Destiny
Sara had thought she would never get to sleep. The knowledge that she was going to be allowed to check out of the hospital was like Christmas, with guns. Yet at some point she slept, for she opened her eyes to see Barbara, the nurse who had the morning rounds, coming in the door.
A scuffed blue duffel bag was slung over the blonde woman's shoulder, which Pez instantly recognized as hers. Through long years of exposure to public servant patients, the hospital policy was to keep the clothing in a locker instead of leaving it in the room. It was a good deterrent to self-checkout, as no cop or fire fighter wanted to be seen running down the street with his ass hanging out.
"Thanks," Sara said grudgingly as she held out her good arm to take the bag.
"Welcome," Barbara grinned back, used to the surly attitude by now. Detective Pezzini was just like every other cop she'd ever checked on, unable to deal well with the idea that they couldn't do everything they wanted to. She turned away to let the brunette dress in peace, but ready in case she should need help.
She didn't. Sara managed to pull on her clothes with only a few hissed profanities, mostly when putting on her bra and pulling her arm through the, thankfully, short sleeve. Ready to breathe the fresh air of freedom, Pezzini shoved her feet into the black Nikes and headed for the door. "I am so out of here."
"Whoa there hoss. You can't leave until the paperwork's done." Barbara chuckled as she held a clipboard between Sara and the way out.
"I thought you guys said no work for two weeks?" Pez grumbled, but grabbed the clipboard and started reading.
"You know I'm going to miss you." Barb rolled her eyes as she waited for Sara to sign and initial in all the right places.
"Like the Plague," Sara curled one side of her mouth up.
"Yah," the blonde held out her hand as Pezzini finished scrawling on the release form.
"I'd like to say it's been fun, but I'd be lying." Sara grinned at Barbara as she brushed past her on the way to the door. She was one of the few nurses here that Pez got along with. The others just didn't seem to have a sense of humor.
"Keep that up and I'll talk one of the orderlies into bringing all these damn flowers to your apartment instead of the incinerator." Barb just shook her head and watched Sara go. She didn't think she would be hanging around either, not if she had Mr. Tall, Dark, and Hunky waiting in the lobby.
Sara breezed down the hallway, the now-empty blue bag slapping against her thigh as she walked. She waved to the two officers who were stationed outside her door. They hopped up and followed her down to the elevator.
"So, you guys going home with me or what?" Sara asked as she waited for one of the elevators to arrive on her floor.
"Just as far as your ride Detective. The press has found new sensations during your recovery period, but it is never wise to underestimate them or their resources. Someone may have tipped them off to your release and we'll have to wade through them at the door or something." One of the uniforms was grimacing. Apparently he'd had run-ins with the press before.
"All right then," Sara replied.
The steel doors opened to a normal hospital lobby. People were doing their best to be comfortable as they waited, leafing through old National Geographic Magazines and glaring at other people's ill behaved children. No reporters came rushing up to pester the detective as she and her escorts walked toward the exit. Inside Sara's head a little voice was singing, 'Free! I'm free!'
Waiting at the curb was a long black limousine. Nottingham was standing at attention beside the vehicle. He was wearing what Sara had come to think of as his 'uniform', black on black on black. From his watch cap to his jump boots, everything was black. During her stay in the hospital, his beard had grown back in. Now he looked exactly like he had the first time she met him in the museum.
Then Ian raised those expressive hazel eyes to hers and the illusion of sameness shattered. Sara knew that neither of them were anywhere near to being the people they had been at the museum. They had both changed and grown so much since that day. Had it really only been three months? It felt like forever.
Nottingham opened the car door, his gaze never leaving hers. Pez might have been impressed by that little trick, but she had seen him do much more. Besides, she was too caught up by the unspoken promise in eyes gone amber with desire to notice anything else.
The envious whistles of the two officers echoing behind her, Sara descended the concrete steps to the waiting limousine. It was a far cry from the squad car that the department had intended to send, but Sara would not have cared if it had been a beat-up old Pinto. The only thing that mattered to her in that moment was that Ian had come to get her. Her heart was beating faster, her pulse racing as she drew nearer to the dark-haired man waiting so chivalrously at the side of the limo.
With a wicked little smile Pezzini made sure to brush against Nottingham's hard form as she moved past him to slide into the buttery soft leather seat. She could hardly wait to be alone with him again. Sara wondered what it would feel like to kiss Ian with the beard. His lips were so soft. Would his beard be too, or would it be slightly abrasive?
"Good morning Sara." The cultured, urbane, voice of Kenneth Irons rolled over her like a wave of ice water.
Eyes wide in surprise, Pezzini mumbled a far from heart-felt, "Same to ya."
