AN: Yep, that's right, here it is! Chapter 9 is finally up! I know I left you hanging at the end of the last chapter, but that's how I keep you coming back! (at least, I hope I do!!) Well, enjoy!!!
ALSO: Please be aware that I will not be able to post much for ANY of my stories in the near (and possibly distant) future, due to the confiscation of my laptop computer (which holds all of my files, and which I use solely for my writing) by my parents. They do not understand how important my writing is to me, and so cannot see why it is that I desire to do it so much. I apologize profusely for the inconvenience, although I assure you two things~1) I will try my very hardest to get new chapters up whenever I can, and 2) I am as much inconvenienced by this problem as you are. Once again, I sincerely apologize, and wish you all the best of luck with your own writing. And one more thing—in order to keep my spirits up until my laptop is returned to me, will you all PLEASE review and tell me what you think on ALL of my Witchblade stories—I might add that I also have a Witchblade-Star Trek Voyager Crossover called "Things Gone Awry In The Universe". It's just a silly, nonsense fic that a friend and I are writing under the penname BelovedSunrise. Please visit if interested. I will also one day get a site of my own up, for both my writing and others' work, as well. If you are still with me (and still awake), I praise you. If you are not, I don't blame you. Now…ON TO THE STORY!!!!!
SAVE THE LAST DANCE
Chapter 9
Sara smoothed her hands over her belly, which was left bare by the open-midriff shirt she wore, tied in the front. A pair of hip-hugger shorts were pulled up to the base of her round, seven-months-pregnant stomach. She felt as if someone had blown up a hot-air balloon in her abdomen, and then grown a giant pumpkin in there, too. She sighed heavily, then levered herself carefully out of the chair she'd sunk into earlier, groaning as her lower back protested to the added weight caused by standing upright. She moved slowly into the kitchen, making herself a cup of hot chocolate. She stared mournfully at the empty coffee pot as she sipped the sweet beverage. She felt one, then two feet connect with the wall of her abdomen and winced. These two were strong little buggers, all right. They would probably take after their father. Speak of the Devil…
She felt two hands touch her lower back, massaging gently but firmly, and melted into his arms, almost purring with pleasure.
"I am so butter in your hands. Keep doing that, and you'll only have a puddle left on the ground when you get done."
He smiled into her hair. "Then maybe I should stop."
She growled at him.
"Or not."
"Mmm, that feels so good—lower…oh, yeah, there you go, right there, oh…" His expert hands put her to sleep within minutes, and he carried her into the bedroom, then went down to retrieve Michelle from the bus stop, thinking the whole way of Irons' reaction to Ian telling him that she was pregnant. He had conviently forgotten to say that he himself was the father, saying instead that he didn't know who had fathered the "child". He also fibbed on both the fact that the "child" was actually "children" and that he was quite sure that it was a boy, incapable of wielding the Witchblade. Ian, in fact, did not know whether the twins were males, females, or one of each, and he didn't care—having healthy babies was all that mattered. Irons had looked deliriously happy when he'd heard the "with child" part, but when he'd heard "it'll probably be a boy," he'd turned downright dour. But he seemed to believe Ian completely. Not that Ian had to worry about that for much longer. He had something up his sleeve that even Sara didn't know about. He grinned as he thought about it, lifting Michelle into his arms for a great big bear hug when she leapt off the bus to meet him.
"Daddy!" she squealed excitedly, flinging her little arms around his neck and holding on for dear life. He laughed and hugged her again.
"Hey, sweetheart. Did you have a good day at school?"
"Yes, I…" And she proceeded to tell him every detail of her day, as usual. And, as usual, he listened intently, interested in everything she said. They walked home hand in hand. He hushed her as they reached the door, and they crept inside. They needn't have been quiet, however. Sara was standing with her back against the counter, a container of ice cream in one hand and a spoon in the other. When she heard the door open, she spun around, looking guilty. Craning his head around her, he saw a jar of pickles on the counter, the top off and a line of dribbled juice trailing between the container and the woman beside it.
