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 6: Hunting

Ian kept a vigilant eye on Sara, who had her gaze trained on the ceiling.

"I don't know how much more of this waiting I can take."

He prudently chose to remain silent.

"I need to do something about the White Bulls! If your information was right, they're not just in the police precincts. Governments, too, and not just America's. God! Imagine what could happen if one of the managed to become a President or a Prime Minister or something!"

He heaved himself into an armchair and Sara instantly stood to use the vacated floor space for her caged activity. She walked the perimeter, length, and width of the room as she talked and though out loud.

Finally, she stopped and directed her next words to her only companion; he prepared himself to respond.

"I know the Witchblade expects me to clear the corruption, prevent any member of the White Bulls from ever gaining political power. Question: how can one person take down an entire organization? An international one at that."

His reply was as oblique as she expected: "Sometimes the catalyst is enough to cause an entire cascade."

She muttered curses in his general direction.

"Sara -"

She cut him off brusquely. "I don't want to hear it unless it's going to help."

He flashed her a half-smile. "Sara, trust the Witchblade. It knows waiting is not your - usual course of action."

"Okay." She drew out the word in irritation.

Shrugging, he stated, "Maybe you should not wait for them to find you. Maybe you should find them."

The idea caught hold. "If I can find their main hideout, I can expose everything about them. Name names even."

There was no point in any further input from Ian; this was her vendetta, her destiny. He rose and began to close up the bungalow again.

When he returned to Sara, it was to the words: "I need my Buell and I need to talk to Gabriel."

*****

It was a no-brainer to send an encoded email to Gabriel. The immediate reply sent Ian and Sara out the door. They had scarcely enough time to make the meeting much less dawdle and plan scenarios.

Gabriel's reporter friend brought friends and Ian supplied them with whatever information he had gathered from the file at Vorschlag. Account numbers, dates, and dollar amounts began a world wide hacking and researching frenzy. Not being able to censor his own name, Ian nodded and shouldered one more burden in Sara's crusade.

Leaving Gabriel and the rest in a secured location, hidden behind locks and alarms of Ian's own design, he and Sara left to meet her motorcycle. They found it forlornly alone at her abandoned apartment.

He began a systematic check of the arsenal hidden within his overcoat as she started the engine. He missed the contemplative look settle upon her features so her words started him.

"We may have to make a choice later, so let's save time and make it now. The Buell or the Ducati?"

Faced with the eerie glow of her eyes, he had no answer.

"Which one handles better for you, Ian?" she asked, clearly exasperated.

"The Ducati." No hesitation in his reply.

"Okay. Remember that later."

He followed her blindly to another neighborhood of the city. They took the stairs two at a time and landed in Bruno Dante's apartment.

*****

Only ten minutes passed in their waiting when Dante slid his key home, opened the door, and gaped at Sara, who sat comfortably on a counter.

"Hello, Dante. I hear you've been looking for me."

Alone with Sara, Dante's first instinct was to turn tail and return with reinforcements. That plan was dashed when Ian came up behind Dante and slammed the door shut. He leaned against it, locking the door as he awaited Sara. Door blocked and Sara between Dante and the fire escape, Dante felt like a mouse in a trap.

She slid off the counter, in a sensuous move to Ian's senses, and walked up to Dante, who wisely backed away - right into Ian's ready hands. Ian savored the quaking fear and jitters in the police captain.

"You have a choice, Dante."

"I'll - uh - I'll do whatever you want!"

"Not so tough without your buddies, are you? Whatever. I'm glad to hear you say that."

Ian withdrew a handheld knife and rested it gently against Dante's neck. Dante gulped and Sara stepped closer.

"You can either tell me where the White Bulls headquarters is and live or you can die and I'll visit to your boy, Orlinsky, for information."

"He doesn't know anything!"

Ian easily restrained the man while Sara crooned, "Glad to see you're capable of loyalty. Pity though, Dante; that just means you'll have to tell me."

"I don't know anything." He tried one last stand of defiance.

"You know why I don't believe you? You didn't contradict me the first time I asked."

"You're insane, Pezzini!"

The knife kissed his neck and drew blood without inciting any pain, but the smell of blood broke Dante.

"Yes, I may be, but I'm not the one who has a knife to the neck, am I?"

"You'll never get passed the guards. One call from me, and that place will be locked down better than Alcatrez!"

"Like you said, Dante, I'm insane. Now how about it?"

He recited a legitimate sounding address, and Ian nodded to Sara in recognition of the neighborhood and block. They left a whimpering Dante behind, but not before allowing Ian a small amount of target practice.

The moment they reached the street and were down the block, Sara called Gabriel.

"What? Okay. Were you able to get an address for the number?" She paused. "Good job. Thanks, Gabe." She turned to Ian. "Dante just made a call. The trace goes back to the address he gave us."

"Let's go."


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© RK 16.Jan.2004