Sara looked back at the door as it closed, catching the apologetic look on Nottingham's face. He was sorry? She had to sit back here with the man who would not take a hint, and he was sorry? Ian did not know the meaning of sorry, but he would. The thought comforted her as she shifted, doing her best to maintain some distance. How on earth could such a previously roomy vehicle come to be so cramped?
The ride went just as badly as Sara had suspected, but not worse than she had feared in her worst-case scenario. Irons would never do anything so tacky as engage in a frontal assault, but the seemingly casual touches were annoying enough to set her teeth on edge.
The only thing that kept her from pleading temporary insanity and trying to bludgeon him to death with one of the bottles from the wet bar was the feeling that Nottingham might have been right. There was something under the arrogance, a genuine care for her well being that Irons was working very hard to hide.
It didn't make Kenneth's flirtations any more welcome than they would have been from anyone else Sara wasn't interested in, but between Ian's reminder about Elizabeth being the love of his life and the painkillers, the ride was mostly uneventful. Sara did her best to discourage his interest, rehashing the daughter angle when Kenny got to close to her.
When the limousine finally stopped, Sara didn't wait for the door to be opened. Instead she burst out on her own, breathing the cold air of the city. Even though it carried the scent of exhaust and decay it was the sweetest thing she had ever smelled.
"Thanks for the ride. I know how busy you are, so I won't invite you up. Besides, I doubt there's anything left in the refrigerator worth serving. See ya around." Sara stretched her lips in a smile as fake as her hearty tone as she looked back at the open door of the limo.
"As you wish, but do consider what we discussed Sara." Irons leaned back in his seat. He knew better by now than to push her. The detective was very skittish when it came to relationships.
Since she had no idea which part of their conversation he was talking about, Sara just continued to smile and nodded. Pezzini turned to her apartment building as Irons leaned forward to grab the leather-padded door. She was surprised to find Nottingham was ahead of her, and holding the entrance to the complex open.
"Aren't you supposed to have a key for that?" Sara asked sarcastically as she moved forward. She was a long way from forgiving him for leaving her trapped alone with Irons the whole way from the hospital to here.
"I have never found it necessary." Ian lowered his head, knowing very well why he was in trouble. It had not been what he had hoped either, but at least her treating him in such a fashion in front of Irons should keep the older man from suspecting the truth of their relationship, if the gloating look Kenneth shot his way was anything to go by.
"Ian, I want you to be at Ms. Pezzini's disposal today. She will doubtless need assistance righting her affairs, and I have meetings all afternoon." Kenneth smirked, pleased with the opportunity to be magnanimous without having to do any of the work himself.
It also put Nottingham in a position to see how she was really doing, whom she contacted, and what she was thinking. His report should be very revealing. Even better, Sara could wear out that bad temper of hers on his servant instead of him.
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Sara normally took the stairs to her apartment, just for the exercise. That wasn't happening this morning. She was already so tired, just from a round of verbal judo with Kenny, that it was gonna be an elevator ride this time. She pushed the button, aware of tall, dark, and sulky standing behind her. She wasn't up to dealing with him right now either.
Maybe she could send him out shopping while she took a little nap? Mmmm, sleep. Sara leaned her forehead against the wall while waiting for the elevator. Very distantly she could hear Nottingham calling her name, but she ignored him in favor of the blessed darkness behind her eyelids.
"Sara," Ian watched in concern as the brunette started to sway. She was falling asleep. Obviously Pezzini had overdone already. With a sigh Nottingham reached down and scooped her up in his arms. This was not what he had in mind when he had envisioned spending the day holding his lady.
It was no hardship to carry Sara thus, although it did take some judicious juggling to keep his hold on her and unlock the door at the same time. Finally they were inside, and Ian wavered over where to put her. The bed might bring back bad memories, even though he had ordered it replaced.
Well, Sara had mentioned wanting to spend their second date watching movies and eating Chinese, so the couch it would be. First he sat her in a chair and changed the futon from couch to bed. Then he picked her back up and deposited his lovely burden on the folded-out couch. Alone.
Ian stood there for a very long time and watched her sleep. He reached down and brushed a lock of dark hair back from her face. She was so beautiful. Nottingham didn't think he would ever tire of gazing upon her, but he knew that there were things to be done.
Reluctantly Ian tore himself away from Sara's side and headed for the part of her loft that was set up as the bedroom. He looked the area over with a critical eye. He had hired a crew that specialized in cleaning up after crime scenes to come in and remove all signs of the battle, and they had done a very thorough job. Giving a nod of approval, Ian opened the closet and pulled two blankets off the shelf. He didn't want his lady to become chilled while he went to the store.
There was never real food in Sara Pezzini's apartment. Unless you counted coffee, which Ian did not. Sara would need to eat healthy; she had lost a lot of blood and was still weaker than she liked to admit. He intended to pick up lots of steak, spinach, and other foods high in protein or iron. How she managed every day on a diet of chilidogs and cheeseburgers he would never know.
