* * *

That evening after Jake dropped her off, she looked around the loft and felt the urge to get outside again. Grabbing her helmet, she went down the stairs towards the Buell and hopped on. Starting the engine, she steered the machine towards the park. While it wasn't the wide open spaces she wanted, it was the best she could do in a hurry.

The wind grabbed at her clothing as she cut through the air on the way there, and she was chilled by the time she arrived and parked her Buell near a picnic table. She putting her helmet on the seat, she climbed onto the table and sat down on the surface, her feet resting on the seat. Leaning back and supporting herself on her hands, Sara could just make out the barest glimmer of stars above her.

A slight rustle sounded in the shroud of shadows created by the long-since burned out street lamp and Sara tensed without moving. The rustle grew closer and a tall shadow could be seen out of the corner of Sara's eye. She sighed when she identified it. "Nottingham."

The darker shadow disconnected form those lighter surrounding it as Ian Nottingham stepped forward. "Lady Sara," he greeted her, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I should have guessed that my friendly neighborhood stalker would show up sooner or later." Sara glanced over to see Ian standing with his head bowed before her. "You and Irons enjoy the show?"

Ian raised his head and looked at her, his eyes glittering in what little light reached him. "Show, Lady Sara?"

Sara nodded and went back to watching the sky. "The Periculum."

Ian shook her head. "It was a test, Lady Sara, not a show."

Sara nodded again, not completely believing that he and his… What exactly is Irons to Ian Nottingham, she wondered. His master, his trainer, his owner? Boss doesn't seem to work. A mere boss wouldn't have the control that Irons does over him. Deciding to mull over it later, she gestured to the picnic table. "I don't know why you're looming over there, Nottingham. Grab a seat." She saw Ian hesitate, and gave him an opening. "I'm getting a bit tired of having to strain to hear you." She sighed when he immediately moved closer to her and sat gingerly on the old wood. On the bench seat, she noted, at her feet instead of beside her as an equal. Irons trained you well, Ian. Pity he trained you to be a dog instead of a man.

She sat up and gestured upwards with a hand. "What do you see out there, Ian?"

He looked at her, startled but pleased by the use of his first name before quickly averting his gaze once more. Obediently, he turned his gaze to the night sky. "Balls of gas of various temperatures at varying distance from Earth."

Sara chuckled and shook her head. "Stars, you mean."

Ian nodded once extremely seriously.

"Ian, you don't have to be scientific or precise with me."

Ian nodded again, not sure what to say.

Sara sighed, knowing that drawing him out of his shell and figuring out where he stood was going to take time. "What do you want to see?"

Ian looked at her again, unsure of what she was asking.

She looked up. "Some people look at the stars and see distant planets, exotic locales and alien beings waiting to be friends while others see future enemies. Even more see nothing at all, nothing special." She stopped and glanced at him again. "What do you see?"

Ian nodded slightly and, instead of looking up, closed his eyes. "Galaxies, supernovas, constellations." He heard Sara sigh again and knew that what he was saying wasn't what she was looking for. A memory of him as a child watching the night sky with a telescope came to him, and he remembered what he had said when Irons had asked him the same question. "Dreams, hope. It reminds me of how small, how inconsequential I really am in the scheme of things. How small all humans are." He stopped, involuntarily flinching as he remembered the feel of Irons striking him for that remark as he raged that most humans were inconsequential but he, Irons, wasn't.

She watched the obviously tensed man surreptitiously, knowing a direct look would only unnerve him more. He was wearing his black coat again, and just an inch of his neck was visible before skin reached hairline, his dark hair pulled back into a clubbed ponytail. The skin was fair, even in this weak light, but Sara noticed that along his cheek, the pale skin was mottled. Sitting up abruptly, she reached out and grasped his face in her hand.

Ian tensed even more, obviously schooling his reflexes so he didn't lash out. He allowed his head to be guided so that Sara could see the full side of it, barely able to keep from flinching again when he felt Sara's glove touch his cheekbone.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Ian," she said impatiently as she took off her glove. She touched her warm fingers to his cold skin, lightly tracing the mottled bruise.

Ian paused before nodding his acquiescence. He reached up and took hold of the hand holding his face. "I know that, Sara."

"Well, you sure didn't act like it," she snapped, too upset by the bruise to regulate her tone. She only realized how it had been taken when Ian's gloved hand dropped and he started to lower his head into his normal subservient gesture. "Ian," she said softly, using her hand to gently raise his face to hers again. "Listen to me, okay?" She waited a beat for the barely imperceptible nod she had known he would give. "You didn't do anything wrong. I was just upset."

Ian looked at her, his eyes showing his confusion as he asked "Why?"

Sara took a deep breath and traced his cheek with her fingers again. "Because someone had hit you."

