The nightmare was closing around her and she could not stop it. She watched as Ian gave his life, sacrificed himself to her safety. She ran to him, trying to save him but she couldn't. He slipped to the floor, bleeding his life's blood out on the cold cement floor. She screamed, cried out his name. Falling, snow falling on the fresh grave as they stood, facing one another. The look of loathing on Irons face was like a blow. Two enemies, facing each other across the grave of a common love. "It should be you," he told her. "You never deserved him. I gave him everything; you gave him nothing but your disdain. He will do it again, die to save you, forsake a life with you for a cold grave because you give him nothing worth living for, only a cause to die for. And you will let him, let him walk behind you instead of beside you, be your shadow instead of your light. What will you do? Will you let him walk away to protect you? Or will you learn?"
The sound of her crying his name woke Ian from his nightmare. He was off the floor, pulling her into his arms before he was even awake, his training taking over, body responding by reflex, without conscious thought. "Sara, I am here." He rocked her in his arms, waking her with the warmth of his touch, the sound of his voice.
She opened her eyes, looking into Ian's disturbed brown ones. "You died, you gave up and died. You left me alone." Her voice was full of fear and accusation. Her tone shook him as did the confirmation of his suspicion about the dreams. It was clear that the Witchblade was interfering, trying to push them. But he had no idea what to do with the information.
"Sara, I am here. You are safe. Tell me what you saw?" he asked, trying to keep his voice under control.
"Hold me," she asked him. The dream was still to close and tears were trailing down her checks. He pulled her closer, brushing the tears away with the back of his hand.
"Tighter, I can't feel you. I am so cold," she whispered. He pulled the blankets closer around her and tightened his grip the slightest bit, afraid that he would bruise her if he held her any tighter.
"Sara, I am right here, please. Tell me?"
"You died, I couldn't stop you, I was standing over your grave with Irons. He…He told me that I didn't deserve you, that I let you die because I didn't give you anything worth living for," she sobbed harder, crying out all her fear and loss into his arms. "I can't loose anyone else. If I get close to you and you leave, or you die…" She wrapped her arms around him, squeezing as tight as she could.
"Sara, it was a nightmare, it does not mean…"
"It wasn't just a nightmare, it was a lesson." She looked up at him, certainty plain in every line of her face. It surprised him, she was usually skeptical, to see her so sure about anything regarding the Witchblade was a revelation to him. "Promise me."
"Sara, I…"
"Promise me that you won't throw your life away. If you are going to be my protector, then protect me, stand beside me, but don't give up on me." Ian was torn, confused. He did not know what to say. How could he answer her. He could not tell her that it was just what he had been planning to do, to give up on her for her own protection. Obviously, that was not the right answer. He had let his own self doubt worm its way between them, but he had a chance now to make it right.
"I will not lie to you." He bowed his head, afraid to look into her eyes. "I am concerned that my love for you will cause me to make mistakes, that I will fail you." He tightened his grip on her a little, afraid that if he let go, she would take the chance to back away from him.
"Ian, look at me," she told him. He looked into her eyes, seeing the resolve there. "You are not going to fail me."
"If you can have faith, then I can as well. But for now you should try to get some sleep." He told her, trying to disentangle himself. Sara held on, not willing to let go, afraid that the nightmares would return.
"Ian, please don't go. I…I don't think that I can be alone tonight," she told him. The look in her eyes convinced him and he nodded, letting her go long enough to join her under the blankets. She slid back against him, letting his arms wrap around her again. He could not tell her how much the dream had shaken him as well, or how much he too needed the comfort.
Ian woke a few hours later, while the sky was still dark. Sara was deeply asleep, curled up so close to him that he could feel every breath. He slid his arms along her shoulders, reveling in the feel of her skin against his. It was a sensation like no other and it was getting harder to push it to the back of his mind. In all his years of isolation he had never really desired such contact, if anything he had viewed others obsession with bemusement. The occasional touch of his father's hand on his face or shoulder was welcomed as the closest expression of Irons' pride in him, but he had felt no need to return it, not since he was a child. Except for Sara. She had called to him and drawn him to her, to feelings that he was unaware he was even capable of. He enjoyed this all brief moment of peace before life interfered again. Last night had given him the answer that he needed. He was still terrified that he would fail her, but with the Witchblade's intervention he knew that he would not quit, that was not the answer. He would say beside her, give her everything that he could, and have faith, faith in her, in the Witchblade, and in his destiny.
He ran his hand gently through Sara's hair as he tried to think of something to make up to her for last night, for her interrupted sleep. Looking at the alarm clock Ian realized that he had time before Sara rose for work. She was sleeping peacefully at the moment, undisturbed by dreams or nightmares. He rose quickly and quietly, padding barefoot through the dark apartment to the kitchen. Having prepared Sara's coffee, he took his cell phone and made a call before slipping back into the bed next to her, gathering her once again in his arms, to spend the a few more moments enjoying her comfort.
