A/N: Determined to not make you wait again for a while, I devoted my
morning to putting this together. It's great to be hearing from all of
you reviewers again. It has been too long away from my fanfic family, and
I missed you all. Things ought to stay calmed down for me for a while, at
least til Christmas week, so I am hoping to get time to read as well as
write. I especially intend to get caught back up with DM's stuff - miss
you! If any of you are new to my series, it goes in chronological order:
Another Day, Another Case; A Much-Needed Vacation; Home Again, Home Again;
Gathering Storm. I've noticed some new names on my reviews, and wanted to
toss that out for anyone who needed it. You can also find all my
Witchblade fics at www.angelfire.com/scifi2/aimspar as well as the X-Men
story I kind-of have going. Happy reading, and please continue to review.
Ian went out the next two nights, prowling the city for White Bulls. There were snipers on the roof across from Sara's both nights, but none on her own roof. The city was abuzz with rumors of some maniac with a grudge against cops prowling the city. The police were at a loss as to why they should be finding their own officers and detectives dead up on rooftops with high-powered sniper rifles in their hands and bullet casings with bulls tattooed on them scattered about. Jake called Sara at one point to see if she knew anything. Since she told Ian she didn't want to know what he was up to she could honestly tell Jake she had no details on the case for him.
When Jake hauled Ian in for questioning, one quick phone call brought Irons down to deal with the situation. The suave billionaire insisted on speaking directly with the Deputy Director in charge of the Bulls case, and within minutes he was walking out with Ian at his side. Jake grumbled, but there was nothing he could do when Kenneth Irons insisted Ian had been with him for the last four nights around the time of the murders, working on details for security for the upcoming party Saturday.
"Well, Ian," Irons said as the chauffer closed the limousine door. "You've created quite a stir."
"Yes, sir," Ian said simply, sitting across from Irons. The driver headed back towards the Vorschlag offices.
"I was in an important meeting when the call came," Irons informed him, then sighed and smiled. "You certainly have the police on their toes."
"I'm sorry you were disturbed," Ian said.
"Don't worry about it, Ian," Irons smiled thinly. "What's the use of all my power if I can't make people wait for me."
Ian looked down in the vicinity of his shoes.
"Come, Ian," Irons said soothingly. "Have lunch with me. I want to hear what you've been doing the past few days."
"May I make a call," Ian asked, pulling out his cel phone. Irons nodded and Ian hit the autodial for Sara's apartment, knowing she was there cleaning up for dinner tonight with Gabriel and Allyson. Sara picked up on the third ring, already knowing who was on the other end of the line.
"Hi Ian," she said. "What's up?"
"Mr. Irons wishes to have lunch with me today," Ian informed her.
"Will you be back in time to cook," she asked.
"I should be. Would you be able to pick up the groceries? The list is on the fridge."
"Sure, Ian. But if you aren't here by four I'm coming after you," Sara warned teasingly.
"Thank you, Sara."
"I love you, Ian," she said softly.
Ian hung up the phone, sending a wordless surge of love in reply through their link. That had been awkward at best with Irons sitting right across from him.
"Did you have other plans, Ian," Irons asked.
"No sir,' Ian replied. "Sara and I are having company for dinner, and I am cooking. I just wanted to be sure she could pick up the groceries since I will be delayed."
They arrived at Vorschlag before Irons could reply. Ian followed Irons in, a step behind as usual. Irons had a brief word with his secretary, ordering lunch to be sent up to his office immediately. They did not talk as they took the elevator up to Irons' office. Irons sat while Ian remained standing at his side, one step behind his shoulder. The usual post brought Ian a measure of comfort with its familiarity. So many things had changed in his life so quickly, he wondered sometimes how he could have left the familiarity of his former life. He closed his eyes briefly, picturing Sara's face, remembering her touch, and felt a wave of unconditional love flow to him through their bond as she felt his thoughts on her. Any price was worth it to have her love, he knew, and was vaguely ashamed he could doubt even for a moment.
Ian's eyes snapped open as the food was brought in. The secretary set down the tray with quiet efficiency and retreated quickly. Two plates of beef tips in light gravy, new red potatoes with chives and butter, fresh rolls, spinach salad with Caesar dressing, and cheesecake for dessert. Irons glanced over the meal and slid a plate to the other side of his desk, waving Ian around to sit and eat.
"Come, sit, Ian. Join me. Tell me all about your new life."