Ian cocked his head slightly to one side, the movement not breaking Sara's touch as she moved her hands with the movement. "Sara, I am in charge of Kenneth Irons' personal security," he explained before continuing, "I was in covert ops. You have called me an assassin and a stalker. You yourself have threatened to kill me, telling me that no jury in the world would convict you for the murder."

Sara dropped her hands into her lap and looked down at them. He's right, she realized. In all these months, I've taken my frustration about the Witchblade and Irons and my life out on him because he was a convenient target. She looked up at the gentle touch on her chin into Ian's eyes. "I'm sorry," she said slightly stilted.

Ian shook his head. "Don't be sorry, Sara. It's understandable that you've been feeling frustrated."

Sara shook her own head. "You still didn't deserve to be my whipping post."

Ian shrugged, lifting one shoulder and letting it fall gracefully.. "It is a role I am used to, Sara."

"You shouldn't have to be."

Ian shrugged again in answer.

Sara swallowed, her emotionalism of the past few minutes having taken her by surprise. "So, some bruiser tried to take out your boss?"

Ian looked at her, knowing the question was a transparent ploy to change the subject and divert attention from herself. "Few 'bruisers' would attempt to take Mr. Irons' life, Sara."

Sara nodded. "Then who hit you?" she asked, and saw his visible hesitation. ""Forget it. I was just curious."

Ian soundlessly sighed, knowing that he couldn't have told her Irons was the one who hit him and relieved that he wouldn't have to lie to Sara. "They say that curiosity killed the cat."

"Confusing parables aren't enough, Nottingham? Now you're talking in cliches too?" Ian didn't answer her question and Sara chuckled. "It's a good thing I'm not a cat, isn't it?"

Ian nodded.

"Everyone has feline tendencies, though." She shrugged slightly. "Just a part of life, I guess." There was no response from the man beside her and she laid back on the table to look at the night sky again.

"What do you see when you watch the stars, Lady Sara?"

"Memories," she answered in a wistful voice.

"Of whom?"

She gestured with one gloved hand. "Everyone. I remember my dad reading me bedtime stories when I was little. Hugging me before I went to bed. The day he was killed, before I found out. Being at the Academy, finally fitting in. Being partnered with Danny." Her voice trailed off and a lone tear traced a wet path down her chilled skin.

"Why?" Ian asked as he watched the glimmering silver path in the light.

Sara lifted one hand and wiped at the tear track. "I felt safe. During each of those times, I knew that I was protected, loved." She sat up quickly and shook her head. "Sorry, getting maudlin. I should go."

Ian nodded and stood.

Sara stood up on the bench seat and jumped to the ground, looking at the hand that Ian automatically raised in case she needed steadying. As she watched, the hand was slowly lowered back to his side and he looked to the ground. "Thanks, Ian."

He looked up and gave a brief nod before turning and melting into the shadows.

Sara rubbed her cheek again with her glove. What made me be so open to him? He always seems to get under my defenses. She walked over to her bike, the hairs on the back of her neck raising. Turning to look into the darkness, she raised one hand in salute, thanking Ian for sticking around until she left.

* * *

Sara entered her apartment and automatically threw her helmet as she went to grab a beer. Taking off her jacket and hanging it on the hanger she took from the clothes rack, and sat down at the kitchen table, still covered with the contents of the wooden chest. Deciding to eat, she put everything but the bullet back into the chest, setting the chest to one side.

Leaving the bullet standing in the middle of the table, she got up to grab a few slices of the pizza, having kept part of what was left and sending the majority home with Gabriel. She put them on a paper towel in lieu of a plate and sat down at the table with them and her mug, already taking a bite from the top slice.

"Where do I know you from?" she asked the inanimate object. "What, I expect an answer?" she laughed and stood up to put a CD on. The CD she chose was one that Gabriel had burned and given to her a few days ago, the soulful Celtic strains bring memories of crisp green grass and horses. While not the normal type of music she listened to, she had to admit that the haunting melodies were relaxing.

Cathain flashed through her mind, the warrior was riding a horse through a meadow, charging at something. A race, it looked like, Cathain smiling and laughing while another horse and rider gained on her from behind. Conchobar? It was impossible to know for sure, the man in silhouette, the sun behind him throwing his features into shadow and obscuring his face.

Sara looked at the swirling stone of the Witchblade and sighed. "It's a good thing that I don't listen to this kind of music often if it gives me visions." The stone swirled for a few moments more before once more becoming opaque.

I wonder if that would work with all of the past lives? Sense memory. People smell something, and remember where they first smelled it. Can I listen to music from different time periods and get memories from that Wielder? That could be fun to play with sometimes. Maybe help me figure out where people stand. If everything, and everyone, is connected now, wouldn't it stand to reason they were connected in the past? I bet Gabriel would be able to help with something like this.

Sara looked at the phone, obviously contemplating calling her young friend.