Sara shifted, waking slowly in the grey morning light. She could feel Ian cuddled against her in the bed. It felt good. He was warm and comfortable, making the rest of her sleep peaceful. She was not completely sure what had happened, how he had become so integral to her life in such a short time. Part of it was the Witchblade, part of it the intense attraction between them, but how could it happen so fast? She stretched back against him, enjoying the sound of his indrawn breath. "Morning," she said over her shoulder.
"Good morning Sara." he whispered against her hair. "I trust that the rest of your night was uneventful?"
"Completely," she said quietly, amazed that she was feeling so well. She was not exactly a morning person. "I slept like a baby. Thank you for staying with me." The memories of last night a fog of confusion and pain, she knew she had broken down in front of him and while she really wanted to get embarrassed, to back away from the frantic admissions of the night before, she was afraid. She did not want to hurt his feelings or cause a return of last nights events. One Witchblade induced reality check was enough for her. She shifted to look at him and was startled when he suddenly released her and rose from the bed. "Ian, what…" she started, stopping as she heard a knock at the door.
"Allow me," he told her, smiling like a kid at Christmas as he left the room hurriedly, returning a few minutes later with a cup of coffee and a bakery box which he placed on the bed next to her. Sara looked at him a little oddly as he sat himself gingerly on the edge of the bed, offering the cup to her. He had learned the value of offering supplication in the form of coffee, and although she seemed to be in a surprisingly good mood, it seemed to him a wise trend to continue. Sara took the cup from him gratefully, sitting up and making room for him next to her, her intention easy for him to read on her face.
Ian moved a little closer to her and waited for her to start her coffee before opening the box. The inviting smell of fresh pastry rose from the box, clearing the last of the sleep from her mind as the contents made a sudden impression on her.
"Ian, how did you…" she said as she grabbed a hot croissant leaking warm chocolate. Ian smiled at her evident delight. It pleased him immensely, to be able to do these little things for her, to make her happy.
"You can acquire anything in this city, Sara, if you know the right person to call," he told her modestly, trying to keep the blush out of his face.
"Are you planning on helping me with this?" she asked, pointing to the box and its' contents. "Because there is no way I can eat them all myself. Besides I would have to work out for a week, just to keep it from going straight to my hips."
"I will join you, although I will gladly help you with your work out as well." There was something like a smile on his face and a hint of a predatory gleam in his eyes as he watched her eat, the chocolate oozing out over her fingers as she tried to keep it from getting everywhere. There was a newfound confidence about Ian, as if he had come to some kind of internal decision. It was appealing and endearing, he had been trying so hard and it seemed to be working. She notices his gaze, completely absorbed in watching her battle with the escaping chocolate, a battle she was loosing rapidly. She could not resist a little teasing.
"What's the matter Nottingham, never seen a girl covered in chocolate before?" For a brief moment she thought she had gone to far. He ducked his head a little and his colour was rising. But when he raised his eyes a moment later there was a bit of challenge in his expression. He reached out and took her hand and cautiously raised it to his lips. Giving her ample time to pull away, he began kissing the chocolate from the back of her hand. The brush of his mustache tickled a little but his boldness warmed and pleased her. In the back of her mind she wondered if she was moving to fast, starting something that they were definitely in no position to finish at this hour of the morning, but she had no desire to stop him. She also didn't want to do anything to quash his emerging confidence. She leaned a little closer to him and was rewarded with the transfer of his attention to her lips. He was proceeding slowly, first licking the remains of the chocolate from her lips before kissing her, exploring the taste of her. She was amazed, looking into his eyes, seeing the depths of emotion there.
***Beep, Beep, Beep***
The sound of the alarm clock brought them apart explosively as Ian spun around and brought his hand down on the offending object with more force than was strictly necessary to make up for the interruption. There was the sound of splintering plastic and an electronic death rattle rewarded his efforts as the alarm clock turned dark. There was a moment of silence, as Ian tried to put his rage back into its place, embarrassed by his actions. He turned his face away, afraid of what he would see if he looked at her. The sound of Sara's pealing laughter caused him to look up in surprise. Sara was laughing almost hysterically, tears streaming down her face. She tried to pull herself together, tried to tell him what was going through her mind, but she couldn't quite get the words out.
"I'm…I'm sorry, I just…I have wanted to do that for years. I just don't think that I have the strength for it." Ian started laughing as well, a rich sound that took her off guard for a moment. It was the first time she had ever really heard him laugh.
"I am glad I could be of service then," he said, still trying to his voice back under control. The emotional roller coaster ride was finally starting to make an impression on him. He was laying on Sara's bed, next to her, laughing with her over the sudden assassination of her alarm clock. They lay there for a moment, letting the laughter die away of its own accord. Sara sat up and looked at him, his hair tangled in a mass around his face, eyes shining, laying back among the tangled bedclothes. It would be so easy to imagine waking up next to him every morning, she thought. For the first time she didn't even try to push the images away.