Sorry for keeping you waiting. It finally got really nice out here in
Seattle, and I had tons to do in the yard all of a sudden, as well as the
basement remodeling and taking care of Grama and, well, you get the idea.
At least I didn't leave you at a cliffhanger for half a month, though I
hadn't intended to keep you waiting at all. I promise things will get
exciting next chapter, and I will try to finish this before the second
season premier distracts me with new ideas and new directions. I really
appreciate your feedback. I am so glad you are liking my work, and it
helps me to hear it. All your comments have been very positive, much to my
relief, and I thank you for them.
When Sara and Ian finally showered, dressed and ventured back into the real world, Sara's stomach was growling. She had barely eaten any of the wonderful breakfast Ian had cooked, missed lunch entirely when she had fallen asleep on the couch, and now it was dinner time. She started poking around in the fridge and found the breakfast that Ian had wrapped up.
"Ian, honey," she called over her shoulder to where Ian was messing with the tv. "Should we reheat what you cooked this morning?" He came over to peer into the fridge over her shoulder.
"I'd like to cook you dinner, Sara," he offered. She turned and gave him a quick kiss, her arms around his waist. It felt so good to be near him, to be comfortable with him.
"Are you sure? I feel bad that you cooked this morning and we didn't eat it."
"We'll have it tomorrow morning," he assured her. "Besides, I like to cook for you. It's nice to be able to create something for a change, instead of always destroying things."
"Oh," she was thoughtful for a moment. "I never thought of it like that." His views and ideas constantly surprised her. He would have such normal reactions to some things, and such unexpected reactions to others. He was still very much a mystery to her, but one she now looked forward to exploring for the rest of her life.
"Would you like pork or seafood," he asked, and she got a wicked twinkle in her eye.
"Don't you think we've had enough pork for one evening," she asked slyly. He grinned at her joke.
"I will never be able to get enough of you, my dearest lady," he said gravely, leaning down to capture her lips. When they finally pulled apart, Sara was breathless and Ian had a self-satisfied smile on his face.
"What's that grin for," she asked.
"I am merely pleased to be able to display my study abilities for you, my lady. I have always strived to be an exceptionally fast learner."
"Fast learner, indeed," she chuckled. "Like you didn't get lots of practice."
"Practice, practice, practice," Ian replied, "is how you get to Carnegie Hall."
"You may get to Carnegie Hall that way," Sara replied with a grin. "I take a cab."
Laughing, Ian turned to making dinner and Sara tidied up a bit, then set the table out on the patio. After a wonderful dinner of shrimp salad and pork chops, since Sara hadn't actually picked one way or the other, they decided to go for a walk on the beach. Sara coated Ian thoroughly with sunblock, then he returned the favor, and they headed out. The sun would be setting in about half an hour, and Ian wanted to watch it set from the rocky point with Sara in his arms.
"There are so many butterflies here," Sara commented as they walked. The delicate insects fluttered everywhere in a swirling display of colors unlike anything Sara had seen outside of a special hothouse enclosure at the zoo. She would never have thought to see so many butterflies all at once fluttering about free.
"They're called mariposas in Spanish," Ian told her. They walked up the crescent of the shoreline in a comfortable silence broken by the occasional comment by one or the other of them on something they saw. Ian sat on the wet stone of the point's outcropping and pulled Sara across his lap. Together they watched the sun set in its incredible splendor, their hair stirred gently by the warm evening breeze. Sara sighed and snuggled closer into Ian's chest. He smiled and kissed the top of her head.
"What are you thinking, my lady," he asked softly.
"I am really glad you could come on vacation with me, Ian," she told him. "There was something in me that was broken, or at least damaged, and you helped heal it."
"I would do anything to help you, Sara," he replied. "I am yours forever, and I will do everything in my power to make you happy."
"All you have to do is not leave me, Ian," she replied.
"I have promised you, Sara. I will keep that promise." He looked into her eyes as he said it, letting her see the truth of his words and his intentions.
"Even against Irons," she asked. He nodded. "Oh, Ian. What are we going to do when we go back home?"
"I will see you safely to your apartment, and then go immediately to report in to Irons. We'll still meet for dinner like usual. Perhaps even the occasional lunch. Things will settle down and we can take our time figuring out where to go from here."
"Very practical," she said approvingly. "I definitely think its too soon for us to move in together. And I can't quite support both of us on my salary. I don't think Irons would keep you on if he found out about this."
"He would be most displeased," Ian agreed. "But I don't get paid anyway."
"You don't?" Sara was shocked, then realized she had never really thought about it.
"I fall somewhere in between son and slave," Ian reminded her. "As such I do not receive a salary. But I have everything I need, and I can draw funds whenever something comes up in the course of my duties."
