Sara finished dressing and wandered over to the chair with another cup of
coffee and her hairbrush. She had left Ian finishing his shower alone. He
was continuously surprising her, showing a playful side that she had been
unaware of and was starting to enjoy. She sat and ran the brush
reflexively through her hair, just trying to maintain her calm. The
tension kept trying to creep back in, rising like bile from the pit of her
stomach and she took a moment to push it back down. Panic would certainly
do her no good, if anything it would make it harder. She continued to
brush her hair, the soothing rhythm of the mundane task helping her to keep
her thoughts in order. Ian emerged in his black slacks and a black dress
shirt open at the collar, his hair still damp from the shower.
"Ok?" she asked as she watched him go through his closet a little distractedly.
"Yes," he responded vaguely, pulling out a soft looking sweater and holding it up for her approval. She looked it over and nodded. The soft grey against the stark black of his shirt would soften the harshness of his dress; make him look a little less forbidding. It was casual enough not to rouse suspicions without being disrespectful. His manner would take care of the rest, Sara was sure. He continued, moving around the room, gathering up things that he felt he would need. He removed his weapon and harness from the night table, but decided against it, returning it to its place. While he felt strange going into the city unarmed, it would probably be for the best. Taking a few minutes, he ran a quick mental checklist, making sure that he had everything he needed. It was almost easy to slip back into his old mindset, to see this as just another mission, but below the surface he knew better. He wished it were that easy. But to allow the cold to take over him again, to let his emotions slip behind a lifetime's worth of barriers would not make the situation better. It would only make Sara uncomfortable, and make it harder for him to adjust to the challenges that were continuously emerging. So easy, he thought, to go back, but to what? There was no one now to give him orders, to tell him what he needed to do. No one but Sara, and she refused. It was not what his father wanted anyway. It was his time, and today he earned the right. He gazed at Sara, sitting back in the chair, gazing into the fire. Her face had that determined look that he found so appealing. He moved over to stand beside her, just needing to be near her. It was almost time.
"Ian." Sara looked up at him and smiled. "Come sit down, we have a few minutes." He checked his watch and sat down at her feet, wanting to be closer. Sara pulled him back against her. His hair was still damp, slicked back with an impatient hand. She reached out and ran her brush through his hair, smoothing it back with the other hand as she went. He stiffened, then leaned back into her hands, enjoying the feeling. That such a simple task could be made so relaxing, just because she was doing it, was fascinating.
Sara responded to his obvious pleasure by continuing. "There, how does that feel?" she asked. Ian sighed pleasurably.
"Wonderful," he told her.
"Yes, it is one of the few things I remember about my mother, she used to brush my hair. I guess it's comforting. What about you? Didn't anyone ever do."she stopped, feeling him stiffen under her hands. The Witchblade warmed suddenly, almost burning her and she realized that she had stepped in it good. The snippet of a vision came back to her, Irons holding the baby Ian, the woman who was not to be mentioned. "Ian, are you ok? I didn't mean." She put down the hairbrush and laid her hand on his shoulder, feeling it shake just a bit.
"I am.I will." he started. She pulled at him, trying to get him to turn around, to face her. There were tears in his dark eyes and he tried to hide his head. It was hard, he thought, these emotions. So long under control, he now seemed to be bursting with new feelings at the strangest moments. He tried to turn away, not let her see, but she would not allow it.
"Ian, tell me," Sara asked softly. She knew that this wasn't the best time to have this particular conversation, but since she had started it, now she needed to fix it. "Come on, I need to know. I care about you; I need to know what is going on."
"It is just that." he stopped, tried to get his thoughts into words. She put her hand under his chin, urging him to meet her eyes. "I do not know anything about her, about who she was." He stopped and Sara gave him a moment to get his thoughts together. "I just do not know who I am anymore. I have always known that I was my father's son, but with him gone, I.I just." he stopped again.
"Ian, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bring up painful memories."
"But that's the problem, Sara, I have no memories of her, I know nothing about her, not even her name."
