Ian listened to everything she said quietly. He tried to look at it
dispassionately but it was hard, she was asking him to take a big leap of
faith. He was afraid, afraid to go on, afraid to go back. He nodded his
head slowly as she finished. He raised his eyes to meet hers. "Sara, I do
not know what to say. Would you give me a few moments?" he asked. She
nodded to him and he rose quietly and slipped out the window and onto the
fire escape. She wanted to make him promise to stay, to extract some
assurance that he would not run from her now when she needed him so much,
but she was afraid, frightened that the pressure would be too much for him
too soon. Trust had to start somewhere and she only hoped that they had
both come far enough for it to be here, the first and hopefully worst real
test.
He sat down in the cold, trying to get his thoughts in order. She was asking him to say Goodbye, to give up his father and his life. But Irons was dead, and Sara was offering him the chance to have a new life, a life that was free of the control under which he had always lived. He could start over and become his own man, become the protector that Sara needed. It all came down to Sara. He loved his father, always would. It did not matter to him what Irons had done he was still his father. He had also given him the skills he needed to help Sara, to protect her and for that he would always be grateful, more so than he had ever thought he would be. But Sara gave him a new chance, the hope for a future, the normal life he had always wanted. It was time to say goodbye to his father and take the next step. He had known that the day would come, although he had avoided even thinking about it. Sara was so special to him, and she was the true Wielder. That was his destiny, to be with her, and if this was the only way, then he must take it. He rose slowly, stretching his muscles, long frozen from the cold and turned to look inside. There was his future, Sara. Decision made, he quietly slipped back inside.
As soon as the window closed behind him and she saw him sit, Sara rose and began to clear up from dinner, reassured that he was at least not running away. She washed all the dishes and then decided to start cleaning the kitchen. Her mind was spinning in a panic. What would she do if he said no? She knew she was asking a lot, but what else could she do? Until they were out from under this there was no way for them to start a life together. A life together, was that what they were working towards? She tried to resist the urge to look every few seconds to reassure herself that he was still there. She realized that she was scared, afraid that she had let him get close to her and now he would leave. She did not want to lose him like she had lost so many other people. The Witchblade warmed on her wrist, reassuring her a little. Somehow it was a comforting feeling. She found that she could no longer picture her life without him. He had slipped into her home and her life, becoming as much a part of it as Danny or Gabriel. Or even the Witchblade. He had helped her accept it as a part of her life and now she needed him more than ever. She tried to break out of the bleak thoughts but they just kept running around in her head as she scrubbed and washed.
So intent was Sara on her work, on keeping her mind off of Ian and the choices he was having to make out in the cold night air, that she jumped when he came up behind her and slipped his arms around her. She turned to look into his eyes. They were still wary, like a trapped animal, but there was trust too, and love. She started to say something, anything, to make sure he was doing all right, but he spoke first. "Sara, you are right. I have to do this, and if not now then when? Perhaps this is the impetus I needed to realize that. For you, for us. But I am frightened. I cannot do it alone." There was a pleading edge to his voice and his eyes were full of pain, and hope. "Will you help me?" he asked her quietly. She leaned close to him, nodding and burying her head in his sweater. She did not want him to see the tears in her eyes. She took a moment to collect herself.
"Of course I will. Watch each other's backs, remember?"
Sitting in his office at Vorschlag, Ian concentrated on the list of things that he and Sara had come up with. His office. It still felt odd that his father was no longer here, that he would not somehow return and life would go back to what it had been. He was not comfortable with it, would probably never be comfortable, filling his father's shoes. Maybe when all this was over he would consider what to do about that. But even if he did return, there was no way that Ian would be able to go back to that life. He had left it behind and now he needed to focus on his future. He was not comfortable with it, would probably never be comfortable, filling his father's shoes. Maybe when all this was over he would consider what to do about that. First he needed to make arrangements though. He picked up the phone and hit the speed dial.
"Wilson, I need you to arrange a few things for me. I will return to the house on Friday night and I will have a guest with me. I will need a room for her for the night."