Ian pulled a chair up to the other side of the desk and took the plate Irons offered. He started with the cheesecake, a personal favorite, and Irons smiled. When Ian was a boy he had always tried to start with dessert and had been scolded sternly for it. It was an obvious sign that he was gaining some measure of independence. After the cheesecake was gone Ian looked up almost sheepishly and caught the amused gleam in Irons' eyes.
"What do you want to know," Ian asked, a little uncomfortable but hiding it well.
"How are things going with our lady Sara," Irons asked.
"There is some adjusting on both our parts," Ian admitted. "She is as unused to living with someone as I am. We are still trying to decide how best to rearrange the furniture to accommodate both of our needs, and we cannot agree on new furniture."
"Fighting already?" Irons was archly amused.
"No, sir." Ian shook his head. "We don't fight, we just don't agree. We are still trying to find a compromise. I think it will end up with my style choice in the bedroom and her style choice in the living room, since my style preferences don't really match the rest of what she has. Not that hers really matches from piece to piece either," he laughed.
"And she has you cooking for her guests," Irons mused, implying he was being used.
"I actually enjoy it. I've pretty much taken over the kitchen with new gadgets, and she seems glad to let me. It is a pleasure to be able to create something for a change."
"Hm, I'm sure," Irons said. He had expected Ian and Sara to have fought over something by now. He was happy that Ian was settling in well, but at the same time jealous of the deepening relationship and his diminishing control of the young man.
"And how is your love life," Irons asked casually. Ian blinked, color seeping into his cheeks.
"Incredible," Ian responded shortly, uncomfortable with this subject in particular.
"And our lady has not been, ah, impatient with your lack of experience?"
"Sara is a wonderful teacher," Ian said, allowing an infatuated grin to creep across his lips.
"Well," Irons said. "That's good. Have you noticed any unusual behavior from the Witchblade?"
"Unusual?" Ian paused to consider. "No. The Witchblade seems to be content to leave Sara in peace for the moment."
"Hm. That is strange," Irons said. "The forces of darkness have not reached critical mass. All that she has been through so far is just the beginning. It should be testing her, training her for the battles ahead."
"Perhaps she is being allowed to find her inner strength," Ian said. "Some time to heal."
"Weapons of war are forged through fire, Ian," Irons reminded sternly. "None of the others were allowed to rest."
"Sara isn't like any of the others," Ian reminded him.
"True." Irons considered for long moments while Ian finished his salad, then decided to change the subject. "I heard you took her shopping for the party Saturday."
"Rachel told you," Ian guessed.
"Of course. I have been assured that you two will be dressed quite appropriately." Irons looked quite amused. "I would have loved to have been there to see what our fair Sara made of Rachel."
"Actually, after the first few minutes Sara seemed to enjoy the experience," Ian said.
"She has no idea what you paid for that outfit, does she," Irons asked.
"She wouldn't have let me buy it if she knew," Ian said. "She thought a thousand dollars was far too expensive as it was."
"Well, I won't betray your secret, Ian. I am looking forward to seeing the lovely Sara all dressed up tomorrow night. You will let me dance with her, won't you?"
"If she wishes," Ian replied.
"Is there any reason she wouldn't?"
"Perhaps," Ian replied, then elaborated when Irons raised an eyebrow and waited. "She is suspicious of your motivation for letting me move in with her so easily, and is convinced you are up to something."
"Ian, I'm always up to something, you know that." Irons laughed. "As for your relationship with Sara, she caught me off guard. Few people have ever done that. If she's worried that I am plotting to pull you two apart, please tell her to relax. I gave my word I would let you try your relationship, and I will."
"Thank you, father," Ian said softly. Irons warmed to hear Ian's words. The boy almost never called him "father" anymore, and he found he missed it, regretted the loss.
"After the party tomorrow night, why don't you two stay over," Irons asked. "It will be late, and you can share your old room. Everything is just as you left it. A brisk swim and a workout in the morning, followed by a nice breakfast."
"Thank you, sir," Ian said. "I'll ask Sara."
"Do you have to ask Sara for everything," Irons asked.
"No, sir," Ian replied, ignoring the implication that he wasn't able to make his own decisions. "But neither of us make decisions for the other without discussing it."
Irons backed off from that, the tone of Ian's voice a subtle warning. He didn't want to alienate the boy, after all.
"In any case, I hope our fair Sara will consent to stay. I find I miss your company, and the hounds are missing you. Although I don't know how Sara would feel about sharing the bed with two enormous dogs."
"She likes dogs." Ian rose, having finished his meal. "Is there anything else you require, sir?"
