Chapter 3: Interludes/Heart to Heart
Disclaimers: Again, not mine! Not even Homer's Odyssey. But, as you should know by
now, Dis and Drusilla both are.
Notes: This is just trying something out, so tell me how you like it.
Ian sat on the roof top, arms wrapped around his knees, as much as to keep in
warmth as to comfort himself. Drusilla always brought with her memories of his
childhood, when his training was just started. And in her turbulent wake, Irons was always
more angry and apt to punish Ian. He looked up as a footstep crunched on the roof tile.
Diana stood behind him. The sharp wind blew her trench coat around her ankles and
plucked tendrils of her hair and blew them back into her face. "You should come in now
Ian," she said, eyes locked on the horizon. "It's getting cold."
It was one of those companionable silences, where talk would have ruined the
mood. Ian was sprawled on the thick carpet with a copy of Homer's Odyssey. Diana leaned
against his side, facing the fire, with a laptop balanced on her knees. Above the roar of the
fire, neither noticed the entrance of Sara Pezzini.
"Uh, sorry," Sara said and turned away, swallowing hastily. "I didn't mean to
interrrupt anything." Sara spun and stalked away. Ian breathed her name and rolled out
from under Diana. The girl assassin cluthed her knees to keep from falling backwards but
only ended up hitting her nose on the laptop keyboard.
Ian caught Sara's arm as she practically ran from the room. "Sara, we're... I....
she... we're not like that, Sara," he cried desperately, his dark eyes locked on her face.
"It's okay, Ian," she said indifferently, looking away. "It doesn't really matter."
"Sara, I..." He sighed and his eyes lowered. "Never mind, Lady Sara. "
She scowled at the formal title. "What, Ian? Dammit, look at me!"
Ian didn't move.
Diana came up slowly behind the motionless assassin. She hooked her arm through
Sara's, leading her away. "I'll explain everything."
Diana reclined against a cushion on the floor, following Sara with her eyes as she
paced restlessly in front of her. "So what's up with Ian?" Sara barked angrily.
"Ian's like my big brother, Sara. We're not a couple."
"Why should I care," Sara scoffed.
"He's dying. "
Sara spun around. "What," she cried, astonished.
"It's a genetic disorder that Irons missed. He loves you but he's afraid to tell you. He has maybe a few weeks left, but he won't tell you how he feels because he thinks you'll either repudiate him or that he'll break your heart." She hung her head sadly; Sara stared in shock. "He'll be watching your place tonight, as usual. You might want to get there before him."
Diana waited till Sara had left the mansion before she started to laugh.
Sara tossed and turned nervously in her bed, lying in wait for when Ian took up his
watch at her apartment. She shut her eyes and pretended to be asleep as her diligent
sentinel leaned against the window. As soon as he looked away, Sara flung herself to the
window and jerked it open, causing Ian to tumble in on her.
"Oh, Ian! Did I hurt you?" Her hands ran over him gently, checking him for injuries.
Ian was to shocked to stammer out a reply or even react to her. She helped him to his feet
and sat him on the edge of her bed.
"I...I love you, Ian." Ian looked absolutely astounded, then like he was about to say
something. Sara clapped a hand over his mouth. "I know what you're about to say, Ian,
and I don't care. No matter how long we have together, I love you." She bent down and
replaced her hand with her lips.
Ian tensed at her kiss, then relaxed into it, pulling her to him, both of them ending
in a weird contortion of bodies. He pulled away reluctantly, but he had to know. "I love
you, too, Sara. But what brought this on?" Sara looked away. as if looking at him pained
her. She muttered something that Ian couldn't hear. "What?"
"Diana told me...about your condition. I don't care if you only have a few weeks left!"
Suddenly Ian started to laugh, the movement of his diaphragm pressing against Sara.
"What's so funny? Dying isn't a laughing matter!"
Ian shook with laughter. "I'm not dying. Diana was setting us up. She always
complains I moon over you too much." Sara didn't particularly find the situation all that
funny. In fact she was mighty peeved. Diana had caused her all that concern.... Sara took out
her frustration on Ian as she pushed him onto his back and kissed him roughly.
