A/N: Well, I know I shocked a few of you, well okay most of you, with that last chapter, actually killing off Kenny. I had my reasons, and have been planning this since they were in Mexico, actually. I think this chapter will explain fairly well. I tried to leave this chapter off at a fairly neutral point, because my sister is coming into town on Monday, and she'll be here til Feb. 7, and I don't expect to have much time to write while she'd here. Reviews are vastly appreciated. Thanks to all of you who have been posting them. Oh, and anyone who is into the Heralds of Valdemar series of books, I'll be posting something in that section here shortly too. As always, it can all be found at my web site www.angelfire.com/scifi2/aimspar which may be helpful to those new to my series who want to go back to the beginning. All the stories are posted there in order. Oh, and for the one who asked, I have no idea how much Sara's dress would actually cost, but I'm betting it was at least a couple thousand, including shoes.
When Ian awoke the next morning it was with a sense that the world wasn't real. Sara was by his side, and nothing looked different in the apartment, but something nagged him. Then memory came flooding back, and he dropped his head back to the pillow and just stared at the ceiling, trying to come to grips with a world without Irons and what it meant. Sara felt him stir and sat up, leaning on one elbow to look down at him, and brushed a tendril of dark hair out of his eyes with gentle fingers. He looked at her, his eyes full of tears, beseeching her to somehow make it all right again. She just looked back at him with all the love she felt for him in her eyes, and didn't say any of the stupid things people tend to say at these moments, like "Everything will be okay," or "Are you alright?" because of course he wasn't alright. Noone ever could be after something like that.
"Ian, honey, how can I help?"
"He's really gone, isn't he," Ian asked, the threatening tears spilling over to run down his cheeks and neck to wet the pillow.
"Yes, love, he is," she replied as gently as she could.
"It should have been me," Ian said, his voice hollow.
"It would have been, but the Witchblade healed you. Ian, you did all you could, you would have died for him, but then you both would have been dead. You stepped in front of the bullet for him. It's not your fault it went through you. You did everything you could. I know it doesn't make it any better, but please don't blame yourself and make it worse."
"My responsibility," he said. "I was in charge of security, and I even had forewarning. I should have done something."
"Done what, Ian?" She challenged him, if only to get him out of his depression and actually thinking, functioning again. "We have no idea how that man got in with a gun, or even who he was. We don't know who he worked for. All we know is he had to have worked for or with someone else to have gotten in, because he wasn't a guest. Until we know more about what happened we have no way of knowing what we should have done different."
Ian looked at her, letting what she said sink in, and as he thought about it his eyes grew hard. She could see the thought processes as he shifted from mourning to anger, and with it the need for revenge. He threw back the covers and started pulling on his clothes. Sara rose and did the same, dressing in her practical jeans and t-shirt. When Ian grabbed his coat and headed for the door Sara stopped him with a firm hand on his shoulder.
"Ian, you need to eat first. You'll need your strength."
He stared at her as if she had grown another head, then nodded tightly. She got him to sit down while she whipped up an omelet and toast, and made him coffee. When she set the food in front of him he ate mechanically, his mind elsewhere. Sara sighed and tried to draw him out.
"Ian, what's our next step?"
"Our?" He finally looked at her, raising an eyebrow.
"Of course, our! You don't think I'm going to just stand here and let you do this by yourself?"
"This is my fight, Sara," he said. "You're a cop. You can't do these things."
"I'm also the Wielder of the Witchblade, Ian. There are things I do as the Wielder that the cop would never do. It's my job to balance the dark forces, isn't it? Whoever did this, I doubt they would ever receive conventional justice. Besides, the Witchblade showed me this, that makes it my fight too. And if you think I'm not gonna be right by your side through this, you're crazy."
He blinked, looked at her for a minute, then reached out his hand across the table to her, his expression softening. She took his hand, held it tight, smiling sympathetically.
"I love you, Sara," he said softly.
"I love you, Ian. We'll get through this together."
Ian's celphone rang, making them both jump at the shrill sound. He pulled it out of his pocket, answered it, then frowned. He listened for a minute, murmured an affirmation, then hung up. Then he looked at Sara.
"We have to attend the Reading of Irons' Will at Vorschlag today at ten," he told her.
"We should change, then," she pointed out. "And shower. It's a good thing we already ate, we don't have much time."
Showered, dressed in appropriate clothes, and only a few minutes late, they walked into Irons' office and took the seats the attorney indicated. There were two other people present, more attorneys from the looks of them, people Ian had never seen before. Everyone introduced themselves and then settled, coffee at hand, and the Reading of the Will began.