"No, Ian," Irons replied. "Go and enjoy your evening. I will expect you tomorrow at noon."
"Yes, sir," Ian responded, inclining his head and turning to walk out of the office.
Irons continued to sit while the remains of his meal cooled on his plate, staring at the wall and turning over all that Ian had said in his mind. He would wait and see what the evening brought tomorrow, how Ian and Sara interacted, before deciding anything.
Ian went out the next two nights, prowling the city for White Bulls. There were snipers on the roof across from Sara's both nights, but none on her own roof. The city was abuzz with rumors of some maniac with a grudge against cops prowling the city. The police were at a loss as to why they should be finding their own officers and detectives dead up on rooftops with high-powered sniper rifles in their hands and bullet casings with bulls tattooed on them scattered about. Jake called Sara at one point to see if she knew anything. Since she told Ian she didn't want to know what he was up to she could honestly tell Jake she had no details on the case for him.
When Jake hauled Ian in for questioning, one quick phone call brought Irons down to deal with the situation. The suave billionaire insisted on speaking directly with the Deputy Director in charge of the Bulls case, and within minutes he was walking out with Ian at his side. Jake grumbled, but there was nothing he could do when Kenneth Irons insisted Ian had been with him for the last four nights around the time of the murders, working on details for security for the upcoming party Saturday.
"Well, Ian," Irons said as the chauffer closed the limousine door. "You've created quite a stir."
"Yes, sir," Ian said simply, sitting across from Irons. The driver headed back towards the Vorschlag offices.
"I was in an important meeting when the call came," Irons informed him, then sighed and smiled. "You certainly have the police on their toes."
"I'm sorry you were disturbed," Ian said.
"Don't worry about it, Ian," Irons smiled thinly. "What's the use of all my power if I can't make people wait for me."
Ian looked down in the vicinity of his shoes.
"Come, Ian," Irons said soothingly. "Have lunch with me. I want to hear what you've been doing the past few days."
"May I make a call," Ian asked, pulling out his cel phone. Irons nodded and Ian hit the autodial for Sara's apartment, knowing she was there cleaning up for dinner tonight with Gabriel and Allyson. Sara picked up on the third ring, already knowing who was on the other end of the line.
"Hi Ian," she said. "What's up?"
"Mr. Irons wishes to have lunch with me today," Ian informed her.
"Will you be back in time to cook," she asked.
"I should be. Would you be able to pick up the groceries? The list is on the fridge."
"Sure, Ian. But if you aren't here by four I'm coming after you," Sara warned teasingly.
"Thank you, Sara."
"I love you, Ian," she said softly.
Ian hung up the phone, sending a wordless surge of love in reply through their link. That had been awkward at best with Irons sitting right across from him.
"Did you have other plans, Ian," Irons asked.
"No sir,' Ian replied. "Sara and I are having company for dinner, and I am cooking. I just wanted to be sure she could pick up the groceries since I will be delayed."
They arrived at Vorschlag before Irons could reply. Ian followed Irons in, a step behind as usual. Irons had a brief word with his secretary, ordering lunch to be sent up to his office immediately. They did not talk as they took the elevator up to Irons' office. Irons sat while Ian remained standing at his side, one step behind his shoulder. The usual post brought Ian a measure of comfort with its familiarity. So many things had changed in his life so quickly, he wondered sometimes how he could have left the familiarity of his former life. He closed his eyes briefly, picturing Sara's face, remembering her touch, and felt a wave of unconditional love flow to him through their bond as she felt his thoughts on her. Any price was worth it to have her love, he knew, and was vaguely ashamed he could doubt even for a moment.
Ian's eyes snapped open as the food was brought in. The secretary set down the tray with quiet efficiency and retreated quickly. Two plates of beef tips in light gravy, new red potatoes with chives and butter, fresh rolls, spinach salad with Caesar dressing, and cheesecake for dessert. Irons glanced over the meal and slid a plate to the other side of his desk, waving Ian around to sit and eat.
"Come, sit, Ian. Join me. Tell me all about your new life."
Ian pulled a chair up to the other side of the desk and took the plate Irons offered. He started with the cheesecake, a personal favorite, and Irons smiled. When Ian was a boy he had always tried to start with dessert and had been scolded sternly for it. It was an obvious sign that he was gaining some measure of independence. After the cheesecake was gone Ian looked up almost sheepishly and caught the amused gleam in Irons' eyes.
"What do you want to know," Ian asked, a little uncomfortable but hiding it well.
"How are things going with our lady Sara," Irons asked.
