They cut through an alley and came out on the next street. Together they
walked into an ice cream shop halfway down the block.
"Hey, Pezzini, what's up?" called the middle-aged, balding man behind the counter.
"Not, much, Joe. Give me a couple of cones, double chocolate, for me and my friend."
"Got yourself a new guy, Sara?"
"Nah, just keep him around to keep the riff-raff off."
"Hey, Joe Capri." He held out a hand over the counter.
"Ian," he said cautiously, giving him only one name from force of habit. The friendliness of the shop owner was foreign to him, so unlike the obsequiousness that usually accompanied any outings with Mr. Irons.
"Yeah, pleased to meet you. Give me a sec. O.K.?"
"Sure, we'll be in the back," Sara answered. They settled into a booth, in the small seating area, Ian sitting with his back to the kitchen so he could watch the door.
"Hey, Nottingham, lighten up, no one is going to attack us in this place," she said, noticing the way he surveyed the room.
"I am merely being cautious. You never know what direction danger will come from," he told her. "How can you be so casual?"
"This is home ground, my neighborhood. I know the people here, and most of them know I'm a cop."
"I have never been that comfortable around people. Too much training to avoid situations that could prove.hazardous." Joe came out from behind the counter and handed them their ice cream cones. Ian reached for his wallet but Sara stopped him.
"My idea. My treat."
"Sara." he started.
"No. Mine," said Joe, "You and your gentleman enjoy." As he wandered back behind the counter, cutting off any further discussion. They looked at each other and Sara shrugged, attacking her ice cream with obvious pleasure. Ian was making a valiant attempt to copy her and doing a fair job of it. It had been a long time since he had eaten an ice cream cone. It was not a treat his father had approved of, being both messy and hard to eat elegantly. As they finished, Sara looked at him and laughed. Grabbing a napkin, she reached over to dab a bit of ice cream that had gotten into his beard. He caught her hand reflexively and then released it immediately, embarrassed. Sara just continued, trying to ignore it, realizing that it was just another of the adjustments they were asking each other to make. At least no one else was around to see. Ian sat still while she did, her little kindnesses were starting to make an impression on him but his reflexes were still on autopilot. They finished up and left, waving goodbye to Joe as he dealt with the world from behind his counter.
They walked down the street for a bit, peering into shop windows and enjoying the cold evening. The Christmas lights were sparkling in the decorated windows and Sara spared a brief thought to holiday decorating and presents. She wondered what she would be doing at Christmas, and if Ian would be there with her. Did Irons even celebrate Christmas? Different worlds, what did they think they were doing? It was so nice thought, just to walk with him.
They both realized that this would be the last such night for a little while as they returned to work and tried to put together their very different lives. Sara had her arm through his again and the soft touch through his coat was reassuring. They turned around and headed back down the block. As they passed the ice cream shop, Ian noticed four teenagers, trying to be more or less casual as they detached themselves from the wall they were leaning on and followed them.
she heard his voice in her mind. She started just a little, he had told her about this but it was still weird to have it suddenly proven to her. The cop in her suddenly reasserted itself over the weird factor in an instant. She took a subtle look around and followed his eyes. The kids were following them, trying to look cool.
She thought really hard, hoping this worked. Kids must be planning a mugging, couples usually being good targets. She thought about the options, she was a little hyped from the day and Ian always had that coiled spring look to him. Besides, she couldn't just haul them in on suspicion, they hadn't done anything stupid, yet.
His voice still quiet in her head.
She tried again, just trying to let the thoughts go to him. If the kids did anything, they would be able to handle them better than anyone else. Plus having the advantage of working off the ice cream.
She was sure she heard amusement in his tone. She led the way, if they were going to play this, she wanted to have the choice of space.
They turned into the alley that led back to her street, stopping halfway down, next to a large dumpster but with plenty of room to maneuver. Sara leaned close, as if to kiss him. "Let them catch up," she whispered in his ear. "You armed?" she asked as the boys, joined by two more, caught up to them. "No Sara, not really." She nodded and gave him a quick kiss.
"Evening, folks." One of the boys, obviously the leader, moved forward as the other ranged out around them. They turned toward them, Ian sliding Sara slightly behind him, the perfect picture of a gentleman protecting his lady. Sara smiled a little to herself. Poor boys.
She thought to him,, hoping she was getting the hang of this. She added a mental note to herself to continue that little conversation some time real soon.
came that same amused voice in her mind. "Did you want something?" he asked politely, the picture of innocence.
"Yeah, your money, the lady's too, and I'll take that pretty ring you're wearing," the leader said, pulling out a pistol. Ian looked at the gun with obvious amusement. Raven .25, worst made pistol on the planet.
"Don't you think you boys should be getting home?" His voice was still polite, but with an edge to it, a sarcastic smile on his face. "Your mothers will be getting worried."
"You want me to shoot your girlfriend right here? Give me what I asked for." Even in the middle of a mugging, he felt a small thrill at Sara being called his girlfriend. maybe he wouldn't hurt the kid.too badly. Sara, meanwhile, was watching the remaining boys trying to edge closer, two of them pulling knives.
