This chapter took me by surprise, going in a completely different direction than I had intended. I hope it meets with your approval. Please let me know what you think. And for those of you desiring a little action (of both kinds) I have plans, such wicked plans… I may need to change my rating. Enjoy!



When Ian got back from his run, Sara was asleep on the couch. He chose not to wake her, instead heading to the bathroom to slather on the sunblock he had neglected that morning. Too bad he had chosen a tank top today, it had exposed more of his skin. His burn would be reasonably bad, but nothing he couldn't handle. The aloe and vitamin E in the lotion would help ease the burn and speed healing. He'd be fine by tomorrow.

He spent a few minutes cleaning up from breakfast, quietly enough to not wake Sara, then retreated to his room, leaving the door cracked so he could listen for Sara stirring. He then proceeded to do sets of pushups and situps, determined not to neglect his training routine. He had needed that run on the beach in more ways than one. Doing every exercise he could without equipment helped him think as well as keeping him toned.

He had been right to cut off that kiss, he knew. Not just for her, but for him as well. When they came together he wanted to be sure it was because she wanted him, not just because she had a need and he was handy. If they ever were together. He had no idea how she would act, what she would feel, when she woke up. Ian tried not to think about it, but he wondered if, now that she was working on regaining her emotional stability, she would need him anymore. He had always been a tool to Irons, but he had felt that Sara liked him for himself. He didn't know if he could take it if she decided that's all he had been, a tool in her time of loneliness and need.

Plagued by such depressing and disturbing thoughts, he pulled his carry-on bag out from the back of the closet and placed it on the bed. Unzipping the bag, he reached all the way to the bottom and pulled out a case. Inside the case, which he unlocked with a key from his pocket, were three automatic pistols, six clips, two boxes of ammo, several knives of various types and functions, and sheathes and holsters for each one. There were also cleaning kits, oils, and whetstones. He pulled out the first gun, a Glock-27 40 caliber, and took it apart, concentrating on the task of cleaning it as a means of putting his dark thoughts out of his mind.

He became so deeply absorbed in his task that he didn't hear Sara approach, and she watched him from the doorway in silence for a few minutes. His head bent over his task, dark hair falling in curls to conceal his face from her view, he cleaned the barrel. She watched his long, strong fingers slide along the black cylinder, then he began to reassemble the gun carefully but with the ease of long practice. He had realized she was there a few seconds after she began watching, but continued his task, waiting for her to make the first move so he could judge her attitude towards him.

As he pulled back the slide of the assembled weapon and dry-fired once to be sure everything was in working order again, she stepped into the room. He flicked on the safety and carefully put the gun down with the others in the case, then turned to her, waiting. She studied him for long moments, and he began to get nervous, but betrayed nothing of his growing inner turmoil. She smiled slightly at him and tried for humor to break the tension.

"Damn, Ian. You take an arsenal on vacation?" she teased, but he took the question seriously.

"I am here as your protector first and foremost," He reminded her gravely. "Whatever else I may be."

"That explains why you disappeared at security check in the airport," she said.

"Yes, lady Sara," he replied, looking down at the floor. He was still unsure where he stood with her.

"Ian, please don't do that," she asked, coming over to his side and placing a finger under his chin lightly. He raised his eyes to meet hers, and she dropped her hand. "You're still my friend, aren't you?"

"I am yours, Sara, for all time," he said simply. "I will try to be whatever you want me to be."

"There's something bothering you, isn't there, Ian," she asked, wondering why he was acting so strangely.

"After this morning, I am unsure as to where our relationship stands," he said. "I am…confused."

"Oh," she said, understanding some of what he was thinking. She sat down on the bed next to him and got comfortable, and he turned so he could face her. "I'm not sure where our relationship is going, Ian," she told him honestly. "I'm still confused, and a little scared. But I am still your friend, and I respect you even more for going away this morning instead of taking advantage of the mess I was in. I hope you're not mad at me for putting you in that position."

"Sara," he said, then paused to rally his thoughts. It was time for blunt honesty. "I was angry earlier, but I understand you did not mean to hurt me. I want you to want me for myself, and not just because I'm convenient. I tried to act as your friend this morning, because that is what you asked me to be, but it was the most difficult thing I have ever done. I did not want to leave, to break off what you started, because I have dreamed of it for so long, but I didn't want it that way. Not by default. And not something both of us would have regretted later. I want to be with you, to love you forever, to make you laugh and ease your tears, to watch over you and protect you so that you can come home safely to my arms. But I only want this if it is your wish too. I will do whatever you ask, Sara."