"So," Sara said slowly, thinking. "Irons paid for the laptop and the clothes for the trip, the plane tickets, but you arranged it all?"
"Actually, I have something amounting to a trust fund I can draw on for personal items, the occasional dinner out, books, and that sort of thing. Irons prefers not to be bothered with requests for money for such petty things, so he set this up for me years ago, and occasionally supplements it when I have particularly pleased him. It was a graduation gift of sorts, for completing my formal training, and he was quite generous. Over the years I have managed to grow it into a respectable amount. Lurking in the shadows around some of the world's leading businessmen and power-brokers has certain advantages."
"What does 'respectable amount' mean," Sara asked, really curious now. She never would have pictured Ian as an investor, and it drove home how complex a man he really was. He was so innocent in some ways that she forgot how sophisticated he could be in others.
"A few million dollars, give or take," Ian admitted, and her eyebrows went up. "And at least another half a million in cash he knows nothing about, though it could be more. I haven't counted it lately."
"Whoa! Ian, that's a fortune," Sara said. She was having trouble absorbing his confession.
"It is nothing compared to Irons," Ian reminded her. "I believe he gave me the original funds as a test, to see what I would do with it."
"That sounds like him," Sara said wryly.
"You need not worry that I would be a financial burden while seeking employment, my lady." He teased, then sobered. "Money is the least of our concerns."
"What do you think he would do if he found out about us," she asked. Ian considered a long time.
"He would be furious, of that I am sure. He hates not being in control of everything, which is why your unpredictability frustrates him so. He would rage, then eventually he would calm down and begin searching for a way to regain control again. Whether by attacking us directly by sending assassins after us, or by more subtle means, he would do everything in his not-inconsiderable power to get the Witchblade back under his control."
"So, what would we do," Sara asked.
"We have three options at that point," Ian replied promptly, warming to the challenge. He was good at strategy. "We run away and hope he doesn't find us, though he probably would eventually. We stand and fight, which would get very bloody, and tiring after a while. Or we strike a bargain of some sort."
"What kind of bargain," Sara asked.
"This will involve some explanations," Ian warned her. "Please bear with me for a few minutes."
"Okay," she agreed.
"The night of the Periculum you bonded with the Witchblade completely," Ian said. "This is indicated by the scars on your wrist where the 'Blade entered into your blood and bonded with you on a cellular level."
"It what?" she asked, almost grasping what Ian was saying, but not quite, and freaking out a little. "Did it do that to you too?"
"The 'Blade merely tasted me, to recognize me and connect with me on some levels. But I cannot wear or command the 'Blade, Sara. Only you can. What it did to you is far different. You have been changed, strengthened, on a cellular level. You may notice you haven't had the least bit of a cold since the Periculum. Your body has a far more advanced immune system, and your blood has healing properties. You have surmised that Irons, and Dominique Boucher, through their contacts with the Witchblade, have had far longer lifespans than is normal. And you may have noticed that since the Periculum Irons has begun to age visibly. Since the Witchblade controls the web of your life, and all who touch you, there was a purpose for these increased lifespans, but whatever purpose Irons had the 'Blade has determined he has fulfilled it, and withdrawn it's gift. Irons has been slowing the ageing somewhat with other means, but those means are increasingly ineffective. The only thing that can save him is the healing properties of your blood."
"My blood?" Sara was shocked and horrified. It sounded like something out of a vampire flick.
"Yes, Sara," Ian said sympathetically, understanding her reaction. The emotions reverberated through their link. "He will need it to live, and the properties within cannot be reproduced in any way. It gives you a strong bargaining tool. If we were to flee the city, and remain out of his reach long enough, he would die relatively quickly. Within a year, at most."
"This is too much for me to absorb right now, Ian," she confessed. "I need to think this all through. Maybe we can talk more about it in the morning."
"Take your time, Sara," Ian said gently. "I know this is strange for you. There's no need to worry about it right away." He hugged her gently and kissed her cheek. "Are you ready to go back?"
"Yeah," she admitted.
They rose to their feet and walked back up the beach together. The stars were bright above them, and the fireflies danced through the brush. The muted roar of the ocean as it ran up the sand was a soothing background noise to the chirps and buzzes of the night creatures. Sara pushed aside her worries for the future and enjoyed the moment. Just walking through the magical night with Ian's hand strong and reassuring in hers was all she needed to know at that moment. Ian felt her peace and smiled, glad she could relax even with the difficulties facing them in the future.
