Disclaimer: Witchblade does not belong to me. The characters are full of inspiration, intelligence, and intrigue that I cannot help but borrow them a short while. I heartily enjoy the show and its premise. The events of this story are mine, but the characters are definitely not.

Author's Note: For Mr. Hathaway and b8kworm. I have taken liberties with the legend and lore surrounding the Witchblade, but it was fun to create something half as rich as actuality.

Summary: Destiny brought them together, Fate brought them love, But choice kept them together.

Rating: PG-13

Archive(s): Mine. Anybody else, email me; I like to go visiting.

Pairing(s): Ian/Sara

Spoiler(s): Yes, but they're all over the place and I can't name specific episodes.

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Title: Before Dawn

Author: Adrianna AEternalis
Email: adrianna@darkcorner.com


Chapter 4: Bungalow

For a while, Sara let herself go and enjoyed the feel of wind in her hair. Faced with the option of safety and the wildness of riding without a helmet, she always chose the former. Somehow, it felt amazingly right for this early morning ride of freedom - for both her hair and her life. Once again, she realized she did not question Ian's part in it all; she merely accepted it.

Even now as she trusted Ian's guidance of the Ducati motorcycle into a nearby curve, that trust extended into so many different realms since Irons's death. Where she might have only relied on him to save her butt in a situation, she found that she expected his input on cases from work. She wanted to spend long evenings with him - if only to discuss and compare notes on the Witchblade.

Hidden in her soul, Sara gave a small nod of credit to an added desire for those evenings, but now was not the time. First, she needed to survive this manhunt for her head. Only the future would tell if she would have the time for recreation. As it was, Ian's nearness and the soothing vibrations of the motorcycle almost convinced her to bet on the positive.

Sara straightened her posture when she began to smell and taste salt in the air. Her hold on Ian's waist tightened immeasurably, but Ian was so sensitive to her. After who knows how long of her body straddling his, he was on that side of overdrive awareness.

"I hear the ocean," she stated, breath so close to his ear that it was a caress.

Ian let a laugh respond to her statement. "Did you think I was driving around aimlessly, Sara?"

She pushed at his good shoulder in mock insult.

"I've had a long week," Sara declared. "Cut me some slack, will you?"

He slowed the motorcycle and left the road for a gas station. The lights were on and it was clean. Again, she swung off the bike first, grateful for an opportunity to stretch her legs.

Tank full and dawn fast approaching, Ian drove single-mindedly for his safe haven from the world. The moment he had felt the Witchblade's urgent summons, he knew he may have to ground himself there. Or, if not him, then Sara.

Objectively, he analyzed the night's events and found him surprised once more. He had gone to Sara's side with no expectation of seeing another sunrise; that he would - with Sara - was a contemplation beyond his capabilities at the moment. Icing on the cake was her reliance on him. For a man who accepted a lifetime of unrequited love, he searched for a foundation strong enough to stay him.

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They made it to Ian's single story bungalow just as the first rays of dawn lightened the eastern horizon. Each carrying a bag, they moved unconsciously together to bring the home from abandoned to living.

Deciding that the kitchen inventory could wait, Ian escorted Sara to the master bedroom and bid her a fond farewell. He sank gracefully to the floor in another room, grateful for having escaped their previously unfinished conversation. Dreading and anticipating it in equal parts since they fled Sara's apartment in the city, Ian finally let himself sleep.

*****

She woke when the sun glowed orange and awareness forestalled as images from the alleyway deluged her. The instantaneous arrival of Ian in her mind calmed her and Sara managed to shake off her grogginess.

The enticing aroma of coffee lured her from bed to the kitchen where Ian awaited her. He held a steaming mug in his hands and he offered it as a benediction to Sara's senses. She reached for it, frowning when it did not come free from his grasp.

She looked into his eyes and froze for his assessment. His presence in her mind probed her gently and whatever he found satisfied. Sara dived into her coffee with abandon.

Ian offered her a stunning array of food for her substantial appetite. As she bit into a bagel, Sara could not remember her last meal in the comfort of safety. She wandered into the pantry to examine Ian's efforts while she slept; it was full to brimming. Returning, she set her breakfast-slash-dinner on a plate.

"Ian, I haven't thanked you properly."

He shook his head but knew this had to be said and done. The easiest way to conclude it would be to blatantly ignore it so he turned. It was then that Sara joined him at the counter and butted shoulders with him. Her action of companionship was met with a hiss of pain. They both had forgotten about Ian's shoulder.

She pushed him roughly into a chair as she drew his shirt off his body. A new gauze pad did not hide the renewed bleeding. Gingerly peeling it away, she saw that it must have been reopened at least twice - once just now and a second time when they ran from her apartment.

His hand on hers brought her focus back to him.

"I just need time. Every time it's reopened isn't helping."

"You should have told me."

Ian disagreed. "The priority is not me!"

Preferring not to argue, Sara switched to pleading, something with she was completely unfamiliar. "Then, at least, let me give you some of my blood."

He backed away from her, knocking over his chair when it became an obstacle.

"No! Don't ever offer that, Sara; you don't know what you ask of me!"

Pupils dilated and hid the unique beauty of his eyes. The blood vessels of his neck bulged and the muscles of his bare arms physically restrained his own powerful body. They held eye contact for suspended time and Ian broke away first. She watched speechless as he stalked from the room.

Sara had never seen such a transformation; not even watching Ian kill with his bare hands had surprised her as much as he did with that single outburst.


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© RK 14.Jan.2004