great wracking sobs.
Ian gathered her up in his arms and carried her to the couch by the television, settling them so she lay across his lap in his embrace, her head buried in his chest. He did not shush her or tell her it would be alright, but merely held her and let her finally work through all the grief and anger she had been suppressing for the most part for months. Killing Gallo had only taken the edge off her anger, but she had never allowed herself to truly work through the loss before. She had needed to keep it together. But now there was no reason to keep it together. Now she could let down her guard. Now she could begin to heal. The Witchblade swirled, then subsided, satisfied that its Wielder would now be able to regain her balance and deal with the coming trials she faced.
When Sara finally stopped crying her voice was hoarse and her eyes were puffy and bloodshot. There was a large damp spot on Ian's shirt, but he didn't care. As Sara sat up he reached over and gently brushed her hair out of her eyes. His eyes held understanding, compassion, and love, and she smiled tentatively at him, feeling more at peace than she ever had before.
"Thank you, Ian," she said simply, with a wealth of meaning in the words.
"You are welcome, Sara," he replied softly. "This has been building in you for a long time."
"Yeah, it has. I feel a lot better."
"I am glad," he replied. She reached up and pushed dark silky curls out of his eyes, tracing one finger back down the side of his face and along his jaw line. His beard was long enough to not be prickly, but short enough she could still see the strength of his jaw and chin. She searched his eyes for a moment, then ran her fingers back up the side of his face again, tangling them in his hair and pulling his head down so she could capture his lips with hers. His eyes closed and he made a noise in his throat that was half growl, half moan. Giving in to her insistent lips and her grip in his hair, he lost himself in the kiss he had dreamed of but not dared hope would actually happen. Of its own accord his hand slipped into her hair to cup the back of her neck, instinct taking over where his experience failed him.
Suddenly he sat back, dropping his hand from her neck and breaking off the kiss. Gritting his teeth and breathing hard as he fought for control of the fires that raged through his body, he would not meet her eyes. She looked at him, confused.
"Ian, I thought you wanted this," she said tentatively, feeling hurt and lost by his apparent rejection, and embarrassed that she might have misjudged his feelings for her. He sprang to his feet and started pacing back and forth in front of the couch.
"I do, Sara, believe me," he managed to respond with a steady voice despite the fact that he was shaking. He met her eyes, and she could see the desire, lust, and also concern for her. "More than anything I want you. But not like this. Not when you are still emotionally raw and vulnerable. I do not wish to take advantage of you, and I will not allow you to do something you may regret later." He stopped before her and knelt to take her hands, looking earnestly up at her. "I hope you can understand, and forgive me."
She met his eyes, and he could see several emotions and thoughts chasing across her face. Finally she sighed.
"You're right, Ian. I'm still not ready." She sighed. "You'll protect me even from myself, it seems."
"I want you to be happy," he said, rising to his feet again. "I didn't think that sleeping with me at this point would have made you happy in the long run."
"Thank you, Ian," Sara replied. "Thank you for being so strong." She reached out to hug him, and he stepped back, a ghost of a smile on his lips.
"Sara, please," he said, taking another step back. "I'm not that strong. Will you be alright if I go for a run? I need to clear my head."
"Of course," she responded. "I still have to do my morning stuff anyway." She tactfully did not specifically mention a shower or getting dressed. Ian looked wired tight enough as it was. He nodded and went out the door, not even bothering to put on his shoes before heading to the beach.
Sara sat for a long time on the couch, thinking over everything that had happened, and what had almost happened. Ian was right to have stopped what she started. When they finally came together it should be when they were both a bit more stable. She was exhausted and emotionally wrung out from what the Witchblade had forced on her, and hadn't been thinking clearly. She had just wanted to be loved, to feel less alone, to fill the void in her heart with a quick fix. Ian had had the strength to love her as she needed to be loved, and not as she wanted. She wondered if she deserved him, especially after all those months she had treated him like crap. She wondered how he had gotten so wise.
"He's full of surprises," Danny said from beside her, making her jump. She grabbed a cushion and threw it through him.
"Jeeze, Danny! You scared the crap out of me."
"Hey Pez," Danny responded. "You should go on vacation more often. I've never been to Mexico."
"Enjoy it while you can," she replied in her usual smartass way.
"He's good for you, Sara," Danny said. "And he's right, he is the one man who has a chance of outlasting you."
"I know."
"Be careful, Sara," Danny warned. "Eventually it will come down to a test of loyalties, you or Irons. If you give him half a reason he'll throw away everything he has for you. But you better be ready for the consequences."
"What consequences, Danny? And don't tell me you can't tell me."
"Okay, I won't tell you. Just think about it, Sara."
"Hey Danny?"
"Yeah, Pez?" Danny said.
"I'm sorry I got you killed. I miss you, partner."
"It wasn't your fault," Danny assured her. "Like I said before, karma. It was my time, and there's nothing you could have done to change it."
"Thanks, Danny."
"You're welcome, partner." She blinked, and he was gone. She sighed and adjusted the cushions more comfortably, so she could curl up on her side and think. Somewhere in all her thinking she drifted off to sleep.
