After another hour of paperwork Sara and Jake got called out on a shoot-out at a warehouse down on the waterfront. Jake drove, and Sara impatiently checked her gun as they raced through traffic. The shooting was reportedly still going on, so if they got there soon enough they may have a chance of getting to the criminals before they left the scene instead of having to track them down the hard way. At one point Sara thought she caught a glimpse of Ian's car following, but lost it as Jake swerved around a corner and down a ramp, screeching to a halt two buildings away from their target.
Cops swarmed the area, surrounding the building, trying to keep the shooters bottled up inside. Sara found the officer in charge and identified herself and her partner. After another minute all sounds of shooting from inside the warehouse ceased. Sara exchanged a look with Jake, and they began edging towards one of the doors. A few other officers headed carefully towards other entrances as well. The remaining cops held the perimeter.
Sara and Jake eased in through the door, relieved it hadn't been locked, and paused to let their eyes adjust to the gloom. Inside there were orderly stacks of shipping crates and containers across the floor, and to their left and right there were two more levels of crates up the walls. Sara could clearly see the signs of automatic weapons by the shattered sides of wooden crates and lines of dents in the cement walls. Jake knelt quickly at the side of the first body they encountered, feeling for a pulse. He looked up at Sara, shook his head. Dead then. They moved on. As they moved slowly and cautiously towards the office where the damage was heaviest Sara spun, having caught a flash of movement out of the corner of her eye on the second level of crates. By the time she had turned all the way around the tail of a long black coat had vanished from sight. When Jake had turned to see what startled her there was nothing for him to see. Sara exchanged a look with Jake and shrugged, but inwardly she was relieved Ian was up there keeping an eye on her.
As she and Jake converged on the office, the other three parties of cops arriving at the same time, a figure suddenly jumped up from behind a crate, opening fire with his weapon on full auto. The cops all dived for cover, a few getting shots off as they went. Another gunman jumped out and began firing, and the cops realized they were pinned down. Sara took a risk and popped up to get off two quick shots at the first gunman. One connected in his chest, piercing a lung, and he went over backwards, still squeezing the trigger and sending a spray of bullets up the wall and into the crates on the second and third levels before the weapon fell from his twitching fingers. The other gunman concentrated his fire on the crate Sara ducked behind with a scream of fury, intent on destroying the crate to get to her, but another cop took him out with two shots to the chest and one to the head.
As the second man fell and the noise died away the clatter of handguns was loud in the echoing warehouse as the rest of the criminals tossed out their weapons and surrendered. It didn't take long to round up the remainders of the criminals, and soon the coroners were there taking charge of the bodies. The rest of the cops were searching the warehouse for anyone still hiding. Sara arranged for the officer in charge to forward copies of the paperwork to her so she and Jake could file their reports properly, then they headed back to the precinct.
From the top of the warehouse building Ian watched Sara and Jake drive off. The wind was strong up here, blowing white powder off of his shoulders and head. He didn't know what the powder was, but he guessed it was some kind of drug by the effect it was having on his equilibrium. When the first gunman had fallen, the crate above where Ian was crouching had been shattered by bullets as they went up the wall, and the powder had poured down on him. He had been unable to avoid breathing some of it in, and now a strange heat rushed through his veins, urging him to jump into the sky, to race the wind, to do something wild and reckless and primal. Only his decades of training and self control kept him from giving in, but it was only a matter of time. The heat was becoming a fire in his blood and the urges were growing stronger moment by moment.
Shaking the powder out of his beard and hair, off of his clothing, Ian descended swiftly to the ground, slipping out of the area with none of the cops the wiser. He needed to get to a place of relative safety before his hold on his emotions slipped away. He made it to his car, heading for the mansion on Faust Street as quickly as possible. He parked the car and slipped inside, heading for his bathroom, leaving a trail of clothing piece by piece down the hallway behind him. Startling a maid as he stalked completely naked down the hall and into the bathroom, he turned the shower on and stepped in, letting the cold water rinse the last of the drug from his hair. His flesh was afire, and the cold water felt good, but the restlessness gripped him so he stepped out to drip on the floor as he stared at himself in the mirror.