"Of course sir. Where would you like me to put her?"
"I do not care, one of the lighter rooms, one that Mr. Irons did not use for his guests often."
"Very well, Sir, I will see to it." There was a slight note of confusion in the man's voice but he covered it quickly. "Are there any other instructions?"
"Yes, I would like you to move Ms. Bronte's body. Have the room cleared and sealed. I do not anticipate its use ever again. Have all the equipment removed as well." He tried to keep his voice even, it was hard, a step that he had not ever foreseen, but it needed to be done. Some secrets Sara really did not need to know about, ever. It was time to bury the past, at least part of it, his father's past traded for his future. After this there could be no turning back.
"And what should we do with her, Sir?"
"Have her placed with Mr. Irons for now, and make sure she is handled with care. She deserves respect especially now. We will have her cremated with him, and the remains interred together. In life he could not bear to be without her, I would see that in death he need not either."
"It will be taken care of."
"And see that it is done before we arrive, I do not want my guest disturbed."
"Very well, Sir," he said quietly. "Sir?" he asked.
"Yes?"
"It will be good to have you home again."
"It will be good to be home again," he said, and realized that no matter what else happened, he really meant it. He leaned back in his chair. The first step was taken, and the path was set. He sighed and dialed the next number.
"Ian, we need to go over it again," she said, frustrated. The evening had not been going well. After making up their minds to go to the mansion on Friday and stay the night, Sara had grown steadily more worried, more bad tempered. Even an energetic session with the heavy bag at the gym had not managed to make her feel much better. She was a bundle of frantic energy just waiting for something to happen, a reason to explode. They had spent the whole time going over and over the story, correcting flaws, trying to avoid as many outright lies as they could and still make it believable, without admitting anything that would get either of them arrested or committed. Her temper had been getting unbearable, she had snapped at everyone and everything. Neither of her partners wanted anything to do with her, everyone else was just keeping their heads down and avoiding her. All but Ian. He had stayed calm, a still point at the center of her swirling tornado, the one balanced thing in her world that she had not succeeded in driving away or undercover.
"Enough. Do you think I am not capable of handling this?" he snapped back, his tone bringing a concerned look to her face. Ian had never done that before; he had never even seemed to notice her temper, much less mind it. She knew that she was being a pain, but she just couldn't seem to help it. "Sara, I'm sorry, I did not mean." he started to rise but she waved him back.
"No, it's not you, it's me. I shouldn't have snapped at you and you don't have to take it, you shouldn't take it." Sara closed her eyes and tried to calm down. They were both tired and what they were doing had a certain large potential to backfire. Add to that the stress of the day, and her own nerves regarding tomorrow night's trip to the Irons' mansion, and the fact that they had not come to blows was more a tribute to Ian's patience that anything else. That in itself was not helping, she wanted to get mad, hit something, but she wasn't going to take it out on him. She figured that he was going through enough without her blowing up in his face like a time bomb. "Ian, I know you can do your part.I just.I guess I am just worried and I'm taking it out on the ones closest to me." She threw up her hands and started pacing the room.
"Sara, why don't you sit down with me?" he asked her quietly. There was a little spark of warmth at her words, she considered him one of those closest to her? He was still amazed by every scrap of affection, no matter how small. From such an isolated, emotionally stifled upbringing to the wild and colorful passion that Sara displayed all the time was an exhilarating if sometimes exhausting and frightening sensation. With the containment of his conditioning breaking down, he felt a freedom to feel, to indulge that he had never experienced before.
She looked at him sitting there on the couch in a pair of black BDU's and a sleeveless tee shirt, his hair loose and tucked behind his ears. He had come a long way in a short time and she just kept pushing him, even when she knew it was too much. It was almost as if she wanted to push him away like she did most people, but he just stayed, doing as she asked. It was not surprising he had snapped at her. She had promised herself that she would not turn into Irons, ordering him around like he had no free will and here she was asking him to reorder his life for her at a moment's notice. Finally she shrugged.