Nah, not right now. He needs to get some sleep, assuming he's even home. He doesn't need to be woken up to help me make theories on this. I already told him what I could yesterday. Besides, he did ask for some time to make sense of what I told him.

I expected him to be freaked out by what I told him. I should have known better. He started a business dealing with the occult, with cursed objects and pieces of history. Why should a sentient bracelet that causes visions creep him out? He wasn't much help in figuring out where others stand, but he couldn't be. Only they know and only I can find out.

Tall, dark, and scary. What a way to identify Ian Nottingham. It definitely works, but tonight, something was different about him. He seemed more open. Maybe that's why I was so open with him. I'd tell Danny what I saw in the stars, but he's the only one. What is it about Nottingham? He looks like your typical bad-boy, has the fighting skills to prove it, probably carries an arsenal in his trench coat… But he always gets under my skin. He shouldn't. Part of why I took so much of my frustration out on him. He was there, always there. He'd try to help, then go into that mysterioso crap he and Irons are so fond of.

Tonight, he seemed so innocent. Once you got past the clothes. A Covert Ops trained officer turned bodyguard, a stalker and assassin, flinching away from a hand on his cheek. No wonder he's always so serious. I wonder who got the drop on him. I can't imagine many would; his reflexes are great. Maybe that's part of the puzzle of Ian Nottingham.

Which is not the puzzle I'm supposed to be figuring out tonight. This bullet is.

Sara raised the bullet and lightly traced the engraving with her thumb.

I don't even know where to start. Well, maybe I do. She looked at the phone again. I wonder if Gabriel's up to doing any research. Finding out what the bull represents can be a start. Sara nodded, pleased with herself, and wiped the bullet with the extra paper towel she had brought before setting it on the table and wiping the excess grease off her fingers.

Standing, she drained the remainder of the beer in one long gulp and tossed it into the bag she had set aside for glass to be recycled. Walking towards her bed, she turned off the lights on the way and changed into a pair of boxer shorts and a tank top. Falling into bed, she sighed at the feeling of the mattress conforming to her body and she turned to one side, falling asleep almost instantly to dream of chases on horseback though meadows and forests.

* * *

Sara woke the next morning to the smell of coffee brewing. She stretched, loathe to leave the warmth of the bed, until she woke enough to register that coffee was brewing. She lived alone. She reached for the gun kept on her night table only to find it missing. When her hand encountered nothing but flat surface, she looked around the loft, trying to see the intruder.

The window closest to the fire escape was open.

Shaking her head, she got up from her bed, grabbed the cup of coffee on the table, and went to close the window. She could see him standing on the ground and she lifted the cup in thanks. Sara shook her head as Ian inclined his head, gave a gallant bow, and turned to walk away.

"For a stalker, he makes good coffee," Sara mused as the caffeine made it's way through her system. She drained the cup quickly and went to take a shower, letting the hot water wake her even more.

Once dry, she collected her cup and was going to get another from the pot on her counter when she was distracted by a piece of paper she hadn't seen before. Bold black writing nearly leapt out at her as she lifted it to read it.

Sara,

Good morning, my lady.

I enjoyed last night.

Enjoy your coffee.

Ian Nottingham

She placed it back on the table. She walked to the counter to get her second cup of the day while asking herself, "well, Sara, what did you expect? A declaration of love?"

She sat down at the table and shook her head. "A declaration of love? Where'd that come from?"

She drained the second cup as quickly as the first and collected her jacket and helmet from where she left them last night. "Time to go take care of the bane of my existence."

"High heels?" was asked from behind her.

She whirled to face Danny. "Very funny," she responded, but Danny was already gone. Shaking her head, she glanced at the bullet before shrugging and slipping it into her pocket before heading down the stairs to her motorcycle.

A short while later, she pulled into the precinct, parking her bike near a long row of cars. She nodded to the officers she passed, not saying anything as she took off her jacket and made her way to the office she had shared with Danny.

"No, Danny, paperwork. Again." She sat grabbed a cup of coffee from the pot on the filing cabinet and sat down in front of her covered desk.

"What'd you say?" Jake asked as he walked into the room, tossing his own jacket onto the back of his chair.

"Just talkin' to myself." She looked at the folder she held.

"Dangerous, Pez," he teased.

Sara shrugged. "No more than thinking."

Jake nodded and returned to his file. "We getting together for lunch again?"

Sara looked up at him quickly. "Sorry, Jake, going to go see a friend of mine."

"Oh." Jake slowly perused the typed letter without reading what was on the paper. "Anyone I know?" he asked in a tone of studied nonchalance.

Sara took a sip of her coffee. "Hmm, you met him before. Gabriel."

"Gabriel? You mean that kid that showed up here with the tickets to Conchobar's concert while we were investigating those ritual murders?"

"I doubt he'd like being called a kid," she nodded, "but yeah, that's Gabriel."