"Ian, look at me," she told him. He looked in her eyes, letting her see the pain and confusion that swirled in their depths. "I promise, when this is all over, I will help you find out. We'll do it together, understand me?" She pulled him into her arms, needing to reassure him almost as much as he needed her to. "You know who you are inside, that is all that matters for now, all that matters to me. We can work this out together, ok?" she asked, looking for reassurance in his eyes. Ian nodded, there was nothing he could do at the moment, and Sara's promise made him feel that he was strong enough to get through anything with her at his side. He leaned in, pressing his head against her shoulder, and letting the tears flow.
Ian cast a last look around his room before closing the door behind him. They walked down the hall together, holding hands, each lost in their own thoughts. Sara squeezed his hand reassuringly as they reached the front hall. "So far, so good. I mean, the doctor has sent the stuff, right?" Wilson appeared suddenly with their coats and a briefcase in his hand, which he handed to Ian. Sara gave him a look. The expensive grey leather case made of some exotic animal skin seemed so at odds with his usual appearance that she had to resist the urge to laugh. Ian shrugged slightly.
"It was my father's," he told her. "And it serves its purpose. I trust that everything I need is here?" he asked as he took the case. The stiff faced major domo merely looked at him. Ian smiled a little, knowing that Wilson would have it no other way. It would be against his military nature for anything to be less than well done.
"Alright then, I think we are as ready as we are going to get," Sara said, accepting her coat from Wilson with a nod. "Everything went well yesterday. I mean Danny, Joe, Gabriel." Ian's eyes locked with hers in sudden realization. They turned to Wilson almost simultaneously, the question hanging clear in the air between them.
"I believe Mr. Bowman is still in the south wing. Cook sent him coffee and breakfast this morning. A young man such as that brings out the urge to feed him up." They moved quickly through the house, having little time to spare. Even with the staff looking after him, they should check on him, it was only polite with all he was doing for them. Sara felt incredibly embarrassed, how could she have possibly forgotten him? Gabe was such a good friend, always willing to give her a hand, and now she just left him hanging.
Gabriel had obviously made himself right at home; they could hear that for themselves. The music blared out at ear shattering volume long before they even entered the room he had set himself up in. They came in to find the young artifacts dealer ensconced in a chair with his back to the door, feet propped up on the antique table. His laptop was open and the remains of a large breakfast were sharing the table with it, the feet, and the coffee pot. He was wearing yesterday's clothes, now rumpled, giving evidence to the fact that he had probably been there all night.
Ian walked in and placed a hand on Gabriel's shoulder. The young man, jumped, visibly startled as his feet hit the floor and he lost his grip on the cup in his hand. Both the cup and the chair started toward the floor as he tried to regain balance and equilibrium. Ian moved with his usual grace and speed, catching the cup before it hit the floor and steadying the younger man's chair, keeping it upright.
Gabriel reached out and lowered the volume, looking at them with the slightly bemused expression of a sleepwalking owl. "Oh, uh, hey Chief, Ian, I.Uh," He looked at the two of them standing there, while trying to regain some of his composure. "You shouldn't sneak up on a guy like that, you could have given me a heart attack."
"Yeah, well, there was no sneaking involved. If you don't want to be startled, you could try keeping the music down," Sara told him as she shook her head. "I was worried about how you were doing but you seem to have it all under control."
"Yeah," he said returning to his seat. Ian gave his cup back to him and he took a sip, distractedly. He was obviously just paying enough attention to be polite, his eyes straying from the two of them to the computer screen in front of him. Gabriel was a bloodhound, enjoying his research, hunting down obscure facts and references like fugitives, and this was the biggest and best hunt yet. Sara smiled at him; it was obvious that not only did he not mind being forgotten, but he really wished they would go away and let him get back to work.
"Well, you seem to be ok, so I guess we should leave you to it then."
"Sounds good. I will let you guys know as soon as I find something useful."
"We truly appreciate your efforts on our behalf, Gabriel. If you need anything Wilson will see to it. We will be staying in the city tonight."