"Eating pickles and ice cream again?"
She tried to be surrepticious in pushing the jar of pickles under the cupboard, out of view, and threw the spoon in the sink, scooting over to the fridge and tucking the ice cream into the freezer.
"No."
"Uh-huh. Right. You're believable."
She glared at him.
Michelle looked up at her daddy and whispered, "You'd better be careful, 'else Mama'll get you."
He eyed her. "For such a young girl, you sure give wise advice."
She nodded solemnly. "I learned fast."
He raised an eyebrow at the woman he loved.
Finally, she asked, "What?"
********
Ian stared down at the object he held in his palm, trying to refrain from hyperventilating. He was about to change his life…for the better, he hoped.
He took a deep breath…in, out, in, out…and entered the apartment. He found Sara curled into a ball—or as close as she could get to it, given her current physical restrictions—on the sofa.
"Sara?" he whispered. He nudged her gently and said, in a slightly louder voice, "Sara?"
Her green eyes flew open, and, from the momentary look in them, he began to wonder if perhaps he was an endangered species. As she recognized him, though, she sat up and hugged him, her belly pressed against his ribs—so tightly, in fact, that he could feel their children moving against him. He pulled away from her, reaching into his coat pocket for a hidden object. She gasped as she caught sight of the small velvet box he held, and looked up at him, a question in her eyes. A question that was about to be answered.
As he opened the box to reveal a glittering diamond ring, he said, "Sara Magdalene Pezzini, please do me the great honor of becoming my wife." A range of expressions flitted across her face, and both of her hands moved the caress her belly in an unconscious gesture. After a moment, she looked up at him, decision made.
"Yes. Yes, Ian, I'll marry you!" She threw herself into his arms, kissing him with unbridled passion, her green eyes fiery and bright.
As his lungs began to protest to the lack of oxygen being delivered to them, he pulled away. "Whoa there, let's save some of that for the honeymoon. Besides, someone's gotta go get the munchkin, and you look pretty comfortable right where you are, so I'm guessing that I've been elected to do so." He winked at her and left to get their little girl. He came back to find her fast asleep once more, the ring on her left ring finger and the box clutched in her right hand.
He smiled.
********
Ian straightened his jacket, then strode purposefully into Irons' office.
"Sir?"
The blonde man looked up from whatever paperwork he was reading. "Yes?"
"I wish to inform you of my immediate resignation as your personal chief of security. If you wish me to remain in your employment, it will be on a solely legal basis, nothing else. I will no longer kill or maim for you, I will no longer be your henchman. I will remain only as a regular employee of my position, with the same pay and benefits. If you do not agree with this, then I will leave, and not return. I am going to marry Sara. The child—children—she carries are mine. We will raise Michelle and the twins together. Alone. You will not interfere in any way without our direct permission. Is this all completely understood? Sir?"
For the first time in his unnaturally long life, Kenneth Irons was rendered speechless. Amazed at his protégé's sudden show of confidence, he allowed Ian everything he'd asked for—or, rather, what he'd commanded. And so, Irons let go any chance he had of getting close to the Wielder—something he never would have succeeded at attaining. Ian worked as his regular head of security, and he and Sara began to make wedding plans for after the birth of the twins.
Everything was coming together at last for the Pezzini-Nottingham family.
And as much as he still had an insatiable desire for the Witchblade, Irons allowed the Wielder and Protector a normal life—as normal as it could get, anyway.
********
REVIEW!!!!! I know the end of this chapter is kind of odd, and it may seem to you all that it deviates slightly from the normal flow of the story, but it just came out that way. Sorry. And Irons—I know he wouldn't just give up that easily, but I just didn't know how else to get around that situation…Ian's speech was kinda nice, though, right? Long, but nice. Anyhow, please tell me what you all think of this, and if I should do more. REVIEW!!!!!