The thought entered his head that there might be more of the drug in his beard so he pulled out a razor and began shaving it off. His beard was thick and it took several minutes, but at last his smooth pale face stared back at him. Satisfied there were no drugs hidden there, he brushed his hair and pulled it back in a ponytail, then headed for his bedroom. Irons was there waiting for him, having been told of his strange behavior by the maid he had startled earlier. Ian ignored his employer, much to Irons' surprise, and headed for his closet. As Ian began to pull his clothing out of the closet piece by piece, considering each garment for a moment before flinging it away over his shoulder, Irons rose and approached Ian.
"Ian, what has gotten into you," Irons demanded.
"Why is all my clothing black?" Ian shot back, agitated and bordering on angry.
"Because black is best for your job, of course," Irons replied impatiently. "Ian, look at me!" Irons grabbed Ian's arm, halting his reach for another shirt.
Ian turned to stare at his employer and Irons let go of his arm, stepping back in shock. Ian's skin was flushed and his eyes were glassy, the pupils dilated. Irons was surprised to see the beard missing as well. Irons became worried.
"Ian, what happened today?" Irons said, pitching his voice to be smooth and friendly.
"I was watching Sara," Ian replied absently, going back to tossing clothes out of his closet. "I like watching Sara. She went to a warehouse on the docks where there was a shootout, and I went to watch."
"Is there anything else," Irons asked.
"One of the crates broke open and spilled something on me, something powdery. I think I'm drugged." Ian didn't seem at all concerned by the possibility. Irons became alarmed.
"Ian," Irons urged gently. "We need to go see Dr. Immo. He can help you."
"I don't want help, I want something to wear that isn't black. Damn!" Ian snarled in frustration as he pulled the last piece of clothing from his closet, throwing it on the floor. He turned on Irons, the look in his eyes making the blond man back up a step. "I am sick of always wearing black, sick of that damn watch cap, sick of never having friends, never going out. All I ever do is cover your ass and cover the Wielder's ass! I want to have some fun for a change!" He grabbed a shirt and pants off the top of the pile on his floor and pulled them on hurriedly. Next he pulled on socks and boots, lacing them up quickly. Irons just continued to stare, caught completely off guard and trying furiously to think of something he could say or do to distract Ian. Before he could come up with anything Ian was out the door, moving swiftly down the hall and out of the mansion.
Sara and Jake called it a day and headed out. Jake went off on another date with the blonde from booking, and Sara headed for her favorite bar and pool hall to blow off some energy before heading home. She liked playing pool, and could usually find someone to win money off of. Besides, they had really good potato skins with three kinds of cheese and lots of bacon and sour cream. She usually managed to go home with more money in her pocket than she arrived with, in spite of buying at least one order of potato skins and several beers.
Suddenly there was a stir from the bar, and Sara glanced over her shoulder to see what was going on. Most of the women and a great deal of the men were staring and whispering about the tall man who had just walked in. His back was to Sara, but from what she could see of him he was a bit out of place in this bar. His long dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail, the ends curling a bit. His suit jacket was well-fitted and a lovely shade of dark blue, and of very expensive material. His slacks were also of the same dark blue as the jacket, a matched set. Shiny black shoes completed the look. Sara shrugged and dismissed him, turning back to her pool game.
After a few more shots, Sara had defeated another opponent and pocketed her twenty bucks. She turned to see who was next on the list and found the nicely dressed man watching her. She stared back for a minute, noting the sapphire silk shirt that went nicely with the darker slacks and jacket, and the intense look in his eyes. A strange shiver ran down her spine, coupled with an uneasy sense of familiarity. She approached him, wondering if she was asking for trouble.
"Do I know you," Sara asked, brash and aggressive. The man smiled, glanced away.
