CONTACT PART TWO
by Chornyi
Not mine. You've heard it all before. This is the continuing saga of my attempt to make things nice and happy between Ian and Sara :)
....................................................................................
She comes awake slowly, as if surfacing from dark water. Something is different, but it takes her a moment to realize what- she is not alone in bed.
Her mind runs through the possibilities- Conchobar? Daniel? Someone she met last night and can't remember?- and discards them all.
She opens her eyes-
It's daylight, the golden light of early morning pours through her window and over the bed, and she can see him clearly.
He's curled into her body, his head tucked against her shoulder, his face hidden by a tangle of wavy dark hair. She'd thought his hair was black, but in the sunlight she can see lighter streaks, nearly auburn, almost the same shade as hers.
Ian Nottingham.
She knows it's him, because no one else would be wearing that coat to bed.
Sara is starting to wake up now, her mind clearing.
Ian. Here.
And now she remembers how.
Somehow, she didn't really expect him to still be here in the morning.
But here he is.
Sleeping deeply, his breath warm against her neck, one arm wrapped possessively over her body, his chin practically brushing her right breast.
Half sitting up as she is, Sara is in a position to look down on him, the back of his touseled head, the coat wrapped around his shoulders, the ornate black-and-silver hilt of some deadly weapon protruding from his collar, half hidden by his loose hair.
His breath is steady and even, peaceful.
Sara does not feel peaceful.
How is she going to get him up and out of here?
She's wearing nothing but a sheet, and his sleeping face is WAY to close to parts she's not even going to THINK about now.
Facing Ian in the dark, even touching him, comforting him, what the hell, even SLEEPING with him (not that way!) in the dark is one thing.
But it's not dark anymore.
And Sara definitely does not want to face him in the daylight.
Yet there's no way she can slip out of bed without waking him. And possibly losing the sheet, too, her disgruntled mind adds. No option there. Facing him naked would be even worse.
'Shit...' Sara breathes.
She can wake him up, tell him to get out. She doubts he'll stay long or give her any argument, he'll probably be as embarassed as she is. If he's NOT? her mind queries. What if he's not embarassed at all..?
But this is Ian. Sara ignores the little voice in her mind.
He'll do what she tells him. He'll bow his head, apologize and leave as quickly as he can, no matter what he really wants to do.
The only thing that will matter to him is what SHE wants him to do.
Which is why she can't do that.
She's given him this much, to do that would take it all away again. And after seeing him last night, she can't do that to him.
So she'll wake him up gently and tell him she has to get ready for work.
And this tangle will all be waiting for her some other time, but that's the way it'll have to be.
Sara raises her hand from around Ian's shoulder and gently strokes his tangled hair. 'Ian...' she says softly.
Instead of waking like the world-class warrior he is, Ian nuzzles his face against her and makes a little sigh of pleasure. 'Mmm..' he says. 'What..?'
His hot breath pours over her and Sara can't control a little shiver.
'Ian!' she says, sharper.
Finally, he lifts his head. His eyes are slighty dazed, their warm, sunlit brown clouded with sleep and confusion. There's a red crinkle-mark on the pale flesh of his cheek, just above the line of his beard.
He looks... God, he looks.. No way.
No frigging way, Sara tells herself.
'Time to get up, Ian. I gotta get ready for work, so.. you gotta go home. Okay?'
His eyes widen as if he can't believe he's hearing this. Or seeing her. Or something.
'Sara?' His lips form the words, then twist into a bemused little smile. 'What?' he asks.
'I said, you gotta get up.'
'Umm.' She's never heard that word come out of Ian Nottingham before.
He shakes his head, loosing a fall of tangled, gold-webbed dark hair, and she sees those brown eyes darken and widen as he finally realizes where he is and who he's talking to.
'Ohhh..' he says. He comes off the bed as if she touched him with tazer- the sheet stays with her only by the luck of a frantic grab.
It doesn't matter, he's not looking at her.
His head is practically touching his chest as he stands by her window. On more second and he'll be out the fire escape and gone.
What she wanted.
I'm sorry.' he says. 'Lady Sara, I am truly sorry.' He SOUNDS truly sorry. Truly, abjectly sorry.
Shit. Right back where we started, Sara thinks. She slides out of bed, wrapping the sheet tight and holding it with one hand. Gotta start wearing pajamas, she thinks.
She walks over to Ian and he turns a quarter turn away from her, as if her light is going to burn him.
'Ian.' she says. It's almost become a habit, calling him that.
'Yes.' he answers her. But he doesn't look up.
Shit, Sara thinks. It's becoming her mantra.
Irons would make him look up. Maybe it's what he needs.
Reaching out, Sara puts her hand under his chin and lifts his head. The bristles on his chin are almost soft where they prickle her fingers. His eyes are wide, their golden-brown depths darkened by fear.
He's afraid of HER? she thinks.
Her mind supplies the answer a second later- not exactly. He's afraid of what she can do to him. How she's going to hurt him. She's done it before.
'Ian.' she says it firmly but gently. 'You didn't do anything wrong. You had permission. Okay?'
'O..kay.' he answers her. He tries to look down but she doesn't let him.
'And you have permission again,' she says. He starts to shake his head, but she doesn't give him a chance. She lets go of his chin and pulls him into her arms, hugging him gently. Then she lets him go. 'Now go home. I have to get ready for work.'
'Goodbye, Sara.'
He turns away from her and is out the window and gone before she can move. But she thinks she sees a smile on his face.
Okay, great. The assassin is taken care of. Now, what am I going to do?