Ian was jogging by the time he was off the patio, running up the driveway and down the road to the beach turnoff. Letting his body find a rhythm that he could sustain for a long period of time, he ran down the beach, just above the waterline where the sand was still wet enough to be solid. His lips still burned from her kiss, that incredible kiss, and it was all he could do to keep from turning and going back to finish what she started. He had waited so long for that moment, that to have to pull away had cost him dearly. He would never let her know how much it had cost him, because it would only make things worse. He ran to the end of the beach and back several times, until he felt calm enough to return to Sara's side. Covered in sweat and showing the beginnings of a sunburn, he turned off the beach and walked back to the house.
Sara awoke fully refreshed the next morning to the wonderful smell of bacon frying. She pulled on a light robe over her gown and emerged from her room to find Ian, already showered and dressed, his still-damp hair slicked back out of his eyes, standing over a frying pan. He glanced at her as she padded into the kitchen area and peered over his shoulder. He had bacon going in one pan and freshly grated potatoes in another. The wonderful smell of garlic reached her and she smiled.
"It smells wonderful, Ian. What's in it?"
"Good morning, Sara," he smiled back, handing over a hot cup of coffee. "Onions and garlic and a few other odds and ends, like parsley. I hope you'll like it."
"A new recipe?"
"I asked Allyson to teach me as much as she could in the last few weeks. She has an amazing catalog of recipes she has either made up herself or modified to suit her."
"You really enjoy her company, don't you Ian," Sara said, sitting down at the table to watch Ian cook and sip her coffee.
"Not as much as I enjoy yours," he said, meeting her eyes for a long moment, then returning his attention to the bacon. Sara was quiet for a minute or so, drinking her coffee thoughtfully. She knew Ian had feelings for her, maybe even loved her, but she hadn't managed to untangle her own feelings yet. So, as usual, she pushed the problem aside and changed the subject.
"So, what was that dream you had that caused you to roll out of bed last night," she asked lightly. He glanced quickly at her, blushing slightly.
"It was nothing important, Sara."
"Were you battling in your sleep, Ian," she asked teasingly. He grinned suddenly.
"That depends on how you define battle," he said slyly. She caught his drift and it was her turn to blush.
"Ah, I see," she said, taking another sip of her coffee. He pulled the bacon and potatoes off the stove, split them up onto two plates, and brought them to the table. Sitting down across from Sara, he studied her while she began eating.
"Sara," he said hesitantly, "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."
"It's not your fault, Ian," Sara assured him. "I'm just trying to get things straightened out in my head."
"I don't mean to push you," he said softly.
"You're not," she said earnestly. "Your patience is incredible, Ian, really it is." She sighed. "I just don't know if I'm ready for the risk of a relationship."
"Why," he asked simply, and waited quietly while she thought about it.
"I…I've lost so many people I cared about. I don't know if I can go through that again."
"I understand, Sara," Ian said. "But do you want to close yourself off from ever knowing love again because of your fear?"
"No, not forever. It's just…" She paused, frustrated because she couldn't find the words to explain.
"You want someone who will outlast you," Ian guessed. "Someone who will be there for you until your last breath, and would never leave you."
"Yeah," she said softly. They were both silent for a minute, eating and thinking.
"Sara," Ian ventured. "I have the training to outlast you. And I will never leave you voluntarily."
"I know, Ian," she replied softly. "But what if I lose you, and it was because you were protecting me? Then I would be alone again, and it would be my fault you were gone."
"Not your fault, Sara," he said fiercely. "I make this choice freely, and you know I would die for you without hesitation, if that's what it came to." He took a deep breath, then continued in a calmer voice. "But I promise you I will do my best to live for you."
She stared at him, taken aback at his intensity, and she could see clearly in his eyes he meant every word. He had never spoken so plainly of his feelings for her. She had never had someone so devoted to her, either, and the thought was a little scary. She found her mind swirling in confusion, wanting to reach out to him, and afraid at the same time.
Suddenly, the Witchblade swirled to life, seizing this moment as the one to make her deal with her emotions. Her eyes blurred with tears as the Witchblade forced visions of all the people she had lost on her: her father, Maria, Danny, Joe. She buried her face in her hands, the tears spilling over, and her shoulders began to shake. Ian knew the 'Blade was showing her something, and knew she wasn't crying because of him, so he went to her side and wrapped her in his strong arms. Feeling completely safe for the first time in years and unable to delay it any longer, Sara finally broke down and mourned for those she had lost with great wracking sobs.
Ian gathered her up in his arms and carried her to the couch by the television, settling them so she lay across his lap in his embrace, her head buried in his chest. He did not shush her or tell her it would be alright, but merely held her and let her finally work through all the grief and anger she had been suppressing for the most part for months. Killing Gallo had only taken the edge off her anger, but she had never allowed herself to truly work through the loss before. She had needed to keep it together. But now there was no reason to keep it together. Now she could let down her guard. Now she could begin to heal. The Witchblade swirled, then subsided, satisfied that its Wielder would now be able to regain her balance and deal with the coming trials she faced.
