Disclaimer:
I don't own it, I don't pretend to own it, I intend no monetary gain off of this, and don't wish any kind of copyright infringement on Top Cow production or TNT or whomever.
In honour of the officers of the NYPD who served and protected their last on 9-11-01
Chapter Six
"Anyway," Sara said, lounging on one of Gabriel's many random pieces of furniture, "They got me up there, into the room, and this doctor lady comes in. She pulled out a needle, says it's 'just a painkiller', jabs it in my arm, and sixteen hours later I wake up in the ICRU with my shoulder in a cast."
"He set you up," she could hear him smiling as he made his way around the shelves, "and you fell for it."
"Gabe," she chuckled "if I didn't need the man as much as I do, I'd have strangled him. With one hand. And I'm sure my little witchy friend would have been more than happy to help."
"Well I don't think she's too fond of Danny to begin with." Gabriel stuck his head out from behind the racks of inventory; all sorts of arcane, weird, and just truly bizarre objects were neatly stored and labelled around him. "The Witchblade doesn't exactly like men."
"Right," Sara pulled on her cup of coffee, revelling in the aroma that had been denied to her in the hospital. "They took her off"
"They what!" he pulled off his little magnifying lens and stared at her, "She let them?"
"I don't think it was a matter of her letting them, both of us were really out of it for a few." Sara made a face, remembering the floating, whirling sensation of morphine, "Almost killed the nurse that brought her back. I put her back on and she damn hear eviscerated the poor girl."
"Ouch," Gabriel dropped down next to Sara on the ancient sofa, "Seriously though, chief, I'm too young for a heart attack. Next time, tell me when you're going in for major surgery. I almost had an aneurysm on the spot when I got your call to 'rescue' you."
"I didn't know I was going in for surgery!" she protested.
"You made it sound like they put you in a prison hospital or something," he observed.
"Hey, the food sucks, you're stuck in five by ten white room, and they draw bodily fluids on a regular basis. At least in prison they let you out in the yard once or twice a day and they can't take blood without permission or suspect." Sara tried to reflexively roll her shoulder, but the combination of brace, bandage, plaster, padding, and sling held her firmly immobile.
"So how long is it gonna take Danny to figure out that you're not there?" Gabriel asked, absently, more than a little distracted by his inventory list.
"Oh he knows," Sara sat on the back of the sofa, leaning against the wall, Gabriel was on the cushions, at her feet, and grunted, "he's got Leigh stopping by every coupla hours, to 'check up' on me. I think they're afraid I'd assault someone."
"So do I have to, like, guard my back or something?" Gabriel asked, remembering Ian's many 'visits' to 'check up' on Sara as she stayed with him.
"Probably, he's not a lunatic, like Ian, but he'll come looking for me." She shifted, trying to find a comfortable position for her arm, "He doesn't know where your place is, though, that'll give me a few hours head start."
"Why don't you just bring him here anyhow?" Gabriel asked, "It's not like you can't trust him."
"I know," Sara tried to explain, "It's just with Ian hanging around in my apartment half the time it doesn't feel…I don't know, private I guess. It's like a train station. He walks in and out all the time. Danny's part of work, y'know, he's got expectations and I got secrets, and those don't mesh real well. They can't be in here, though, and you know about my little friend, so it's more comfortable."
"I'm flattered," he grinned.
"Yeah, well don't let it go to your head," she grumbled, ruffling his curly hair, "Your ego is bad enough."
"My ego?" he said sarcastically, but leaned back into her caress, "I don't have one, you make sure of it."
"Right," she chuckled, and kept running her hand through his curls.
They were soft and springy, and he was warm, radiating heat. From her vantage point she could see that he had strong shoulders, graceful hands, and he smelled like….Whoa. 'Down girl', she told her hormones. This is Gabriel; we do not hit on Gabriel. Gabriel is our friend; he is young, impressionable, and NOT a candidate for sniffing at. In any sense of the word. 'Jailbait,' she repeated to herself, 'Jailbait'.
"If you need anything, like say an extra hand, you know where I live." Gabriel offered, trying not to move so that she'd continue to absently stroke his hair, "I know you're not supposed to be alone, they told me to keep an eye on you."
"Yeah well, with Nottingham spending his time stalking around my place, all I have to do is whisper and he'd come through the skylight." She said wryly.
"You don't have a skylight."
"Hmm, did I hear him right? Yes, I know sweetie, he's asking to get immolated. But we don't want to hurt him, at least not today. He's got the resources we need." Sara pretended to talk to the Witchblade, "Next time, I promise."
"Funny," he said sarcastically, as she tugged on a fistful of his hair, "Very funny"
"Well don't piss her off," Sara said lightly, teasing, "Or you will find yourself on the business end of…" she stopped, Gabriel looked up, seeing her eyes sliding towards blank, "of…of…"
The Witchblade flared the crystal, lighting up the low lit basement storage room. Gabriel watched as Sara slowly fell into the hypnotic spell of a vision. He gently extricated his hair from her grip and stood up. He'd never actually seen her go into one of her vision trances, though Sara'd told him about them. The Witchblade was now showing her scenes, from another Wielder's life, maybe, or the future, or something that was happening now.
He had no clue how long this would last, she told him that sometimes they lasted for a few seconds, like if she was trying to solve a case, or even a few hours, at night, when it was sure she wouldn't be disturbed. He wasn't quite sure what category the Witchblade had put him in, if he was 'safe' enough that the Witchblade would leave Sara vulnerable for a few hours or if it'd flash her back to life in a minute, drawn and ready to defend.