"Had any dreams lately, Sara," the man asked, his voice smooth as velvet and oh, so familiar.
"Ian?" Sara was shocked. The times she had seen him before he would barely look away from his shoes, and here he was gazing intently at her. The beard was gone, as was the black clothing she had mentally dubbed his "stalker outfit". Instead he was as clean cut as any young businessman and handsome enough to take her breath away. There was something odd about his eyes, though, but she couldn't put her finger on it.
"Sara," he said, her name rolling off his tongue like he was savoring the taste of those two syllables. "Would you like to go somewhere else," he asked. "Somewhere more…intimate?"
"What do you mean," she asked, his boldness confusing her and leaving her totally unsure of his intentions.
"I'd like to take you dancing," he replied.
"Oh, sure," she replied. "I know a few clubs…"
"No," he interrupted. "Someplace nice. You would have to change, though. I would be happy to drive you home so you could change into a dress. You would be exquisite in a dress."
Sara cocked an eyebrow at him, taken completely aback by his boldness. This new Ian was so unlike the mysterious but deadly assassin she had known she wasn't sure if she should go anywhere with him. But she was never one to let "should" rule her, so she took his outstretched hand and let him lead her out of the bar and to his car. He didn't need any directions on how to get to her apartment, of course.
A part of Ian's mind was gibbering in complete amazement that he had said such bold things to Sara, and that she was with him in his car. He had been unable to help the words that had tumbled out of his mouth, and the drugged part of him had wanted to say them even though he had expected her to rebuff him. He felt freer than he ever had in his life, and so completely reckless. Part of him remembered he would pay for his actions and words tomorrow, but right now everything was wonderful.
"So, Ian," Sara said as they drove towards her place. "This is a new look."
"Tonight is a night of many new things," Ian replied.
"More mysterioso bullshit," she asked, without much heat, cocking an eyebrow at him.
"No, Sara, it is simply a night when I may experience many new things, things my training and duties have kept me from enjoying before. Tonight I am not the bodyguard or the assassin. Tonight I do not defend you or Irons, or serve the Witchblade. Tonight I am simply Ian. It is something I have not done before. I am looking forward to it."
Sara sat silent, turning over his words in her mind, and as the meaning behind them sunk in she felt sad for him. Before she could say anything they arrived at her apartment, and Ian was out of the car and opening her door for her before she could reach for the handle herself. They made their way to her apartment, and Ian waited for Sara to unlock the door with barely contained eagerness. He had never before imagined being invited into her apartment and walked in slowly to savor the experience.
"I'll just be a minute," Sara said as she headed for her bedroom.
"I hope you have a dress that isn't black," he called after her. She popped her head back out around her door.
"What's wrong with black," she asked, curious.
"I am tired of black," Ian replied. "I was thinking you would look spectacular in red." Her eyebrows went up at his bold statement.
"I don't have a red dress," she answered. Her eyes widened as he walked over to her, pushed the door firmly open, and walked into her bedroom. She let him enter with only token resistance, bemused by his behavior.
"Let us see what you do have, then," he replied, heading for her closet. She watched, eyebrows trying to merge with her hairline, as he rummaged thoroughly through her closet. He refrained from flinging her clothing across the room as he had done with his own. Finally, on the very end of the rod he found a lovely little emerald green dress and pulled it out. He turned, his eyes gleaming, and held it out to Sara.
"I would so love to see you in this dress, Sara," he breathed. She took it and shooed him out of the room. Changing quickly, she smoothed out the green satin and looked at herself in the mirror on her door. Good thing she kept in shape, she thought. She had gotten the dress several years ago for a St. Patrick's Day party but it still fit well enough. As quickly as she could, she pulled her hair out of it's customary ponytail and brushed it, leaving it loose down her back and over her shoulders. Completing the ensemble with a pair of relatively low black strapped heels and a small black purse, she opened her door.