"It wouldn't be a good idea. The City of New York frowns at the shooting of police officers." Ian moved lightning fast, kicking the gun out of the young punk's hand and catching it in his own. He ripped the slide from the gun and dropped the pieces negligently to the ground. "Now then," he said nodding. Sara was keeping an eye on the guys on her right and trying not to laugh.
"Get him," the leader said, backing up a little for range. Ian followed him, closing quickly and taking him to the ground with a punch to the side of the head, as Sara grabbed the guy next to him, launching herself as a player in the game. The Witchblade was sending little jolts of energy up her arm and she looked at her opponent and smiled. Her grip on right arm tightened and whipped him around into his nearest companion flinging them both to the ground on the side of the alley. Ian raised his left arm to block an incoming punch from the side, when the boy behind him ducked under his arm, raking his knife across Ian's ribs, just missing the swing of his coat. Ian brought his left elbow down, trapping arm and knife, wrist out while he flung his original opponent into the side of the dumpster with a sharp clang. He grabbed the knife hand and snapped the kid's wrist, leaving him to fall down, cradling it against his chest. He turned to find Sara directing a last punch at the remaining attacker. The fight had only taken moments but they were both breathing a little harder.
"Now," said Sara, as Ian bent down to make sure the unconscious boy was still breathing. "Since I'm off duty," she flashed her badge at the conscious, battered remnants. "I am going to overlook this, but you had better find a new alley, if you are really set on such a risky line of work. If I catch you here again, the least that will happen is that I will run you in." At that Ian gave a dangerous smile. "Don't make me notice you again." She took Ian's arm and started to walk away. At the end of the alley she turned around. "And you'd better get your friends to the hospital." She called over her shoulder as they continued on towards home.
They walked into the house, both of them hyped on adrenaline and sugar. Sara locked up and turned around into Ian, standing directly behind her at the door. Impulsively, she put her arms around him and kissed him. He moved fast, arms coming around her, pressing her against the cold steel door. The kiss was long and slow, full of emotion long held back and the energy left over from their battle in the alley. They were both safe and alive, the need for reassurance strong. Sara gave herself into the kiss, responding to his need with her own. He held tight to her until she flinched a little, as he pressed the spot where one of the punks had gotten a good shot in. As fast as he had moved towards her, he now backed away in horror, afraid that he had done something wrong, hurt her somehow. "Sara, I'm sorry." She looked at him, dazed and confused by his retreat. He was shaken and looked like he was about to flee out the window if she didn't do something to stop him.
"What.Huh? I took a hit in the alley," she said, slowly realizing what he was talking about. "Ian, you didn't do anything wrong, I just forgot to block back there." She approached him slowly, not wanting to startle him anymore. If she did not find a way to make him understand she was scared he would leave. "It's ok, but we should probably both check for injuries." Her mind was trying feebly to go back to the practical, although parts of her were still stuck on the kiss. She took a deep breath and felt a little catch in her side. Sara pulled off her coat and hung it up. "Ian come on, we need to check each other." Ian was still a little shaken by his actions. Even though he had not actually injured her, the fact that he was reacting to her so strongly was unnerving. He thought he should probably leave, but he could not, would not, not after he had come so far. Maybe he should go see Immo. The doctor would surely know if something was wrong, but could he be trusted. He had always had a soft spot for Ian but would he be willing to help him break his conditioning? Or would he try to reimpose Irons' strictures on him? Where did his loyalties lie? He wanted answers but he would not risk what he had now. Ian was enjoying freedom, especially with Sara. She confused him, treated him like an equal or a child by turns, comforted and aroused him. And she was willing to let him be here, by her side. It still stunned him, especially after all he had done.
"Come on, Ian, get your coat off and let me check you." She tugged a little at his sleeve and he backed away a step.
"I'm fine," he told her, still a little jumpy.
"I'll go first if you like, but take off your coat. I need you to help me here." He took his coat off and followed her into the kitchen where the light was better. Sara pulled her tee shirt off, trying to get a good look at her side. Ian stopped dead, her casual manner doing nothing to slow his already rapid pulse. It was not the first time he had seen her in just a sports bra, but it was the first time he had been this close to her in so little. He locked his thoughts down, trying to think only of tending to her injury and not what it would feel like to touch her. He pulled off his gloves, recalling his first aid training. The angry bruise blooming to life upset him, made him which he had inflicted more damage on their attackers, but he put the thought aside knowing that she wouldn't have been pleased. He reached out and very gently probed the area, reassuring himself that there were no broken bones, each wince making him a little angrier. Finally he looked her in the eyes.
"Nothing appears to be broken, but you are going to hurt a little for a few days. You should put some ice on it. That was probably not the best thing we could have done back there. I should never have allowed it to happen," he told her.