Flash
An image of a woman wearing the Witchblade
Flash
Joan of Arc, refusing to relinquish the Blade to another
Flash
A stranger, one not recognised as a Wielder, putting on the Blade. Screaming, agony, pain, death
Flash
Voices running around, insanity, the Blade whispering: "Pretender, Pretenders, see the fate of our pretenders"
Flash
Rightful Wielders lined up on one side of a bloody field, Pretenders on the other, running towards each other, screaming battle cries
Flash
I shall recognise no Pretenders
Flash
Sara, Sara, Sara, no pretenders shall hold me
"Sara, Sara!" Danny was slapping her, trying to snap her out of it, "Sara damnit, wake up!"
She rolled, groggily, and almost screamed as her shoulder, bumped roughly against the concrete wall of Gabriel's storage basement. The voices echoed in her head, something about pretenders. She could barely remember, from the Witchblade's other visions, that in the previous timeline several pretenders had made a bid for the Witchblade, they'd all died, horribly.
Over the history she'd just seen, the Witchblade itself fought off the forced impositions of pretenders. Irons's hand, although severed, was still scarred with the mark from his abortive attempt. He was lucky, weaker pretenders had gone insane, horribly so, and turned the Blade on themselves.
"Sara!"
"Huh?" she wove slightly, but focused on the sound of Danny's voice to pull her back to the waking world. Wait a minute, Danny wasn't supposed to be here, this was Gabriel's space. The Witchblade flared in annoyance, kill the usurper.
"Hey chief, you were out for a while, you Ok?" Gabriel, her mind spit out, and the Witchblade registered him as wise-safe-help-man. The Witchblade stood down, not wanting to risk Gabriel's life over an annoyance.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Danny?" she asked, numbly, "Where'd you come from?"
"You checked out of the Hospital you half-witted idiot; I'm here to put you back." Danny stood up, still wearing his heavy overcoat, she knew, without knowing quite how she knew, that he'd just walked in.
"Danny I don't need to be there, it's dangerous." She protested.
"Damn right it's dangerous, you're not out of the woods yet, that arm is still in critical condition." He tried to convince her to get up.
"No," she said, her voice sounding raspy and distant to her ears, "not for me, for them, it's not a safe place for them. Danny… do you remember when we had that conversation: blind faith with eyes wide open?"
"You're not gonna pull that now, Pez, no way is that gonna fly." He shook his head, folding his arms over his chest.
"Danny," her voice broke, she wanted desperately to just admit everything to him, let the burden of knowledge sit on someone else's shoulders, "Please."
"Please what?" he asked.
"Listen: even without this cast" she shook her arm, wincing as lancelets of pain ran up her body, "or the surgery, I would have recovered. It would have taken a lot longer, but it would have happened. This is quicker, but it would have been alright without it."
"Bull," he said, squaring his shoulders, "Prove it"
"I can't, you have to trust me," she was almost begging, "please"
"Sara," he sighed, shaking his head.
"Hey," said Gabriel, surprising everyone, "Why do you think she's here? Who else in the City has what I've got here? I got stuff that'd make your Grandma swear like a sailor, she's gonna be fine. Believe me."
"Why the hell should I?"
Danny took his frustration with Pez's refusal to tell him what was really going on out on the ready target of the young entrepreneur. He shoved him back, knocking Gabriel into a shelf.
"Because she called me, not you," Gabriel might not be a 'venerable old Asian master' but he could still hit below the belt. "I know what to do."
"What, with all your little tourist trap 'relics'?" Danny argued scoffing, "Oh I'm scared."
Impugned at his 'honour' getting called into question Gabriel got one good swing at Danny before the other man, much more highly trained, took him down. They rolled on the floor, amid Sara's protestations to stop. Suddenly, as if just realising Gabriel was in danger of giving in completely, the Witchblade surged to life.
"Shhhhhiiiinnnkkk" was the loud sound in the quiet room.
Both men stopped instantly, Sara closed her eyes with a grimace, fighting off the sudden urge to eviscerate her best friend. Gabriel could see the Blade; in this timeline he'd never actually seen the combat form of the Witchblade. Danny saw nothing, but knew damn well something was going on. He'd heard that noise before, usually just before someone who'd been bugging them suddenly sprouted blood.
"I think," Sara said with calmness she did not feel, "that enough is enough."
"Ok," Danny said, getting off of Gabriel, who was breathing roughly through a heavy nosebleed. "Ok, you got me. There's something funny going on, you can't tell me, that's Ok. Blind faith with eyes wide open"
"I don't deserve you, Danny, I really don't," Sara smiled at him, "You're a damn good friend."
"Yeah well, someone's gotta be, you're too damn contrary to make many of them Pez," Danny said.
"Great," Gabriel said with a painful grunt, "Now you mind getting over the Kodak moment and helping me out here?"
"Ooooo" Sara grinned sympathetically, "C'mere valiant warrior, you know better than to pick a fight with Danny. Hell, I know better than to pick a fight with Danny. I guess it's one of those testosterone laden male macho things, isn't it? Here," she handed him her bandanna, usually kept in her jeans pocket along with a single squeeze packet of anti-bacterial no-water hand cleanser.
"Thanks" he pressed the cloth to his nose, immediately soaking the fabric, "Is it broken?"
"If you have to ask, then it's not" Danny said pleasantly, "For a lightweight you have a decent punch, Bowman."
"Not decent enough," Gabriel said, muffled through the fabric.
"C'mon," Sara used her good arm to help him off the concrete, grinning at Danny's backhanded compliment, "Let's get you some ice, ok?"
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