Sighing, Sara lets the sheet slip and pads into the bathroom. First, a shower. Then coffee. Then maybe she'll be able to think.
by Chornyi
Not mine. You've heard it all before. This is the continuing saga of my attempt to make things nice and happy between Ian and Sara :)
....................................................................................
She comes awake slowly, as if surfacing from dark water. Something is different, but it takes her a moment to realize what- she is not alone in bed.
Her mind runs through the possibilities- Conchobar? Daniel? Someone she met last night and can't remember?- and discards them all.
She opens her eyes-
It's daylight, the golden light of early morning pours through her window and over the bed, and she can see him clearly.
He's curled into her body, his head tucked against her shoulder, his face hidden by a tangle of wavy dark hair. She'd thought his hair was black, but in the sunlight she can see lighter streaks, nearly auburn, almost the same shade as hers.
Ian Nottingham.
She knows it's him, because no one else would be wearing that coat to bed.
Sara is starting to wake up now, her mind clearing.
Ian. Here.
And now she remembers how.
Somehow, she didn't really expect him to still be here in the morning.
But here he is.
Sleeping deeply, his breath warm against her neck, one arm wrapped possessively over her body, his chin practically brushing her right breast.
Half sitting up as she is, Sara is in a position to look down on him, the back of his touseled head, the coat wrapped around his shoulders, the ornate black-and-silver hilt of some deadly weapon protruding from his collar, half hidden by his loose hair.
His breath is steady and even, peaceful.
Sara does not feel peaceful.
How is she going to get him up and out of here?
She's wearing nothing but a sheet, and his sleeping face is WAY to close to parts she's not even going to THINK about now.
Facing Ian in the dark, even touching him, comforting him, what the hell, even SLEEPING with him (not that way!) in the dark is one thing.
But it's not dark anymore.
And Sara definitely does not want to face him in the daylight.
Yet there's no way she can slip out of bed without waking him. And possibly losing the sheet, too, her disgruntled mind adds. No option there. Facing him naked would be even worse.
'Shit...' Sara breathes.
She can wake him up, tell him to get out. She doubts he'll stay long or give her any argument, he'll probably be as embarassed as she is. If he's NOT? her mind queries. What if he's not embarassed at all..?
But this is Ian. Sara ignores the little voice in her mind.
He'll do what she tells him. He'll bow his head, apologize and leave as quickly as he can, no matter what he really wants to do.
The only thing that will matter to him is what SHE wants him to do.
Which is why she can't do that.
She's given him this much, to do that would take it all away again. And after seeing him last night, she can't do that to him.
So she'll wake him up gently and tell him she has to get ready for work.
And this tangle will all be waiting for her some other time, but that's the way it'll have to be.
Sara raises her hand from around Ian's shoulder and gently strokes his tangled hair. 'Ian...' she says softly.
Instead of waking like the world-class warrior he is, Ian nuzzles his face against her and makes a little sigh of pleasure. 'Mmm..' he says. 'What..?'
His hot breath pours over her and Sara can't control a little shiver.
'Ian!' she says, sharper.
Finally, he lifts his head. His eyes are slighty dazed, their warm, sunlit brown clouded with sleep and confusion. There's a red crinkle-mark on the pale flesh of his cheek, just above the line of his beard.
He looks... God, he looks.. No way.
No frigging way, Sara tells herself.
'Time to get up, Ian. I gotta get ready for work, so.. you gotta go home. Okay?'
His eyes widen as if he can't believe he's hearing this. Or seeing her. Or something.
'Sara?' His lips form the words, then twist into a bemused little smile. 'What?' he asks.
'I said, you gotta get up.'
'Umm.' She's never heard that word come out of Ian Nottingham before.
He shakes his head, loosing a fall of tangled, gold-webbed dark hair, and she sees those brown eyes darken and widen as he finally realizes where he is and who he's talking to.
'Ohhh..' he says. He comes off the bed as if she touched him with tazer- the sheet stays with her only by the luck of a frantic grab.
It doesn't matter, he's not looking at her.
His head is practically touching his chest as he stands by her window. On more second and he'll be out the fire escape and gone.
What she wanted.
I'm sorry.' he says. 'Lady Sara, I am truly sorry.' He SOUNDS truly sorry. Truly, abjectly sorry.
Shit. Right back where we started, Sara thinks. She slides out of bed, wrapping the sheet tight and holding it with one hand. Gotta start wearing pajamas, she thinks.
She walks over to Ian and he turns a quarter turn away from her, as if her light is going to burn him.
'Ian.' she says. It's almost become a habit, calling him that.
'Yes.' he answers her. But he doesn't look up.
Shit, Sara thinks. It's becoming her mantra.
Irons would make him look up. Maybe it's what he needs.
Reaching out, Sara puts her hand under his chin and lifts his head. The bristles on his chin are almost soft where they prickle her fingers. His eyes are wide, their golden-brown depths darkened by fear.
He's afraid of HER? she thinks.
Her mind supplies the answer a second later- not exactly. He's afraid of what she can do to him. How she's going to hurt him. She's done it before.
'Ian.' she says it firmly but gently. 'You didn't do anything wrong. You had permission. Okay?'
'O..kay.' he answers her. He tries to look down but she doesn't let him.
'And you have permission again,' she says. He starts to shake his head, but she doesn't give him a chance. She lets go of his chin and pulls him into her arms, hugging him gently. Then she lets him go. 'Now go home. I have to get ready for work.'
'Goodbye, Sara.'
He turns away from her and is out the window and gone before she can move. But she thinks she sees a smile on his face.
Okay, great. The assassin is taken care of. Now, what am I going to do?
Sighing, Sara lets the sheet slip and pads into the bathroom. First, a shower. Then coffee. Then maybe she'll be able to think.