"Oh, sure," he said, having already returned his gaze to the screen. "See you later." He waved distractedly. As they left the room, they heard the music once again returned to his preferred ear shattering volume.
"Somehow, I don't think he cares that we forgot about him," Sara commented on the way out.
"Actually, I think he prefers it that way."
"Ok?" she asked as she watched him go through his closet a little distractedly.
"Yes," he responded vaguely, pulling out a soft looking sweater and holding it up for her approval. She looked it over and nodded. The soft grey against the stark black of his shirt would soften the harshness of his dress; make him look a little less forbidding. It was casual enough not to rouse suspicions without being disrespectful. His manner would take care of the rest, Sara was sure. He continued, moving around the room, gathering up things that he felt he would need. He removed his weapon and harness from the night table, but decided against it, returning it to its place. While he felt strange going into the city unarmed, it would probably be for the best. Taking a few minutes, he ran a quick mental checklist, making sure that he had everything he needed. It was almost easy to slip back into his old mindset, to see this as just another mission, but below the surface he knew better. He wished it were that easy. But to allow the cold to take over him again, to let his emotions slip behind a lifetime's worth of barriers would not make the situation better. It would only make Sara uncomfortable, and make it harder for him to adjust to the challenges that were continuously emerging. So easy, he thought, to go back, but to what? There was no one now to give him orders, to tell him what he needed to do. No one but Sara, and she refused. It was not what his father wanted anyway. It was his time, and today he earned the right. He gazed at Sara, sitting back in the chair, gazing into the fire. Her face had that determined look that he found so appealing. He moved over to stand beside her, just needing to be near her. It was almost time.
"Ian." Sara looked up at him and smiled. "Come sit down, we have a few minutes." He checked his watch and sat down at her feet, wanting to be closer. Sara pulled him back against her. His hair was still damp, slicked back with an impatient hand. She reached out and ran her brush through his hair, smoothing it back with the other hand as she went. He stiffened, then leaned back into her hands, enjoying the feeling. That such a simple task could be made so relaxing, just because she was doing it, was fascinating.
Sara responded to his obvious pleasure by continuing. "There, how does that feel?" she asked. Ian sighed pleasurably.
"Wonderful," he told her.
"Yes, it is one of the few things I remember about my mother, she used to brush my hair. I guess it's comforting. What about you? Didn't anyone ever do."she stopped, feeling him stiffen under her hands. The Witchblade warmed suddenly, almost burning her and she realized that she had stepped in it good. The snippet of a vision came back to her, Irons holding the baby Ian, the woman who was not to be mentioned. "Ian, are you ok? I didn't mean." She put down the hairbrush and laid her hand on his shoulder, feeling it shake just a bit.
"I am.I will." he started. She pulled at him, trying to get him to turn around, to face her. There were tears in his dark eyes and he tried to hide his head. It was hard, he thought, these emotions. So long under control, he now seemed to be bursting with new feelings at the strangest moments. He tried to turn away, not let her see, but she would not allow it.
"Ian, tell me," Sara asked softly. She knew that this wasn't the best time to have this particular conversation, but since she had started it, now she needed to fix it. "Come on, I need to know. I care about you; I need to know what is going on."
"It is just that." he stopped, tried to get his thoughts into words. She put her hand under his chin, urging him to meet her eyes. "I do not know anything about her, about who she was." He stopped and Sara gave him a moment to get his thoughts together. "I just do not know who I am anymore. I have always known that I was my father's son, but with him gone, I.I just." he stopped again.
"Ian, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bring up painful memories."
"But that's the problem, Sara, I have no memories of her, I know nothing about her, not even her name."
"Ian, look at me," she told him. He looked in her eyes, letting her see the pain and confusion that swirled in their depths. "I promise, when this is all over, I will help you find out. We'll do it together, understand me?" She pulled him into her arms, needing to reassure him almost as much as he needed her to. "You know who you are inside, that is all that matters for now, all that matters to me. We can work this out together, ok?" she asked, looking for reassurance in his eyes. Ian nodded, there was nothing he could do at the moment, and Sara's promise made him feel that he was strong enough to get through anything with her at his side. He leaned in, pressing his head against her shoulder, and letting the tears flow.