Ian had been too restless to sit on her couch and wait, so he had been pacing, looking over her apartment in detail, seeing the things he couldn't see from the fire escape through the window. He had especially looked over the pictures on her table, recognizing her former partner in one. He regretted his part in Detective Woo's death, but he had been following his orders. He knew Sara still missed him terribly.
When he heard the bedroom door open he stopped in his tracks, turning to look her up and down. As he did his breath caught in his throat. Sara was a vision in the little emerald dress, her hair free and wild, her beautiful green eyes sparkling in challenge. He took the steps required to bring him before her, still staring. She raised an eyebrow at him, waiting for a response.
"My lady," he breathed in awe. "You are a goddess."
Sara blushed a bit, her cheeks burning, but before she could think of a response Ian leaned over and captured her lips gently with his. He had never done this before, but all his reading and watching other people had not prepared him for the tidal wave of urgency that rose up in him. He deepened the kiss when she did not pull away, instinct leading him to wrap one strong arm around her shoulders and pull her against him. His other hand slid up into her silken hair, alternately gripping and stroking the auburn locks.
Sara had been taken by surprise when Ian had begun kissing her, but when he pulled her against him she felt the heat rise up in her belly, lust awakening in her as she finally admitted to herself she found him dangerously exciting and attractive, stunningly attractive. When she began actively kissing him back, running her tongue over his lips, he groaned and crushed her against him, opening his mouth to her and letting her take the lead. She kissed him more aggressively, liking to be the one in control, aroused that Ian was letting her lead. They finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Ian's head spinning and Sara's cheeks flushed.
"My God, Ian," Sara breathed. "Where did that come from?"
"I have wanted to do that from the moment I saw you," he admitted.
"Why didn't you," she asked. He shrugged.
"I didn't know how to begin," he admitted. "I've never done that before."
"You haven't?" She was surprised. "I couldn't tell."
"Shall we go," he asked, offering her his arm and changing the subject. She took his arm and let him lead her out of the apartment. When they got out onto the street Sara realized it was a bit cold for such a light dress, and regretted not grabbing a coat. Ian noticed the goosebumps on her arms and draped his own jacket over her shoulders. She smiled and pulled it close around her, enjoying the spicy smell of his cologne mixed with the musk of his skin.
The restaurant he drove them to was upscale, and Sara was very glad Ian had taken her home to change. She would have been embarrassingly out of place in her jeans and crop top. Ian led her through the maze of tables to the back of the room, where there was a semi-secluded area with a bar and dance floor. There weren't many people there, but there was a dj as well as a bartender, and Sara smiled to hear them playing fairly current music.
Ian chose a table and she set down her purse, which he then covered with his jacket. As the current song ended Ian spun her onto the dance floor and proved himself to be a very graceful and accomplished dancer to the hard beat of Evanescence's Bring Me To Life. They danced for hours, pausing in between songs to have a drink and snack on a plate of chicken strips while catching their breath. Sara noted all Ian drank was cola. She was having such a good time it was with a great deal of regret she decided to call it a night. Morning would come all too soon, and she knew if she stayed up any later she would be worthless at work.
When Ian brought her home to her door she was debating on inviting him in. He waited while she unlocked her door, then as she turned to speak to him he kissed her, silencing whatever she was about to say. The kiss quickly deepened and grew intense as desire overtook them both again. It was with a great deal of regret and willpower that Ian broke it off, smiling sweetly at Sara, and said good night. He waited until she closed her door and he heard it lock, then went back to his car and drove home in thoughtful silence.
Sara locked the door, leaning against it for a long time. She had been taken completely by surprise by Ian this evening, but it had by no means been unpleasant. She wondered what had come over him. Something had been different, and she found herself wishing the change would be permanent. She had enjoyed her evening far more than she had thought she would, and hoped that they might go out again soon. She thought about her reactions to his kiss and how much she had liked dancing with Ian, and had to admit to herself that she could very easily fall for the Ian she had spent the evening with.
Her dreams, when she finally slept, were very good indeed.