"Sorry, this whole thing just has me worried, " she told him as she sat down and leaned back against him, his arms coming around her, holding her very gently. He knew that the strain was taking a toll on her but he had no idea what to do except be there and offer her the support that she had offered him. It was hard, trying to figure out what to do. He had no experience of this sort of thing, he acted on instinct, wishing that he could ask, afraid that in her current frame of mind he would drive her farther away.
"This or tomorrow night?" he asked. An icy finger of fear crept up his spine, would she back out at the last moment, was he asking too much of her with everything else that was happening?
"Both. I know it's logical but I wish that."
"That you had never agreed to go?" he asked. His voice was emotionless, but she could see concern and a little hurt in his eyes. She couldn't bear that look. After all he asked so very little of her, and she was asking a lot of him.
"No, I didn't mean that. I just wish we could do it some other way."
"Sara, we will be together. It is not easy for me either. But it is my home and the longer I stay away the harder it will be. Besides, I have duties there, to the house, to the staff, and as much as I might like to, I cannot forsake them," he told her, trying to reassure her. "You have been my sanctuary, given me a place to hide, to heal. Now it is time to begin again, and we cannot do that until we get past this. I can't stay here forever, even with you." He tightened his grip on her, pulling her a little closer. She turned and gave him a tired smile.
"Yeah, besides, some things are just safer. I'm not looking forward to explaining this to Danny, but at least we can do it away from his family. I don't want to cause them any trouble."
"Then don't. Most of this is my story, let me tell it. I do not want to be responsible for a rift between the two of you."
"Are you sure? He might be more inclined to believe me."
"Yes, but I am the one that has to be convincing. If I cannot make him believe, then no one else will. Call it a test," he told her, sounding at that moment very much like Kenneth Irons.
"You know, sometimes you can be so much like your father that it's scary," she told him. He was not exactly sure how to take that and for a moment he studied her face, trying to guess at what she meant by it. As she was still relaxed in his arms it did not seem to be meant as an insult so he decided to play with it.
He raised an eyebrow at her and gave a little half smile. "Does this disturb you?" he said, a perfect imitation of Irons' voice and expression. Sara gulped a little, then laughed as she realized he was trying to make a joke and smacked him gently on the arm.
"At this point, no. I have a feeling that it's the only way we're going to pull this off," she told him, relaxing back into his arms.
He sat down in the cold, trying to get his thoughts in order. She was asking him to say Goodbye, to give up his father and his life. But Irons was dead, and Sara was offering him the chance to have a new life, a life that was free of the control under which he had always lived. He could start over and become his own man, become the protector that Sara needed. It all came down to Sara. He loved his father, always would. It did not matter to him what Irons had done he was still his father. He had also given him the skills he needed to help Sara, to protect her and for that he would always be grateful, more so than he had ever thought he would be. But Sara gave him a new chance, the hope for a future, the normal life he had always wanted. It was time to say goodbye to his father and take the next step. He had known that the day would come, although he had avoided even thinking about it. Sara was so special to him, and she was the true Wielder. That was his destiny, to be with her, and if this was the only way, then he must take it. He rose slowly, stretching his muscles, long frozen from the cold and turned to look inside. There was his future, Sara. Decision made, he quietly slipped back inside.
As soon as the window closed behind him and she saw him sit, Sara rose and began to clear up from dinner, reassured that he was at least not running away. She washed all the dishes and then decided to start cleaning the kitchen. Her mind was spinning in a panic. What would she do if he said no? She knew she was asking a lot, but what else could she do? Until they were out from under this there was no way for them to start a life together. A life together, was that what they were working towards? She tried to resist the urge to look every few seconds to reassure herself that he was still there. She realized that she was scared, afraid that she had let him get close to her and now he would leave. She did not want to lose him like she had lost so many other people. The Witchblade warmed on her wrist, reassuring her a little. Somehow it was a comforting feeling. She found that she could no longer picture her life without him. He had slipped into her home and her life, becoming as much a part of it as Danny or Gabriel. Or even the Witchblade. He had helped her accept it as a part of her life and now she needed him more than ever. She tried to break out of the bleak thoughts but they just kept running around in her head as she scrubbed and washed.