"You didn't allow anything. It was my call and I should not have taken the risk, especially with a civilian along." She said, giving as good as she got. "I was a little hyped and besides, better us than some little old lady." She said by way of explanation. She had to find a way to get a look at him without making him more uneasy. Practicality was warring with her own desire and she could only imagine what was going on in his mind. Maybe she could catch him with his own wards. "I would not have suggested it if I'd known they were stupid enough to fight back. Usually with this kind of thing, they just run. I shouldn't have gotten you involved at all, put you at risk." She told him, trying to get a reaction out of him, something she could use.
"I was never at risk, Sara, not from a few untrained children." Having caught him in his own words she sprang the trap.
"Then let's take a look. Off with the sweater, Nottingham," she said as she grabbed her tee shirt and advanced on him as she slid back into it.
"Really, Sara, I am fine," he said a little panic creeping its way up his spine. He did not want her to see his scars or have to explain them, especially the ones on his back. The others were bad enough, marring his skin here and there, but he had not really ever had to worry about how someone else would react. Some marks she did not need to see, especially after their earlier conversation.
"Nottingham, don't be a baby. I promise I won't hurt you anymore than is necessary. Besides, there's a rip in your sweater that I am certain was not there before." He reached down in the direction of her gaze and realized that she was right. He vaguely remembered a brief sting of pain during the fight and the kid with the knife, but it obviously wasn't much. The thought of taking his shirt off in front of Sara was another thing entirely. There were only two people he had ever taken off his clothes for, besides his time in service, and neither of them were women. Ian was having a hard time processing all this. While he understood intellectually that it would have to happen at some point, that he wanted it too, the reality was a bit much at the moment. He was still churning inside from the kiss and its aftermath, he was not completely sure how to handle things. But from the look in her eyes, she was not giving up, if anything she was more determined than ever. Maybe if he showed her what she asked he could distract her from the rest.
She continued to advance on him and reached for the hem of his sweater. He grabbed her hand gently. "Very well, Sara, but it is nothing." Slowly, he pulled his sweater over his head and shifted so his side was toward her. She took the bait, laying a cool hand on his arm to raise it, get a better look. He shivered a little at her touch but otherwise remained stock still, breathing deeply and trying to focus his mind on anything but the feel of her hand on his skin. Sara herself was trying very hard not to stare and make him more uncomfortable than he already was. It would be way too easy to just reach out and make things happen, but it was not fair to him, and she was really trying not to push, to control him the way he had always been.
"Not bad, looks like the sweater took most of it. Needs a little alcohol, never know where that knife has been." She headed off to the bathroom for the first aid supplies as Ian breathed a sigh of relief. So far, so good. She had barely noticed his discomfort, maybe he had just escaped.
Sara grabbed the alcohol and some gauze from the bathroom. She sighed a little, relief that he had not been more injured by her folly. Then there was that kiss that had curled her toes, if kissing him was that intense, she really tried not the think about the rest. But at least he was not badly hurt, she thought, pulling her thoughts back from where they had been wondering. Judging by a few old scars she had seen on his arm and chest, this was nothing. Most had probably been training from the military. They hadn't done anything to damage his beauty, though. She had never known an attractive man so unaware of his charms. But then she had never known another man like Ian before. Don't think there is another like him, she thought.
As she walked back, she noticed the tee shirt he had been wearing earlier thrown over his bag. She grabbed it as well. He would probably be more comfortable with something to put on when she was done. She took the alcohol and cleaned the cut, rejecting it as being too superficial to bother with a bandage and handed him the tee shirt.
"Here, thought you might be more comfortable. "The sweater's a dead loss." she said, poking at the hole, giving him a little privacy. He pulled on the shirt gratefully and then smiled at her.
"I can get a new sweater, but you need to put ice on that bruise."
"All right, I will. Tell me something, though. The rest? Training scars?"
"A few," he admitted. "And the occasional attempt on Mr. Irons' life. They are nothing, really."
"If you say so," she returned, dubiously. She looked up at him and noticed that his hair was coming free from its ponytail and it gave his a sweet, boyish look.
"Sara, you know I have not exactly led a peaceful life. I don't see that changing." Sara looked for something to say, to let him know that she understood.
"That makes two of us. But now at least, it's the two of us together?" She then changed the subject quickly, they had been through more than enough tonight to add philosophy to the list. "By the way, what's with the tattoo?"
"This?" he held his bare arm out to her so she could see. "Black Dragons, brothers in life, brothers in death," he said, pride tinged with sadness. "My military unit. We were together for 3 years. One night we decided to all get it done together," he smiled.
"You see them anymore?" she asked curiously, a little surprised that he was so fond of them. She wasn't used to seeing this side of him.
"No, we went our separate ways. There were.side effects to some of the training. Besides, my father did not encourage me to stay in touch, and some of them were not particularly fond of him. He was furious about the tattoo." The amusement was back in his tone and a little smile played around his lips, the perfect picture of a boy gotten caught at something naughty. She laughed, trying to picture the look on Irons' face when he saw it. That would have been worth money. "I could get in touch, I suppose, but after so long.there are only three left besides me. Mobius and I were once inseparable. Maybe someday." he said, a touch wistfully.