When Sara finally stopped crying her voice was hoarse and her eyes were puffy and bloodshot. There was a large damp spot on Ian's shirt, but he didn't care. As Sara sat up he reached over and gently brushed her hair out of her eyes. His eyes held understanding, compassion, and love, and she smiled tentatively at him, feeling more at peace than she ever had before.
"Thank you, Ian," she said simply, with a wealth of meaning in the words.
"You are welcome, Sara," he replied softly. "This has been building in you for a long time."
"Yeah, it has. I feel a lot better."
"I am glad," he replied. She reached up and pushed dark silky curls out of his eyes, tracing one finger back down the side of his face and along his jaw line. His beard was long enough to not be prickly, but short enough she could still see the strength of his jaw and chin. She searched his eyes for a moment, then ran her fingers back up the side of his face again, tangling them in his hair and pulling his head down so she could capture his lips with hers. His eyes closed and he made a noise in his throat that was half growl, half moan. Giving in to her insistent lips and her grip in his hair, he lost himself in the kiss he had dreamed of but not dared hope would actually happen. Of its own accord his hand slipped into her hair to cup the back of her neck, instinct taking over where his experience failed him.
Suddenly he sat back, dropping his hand from her neck and breaking off the kiss. Gritting his teeth and breathing hard as he fought for control of the fires that raged through his body, he would not meet her eyes. She looked at him, confused.
"Ian, I thought you wanted this," she said tentatively, feeling hurt and lost by his apparent rejection, and embarrassed that she might have misjudged his feelings for her. He sprang to his feet and started pacing back and forth in front of the couch.
"I do, Sara, believe me," he managed to respond with a steady voice despite the fact that he was shaking. He met her eyes, and she could see the desire, lust, and also concern for her. "More than anything I want you. But not like this. Not when you are still emotionally raw and vulnerable. I do not wish to take advantage of you, and I will not allow you to do something you may regret later." He stopped before her and knelt to take her hands, looking earnestly up at her. "I hope you can understand, and forgive me."
She met his eyes, and he could see several emotions and thoughts chasing across her face. Finally she sighed.
"You're right, Ian. I'm still not ready." She sighed. "You'll protect me even from myself, it seems."
"I want you to be happy," he said, rising to his feet again. "I didn't think that sleeping with me at this point would have made you happy in the long run."
"Thank you, Ian," Sara replied. "Thank you for being so strong." She reached out to hug him, and he stepped back, a ghost of a smile on his lips.
"Sara, please," he said, taking another step back. "I'm not that strong. Will you be alright if I go for a run? I need to clear my head."
"Of course," she responded. "I still have to do my morning stuff anyway." She tactfully did not specifically mention a shower or getting dressed. Ian looked wired tight enough as it was. He nodded and went out the door, not even bothering to put on his shoes before heading to the beach.
Sara sat for a long time on the couch, thinking over everything that had happened, and what had almost happened. Ian was right to have stopped what she started. When they finally came together it should be when they were both a bit more stable. She was exhausted and emotionally wrung out from what the Witchblade had forced on her, and hadn't been thinking clearly. She had just wanted to be loved, to feel less alone, to fill the void in her heart with a quick fix. Ian had had the strength to love her as she needed to be loved, and not as she wanted. She wondered if she deserved him, especially after all those months she had treated him like crap. She wondered how he had gotten so wise.
"He's full of surprises," Danny said from beside her, making her jump. She grabbed a cushion and threw it through him.
"Jeeze, Danny! You scared the crap out of me."
"Hey Pez," Danny responded. "You should go on vacation more often. I've never been to Mexico."
"Enjoy it while you can," she replied in her usual smartass way.
"He's good for you, Sara," Danny said. "And he's right, he is the one man who has a chance of outlasting you."
"I know."
"Be careful, Sara," Danny warned. "Eventually it will come down to a test of loyalties, you or Irons. If you give him half a reason he'll throw away everything he has for you. But you better be ready for the consequences."
"What consequences, Danny? And don't tell me you can't tell me."
"Okay, I won't tell you. Just think about it, Sara."
"Hey Danny?"
"Yeah, Pez?" Danny said.
"I'm sorry I got you killed. I miss you, partner."
"It wasn't your fault," Danny assured her. "Like I said before, karma. It was my time, and there's nothing you could have done to change it."
"Thanks, Danny."
"You're welcome, partner." She blinked, and he was gone. She sighed and adjusted the cushions more comfortably, so she could curl up on her side and think. Somewhere in all her thinking she drifted off to sleep.
Ian was jogging by the time he was off the patio, running up the driveway and down the road to the beach turnoff. Letting his body find a rhythm that he could sustain for a long period of time, he ran down the beach, just above the waterline where the sand was still wet enough to be solid. His lips still burned from her kiss, that incredible kiss, and it was all he could do to keep from turning and going back to finish what she started. He had waited so long for that moment, that to have to pull away had cost him dearly. He would never let her know how much it had cost him, because it would only make things worse. He ran to the end of the beach and back several times, until he felt calm enough to return to Sara's side. Covered in sweat and showing the beginnings of a sunburn, he turned off the beach and walked back to the house.