So intent was Sara on her work, on keeping her mind off of Ian and the choices he was having to make out in the cold night air, that she jumped when he came up behind her and slipped his arms around her. She turned to look into his eyes. They were still wary, like a trapped animal, but there was trust too, and love. She started to say something, anything, to make sure he was doing all right, but he spoke first. "Sara, you are right. I have to do this, and if not now then when? Perhaps this is the impetus I needed to realize that. For you, for us. But I am frightened. I cannot do it alone." There was a pleading edge to his voice and his eyes were full of pain, and hope. "Will you help me?" he asked her quietly. She leaned close to him, nodding and burying her head in his sweater. She did not want him to see the tears in her eyes. She took a moment to collect herself.
"Of course I will. Watch each other's backs, remember?"
Sitting in his office at Vorschlag, Ian concentrated on the list of things that he and Sara had come up with. His office. It still felt odd that his father was no longer here, that he would not somehow return and life would go back to what it had been. He was not comfortable with it, would probably never be comfortable, filling his father's shoes. Maybe when all this was over he would consider what to do about that. But even if he did return, there was no way that Ian would be able to go back to that life. He had left it behind and now he needed to focus on his future. He was not comfortable with it, would probably never be comfortable, filling his father's shoes. Maybe when all this was over he would consider what to do about that. First he needed to make arrangements though. He picked up the phone and hit the speed dial.
"Wilson, I need you to arrange a few things for me. I will return to the house on Friday night and I will have a guest with me. I will need a room for her for the night."
"Of course sir. Where would you like me to put her?"
"I do not care, one of the lighter rooms, one that Mr. Irons did not use for his guests often."
"Very well, Sir, I will see to it." There was a slight note of confusion in the man's voice but he covered it quickly. "Are there any other instructions?"
"Yes, I would like you to move Ms. Bronte's body. Have the room cleared and sealed. I do not anticipate its use ever again. Have all the equipment removed as well." He tried to keep his voice even, it was hard, a step that he had not ever foreseen, but it needed to be done. Some secrets Sara really did not need to know about, ever. It was time to bury the past, at least part of it, his father's past traded for his future. After this there could be no turning back.
"And what should we do with her, Sir?"
"Have her placed with Mr. Irons for now, and make sure she is handled with care. She deserves respect especially now. We will have her cremated with him, and the remains interred together. In life he could not bear to be without her, I would see that in death he need not either."
"It will be taken care of."
"And see that it is done before we arrive, I do not want my guest disturbed."
"Very well, Sir," he said quietly. "Sir?" he asked.
"Yes?"
"It will be good to have you home again."
"It will be good to be home again," he said, and realized that no matter what else happened, he really meant it. He leaned back in his chair. The first step was taken, and the path was set. He sighed and dialed the next number.
"Ian, we need to go over it again," she said, frustrated. The evening had not been going well. After making up their minds to go to the mansion on Friday and stay the night, Sara had grown steadily more worried, more bad tempered. Even an energetic session with the heavy bag at the gym had not managed to make her feel much better. She was a bundle of frantic energy just waiting for something to happen, a reason to explode. They had spent the whole time going over and over the story, correcting flaws, trying to avoid as many outright lies as they could and still make it believable, without admitting anything that would get either of them arrested or committed. Her temper had been getting unbearable, she had snapped at everyone and everything. Neither of her partners wanted anything to do with her, everyone else was just keeping their heads down and avoiding her. All but Ian. He had stayed calm, a still point at the center of her swirling tornado, the one balanced thing in her world that she had not succeeded in driving away or undercover.
"Enough. Do you think I am not capable of handling this?" he snapped back, his tone bringing a concerned look to her face. Ian had never done that before; he had never even seemed to notice her temper, much less mind it. She knew that she was being a pain, but she just couldn't seem to help it. "Sara, I'm sorry, I did not mean." he started to rise but she waved him back.