"Maybe you should," she told him. "I was just curious, you didn't strike me as the kind to get a tattoo. I had figured it was teenage rebellion. I suppose I was close in a way," she said turning the subject a little to what were obviously more pleasant memories.
Closer than you know, he thought, remembering the night that Talan Green had come up with the idea. He was unsure, still a little shy. They teased him, like a little brother, and wanted to go without him, but Mobius insisted that either they would all go, or none. That was what had convinced him, that and wanting some way to prove himself, to for once just be another one of the guys. Besides, he couldn't let them down, and Moby certainly would not change his mind. He remembered them joking around, the way they tried to act like it didn't hurt, and for the first time he really felt a part of something else, a world away from the one in which he was raised. He had held that night close in his heart, even when his father punished him for it, and for his refusal to have the tattoo removed, the last tie, a symbol of his time away, his life beyond Irons' world. It was the only time he had ever successfully defied his father, until Sara.
"Ian? You drifted off for a moment there."
"Sorry, just thinking. It doesn't matter, but I keep it to remember."
"Hey, there is nothing wrong with wanting to remember," she told him as she walked around making an ice pack and heading for the couch. "Sometimes memories are all you've got." She thought about Marie, her father, even her mother who was so long gone that Sara could only barely picture her without looking at a photograph. Ian followed her, and sat down, wishing he had the words to explain what that time in his life had meant to him, both good and bad. Opening up, having someone to talk to was probably the hardest adjustment he was trying to make with her. It was a different thing than talking to his father; he did not have to watch every word for hidden traps. They just sat there quietly while she iced down her bruise and he watched her covertly under lowered lids.
"Hey, Nottingham, you should take that tie out of your hair, it looks good loose." He reached out and loosened his hair letting it fall down around his face. He was thrilled by her interest and a little embarrassed. Compliments were not something he was accustomed to from anyone. "Why?"
"Why what, Sara?"
"The long hair, the beard. Not exactly what I would expect, didn't he give you a hard time about it?" She was trying to do as he asked, to ask questions without worrying about the mention of Irons.
"It was his idea. When I left the Black Dragons, I was a bit.I don't know how to explain. He thought I would readjust to the outside world better without being reminded every time I looked in the mirror. I hated it at first, but considering my work, it did make it easier to fit in." His smile was a little tight, the subject still a little uncomfortable, but the fact that she had asked made him want to explain no matter what.
"Makes sense, a guy I know who was in the army came home swearing he was never cutting his hair or shaving again."
"It was a thought, believe me. I didn't fight him to hard on it. Especially the shaving." He grinned a little and she relaxed, seeing the tension slipping out of his body.
"We should get some sleep, you're looking a little tired and I am not sure you are caught yet."
"Sara, you don't have to worry, I am used to getting very little sleep, but." he said, a little uncertainly. "I.I think, all things considered, that I should sleep on the floor tonight." She had been wondering how to handle this, ever since it became evident that he was going to be staying awhile. She was not sure exactly how they had both reached that conclusion together, but they had, at some kind of subconscious level. He would stay with her until they straightened things between them enough, until he was comfortable enough, to go home. But that still left the sleeping arrangements. She had to admit she had enjoyed last night, and since it had become clear that there was more between them she didn't want him to go. It felt good to be near him and that in itself was strange. Most guys she had dated had wanted nothing but sex and she had not been much better, glad to see them gone so she could relax alone. Ian was different though; it felt good to be held by him, comforting and familiar. It was the familiar part that kind of bothered her, but that was not the issue at the moment, Ian was. He came to her and them backed way, his touch was gentle but if she so much as moved he jumped like a cat on a griddle. Sara wondered if there was someone she could ask about all this, where do you find an expert on emotional abuse and psychological conditioning. As confused as he was, though, it would probably be best for them to put a little space between them. Sara cared for him, hated to admit it but she did. It would be so easy for the two of them to get out of control, and that could more damage to his mental state. And after all the years of isolation, it should be special, not just the two of them acting in the heat of the moment. So he had to sleep somewhere and the couch was still out. She could offer to take it but knew he would refuse; it was that whole gentleman thing. But, she was not going to be the one to bring it up figuring that anything she said would be wrong. She wasn't going to offer him the out, didn't want him to take it as a rejection and back away again. They were still tiptoeing around each other, trying to get their bearings.
"Are you sure?" she asked, wanting to reassure him that the decision was still his.
"You're hurt, and besides being that close again might be too much temptation," he told her, lowering his eyes a little as his color rose.
"It doesn't have to be, you know." she said with a teasing edge in her voice, just to enough to reassure him, not enough to send him running.
"Sara, no. I will be fine." His breath caught in his throat and his response was perhaps a little harsher, a little more emphatic than he wanted. She smiled at him, letting him know that it was all right. He was learning, fast.
"All right, I'll try not to trip over you." He returned the smile.