Ian cast a last look around his room before closing the door behind him. They walked down the hall together, holding hands, each lost in their own thoughts. Sara squeezed his hand reassuringly as they reached the front hall. "So far, so good. I mean, the doctor has sent the stuff, right?" Wilson appeared suddenly with their coats and a briefcase in his hand, which he handed to Ian. Sara gave him a look. The expensive grey leather case made of some exotic animal skin seemed so at odds with his usual appearance that she had to resist the urge to laugh. Ian shrugged slightly.
"It was my father's," he told her. "And it serves its purpose. I trust that everything I need is here?" he asked as he took the case. The stiff faced major domo merely looked at him. Ian smiled a little, knowing that Wilson would have it no other way. It would be against his military nature for anything to be less than well done.
"Alright then, I think we are as ready as we are going to get," Sara said, accepting her coat from Wilson with a nod. "Everything went well yesterday. I mean Danny, Joe, Gabriel." Ian's eyes locked with hers in sudden realization. They turned to Wilson almost simultaneously, the question hanging clear in the air between them.
"I believe Mr. Bowman is still in the south wing. Cook sent him coffee and breakfast this morning. A young man such as that brings out the urge to feed him up." They moved quickly through the house, having little time to spare. Even with the staff looking after him, they should check on him, it was only polite with all he was doing for them. Sara felt incredibly embarrassed, how could she have possibly forgotten him? Gabe was such a good friend, always willing to give her a hand, and now she just left him hanging.
Gabriel had obviously made himself right at home; they could hear that for themselves. The music blared out at ear shattering volume long before they even entered the room he had set himself up in. They came in to find the young artifacts dealer ensconced in a chair with his back to the door, feet propped up on the antique table. His laptop was open and the remains of a large breakfast were sharing the table with it, the feet, and the coffee pot. He was wearing yesterday's clothes, now rumpled, giving evidence to the fact that he had probably been there all night.
Ian walked in and placed a hand on Gabriel's shoulder. The young man, jumped, visibly startled as his feet hit the floor and he lost his grip on the cup in his hand. Both the cup and the chair started toward the floor as he tried to regain balance and equilibrium. Ian moved with his usual grace and speed, catching the cup before it hit the floor and steadying the younger man's chair, keeping it upright.
Gabriel reached out and lowered the volume, looking at them with the slightly bemused expression of a sleepwalking owl. "Oh, uh, hey Chief, Ian, I.Uh," He looked at the two of them standing there, while trying to regain some of his composure. "You shouldn't sneak up on a guy like that, you could have given me a heart attack."
"Yeah, well, there was no sneaking involved. If you don't want to be startled, you could try keeping the music down," Sara told him as she shook her head. "I was worried about how you were doing but you seem to have it all under control."
"Yeah," he said returning to his seat. Ian gave his cup back to him and he took a sip, distractedly. He was obviously just paying enough attention to be polite, his eyes straying from the two of them to the computer screen in front of him. Gabriel was a bloodhound, enjoying his research, hunting down obscure facts and references like fugitives, and this was the biggest and best hunt yet. Sara smiled at him; it was obvious that not only did he not mind being forgotten, but he really wished they would go away and let him get back to work.
"Well, you seem to be ok, so I guess we should leave you to it then."
"Sounds good. I will let you guys know as soon as I find something useful."
"We truly appreciate your efforts on our behalf, Gabriel. If you need anything Wilson will see to it. We will be staying in the city tonight."
"Oh, sure," he said, having already returned his gaze to the screen. "See you later." He waved distractedly. As they left the room, they heard the music once again returned to his preferred ear shattering volume.
"Somehow, I don't think he cares that we forgot about him," Sara commented on the way out.
"Actually, I think he prefers it that way."