"First," Irons' attorney began, "I'd like to introduce my colleagues. Mr. Brent is from Barstow & Bigley, and Mr. Stowe is from Major & Johnston. They are present as witnesses as a courtesy to you, in case anyone were to challenge the Will. I find it highly unlikely that anyone would do so, but it never hurts to be cautious, especially with such a large estate. They have both examined the Will at length and will vouch for the validity of the document. All is in order."
"Thank you, Mr. Anderson," Ian said solemnly.
"Now, I won't go over the complete text of the Will, as it's quite wrapped up in legalese, and mostly unimportant except to us attorneys." Mr. Anderson paused to give Sara a small smile at his joke. "The basics of the Will are that you two are the sole heirs of his estate, to divide precisely evenly between you or hold jointly, however you see fit. Mr. Nottingham is to be appointed C.E.O. of all the corporate holdings, although if you decide to split the stocks instead of holding jointly, the normal rules apply. I'll see to all the details of the transference as soon as you decide what you want to do, but Mr. Irons made it very clear that he wished you, Mr. Nottingham, to take over his corporate holdings personally."
Ian and Sara were both stunned. Sara couldn't believe that Irons would have left her anything at all, since they had been so at odds over the Witchblade. After all their confrontations she had more expected Irons to stipulate Ian got everything if he never saw her again. Ian was shocked that Irons had thought him capable of stepping into his shoes.
"Mr. Irons also left each of you a private letter to be read at your convenience, which I believe will further explain his reasons and wishes for the future." The attorney slid the envelopes across the table to each of them. "The original of the will is in my office, safely locked in my vault, but I'll leave the copy here for you to read over if you like. If there aren't any questions, I'll go get started on the necessary arrangements. You can let me know what you want to do about dividing the estate or holding it together later, but please try to make a decision within the next few days."
"Thank you, Mr. Anderson," Ian said, rising as the other three men got to their feet, seeing them to the door. Then he returned to Sara's side.
"I'm confused, Ian," she said. "Why would Irons leave me anything? All I ever did was piss him off."
"I believe he admired you greatly for your strength and independence, even if they were contrary to his plans. Perhaps he explains in the letter he left you."
"Should we read them now," she asked.
"I think we should," he replied, reaching for his envelope. Within was a letter, in Irons' handwriting, on his cream and gold stationary. Sara had a similar letter.
My Dear Ian;
As I write this, I feel the hand of time finally catching up with me. Long have I thwarted it's grasp, but no one lives forever. The Witchblade has severed my link with it at long last. This has served to bring me some measure of peace from the burning need to possess it that has driven me for so long. My eyes are clearer than they have been in some time, and I realize things now that I should have understood decades ago. The Witchblade is not, and never was or will be, mine to possess or control. Each Wielder has her own destiny, her own quest, to fulfill. My role in this lifetime is finished.
A final lesson I impart to you, Son of my heart. The Witchblade draws to it what it needs, only what it needs, to instruct it's Wielder. This you know. I was granted the gift of long life because I was the only one who could do what was necessary for the Wielder in this generation. Every Wielder has a Guardian. In times of old, this Guardian was taught to fight, to aid and support the Wielder in her tasks. You are Sara's Guardian, Ian, meant to be with her through the trials ahead. This world today would not have prepared you for such a role if I had not been manipulated by the Witchblade to need you.
You were born not far from here, but your mother died in childbirth. Your father was never known. The Witchblade showed me what I needed to know to find you and adopt you, to train you to be the Guardian, just as Sara's life trained her to be strong and independent. I thought I was training you for my own purpose, my own will, but I was wrong. Your attraction to the Wielder is natural, irresistible, your bond with her unbreakable. You will follow her to the ends of the Earth and back again because of that bond. I only hope for your sake she treats you kindly, because you won't have a choice.
But now you are trained, ready to be her Guardian, and the Witchblade no longer needs me. The extra time I have been granted for my task is at an end. I do not know how I will die, but I suspect it will be soon. Do not mourn for me overlong, my son. I have had more than my share of time, and all the pleasures this Earth has to offer.
I am leaving my vast empire to you and Sara equally, to share or not as you both see fit. To you, I leave sole control of my corporate empire. You are exceptionally intelligent, and have been by my side at most of my meetings. You know all you need to know to step into my place and continue to build on what I have left you. I have left Sara her share because she is proud and independent, and would not wish you taking care of her. If you two join together, it will be as equals. I have done all I can to assure that.
I am very proud of you, my son. You are everything I had hoped for and more. I pray that you can find happiness with Sara. I love you, Ian.