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Sara woke to the most heavenly smell of grilling steak. Her stomach rumbled loudly, breakfast at the hospital had been reconstituted eggs, stone cold, a fruit cup, and a glass of juice. She had not eaten much of it, and what she had was long gone. Pez started to untangle herself from her comfy nest of blankets, with every intention of seeing if the food she smelled was ready to eat.
Sitting up, Pez was relieved to find she was on the futon, not in her bed. She wasn't sure she was up to dealing with the memories that would arouse. Although with the way her stomach was complaining, she could probably eat the mattress right now, even while having nightmares. Sara padded on stocking feet toward the kitchen, which had been transformed.
Gone were the empty take-out containers and dirty coffee cups. In their place were pans she wasn't sure she owned, and matching dinnerware that she was sure she didn't. The plates were forest green with a thin band of black at the edges; very elegant in their simplicity, and so not something she would have bought, although she liked them.
Poor Ian must have been horrified by her cabinets, which held only mismatched dinnerware that she'd picked up at Goodwill, and even that had been solely for having something to reheat things in the microwave with. What could she say? Sara Pezzini did not entertain in her apartment. It was a place to stow her stuff and sleep, not a home.
Home had been her father. Once James Pezzini had died, the house had held too many memories. Sara had not been able to bear keeping it, nor to replace it. The apartment was a good compromise, and the space being an open loft made it even easier to keep from making comparisons.
The dishes belonged in a home.
It was stupid, but Sara felt her eyes burn with tears over the green plates nonetheless. They had become the catalyst for all the things she had been thinking about in the hospital. Pez was not the kind of person who had a home, but the longer she stood there, she began to wonder if she wanted to be. What would it be like to live in a place that was full of love?
The sound of the front door opening startled Sara from her thoughts. She dashed a hand over her eyes, hoping that it would not be obvious that she had been crying. Plastering a smile on her face, Pez turned around, "Mmmm, everything smells so good."
"Thank you, Lady Sara," Ian narrowed his eyes as he spoke. Sara was upset about something, although she was trying to hide it.
Was she displeased because Nottingham had taken over her kitchen? He hadn't asked permission; he had just started cooking. Considering the state of the area, he hadn't thought Sara would care. Maybe being in the hospital had made her prickly about her own space? No, if she were that kind of upset, he would have heard about it by now. Sara wasn't shy about sharing her anger. She seemed... sad, wistful almost, although he couldn't imagine why, or for what reason.
"No, thank you Ian. If you hadn't been here, I'd have been calling Manny's for take-out." Sara moved further into the kitchen, peeping into the various pots and pans.
"You need to eat better. There is very little nutritional value in fast food." Ian scolded as he moved past her to add the rosemary he had just bought to the carrots. He didn't know why he had expected there to be spices, considering the lack of food to be had.
That lack had forced Nottingham to run back to the little corner store for everything but salt, pepper, and oregano. That was ok, it hadn't taken long, and nothing had burned or boiled over while he was gone. Besides, he had needed to go back to the store for tv trays. He had forgotten that Sara tended to eat everything at the little bar that was part of the divider for the kitchen area, and so had no proper table.
Ian would be damned before he'd go to all this work only to lose ambiance by eating next to all the dishes he'd dirtied up to make said dinner. "Go sit back down, dinner will be ready soon."
Sara was only too willing to head back to the futon, so she could pull herself together. Why was she so emotional today? She had thought that being back on her own turf would make all those doubts and second-guesses go away, but it hadn't. If anything, being surrounded by familiar things only made the sense of wrongness stronger.
Pez really didn't like her existence. She couldn't in all fairness call it 'her life'. Danny had been right to berate her for not living. She hadn't been. Sara wasn't sure how to go about changing that, but she knew that she wanted to. She also knew, looking back with affection at the man clanging around in her kitchen, that whatever came she wanted Ian to be part of the life she was going to build.
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A/N: Jade, if only we could all have one of our very own. wickedgrin .We haven't heard the last of Kenny, but Sara is as determined to get her way as he is. Dragongrrl, Ian can only do so much. When Sara sees that tape... Can we say 'fireworks'? I thought you could. LOL Thelma, I agree. All art has its moments of frustration. I could just do with a few less of those moments, but it was my choice to write Jake in, and I will abide by that decision. (even when it causes me to beat my head on the keyboard) Ketcat, be afraid. Be very afraid. I have to follow the plotline of Season 1 to a certain extent after all. Moon, I just saw your Jake story. Do evil minds resonate across vast distances or what? Granted, your Jake is different from mine, but what are the odds that we would both take on that bottle-brush haired chimera at the same time? waves to all my reviewers Thanks for leaving your thoughts with me. I appreciate every one!