"What d'ya wanna see him for?" For nothing much, his tone implied.

Sara straightened in her seat and fixed the rookie with a cold stare, her green eyes frosting over. "He's a friend, Jake. You do know what friends are, right? He's helped me out in some tight spots."

Jake dropped the folder he held and lifted his hands, showing them to her palm up. "No offense, Sara. I was just asking. There's no need to insult me."

Sara watched him a minute before nodding and returning her attention to the paperwork that beckoned.

Jake sat back in relief. Pez was feisty under the best of conditions, but when defending someone she considered a friend she definitely had a 'take no prisoners' attitude. He didn't want to set her off and then have to spend all day enclosed in an office with her.

* * *

The energized beat of KISS greeted Sara as she walked down the hall to the shop that held Talismaniac. She shook her head as she let herself in, wondering if she should tell Gabriel it wasn't safe to leave your door unlocked in New York. You're think he knew better, what with this being his business. She walked through the metal rolling shelves, idly picking something up here or there until she came to the end of them. Gabriel was at his beat up desk busily clicking away on the keyboard to his computer.

Her green eyes going mischievous, she crept up behind the young man. Stealth wasn't required with the volume the music was at, but it was better to be safe then sorry. She waited until she reached him and then placed both hands on his shoulders, leaning in to repeat the lyrics to 'King of the Night Time World' directly in his ear.

"'I'm the king of the night time world, and you're my headlight queen, I'm the king of the night time world, come live your secret dream."

The response was what she hoped for, Gabriel jumped in his chair under her hands before turning to her. "Chief, I really hate to tell you, but I'd be the king of the night time world, not you."

Sara shrugged. "Being royalty's never been a wish of mine."

Gabriel turned the music down to a less deafening level, and offered, "You can still be my headlight queen."

Sara chuckled and shook her head as she said, "thanks, Gabriel."

"No problem," he said as he stood up to pull out a chair for her to sit in. "So, what's up?"

Sara sat in the offered chair as she offered. "Nothing much, just wanted to see how you were."

Gabriel looked towards the detective. "Yeah, right. I'm doing okay."

Sara glanced up from the carved lotus flower she had picked up. "What was that for?"

Gabriel sat down beside her and laughed. "Sara, you're my friend…"

"You're my friend, too, Gabriel."

"But you never stop by just to see how I am or to do lunch," he continued as if there hadn't been an interruption.

Sara shrugged sheepishly. "Part of that not being fair to you. You're a great help to me, kid, but I don't want to shortchange you."

Gabriel considered this before nodding. "So, what'd you really stop by for?"

Sara glanced at the young man as the tinge of a blush arched across her cheekbones at how well he knew her. "Know anything about bulls?"

Gabriel nodded and turned to his computer, pulling up a painting that had a bull centered in the middle of it. "It's basically an ambiguous symbol; for ages it's been a symbol of masculinity and virility, but because of the crescent shaped horns, it can also represent death."

He changed the picture to another one, this one with a disk between it's horns. "This is the Apis bull. In ancient Egypt, it was worshipped as a symbol of creation. That disk, there," he pointed," is the disk of Ra." He scrolled down to see the same bull without the disk. "It was also sacred to Osiris, so it symbolized death."

Sara nodded. "So bulls are life and death."

Gabe shook his head. "Not always. In Roman times, it was sacrificed because it's blood was believed to fertilize the earth. Uh, it was also sacred to Greek gods such as Zeus, Dionysus, Aphrodite, and Poseidon. Because of it's roar, it was often the symbol of thunder gods, like Thor. Hindus see them as sacred, even today, and Jews call Yahweh the bull of Israel.

While the Western tradition has basically focused on the less desired characteristics, such as brutality, cruelty, and lust, it was a popular heraldic symbol." He pulled up the emblem of Richard III of England. "In those times, it showed courage and ferocity." He pulled up yet another picture, this one extremely familiar. "Taurus is also known as the sign of the bull."

Gabriel stopped his mini lecture to glance at the woman beside him, smiling slightly at the semi-glazed look in her green eyes. "So, why do you want to know about bulls?"

Sara shook her head to clear it before answering. "Just found something in some stuff that belonged to my parents."

"What?"

Sara looked at Gabriel and shrugged. "Just something I'd seen before. Once I figure out where, I'll tell ya."

Gabriel nodded. "Fair enough." He glanced at the clock and continued, "well, since you're here on your lunch break, why don't we eat?"

Sara gave a quick smile of relief that he was going to drop it so easily. "Sure, my treat this time."

Gabriel stood up and stretched. "Who'm I to turn that down? I know a great deli that's close, come on."

Sara followed him out, one hand in her pocket around the bullet she had picked up on impulse this morning. The Witchblade glowed as she wondered why she hadn't shown it to Gabriel.

* * *