"If you do, I will catch you."
"Hey, Pezzini, what's up?" called the middle-aged, balding man behind the counter.
"Not, much, Joe. Give me a couple of cones, double chocolate, for me and my friend."
"Got yourself a new guy, Sara?"
"Nah, just keep him around to keep the riff-raff off."
"Hey, Joe Capri." He held out a hand over the counter.
"Ian," he said cautiously, giving him only one name from force of habit. The friendliness of the shop owner was foreign to him, so unlike the obsequiousness that usually accompanied any outings with Mr. Irons.
"Yeah, pleased to meet you. Give me a sec. O.K.?"
"Sure, we'll be in the back," Sara answered. They settled into a booth, in the small seating area, Ian sitting with his back to the kitchen so he could watch the door.
"Hey, Nottingham, lighten up, no one is going to attack us in this place," she said, noticing the way he surveyed the room.
"I am merely being cautious. You never know what direction danger will come from," he told her. "How can you be so casual?"
"This is home ground, my neighborhood. I know the people here, and most of them know I'm a cop."
"I have never been that comfortable around people. Too much training to avoid situations that could prove.hazardous." Joe came out from behind the counter and handed them their ice cream cones. Ian reached for his wallet but Sara stopped him.
"My idea. My treat."
"Sara." he started.
"No. Mine," said Joe, "You and your gentleman enjoy." As he wandered back behind the counter, cutting off any further discussion. They looked at each other and Sara shrugged, attacking her ice cream with obvious pleasure. Ian was making a valiant attempt to copy her and doing a fair job of it. It had been a long time since he had eaten an ice cream cone. It was not a treat his father had approved of, being both messy and hard to eat elegantly. As they finished, Sara looked at him and laughed. Grabbing a napkin, she reached over to dab a bit of ice cream that had gotten into his beard. He caught her hand reflexively and then released it immediately, embarrassed. Sara just continued, trying to ignore it, realizing that it was just another of the adjustments they were asking each other to make. At least no one else was around to see. Ian sat still while she did, her little kindnesses were starting to make an impression on him but his reflexes were still on autopilot. They finished up and left, waving goodbye to Joe as he dealt with the world from behind his counter.
They walked down the street for a bit, peering into shop windows and enjoying the cold evening. The Christmas lights were sparkling in the decorated windows and Sara spared a brief thought to holiday decorating and presents. She wondered what she would be doing at Christmas, and if Ian would be there with her. Did Irons even celebrate Christmas? Different worlds, what did they think they were doing? It was so nice thought, just to walk with him.
They both realized that this would be the last such night for a little while as they returned to work and tried to put together their very different lives. Sara had her arm through his again and the soft touch through his coat was reassuring. They turned around and headed back down the block. As they passed the ice cream shop, Ian noticed four teenagers, trying to be more or less casual as they detached themselves from the wall they were leaning on and followed them.
she heard his voice in her mind. She started just a little, he had told her about this but it was still weird to have it suddenly proven to her. The cop in her suddenly reasserted itself over the weird factor in an instant. She took a subtle look around and followed his eyes. The kids were following them, trying to look cool.
She thought really hard, hoping this worked. Kids must be planning a mugging, couples usually being good targets. She thought about the options, she was a little hyped from the day and Ian always had that coiled spring look to him. Besides, she couldn't just haul them in on suspicion, they hadn't done anything stupid, yet.
His voice still quiet in her head.
She tried again, just trying to let the thoughts go to him. If the kids did anything, they would be able to handle them better than anyone else. Plus having the advantage of working off the ice cream.
She was sure she heard amusement in his tone. She led the way, if they were going to play this, she wanted to have the choice of space.
They turned into the alley that led back to her street, stopping halfway down, next to a large dumpster but with plenty of room to maneuver. Sara leaned close, as if to kiss him. "Let them catch up," she whispered in his ear. "You armed?" she asked as the boys, joined by two more, caught up to them. "No Sara, not really." She nodded and gave him a quick kiss.
"Evening, folks." One of the boys, obviously the leader, moved forward as the other ranged out around them. They turned toward them, Ian sliding Sara slightly behind him, the perfect picture of a gentleman protecting his lady. Sara smiled a little to herself. Poor boys.
She thought to him,, hoping she was getting the hang of this. She added a mental note to herself to continue that little conversation some time real soon.
came that same amused voice in her mind. "Did you want something?" he asked politely, the picture of innocence.
"Yeah, your money, the lady's too, and I'll take that pretty ring you're wearing," the leader said, pulling out a pistol. Ian looked at the gun with obvious amusement. Raven .25, worst made pistol on the planet.
"Don't you think you boys should be getting home?" His voice was still polite, but with an edge to it, a sarcastic smile on his face. "Your mothers will be getting worried."
"You want me to shoot your girlfriend right here? Give me what I asked for." Even in the middle of a mugging, he felt a small thrill at Sara being called his girlfriend. maybe he wouldn't hurt the kid.too badly. Sara, meanwhile, was watching the remaining boys trying to edge closer, two of them pulling knives.