She sat for long moments, thinking about what he had said, and remembered what Danny had told her. Perhaps now was the time to ask those questions.

"Ian, if we were together, what about Irons? He'd find out somehow, and he would be pissed."

"Yes, he would be very angry," Ian said, a ghost of remembered pain in his eyes. "I am not certain how he would react."

"If it came down to it, if Irons ordered you never to see me again, what would happen?"

"I will not leave you, Sara," he said earnestly, looking into her eyes. "No matter what happens, I will not break that promise."

"So you would, what, quit your job with the most powerful man in the world and walk away?" She took his hand in both of hers. "Ian, are you sure you could do that? Would he let you?"

"He would not just let me walk away," Ian said, considering carefully. "I am honestly unsure what would happen if it came down to a confrontation. He has raised me, made me what I am, given me training, sheltered and fed me. Above all, he has bred in me loyalty, and that will be a difficult bond to break. I am his tool, his servant, bred to obey him and protect him." He looked into her eyes. "But my heart, my soul, and my life are yours, and that is a bond even more difficult to break, I think. If it comes to a choice, Sara, I will not fail you."

"What would Irons do after you left?" Sara asked. She was rocked by what he said, and having difficulty processing it all.

"I am uncertain. He will no doubt wish to be revenged upon me for my defection, but I do not know what form that would take. Whether he would strike at me, or you." Ian realized for the first time their relationship could put Sara in great danger, and it shook him to the core, making his blood run cold. He was sure he could handle whatever Irons threw at him, but if he lost Sara, none of it would be worth it and his life would be over. She would be safer if he went back to being her shadow and nothing more.

"Ian?" Sara said, sensing him pulling back. "Talk to me. What's wrong?"

"I cannot ask you to face additional danger because of me, lady Sara," he said, pulling his hand from her grasp and moving away to stand staring at the ground in that pose she disliked so much. "I should never have… You don't…" He struggled for the words, then fell silent. His chest was painfully tight, and his heart beat rapidly. His eyes ached, but he had learned long ago to suppress his tears, and they did not fall now.

"Ian," Sara said sharply, worried and a little frightened by his behavior. "Come sit down and talk to me. You're scaring me."

"I should not, lady Sara," he said, and did not move.

"Why not," she demanded, her fear beginning to turn to anger.

"I do not wish to put you at risk," he said. "I cannot ask you to spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder because of me."

"Ian, do you really think I can't handle whatever Irons throws at me, especially with you by my side?" She rose and went over to him, looking into his eyes. "We'll handle it when the situation arises. Together."

"I can't ask that of you, Sara," he protested.

"So don't ask," she shot back. "It's my decision, okay? I don't want to live the rest of my life without love because I'm afraid," she repeated his words back to him. "Do you?" She blinked, realizing that she had just committed herself to a deeper relationship with him, and somehow she was no longer afraid.

Ian stood, silent, struggling with himself. His desire for Sara warring with his need to protect her had him confused, struggling to find his path. Once his decision was made, for good or ill, there was no going back. He knew what Irons was capable of, and he feared for Sara's life. But he had never felt more real, more human, than those evenings they shared over dinner, and he would give his life for just one more night like that. But could he risk hers? His shoulders started to shake from the strain, his hands clenched tightly together before him, his eyes closed, as his thoughts circled frantically in his head.

Sara reached out to him, compelled by the Witchblade, and laid the hand with the bracelet over his clasped hands. The Witchblade swirled and grew warm on her wrist. Eventually, his grip loosened, his shaking stopped, and he opened his eyes to gaze into hers. The Witchblade had shown him the path he must walk, and a sense of calm descended over him. Not his decision, he realized. The web the 'Blade wove included him as well, and he realized that, as he had once told Sara, he never had any control to begin with. He was meant for her, always had been.

He fell to his knees before her, to her astonishment, and took her hands in his, gazing up into her eyes with his heart and soul mirrored there, naked for her to see.

"Forgive me, Sara, for hesitating," he said. "I am yours, now and forever, no matter what happens."