The assassin gasped in surprise at the angry whirlwind of motion that perched on
top of him as his coat and shirt quickly came off. Quickly regaining control again, Ian
rolled over, pinning Sara beneath him.
* * * * * * *
She wore a short silk nightgown, something you'd expect a millionaire's lover to
wear. He froze for a moment when he saw her waiting for him; she looked like a marble
statue in the moonlight. He buried his long fingers in her soft curls as she came into his
arms.
Irons sat down on the edge of the bed and Drusilla stradddled his lap. "How long
will you be gone this time, Drusilla?" he asked. She looked away, but did not move from
her position. "How long till you return to me after this," he asked again. His hands on her
waist were tight and demanding. She squirmed against his hold, the black satin sheets
bunching beneath her knees.
"A couple of years means nothing to people like us, Kenneth." She buried her face
against his neck, curls tickling his chin, one arm flung over his shoulder and caressing his
back. Her other arm pulled at one of his until he releuctantly wrapped it around her waist.
His free hand curled into her hair, pulling her head back until he could look her in the face.
He growled something before he bent and kissed her savagely.
"It matters to me."
Sara gasped as Ian entered her. Later, she'd swear her screams had woken the
whole neighborhood. She wasn't aware of the Witchblade of her wrist until it flared
brightly, almost burning her skin. She was aasaulted by images from the bracelet, of Irons
and Drusilla wrapped around each other. That image was overlaid with one of her and Ian,
but Sara was too far gone in passion to notice the similarities.
Irons was suddenly hit with a wave of ectasy, that obviously wasn't his because he
had never personally had sex with Ian Nottingham before. He knew Drusilla felt it too,
through her connection with the blade. "Kenneth," she groaned as her reactions to him,
though tempered through time, changed dramatically.
Within moments, the two pairs of lovers were mirroring each other, despite the
space between them.
When each couple, each in their respective boudoirs, layed curled together,
something ancient stirred in the aftermath.
It laughed.
Disclaimers: Again, not mine! Not even Homer's Odyssey. But, as you should know by
now, Dis and Drusilla both are.
Notes: This is just trying something out, so tell me how you like it.
Ian sat on the roof top, arms wrapped around his knees, as much as to keep in
warmth as to comfort himself. Drusilla always brought with her memories of his
childhood, when his training was just started. And in her turbulent wake, Irons was always
more angry and apt to punish Ian. He looked up as a footstep crunched on the roof tile.
Diana stood behind him. The sharp wind blew her trench coat around her ankles and
plucked tendrils of her hair and blew them back into her face. "You should come in now
Ian," she said, eyes locked on the horizon. "It's getting cold."
It was one of those companionable silences, where talk would have ruined the
mood. Ian was sprawled on the thick carpet with a copy of Homer's Odyssey. Diana leaned
against his side, facing the fire, with a laptop balanced on her knees. Above the roar of the
fire, neither noticed the entrance of Sara Pezzini.
"Uh, sorry," Sara said and turned away, swallowing hastily. "I didn't mean to
interrrupt anything." Sara spun and stalked away. Ian breathed her name and rolled out
from under Diana. The girl assassin cluthed her knees to keep from falling backwards but
only ended up hitting her nose on the laptop keyboard.
Ian caught Sara's arm as she practically ran from the room. "Sara, we're... I....
she... we're not like that, Sara," he cried desperately, his dark eyes locked on her face.
"It's okay, Ian," she said indifferently, looking away. "It doesn't really matter."
"Sara, I..." He sighed and his eyes lowered. "Never mind, Lady Sara. "
She scowled at the formal title. "What, Ian? Dammit, look at me!"
Ian didn't move.
Diana came up slowly behind the motionless assassin. She hooked her arm through
Sara's, leading her away. "I'll explain everything."
Diana reclined against a cushion on the floor, following Sara with her eyes as she
paced restlessly in front of her. "So what's up with Ian?" Sara barked angrily.
