Sara woke with a start, tears streaming down her face. "Oh John, I knew that we had met before." She lay on her bed, tangled in the covers, softly sobbing. Soon she quieted and got up for a glass of water. She tried to shake off the image in her mind and sat by the window and stared out the window.
Ian had been watching from the fire escape and when she came to the window, he ducked into the shadows. Though he wasn't a party to her visions and dreams; he knew what had transpire had caused tears. He would have liked to think they were tears of happiness; but he knew that she was probably remembering something sad. The way she had tossed and turned in her bed and the way she cried out, this was not a pleasant memory. He knew that she had been affected by meeting Conchobar, and he understood that this man embodied a past love. He watched for a while longer as she drifted back to sleep and the glow of the Witchblade began again.
This time Sara seemed less agitated, more calm. A small smile graced her lips and Ian hoped that this was a happier memory. His cell phone rang and he slipped away into the night as he was recalled to the mansion.
1682
"Pappa, Pappa, who is that little girl?" He tugged on his father's sleeve as the strolled through the market. A traveling group of gypsies had come to town and were making market day more interesting to 12-year-old Gustav.
"Come Gustav. The gypsies are not to be noticed. The little girl is no one of consequence. Be on your way!" He shouted to the group of gypsy children flocking around the townsfolk.
Eight-year-old Sophia watched the boy as he walked away with his father. The boy kept turning back and she braved a small wave. He smiled at her and moved toward his father and the livestock area.
The stream was clear and running swift when Sophie went to clean the dishes from the morning meal, as was her chore. She was about to finish the task and return to the caravan when she heard someone whistling a tune, off key. She hid in the tall weeds near the bank of the stream and peeked to see who was coming. The boy she had noticed at the market walked by, fishing pole in hand. He paused as he passed the weeds.
"Come out girl" he whispered. She slowly parted the reeds and stepped out into the path. "I know who you are."
"Yes Sir?" Sophie inquired.
"You are the girl from the from the market. I saw you. What is your name?" He tried to sound much older than his years. She did not know him, but Sophie knew that he would never harm her.
"Sophie, Sir". She gave a small curtsey. Gustav waved his hand as if to shoo away any pretense of propriety.
"I am pleased to make your acquaintance Sophie. I am Gustav and we are going to be great friends. I know it."
He extended his hand and she took it and smiled.
***
Ian stood in the doorway of Room 511, as he had for the past few weeks. He had decided that he should watch over Sara's love during the day, while she was at work. The nurses had finally learned to move around him without cringing with fear. He exuded such a menacing presence, even when he tried not to. He was helping the only way he could. He didn't mean to frighten the hospital staff. It was the last thing that he wanted.
"What are you doing here? Has Irons decided that John is distracting me from my duties?" Her tone was menacing and her look threw daggers at him.
"No, Lady Sara." He said softly, bowing his head. "I was only checking to see that he was receiving the best care and that no one would harm him."
"Harm him? Why would anyone harm him? He's a songwriter. How could have he have done anything to make someone want to hurt him?" She spoke softly, moving slowly toward him like a great cat stalking prey.
"Only his brother's circle of acquaintances back in Ireland had many enemies; some of which were in the government. But it is of no consequence now." He backed away slowly and when she looked away for a moment, he vanished.
She shook her head, exasperated. Would Nottingham every finish an entire conversation without leaving? She moved into John's room and sat down next to him.
She tried several times to start her diatribe on the day's events, but couldn't seem to get the words out. Sara stood up and took off her jacket and placed it on the back of the chair. She began to pace around the room, starting and stopping several conversations. The floor nurse walked by the room and noticed the detective pacing, her firearm visible. She silently closed the door to the room, so that the sight of the armed detective wouldn't make any of the other patients or visitors uncomfortable.
Sara had not felt comfortable all day, nothing fit and everything and everyone rubbed her the wrong way. She had not slept well and the Witchblade had been sending her visions off and on throughout the evening. Most were about Conchobar from the past and some seemed to be familiar events that she knew had never happened. Her mind was whirling with the images, some were happy and some made her cry; most left her completely confused.
He was reaching out to her mind as he had physically reached for her in the visions. She heard his voice in her head, as if far in the distance and calling her name. Gingerly, she lay down on the bed beside him, placing her head on his shoulder and her hand on his chest. She looked at his peaceful face, gladly noting that the bruises and cuts had healed without many scars. She leaned over and kissed his cheek, laid her head on his shoulder and proceeded to quickly fall asleep.