"It wouldn't be a good idea. The City of New York frowns at the shooting of police officers." Ian moved lightning fast, kicking the gun out of the young punk's hand and catching it in his own. He ripped the slide from the gun and dropped the pieces negligently to the ground. "Now then," he said nodding. Sara was keeping an eye on the guys on her right and trying not to laugh.
"Get him," the leader said, backing up a little for range. Ian followed him, closing quickly and taking him to the ground with a punch to the side of the head, as Sara grabbed the guy next to him, launching herself as a player in the game. The Witchblade was sending little jolts of energy up her arm and she looked at her opponent and smiled. Her grip on right arm tightened and whipped him around into his nearest companion flinging them both to the ground on the side of the alley. Ian raised his left arm to block an incoming punch from the side, when the boy behind him ducked under his arm, raking his knife across Ian's ribs, just missing the swing of his coat. Ian brought his left elbow down, trapping arm and knife, wrist out while he flung his original opponent into the side of the dumpster with a sharp clang. He grabbed the knife hand and snapped the kid's wrist, leaving him to fall down, cradling it against his chest. He turned to find Sara directing a last punch at the remaining attacker. The fight had only taken moments but they were both breathing a little harder.
"Now," said Sara, as Ian bent down to make sure the unconscious boy was still breathing. "Since I'm off duty," she flashed her badge at the conscious, battered remnants. "I am going to overlook this, but you had better find a new alley, if you are really set on such a risky line of work. If I catch you here again, the least that will happen is that I will run you in." At that Ian gave a dangerous smile. "Don't make me notice you again." She took Ian's arm and started to walk away. At the end of the alley she turned around. "And you'd better get your friends to the hospital." She called over her shoulder as they continued on towards home.
They walked into the house, both of them hyped on adrenaline and sugar. Sara locked up and turned around into Ian, standing directly behind her at the door. Impulsively, she put her arms around him and kissed him. He moved fast, arms coming around her, pressing her against the cold steel door. The kiss was long and slow, full of emotion long held back and the energy left over from their battle in the alley. They were both safe and alive, the need for reassurance strong. Sara gave herself into the kiss, responding to his need with her own. He held tight to her until she flinched a little, as he pressed the spot where one of the punks had gotten a good shot in. As fast as he had moved towards her, he now backed away in horror, afraid that he had done something wrong, hurt her somehow. "Sara, I'm sorry." She looked at him, dazed and confused by his retreat. He was shaken and looked like he was about to flee out the window if she didn't do something to stop him.
"What.Huh? I took a hit in the alley," she said, slowly realizing what he was talking about. "Ian, you didn't do anything wrong, I just forgot to block back there." She approached him slowly, not wanting to startle him anymore. If she did not find a way to make him understand she was scared he would leave. "It's ok, but we should probably both check for injuries." Her mind was trying feebly to go back to the practical, although parts of her were still stuck on the kiss. She took a deep breath and felt a little catch in her side. Sara pulled off her coat and hung it up. "Ian come on, we need to check each other." Ian was still a little shaken by his actions. Even though he had not actually injured her, the fact that he was reacting to her so strongly was unnerving. He thought he should probably leave, but he could not, would not, not after he had come so far. Maybe he should go see Immo. The doctor would surely know if something was wrong, but could he be trusted. He had always had a soft spot for Ian but would he be willing to help him break his conditioning? Or would he try to reimpose Irons' strictures on him? Where did his loyalties lie? He wanted answers but he would not risk what he had now. Ian was enjoying freedom, especially with Sara. She confused him, treated him like an equal or a child by turns, comforted and aroused him. And she was willing to let him be here, by her side. It still stunned him, especially after all he had done.
"Come on, Ian, get your coat off and let me check you." She tugged a little at his sleeve and he backed away a step.
"I'm fine," he told her, still a little jumpy.
"I'll go first if you like, but take off your coat. I need you to help me here." He took his coat off and followed her into the kitchen where the light was better. Sara pulled her tee shirt off, trying to get a good look at her side. Ian stopped dead, her casual manner doing nothing to slow his already rapid pulse. It was not the first time he had seen her in just a sports bra, but it was the first time he had been this close to her in so little. He locked his thoughts down, trying to think only of tending to her injury and not what it would feel like to touch her. He pulled off his gloves, recalling his first aid training. The angry bruise blooming to life upset him, made him which he had inflicted more damage on their attackers, but he put the thought aside knowing that she wouldn't have been pleased. He reached out and very gently probed the area, reassuring himself that there were no broken bones, each wince making him a little angrier. Finally he looked her in the eyes.
"Nothing appears to be broken, but you are going to hurt a little for a few days. You should put some ice on it. That was probably not the best thing we could have done back there. I should never have allowed it to happen," he told her.