"No, it's not you, it's me. I shouldn't have snapped at you and you don't have to take it, you shouldn't take it." Sara closed her eyes and tried to calm down. They were both tired and what they were doing had a certain large potential to backfire. Add to that the stress of the day, and her own nerves regarding tomorrow night's trip to the Irons' mansion, and the fact that they had not come to blows was more a tribute to Ian's patience that anything else. That in itself was not helping, she wanted to get mad, hit something, but she wasn't going to take it out on him. She figured that he was going through enough without her blowing up in his face like a time bomb. "Ian, I know you can do your part.I just.I guess I am just worried and I'm taking it out on the ones closest to me." She threw up her hands and started pacing the room.
"Sara, why don't you sit down with me?" he asked her quietly. There was a little spark of warmth at her words, she considered him one of those closest to her? He was still amazed by every scrap of affection, no matter how small. From such an isolated, emotionally stifled upbringing to the wild and colorful passion that Sara displayed all the time was an exhilarating if sometimes exhausting and frightening sensation. With the containment of his conditioning breaking down, he felt a freedom to feel, to indulge that he had never experienced before.
She looked at him sitting there on the couch in a pair of black BDU's and a sleeveless tee shirt, his hair loose and tucked behind his ears. He had come a long way in a short time and she just kept pushing him, even when she knew it was too much. It was almost as if she wanted to push him away like she did most people, but he just stayed, doing as she asked. It was not surprising he had snapped at her. She had promised herself that she would not turn into Irons, ordering him around like he had no free will and here she was asking him to reorder his life for her at a moment's notice. Finally she shrugged.
"Sorry, this whole thing just has me worried, " she told him as she sat down and leaned back against him, his arms coming around her, holding her very gently. He knew that the strain was taking a toll on her but he had no idea what to do except be there and offer her the support that she had offered him. It was hard, trying to figure out what to do. He had no experience of this sort of thing, he acted on instinct, wishing that he could ask, afraid that in her current frame of mind he would drive her farther away.
"This or tomorrow night?" he asked. An icy finger of fear crept up his spine, would she back out at the last moment, was he asking too much of her with everything else that was happening?
"Both. I know it's logical but I wish that."
"That you had never agreed to go?" he asked. His voice was emotionless, but she could see concern and a little hurt in his eyes. She couldn't bear that look. After all he asked so very little of her, and she was asking a lot of him.
"No, I didn't mean that. I just wish we could do it some other way."
"Sara, we will be together. It is not easy for me either. But it is my home and the longer I stay away the harder it will be. Besides, I have duties there, to the house, to the staff, and as much as I might like to, I cannot forsake them," he told her, trying to reassure her. "You have been my sanctuary, given me a place to hide, to heal. Now it is time to begin again, and we cannot do that until we get past this. I can't stay here forever, even with you." He tightened his grip on her, pulling her a little closer. She turned and gave him a tired smile.
"Yeah, besides, some things are just safer. I'm not looking forward to explaining this to Danny, but at least we can do it away from his family. I don't want to cause them any trouble."
"Then don't. Most of this is my story, let me tell it. I do not want to be responsible for a rift between the two of you."
"Are you sure? He might be more inclined to believe me."
"Yes, but I am the one that has to be convincing. If I cannot make him believe, then no one else will. Call it a test," he told her, sounding at that moment very much like Kenneth Irons.
"You know, sometimes you can be so much like your father that it's scary," she told him. He was not exactly sure how to take that and for a moment he studied her face, trying to guess at what she meant by it. As she was still relaxed in his arms it did not seem to be meant as an insult so he decided to play with it.
He raised an eyebrow at her and gave a little half smile. "Does this disturb you?" he said, a perfect imitation of Irons' voice and expression. Sara gulped a little, then laughed as she realized he was trying to make a joke and smacked him gently on the arm.
"At this point, no. I have a feeling that it's the only way we're going to pull this off," she told him, relaxing back into his arms.