"Ian's like my big brother, Sara. We're not a couple."
"Why should I care," Sara scoffed.
"He's dying. "
Sara spun around. "What," she cried, astonished.
"It's a genetic disorder that Irons missed. He loves you but he's afraid to tell you. He has maybe a few weeks left, but he won't tell you how he feels because he thinks you'll either repudiate him or that he'll break your heart." She hung her head sadly; Sara stared in shock. "He'll be watching your place tonight, as usual. You might want to get there before him."
Diana waited till Sara had left the mansion before she started to laugh.
Sara tossed and turned nervously in her bed, lying in wait for when Ian took up his
watch at her apartment. She shut her eyes and pretended to be asleep as her diligent
sentinel leaned against the window. As soon as he looked away, Sara flung herself to the
window and jerked it open, causing Ian to tumble in on her.
"Oh, Ian! Did I hurt you?" Her hands ran over him gently, checking him for injuries.
Ian was to shocked to stammer out a reply or even react to her. She helped him to his feet
and sat him on the edge of her bed.
"I...I love you, Ian." Ian looked absolutely astounded, then like he was about to say
something. Sara clapped a hand over his mouth. "I know what you're about to say, Ian,
and I don't care. No matter how long we have together, I love you." She bent down and
replaced her hand with her lips.
Ian tensed at her kiss, then relaxed into it, pulling her to him, both of them ending
in a weird contortion of bodies. He pulled away reluctantly, but he had to know. "I love
you, too, Sara. But what brought this on?" Sara looked away. as if looking at him pained
her. She muttered something that Ian couldn't hear. "What?"
"Diana told me...about your condition. I don't care if you only have a few weeks left!"
Suddenly Ian started to laugh, the movement of his diaphragm pressing against Sara.
"What's so funny? Dying isn't a laughing matter!"
Ian shook with laughter. "I'm not dying. Diana was setting us up. She always
complains I moon over you too much." Sara didn't particularly find the situation all that
funny. In fact she was mighty peeved. Diana had caused her all that concern.... Sara took out
her frustration on Ian as she pushed him onto his back and kissed him roughly.
The assassin gasped in surprise at the angry whirlwind of motion that perched on
top of him as his coat and shirt quickly came off. Quickly regaining control again, Ian
rolled over, pinning Sara beneath him.
* * * * * * *
She wore a short silk nightgown, something you'd expect a millionaire's lover to
wear. He froze for a moment when he saw her waiting for him; she looked like a marble
statue in the moonlight. He buried his long fingers in her soft curls as she came into his
arms.
Irons sat down on the edge of the bed and Drusilla stradddled his lap. "How long
will you be gone this time, Drusilla?" he asked. She looked away, but did not move from
her position. "How long till you return to me after this," he asked again. His hands on her
waist were tight and demanding. She squirmed against his hold, the black satin sheets
bunching beneath her knees.
"A couple of years means nothing to people like us, Kenneth." She buried her face
against his neck, curls tickling his chin, one arm flung over his shoulder and caressing his
back. Her other arm pulled at one of his until he releuctantly wrapped it around her waist.
His free hand curled into her hair, pulling her head back until he could look her in the face.
He growled something before he bent and kissed her savagely.
"It matters to me."
Sara gasped as Ian entered her. Later, she'd swear her screams had woken the
whole neighborhood. She wasn't aware of the Witchblade of her wrist until it flared
brightly, almost burning her skin. She was aasaulted by images from the bracelet, of Irons
and Drusilla wrapped around each other. That image was overlaid with one of her and Ian,
but Sara was too far gone in passion to notice the similarities.
Irons was suddenly hit with a wave of ectasy, that obviously wasn't his because he
had never personally had sex with Ian Nottingham before. He knew Drusilla felt it too,
through her connection with the blade. "Kenneth," she groaned as her reactions to him,
though tempered through time, changed dramatically.
Within moments, the two pairs of lovers were mirroring each other, despite the
space between them.
When each couple, each in their respective boudoirs, layed curled together,
something ancient stirred in the aftermath.
It laughed.