It took Ian longer to fall asleep than Sara, and he watched her sleeping for almost an hour. She lay in the protective circle of his arms, her head on his shoulder, dark hair spilling over his arm and onto the pillow, one arm flung across his chest. He would have been well content to stay that way forever, he thought, before practicality inserted itself and he had to admit he'd rather be doing other, less peaceful things with her. He drifted to sleep finally thinking of many wicked ways he could wake her in the morning.
When Sara and Ian finally showered, dressed and ventured back into the real world, Sara's stomach was growling. She had barely eaten any of the wonderful breakfast Ian had cooked, missed lunch entirely when she had fallen asleep on the couch, and now it was dinner time. She started poking around in the fridge and found the breakfast that Ian had wrapped up.
"Ian, honey," she called over her shoulder to where Ian was messing with the tv. "Should we reheat what you cooked this morning?" He came over to peer into the fridge over her shoulder.
"I'd like to cook you dinner, Sara," he offered. She turned and gave him a quick kiss, her arms around his waist. It felt so good to be near him, to be comfortable with him.
"Are you sure? I feel bad that you cooked this morning and we didn't eat it."
"We'll have it tomorrow morning," he assured her. "Besides, I like to cook for you. It's nice to be able to create something for a change, instead of always destroying things."
"Oh," she was thoughtful for a moment. "I never thought of it like that." His views and ideas constantly surprised her. He would have such normal reactions to some things, and such unexpected reactions to others. He was still very much a mystery to her, but one she now looked forward to exploring for the rest of her life.
"Would you like pork or seafood," he asked, and she got a wicked twinkle in her eye.
"Don't you think we've had enough pork for one evening," she asked slyly. He grinned at her joke.
"I will never be able to get enough of you, my dearest lady," he said gravely, leaning down to capture her lips. When they finally pulled apart, Sara was breathless and Ian had a self-satisfied smile on his face.
"What's that grin for," she asked.
"I am merely pleased to be able to display my study abilities for you, my lady. I have always strived to be an exceptionally fast learner."
"Fast learner, indeed," she chuckled. "Like you didn't get lots of practice."
"Practice, practice, practice," Ian replied, "is how you get to Carnegie Hall."
"You may get to Carnegie Hall that way," Sara replied with a grin. "I take a cab."
Laughing, Ian turned to making dinner and Sara tidied up a bit, then set the table out on the patio. After a wonderful dinner of shrimp salad and pork chops, since Sara hadn't actually picked one way or the other, they decided to go for a walk on the beach. Sara coated Ian thoroughly with sunblock, then he returned the favor, and they headed out. The sun would be setting in about half an hour, and Ian wanted to watch it set from the rocky point with Sara in his arms.
"There are so many butterflies here," Sara commented as they walked. The delicate insects fluttered everywhere in a swirling display of colors unlike anything Sara had seen outside of a special hothouse enclosure at the zoo. She would never have thought to see so many butterflies all at once fluttering about free.
"They're called mariposas in Spanish," Ian told her. They walked up the crescent of the shoreline in a comfortable silence broken by the occasional comment by one or the other of them on something they saw. Ian sat on the wet stone of the point's outcropping and pulled Sara across his lap. Together they watched the sun set in its incredible splendor, their hair stirred gently by the warm evening breeze. Sara sighed and snuggled closer into Ian's chest. He smiled and kissed the top of her head.
"What are you thinking, my lady," he asked softly.
"I am really glad you could come on vacation with me, Ian," she told him. "There was something in me that was broken, or at least damaged, and you helped heal it."
"I would do anything to help you, Sara," he replied. "I am yours forever, and I will do everything in my power to make you happy."
"All you have to do is not leave me, Ian," she replied.
"I have promised you, Sara. I will keep that promise." He looked into her eyes as he said it, letting her see the truth of his words and his intentions.
"Even against Irons," she asked. He nodded. "Oh, Ian. What are we going to do when we go back home?"
"I will see you safely to your apartment, and then go immediately to report in to Irons. We'll still meet for dinner like usual. Perhaps even the occasional lunch. Things will settle down and we can take our time figuring out where to go from here."
"Very practical," she said approvingly. "I definitely think its too soon for us to move in together. And I can't quite support both of us on my salary. I don't think Irons would keep you on if he found out about this."
"He would be most displeased," Ian agreed. "But I don't get paid anyway."
"You don't?" Sara was shocked, then realized she had never really thought about it.
"I fall somewhere in between son and slave," Ian reminded her. "As such I do not receive a salary. But I have everything I need, and I can draw funds whenever something comes up in the course of my duties."
"So," Sara said slowly, thinking. "Irons paid for the laptop and the clothes for the trip, the plane tickets, but you arranged it all?"