"You didn't allow anything. It was my call and I should not have taken the risk, especially with a civilian along." She said, giving as good as she got. "I was a little hyped and besides, better us than some little old lady." She said by way of explanation. She had to find a way to get a look at him without making him more uneasy. Practicality was warring with her own desire and she could only imagine what was going on in his mind. Maybe she could catch him with his own wards. "I would not have suggested it if I'd known they were stupid enough to fight back. Usually with this kind of thing, they just run. I shouldn't have gotten you involved at all, put you at risk." She told him, trying to get a reaction out of him, something she could use.
"I was never at risk, Sara, not from a few untrained children." Having caught him in his own words she sprang the trap.
"Then let's take a look. Off with the sweater, Nottingham," she said as she grabbed her tee shirt and advanced on him as she slid back into it.
"Really, Sara, I am fine," he said a little panic creeping its way up his spine. He did not want her to see his scars or have to explain them, especially the ones on his back. The others were bad enough, marring his skin here and there, but he had not really ever had to worry about how someone else would react. Some marks she did not need to see, especially after their earlier conversation.
"Nottingham, don't be a baby. I promise I won't hurt you anymore than is necessary. Besides, there's a rip in your sweater that I am certain was not there before." He reached down in the direction of her gaze and realized that she was right. He vaguely remembered a brief sting of pain during the fight and the kid with the knife, but it obviously wasn't much. The thought of taking his shirt off in front of Sara was another thing entirely. There were only two people he had ever taken off his clothes for, besides his time in service, and neither of them were women. Ian was having a hard time processing all this. While he understood intellectually that it would have to happen at some point, that he wanted it too, the reality was a bit much at the moment. He was still churning inside from the kiss and its aftermath, he was not completely sure how to handle things. But from the look in her eyes, she was not giving up, if anything she was more determined than ever. Maybe if he showed her what she asked he could distract her from the rest.
She continued to advance on him and reached for the hem of his sweater. He grabbed her hand gently. "Very well, Sara, but it is nothing." Slowly, he pulled his sweater over his head and shifted so his side was toward her. She took the bait, laying a cool hand on his arm to raise it, get a better look. He shivered a little at her touch but otherwise remained stock still, breathing deeply and trying to focus his mind on anything but the feel of her hand on his skin. Sara herself was trying very hard not to stare and make him more uncomfortable than he already was. It would be way too easy to just reach out and make things happen, but it was not fair to him, and she was really trying not to push, to control him the way he had always been.
"Not bad, looks like the sweater took most of it. Needs a little alcohol, never know where that knife has been." She headed off to the bathroom for the first aid supplies as Ian breathed a sigh of relief. So far, so good. She had barely noticed his discomfort, maybe he had just escaped.
Sara grabbed the alcohol and some gauze from the bathroom. She sighed a little, relief that he had not been more injured by her folly. Then there was that kiss that had curled her toes, if kissing him was that intense, she really tried not the think about the rest. But at least he was not badly hurt, she thought, pulling her thoughts back from where they had been wondering. Judging by a few old scars she had seen on his arm and chest, this was nothing. Most had probably been training from the military. They hadn't done anything to damage his beauty, though. She had never known an attractive man so unaware of his charms. But then she had never known another man like Ian before. Don't think there is another like him, she thought.
As she walked back, she noticed the tee shirt he had been wearing earlier thrown over his bag. She grabbed it as well. He would probably be more comfortable with something to put on when she was done. She took the alcohol and cleaned the cut, rejecting it as being too superficial to bother with a bandage and handed him the tee shirt.
"Here, thought you might be more comfortable. "The sweater's a dead loss." she said, poking at the hole, giving him a little privacy. He pulled on the shirt gratefully and then smiled at her.
"I can get a new sweater, but you need to put ice on that bruise."
"All right, I will. Tell me something, though. The rest? Training scars?"
"A few," he admitted. "And the occasional attempt on Mr. Irons' life. They are nothing, really."
"If you say so," she returned, dubiously. She looked up at him and noticed that his hair was coming free from its ponytail and it gave his a sweet, boyish look.
"Sara, you know I have not exactly led a peaceful life. I don't see that changing." Sara looked for something to say, to let him know that she understood.
"That makes two of us. But now at least, it's the two of us together?" She then changed the subject quickly, they had been through more than enough tonight to add philosophy to the list. "By the way, what's with the tattoo?"
"This?" he held his bare arm out to her so she could see. "Black Dragons, brothers in life, brothers in death," he said, pride tinged with sadness. "My military unit. We were together for 3 years. One night we decided to all get it done together," he smiled.
"You see them anymore?" she asked curiously, a little surprised that he was so fond of them. She wasn't used to seeing this side of him.
"No, we went our separate ways. There were.side effects to some of the training. Besides, my father did not encourage me to stay in touch, and some of them were not particularly fond of him. He was furious about the tattoo." The amusement was back in his tone and a little smile played around his lips, the perfect picture of a boy gotten caught at something naughty. She laughed, trying to picture the look on Irons' face when he saw it. That would have been worth money. "I could get in touch, I suppose, but after so long.there are only three left besides me. Mobius and I were once inseparable. Maybe someday." he said, a touch wistfully.