Kenneth
Ian sat stunned, staring out the window, unable to even begin to think. The information about his real parents was a complete shock. He had always been told he had been created by Irons, and to a certain extent he supposed that was true, but to know he was a real flesh-and-blood man and not some freak created in a lab was something he had not expected. He was relieved, and angry that Irons had deceived him for so long. He read the letter again, trying to absorb all the implications of what it contained.
Sara opened her letter with no idea what to expect. She had been completely caught off guard by inheriting half of Irons' vast estate, and it hadn't really sunk in yet that she was a billionaire and all that meant.
My Dear Sara;
I know I have surprised you, leaving you half of my estate. Despite what you think of me and my motivations, I do admire you and wish you to fulfill your destiny as Wielder. The fortune I have left to you will ensure you need never bother yourself with the pedestrian concerns of life so you can concentrate all your resources and attention on the battles ahead. I know you feel I tried to manipulate you for my own purpose, but it was all a part of the Witchblade's design. I was as caught in the web of it's influence as anyone else. Consider, the more I tried to control you, the more you asserted your independence and stubbornness. These traits will serve you well in the future.
I was given a task by the Witchblade, that of raising and training your Guardian. Ian is bound to you and will serve you well. He is as powerful and intelligent as his innate abilities, science, and training can make him. No other is his equal, and you are the only one who can exceed him. Please treat him well. Despite appearances, I do love him and wish him what happiness he can find in this life. Let him train you in combat, for you have much to learn, despite your natural instincts and aid from the Witchblade. The battles ahead of you will only become more and more difficult. Your task has only just begun.
It is my hope that you will choose to share your inheritance with Ian, holding the estate together. Ian has great intelligence and all the training he needs to run my companies, but he has rarely exerted his free will, and I suspect he will greatly need your help in the beginning. My corporate holdings are vast, and it will take much of his time and energy to establish his leadership at first. Be patient with him.
I encourage you to investigate my library. There are many answers there to your questions about the Witchblade. Ian can help you locate the proper section. My research by no means holds all the answers, but it may serve to give you a greater understanding of your destiny, and prepare you somewhat for what lies ahead of you. I wish you success, Sara.
Kenneth
Sara was stunned, reconsidering many things she had thought about Irons. Apparently, Irons wanted Ian and Sara to be together. And she would finally be able to learn more about the Witchblade. She was excited by the prospect. Although she wasn't so sure about living in this huge manor, just the two of them. She read the letter again, then glanced over at Ian. He was deep in thought, so she got up, walked across the office and poked her head out the door to ask the secretary to have something brought up to eat, and some more coffee. Then, to kill time, she looked over the Will. From what she could tell it was exactly as the lawyer had said, and wrapped tight in such a neat legal bow that she couldn't see anyone daring to challenge it.
When lunch arrived Ian still hadn't spoken or moved, so Sara poked his arm and said his name sharply. He started, turned, and gave her a somewhat weak grin.
"I thought you might want to eat something," she said, passing him a plate of Caesar chicken salad.
"Thank you, my love," he smiled. I don't know what I would do without you."
"You'd starve," she said, grinning, trying to lighten his spirits. He smiled back. "So what has you so deep in thought that you don't even notice lunch being brought in," she asked.
"The implications of what Irons had to say in his letter," Ian said, passing it over to Sara. "What we are to do from here, all the things that need to be done, and quickly, so Irons' empire doesn't collapse or get taken over. What we are going to do. The future, the past."
"Yeah, I know what you mean," she said. She read over the letter quickly, raising her eyebrows at a few points. "Wow, Ian," she said. "That certainly explains a few things."
"Yes," he half-smiled. "It does."
"So what do we do next," she asked.
"I have things I must do here," he said. "Business to attend to. I would appreciate your help with the surveillance tapes of the party. Royce has them back at the manor. I will call him and instruct him to aid you in your investigation."
"Sounds good," she said.
"Shall I inform Mr. Anderson that we will be holding the estate jointly," Ian asked, knowing what her answer would be but asking anyway.
"Makes sense," she replied. "Why keep the estate separate now when we'll be getting married and combining it again anyway? Although I don't know what we'll do with all that space."
"We can close off the parts of the house we don't intend to use," Ian replied. "We've got time to figure all that out later. For tonight I think I'd rather meet you back at the apartment."
"One step at a time, huh," she asked. He nodded. "Sounds good to me. Alright, I'll go get started on the tapes. Let me know when you're finished for the day, and I'll meet you back at home. And remember I'm only a thought away."
"Thank you, Sara," Ian said gravely, taking her hand.
"I love you, Ian," she replied, rising to give him a hug. She grabbed her jacket and went out. Ian sat for a few minutes, staring out the window. Then he shook himself and called his secretary and began his work.