"Actually, I have something amounting to a trust fund I can draw on for personal items, the occasional dinner out, books, and that sort of thing. Irons prefers not to be bothered with requests for money for such petty things, so he set this up for me years ago, and occasionally supplements it when I have particularly pleased him. It was a graduation gift of sorts, for completing my formal training, and he was quite generous. Over the years I have managed to grow it into a respectable amount. Lurking in the shadows around some of the world's leading businessmen and power-brokers has certain advantages."
"What does 'respectable amount' mean," Sara asked, really curious now. She never would have pictured Ian as an investor, and it drove home how complex a man he really was. He was so innocent in some ways that she forgot how sophisticated he could be in others.
"A few million dollars, give or take," Ian admitted, and her eyebrows went up. "And at least another half a million in cash he knows nothing about, though it could be more. I haven't counted it lately."
"Whoa! Ian, that's a fortune," Sara said. She was having trouble absorbing his confession.
"It is nothing compared to Irons," Ian reminded her. "I believe he gave me the original funds as a test, to see what I would do with it."
"That sounds like him," Sara said wryly.
"You need not worry that I would be a financial burden while seeking employment, my lady." He teased, then sobered. "Money is the least of our concerns."
"What do you think he would do if he found out about us," she asked. Ian considered a long time.
"He would be furious, of that I am sure. He hates not being in control of everything, which is why your unpredictability frustrates him so. He would rage, then eventually he would calm down and begin searching for a way to regain control again. Whether by attacking us directly by sending assassins after us, or by more subtle means, he would do everything in his not-inconsiderable power to get the Witchblade back under his control."
"So, what would we do," Sara asked.
"We have three options at that point," Ian replied promptly, warming to the challenge. He was good at strategy. "We run away and hope he doesn't find us, though he probably would eventually. We stand and fight, which would get very bloody, and tiring after a while. Or we strike a bargain of some sort."
"What kind of bargain," Sara asked.
"This will involve some explanations," Ian warned her. "Please bear with me for a few minutes."
"Okay," she agreed.
"The night of the Periculum you bonded with the Witchblade completely," Ian said. "This is indicated by the scars on your wrist where the 'Blade entered into your blood and bonded with you on a cellular level."
"It what?" she asked, almost grasping what Ian was saying, but not quite, and freaking out a little. "Did it do that to you too?"
"The 'Blade merely tasted me, to recognize me and connect with me on some levels. But I cannot wear or command the 'Blade, Sara. Only you can. What it did to you is far different. You have been changed, strengthened, on a cellular level. You may notice you haven't had the least bit of a cold since the Periculum. Your body has a far more advanced immune system, and your blood has healing properties. You have surmised that Irons, and Dominique Boucher, through their contacts with the Witchblade, have had far longer lifespans than is normal. And you may have noticed that since the Periculum Irons has begun to age visibly. Since the Witchblade controls the web of your life, and all who touch you, there was a purpose for these increased lifespans, but whatever purpose Irons had the 'Blade has determined he has fulfilled it, and withdrawn it's gift. Irons has been slowing the ageing somewhat with other means, but those means are increasingly ineffective. The only thing that can save him is the healing properties of your blood."
"My blood?" Sara was shocked and horrified. It sounded like something out of a vampire flick.
"Yes, Sara," Ian said sympathetically, understanding her reaction. The emotions reverberated through their link. "He will need it to live, and the properties within cannot be reproduced in any way. It gives you a strong bargaining tool. If we were to flee the city, and remain out of his reach long enough, he would die relatively quickly. Within a year, at most."
"This is too much for me to absorb right now, Ian," she confessed. "I need to think this all through. Maybe we can talk more about it in the morning."
"Take your time, Sara," Ian said gently. "I know this is strange for you. There's no need to worry about it right away." He hugged her gently and kissed her cheek. "Are you ready to go back?"
"Yeah," she admitted.
They rose to their feet and walked back up the beach together. The stars were bright above them, and the fireflies danced through the brush. The muted roar of the ocean as it ran up the sand was a soothing background noise to the chirps and buzzes of the night creatures. Sara pushed aside her worries for the future and enjoyed the moment. Just walking through the magical night with Ian's hand strong and reassuring in hers was all she needed to know at that moment. Ian felt her peace and smiled, glad she could relax even with the difficulties facing them in the future.
It took Ian longer to fall asleep than Sara, and he watched her sleeping for almost an hour. She lay in the protective circle of his arms, her head on his shoulder, dark hair spilling over his arm and onto the pillow, one arm flung across his chest. He would have been well content to stay that way forever, he thought, before practicality inserted itself and he had to admit he'd rather be doing other, less peaceful things with her. He drifted to sleep finally thinking of many wicked ways he could wake her in the morning.