"There is some adjusting on both our parts," Ian admitted. "She is as unused to living with someone as I am. We are still trying to decide how best to rearrange the furniture to accommodate both of our needs, and we cannot agree on new furniture."
"Fighting already?" Irons was archly amused.
"No, sir." Ian shook his head. "We don't fight, we just don't agree. We are still trying to find a compromise. I think it will end up with my style choice in the bedroom and her style choice in the living room, since my style preferences don't really match the rest of what she has. Not that hers really matches from piece to piece either," he laughed.
"And she has you cooking for her guests," Irons mused, implying he was being used.
"I actually enjoy it. I've pretty much taken over the kitchen with new gadgets, and she seems glad to let me. It is a pleasure to be able to create something for a change."
"Hm, I'm sure," Irons said. He had expected Ian and Sara to have fought over something by now. He was happy that Ian was settling in well, but at the same time jealous of the deepening relationship and his diminishing control of the young man.
"And how is your love life," Irons asked casually. Ian blinked, color seeping into his cheeks.
"Incredible," Ian responded shortly, uncomfortable with this subject in particular.
"And our lady has not been, ah, impatient with your lack of experience?"
"Sara is a wonderful teacher," Ian said, allowing an infatuated grin to creep across his lips.
"Well," Irons said. "That's good. Have you noticed any unusual behavior from the Witchblade?"
"Unusual?" Ian paused to consider. "No. The Witchblade seems to be content to leave Sara in peace for the moment."
"Hm. That is strange," Irons said. "The forces of darkness have not reached critical mass. All that she has been through so far is just the beginning. It should be testing her, training her for the battles ahead."
"Perhaps she is being allowed to find her inner strength," Ian said. "Some time to heal."
"Weapons of war are forged through fire, Ian," Irons reminded sternly. "None of the others were allowed to rest."
"Sara isn't like any of the others," Ian reminded him.
"True." Irons considered for long moments while Ian finished his salad, then decided to change the subject. "I heard you took her shopping for the party Saturday."
"Rachel told you," Ian guessed.
"Of course. I have been assured that you two will be dressed quite appropriately." Irons looked quite amused. "I would have loved to have been there to see what our fair Sara made of Rachel."
"Actually, after the first few minutes Sara seemed to enjoy the experience," Ian said.
"She has no idea what you paid for that outfit, does she," Irons asked.
"She wouldn't have let me buy it if she knew," Ian said. "She thought a thousand dollars was far too expensive as it was."
"Well, I won't betray your secret, Ian. I am looking forward to seeing the lovely Sara all dressed up tomorrow night. You will let me dance with her, won't you?"
"If she wishes," Ian replied.
"Is there any reason she wouldn't?"
"Perhaps," Ian replied, then elaborated when Irons raised an eyebrow and waited. "She is suspicious of your motivation for letting me move in with her so easily, and is convinced you are up to something."
"Ian, I'm always up to something, you know that." Irons laughed. "As for your relationship with Sara, she caught me off guard. Few people have ever done that. If she's worried that I am plotting to pull you two apart, please tell her to relax. I gave my word I would let you try your relationship, and I will."
"Thank you, father," Ian said softly. Irons warmed to hear Ian's words. The boy almost never called him "father" anymore, and he found he missed it, regretted the loss.
"After the party tomorrow night, why don't you two stay over," Irons asked. "It will be late, and you can share your old room. Everything is just as you left it. A brisk swim and a workout in the morning, followed by a nice breakfast."
"Thank you, sir," Ian said. "I'll ask Sara."
"Do you have to ask Sara for everything," Irons asked.
"No, sir," Ian replied, ignoring the implication that he wasn't able to make his own decisions. "But neither of us make decisions for the other without discussing it."
Irons backed off from that, the tone of Ian's voice a subtle warning. He didn't want to alienate the boy, after all.
"In any case, I hope our fair Sara will consent to stay. I find I miss your company, and the hounds are missing you. Although I don't know how Sara would feel about sharing the bed with two enormous dogs."
"She likes dogs." Ian rose, having finished his meal. "Is there anything else you require, sir?"
"No, Ian," Irons replied. "Go and enjoy your evening. I will expect you tomorrow at noon."
"Yes, sir," Ian responded, inclining his head and turning to walk out of the office.
Irons continued to sit while the remains of his meal cooled on his plate, staring at the wall and turning over all that Ian had said in his mind. He would wait and see what the evening brought tomorrow, how Ian and Sara interacted, before deciding anything.
