Set for Season 2, this is just a small interlude between Sara and Ian.

Loneliness Shared

She walked in twilight. The fading sun threw red fire onto her chestnut hair as it reached out from between clouds to caress her with the day's last kiss of light and warmth. Her slim form clad in her usual jeans and crop top, covered by the habitual leather jacket, she was strength and beauty, her tenderness and vulnerability hidden from the world. She walked slowly, but with purpose to her steps, heading to the bridge over a small creek that ran through the park. She leaned on the railing and stared down into the rushing water.

He watched from the shadows, as he had many lifetimes before, always there in some form or another. Hesitating to approach, he held silent and still as the stars emerged from the darkening heavens, and the moon kissed the stream with silver. She shifted a bit, and his keen eyes caught a trail of silver on her cheek as well. Tears? It had been a trying day for her, he knew, but he had not expected the normally strong and collected detective to succumb to tears in public. His emotions roiled within him, wanting to go to her, to offer comfort, and yet strangely enjoying her pain as if it were his revenge for his own loss of his "father". He stood frozen in indecision as her tears fell one by one to be swallowed by the argent water below her feet.

Footsteps approached, and his head snapped around. The tall youth stalked the detective as silently as his untrained skills allowed, a long blade in his hand. Perhaps the foolish boy intended to merely threaten Sara, perhaps attack her. Ian's protective instincts rose up. He noted Sara was as yet unaware of the boy, and decided to take matters into his hands. As the boy passed him he emerged from behind the tree and grabbed the wrist with the knife in a crushing grip. The boy yelped in surprise and pain, causing Sara to turn. She saw the knife fall from his hand as Ian twisted it up behind his back. She reached for her gun, but Ian turned the boy and shoved him hard back the way he had come, causing him to fall. He scrambled to his feet and fled back into the night.

As Sara re-holstered her gun Ian approached her, pausing only to retrieve the knife and toss it into the stream. She watched him warily, unsure of his intentions, and in no mood to deal with riddles and hints. He stopped before her, raising one bare hand slowly to her cheek to brush the tears away. She shied away from his hand and turned back to stare down into the water. His expression betrayed hurt for a moment, but she didn't see it.

"Why are you sad, Sara?" he asked softly.

"I had a lousy day," she replied, her voice thick with tears she was trying not to shed.

"Please, Sara," Ian coaxed. "Tell me what is wrong. I'd like to help."

"Would you," she challenged, turning to him with fire in her eyes. "I thought you hated me for killing Irons, even though he was the one who stuck himself on my sword and not the other way around. I just wanted him to back off and leave me alone!" She was sick of his constant insistence that the whole thing had been her fault. She had been horrified when Irons had grabbed her hand and pulled the Blade into his throat. Her flash of anger startled Ian, and he paused to think back on the incident that had turned his world upside-down.

"Forgive me, Sara," Ian said, taking a step back. "I have been unfair to you. I saw what really happened, but my mind wouldn't accept it. I just couldn't believe he would leave me like that." He looked down at the ground, his loose waves of dark hair sliding over his shoulders to obscure his face, except for his eyes when he glanced back up at her. "I do want to help."

"You can't help," she said, turning away again. "No one can. I have to deal with this on my own."

"Deal with what," he asked. Only his trained hearing made him able to catch her whispered reply.

"Loneliness."

"But Sara," he replied, "You are not alone."

"There's a difference between being alone and being lonely," she informed him with a hint of rancor. "This thing," she pointed at the Witchblade, "isolates me from even my closest friend. I don't have anyone I can talk to about what is happening to me, what I'm going through. Not even Danny would understand."

"I understand," Ian said. "You can talk to me."

"No you don't," she snapped. "Because of this thing on my wrist I will die young and be alone when I do. It happened to Joan, Cleopatra, Cathain, all of them. I can't ever have an honest relationship because I will always have this big secret, and I won't even be able to explain why." A tear trickled a new path down her cheek.

"But Sara, you don't have to be alone," Ian replied. "I understand your pain, because I too am alone. I am not like others, and there is no one who can understand that except you. If you share your loneliness with me, I will share mine with you, and perhaps in the sharing we will become less lonely."

She stared at him for a long moment, turning his words over in her mind. He held his hand out to her, and after a moment she took it. He pulled her gently into the shelter of his arm and they leaned on the bridge's cold stone railing together, silently staring into the rushing waters below, each of them just a little less empty.