"Maybe you should," she told him. "I was just curious, you didn't strike me as the kind to get a tattoo. I had figured it was teenage rebellion. I suppose I was close in a way," she said turning the subject a little to what were obviously more pleasant memories.
Closer than you know, he thought, remembering the night that Talan Green had come up with the idea. He was unsure, still a little shy. They teased him, like a little brother, and wanted to go without him, but Mobius insisted that either they would all go, or none. That was what had convinced him, that and wanting some way to prove himself, to for once just be another one of the guys. Besides, he couldn't let them down, and Moby certainly would not change his mind. He remembered them joking around, the way they tried to act like it didn't hurt, and for the first time he really felt a part of something else, a world away from the one in which he was raised. He had held that night close in his heart, even when his father punished him for it, and for his refusal to have the tattoo removed, the last tie, a symbol of his time away, his life beyond Irons' world. It was the only time he had ever successfully defied his father, until Sara.
"Ian? You drifted off for a moment there."
"Sorry, just thinking. It doesn't matter, but I keep it to remember."
"Hey, there is nothing wrong with wanting to remember," she told him as she walked around making an ice pack and heading for the couch. "Sometimes memories are all you've got." She thought about Marie, her father, even her mother who was so long gone that Sara could only barely picture her without looking at a photograph. Ian followed her, and sat down, wishing he had the words to explain what that time in his life had meant to him, both good and bad. Opening up, having someone to talk to was probably the hardest adjustment he was trying to make with her. It was a different thing than talking to his father; he did not have to watch every word for hidden traps. They just sat there quietly while she iced down her bruise and he watched her covertly under lowered lids.
"Hey, Nottingham, you should take that tie out of your hair, it looks good loose." He reached out and loosened his hair letting it fall down around his face. He was thrilled by her interest and a little embarrassed. Compliments were not something he was accustomed to from anyone. "Why?"
"Why what, Sara?"
"The long hair, the beard. Not exactly what I would expect, didn't he give you a hard time about it?" She was trying to do as he asked, to ask questions without worrying about the mention of Irons.
"It was his idea. When I left the Black Dragons, I was a bit.I don't know how to explain. He thought I would readjust to the outside world better without being reminded every time I looked in the mirror. I hated it at first, but considering my work, it did make it easier to fit in." His smile was a little tight, the subject still a little uncomfortable, but the fact that she had asked made him want to explain no matter what.
"Makes sense, a guy I know who was in the army came home swearing he was never cutting his hair or shaving again."
"It was a thought, believe me. I didn't fight him to hard on it. Especially the shaving." He grinned a little and she relaxed, seeing the tension slipping out of his body.
"We should get some sleep, you're looking a little tired and I am not sure you are caught yet."
"Sara, you don't have to worry, I am used to getting very little sleep, but." he said, a little uncertainly. "I.I think, all things considered, that I should sleep on the floor tonight." She had been wondering how to handle this, ever since it became evident that he was going to be staying awhile. She was not sure exactly how they had both reached that conclusion together, but they had, at some kind of subconscious level. He would stay with her until they straightened things between them enough, until he was comfortable enough, to go home. But that still left the sleeping arrangements. She had to admit she had enjoyed last night, and since it had become clear that there was more between them she didn't want him to go. It felt good to be near him and that in itself was strange. Most guys she had dated had wanted nothing but sex and she had not been much better, glad to see them gone so she could relax alone. Ian was different though; it felt good to be held by him, comforting and familiar. It was the familiar part that kind of bothered her, but that was not the issue at the moment, Ian was. He came to her and them backed way, his touch was gentle but if she so much as moved he jumped like a cat on a griddle. Sara wondered if there was someone she could ask about all this, where do you find an expert on emotional abuse and psychological conditioning. As confused as he was, though, it would probably be best for them to put a little space between them. Sara cared for him, hated to admit it but she did. It would be so easy for the two of them to get out of control, and that could more damage to his mental state. And after all the years of isolation, it should be special, not just the two of them acting in the heat of the moment. So he had to sleep somewhere and the couch was still out. She could offer to take it but knew he would refuse; it was that whole gentleman thing. But, she was not going to be the one to bring it up figuring that anything she said would be wrong. She wasn't going to offer him the out, didn't want him to take it as a rejection and back away again. They were still tiptoeing around each other, trying to get their bearings.
"Are you sure?" she asked, wanting to reassure him that the decision was still his.
"You're hurt, and besides being that close again might be too much temptation," he told her, lowering his eyes a little as his color rose.
"It doesn't have to be, you know." she said with a teasing edge in her voice, just to enough to reassure him, not enough to send him running.
"Sara, no. I will be fine." His breath caught in his throat and his response was perhaps a little harsher, a little more emphatic than he wanted. She smiled at him, letting him know that it was all right. He was learning, fast.
"All right, I'll try not to trip over you." He returned the smile.
"If you do, I will catch you."