DwD

First Aid, Fast Food

Nottingham waited until Bowman left the room before opening his eyes. He had been awakened by the younger man's invasion of his space. Even exhausted and wounded, he could not sleep through a relative stranger coming that close, especially not with the tang of metal and magic stinging his nostrils.

The sharp pain from his knee told Ian that he must have passed out before he could put it back in the socket. It would be harder to reset now, and more painful. He was not looking forward to the act, but the pain would subside a great deal once it was done. The same could not be said for his chest. Burns take longer to heal, especially ones as deep as this one was. The location didn't help either. It was damn near impossible to immobilize one's torso. Every time he moved the muscles would pull against the burn, no matter how careful he was.

At least he had gotten to hold Sara while he slept. The feel of her in his arms more than made up for the discomfort of his leg and the burn on his chest. In spite of his injuries, it was tempting to lay here and continue to feign sleep, just so he could savor the contact. Unfortunately, Sara was awake and asking for food. She would be getting up soon; he could feel the tensing of her muscles as she shifted away from him.

"Sara," Nottingham croaked, his throat dry.

"Hey there. How are you feeling?" Sara rested her head on her hand and looked at him with concern.

"I have been worse," Ian grimaced as he shifted.

"Well that's some comfort I suppose. Can you get up? We ought to clean that burn, they get infected so easily, especially when they're deep like that." Sara stared at the scorched circles in his chest.

"I need to set this knee before I do anything else." Nottingham slowly straightened his body out, "and I'm going to need your help to do it."

"What happened to your knee?" Sara asked as she crawled down to his legs. She had a sudden flashback of her dream and blushed. Pez ducked her head, hoping her hair would hide her face from Ian. She did NOT want to explain herself just now.

"You know what to do?" Ian asked as Sara began to gently feel the injury.

"Yeah, although it's usually shoulders I'm doing this for. Brace yourself; we'll go on three. Ready? One…" Sara pulled without waiting for three, knowing it was best if the person you were working on hadn't tensed up yet, which they inevitably did if you went the full count.

There was a sickening popping sound, followed by pain so sharp that Nottingham had to fight back the bile that rose up in his throat. The agony faded to a dull ache with gratifying swiftness, but Ian knew he wasn't going to be dancing any time soon.

"I need to wrap this. I'll be right back." Sara jumped up and hurried into the bathroom. She came back with an x-brace, a roll of bandages, and a bottle of peroxide.

Nottingham eyed the black brace in surprise. It was more than he had expected. He raised a brow at her, "I've never seen you wear knee support."

"I haven't needed to for a long time. This is a leftover from when I crashed and burned my last bike. I wrenched my knee bailing when the poor old hognose went down, and I never throw medical stuff away. You never know when you'll need it again." Sara paused and rolled her eyes, "Especially considering my line of work."

"What's a hognose?" Ian asked as Sara opened the Velcro tabs on the brace and slid the back half under his leg.

"It's a particular style of vintage Harley. They're cool, but the vibration on them is a bitch. I was always doing maintenance on the old beast, because it would eventually shake everything loose if you didn't." Sara settled the black fabric and pulled the Velcro tight. "The Buell is actually a better bike for me, I don't have as much free time to tinker as I did back before I made detective."

"Do you ever miss it?" Nottingham responded to the wistfulness of her tone.

"The old Hog, or free time?" Sara shrugged as she reached for the peroxide.

"Both. Either."

"Yes, sometimes. I put a lot of sweat and blood into that bike." Sara sighed, remembering satisfaction of working on the motorcycle herself, as well as the barked knuckles from slipped wrenches.

"And the free time?" Ian persisted.

"No. Hell no. Free time leaves you too much time to think." Sara grimaced; she'd had enough of that, thank you very much.

"Are you sure that isn't just your recent enforced inactivity coloring your perspective?" Nottingham quirked his lips up in a half-smile, knowing the answer but unable to resist asking.

"Maybe a little," Sara looked up at him through a fall of dark brown hair. Her green eyes darkened, "What I really miss are the days when Danny was still single, and we'd wind down from a tour of duty with a pizza and a couple games of pool."

"Yeah, those were the days, weren't they?" Danny's voice came out of the blue. "I could go for a slice and a Newcastle right about now."

Sara jerked her head around, mouth open in shock. "Danny?" She looked around, but he wasn't anywhere to be seen.

"Sara?" Ian drew her attention back to him.

"I just heard Danny's voice. I don't see him, but I heard him." Pez seemed upset.

"The Witchblade is beginning to recover from your mutual ordeal. Although the Gauntlet is not yet strong enough to completely pierce the Veil, it would appear." Nottingham was encouraged by the improvement. He had spent the last few weeks worrying about wielder and weapon.

"Hmmph," Sara gave a noncommittal grunt that could have been anything from agreement to disgust.

"It is a good sign. I was afraid the Gauntlet had been permanently damaged, but if you can hear Woo's voice, surely you will be able to see him again soon." Nottingham tried to build her enthusiasm for bearing the Blade again. Sara was still of two minds about taking the Witchblade back. She was not likely to be excited over the Witchblade's recovery, since it would be using it's powers to guide her again, unless he pointed out the other advantages it brought.

Sara said nothing for a long moment, just wrapped her hand around the wrist with the Gauntlet and stared at nothing, eyes unfocused. "That's really the only thing I missed about the Witchblade. The whole time I was in the hospital, I kept expecting Danny to appear. I wanted to talk to him so much, even if I did have to exercise confusion tolerance for some of the conversation."

"Confusion tolerance?" Ian raised a brow.

"You know, the ability to tolerate… confusion." Pez shook her head, a rueful smile crossing her face. "There were times when I would have throttled Danny, if I could have gotten my hands on him. Why he couldn't just tell me in plain English, I'll never know. Wise Asian master, my ass."

"He may not have been able to tell you. There are constraints placed on spirits that limit how much they may interfere with the physical realm. I'm sure Woo did the best he could." Nottingham did his best to console her.

"I know, I know. It's just frustrating. Kinda like talking to you, mister cryptic advice." Sara gave him a dirty look as she opened the bottle of peroxide and soaked a cotton ball in the liquid.

Nottingham ducked his head, "I have been under orders as well. I told you as much as I could without violating my oaths. Believe me, it was more than Irons wanted me to impart."

"Which just happened to be enough to make me crazy." Sara grumbled as she looked at the burn, hand hesitating over the circles, and wondered where to begin.

"I do not believe you are crazy," Ian looked up at her through the veil of his lashes.

"Yeah? Can I quote you on that? Because it seems to be a matter of debate." Pez remembered what Joe had told her the last time they had talked. Upset again, she upended the bottle and poured peroxide straight on the burn.

Nottingham curled reflexively when the icy liquid spilled across his chest, which pulled the muscles attached to the burn. For a long moment he was afraid to breathe, knowing it would add to his suffering.

"Ouch Pez. Florence Nightingale you are not." Gabriel said as he looked down at Sara and her hapless patient.

"Shouldn't you be hacking the Pentagon or something?" Sara glared at Gabe. Deserving criticism and taking it well were two totally unrelated things.

"That's so nineteen-eighties. If I were to do something like that, I'd go for a hard target, like Bill Gates personal porn archive or something." Bowman rolled his eyes, "I just happened to see these scissors while I was looking for a pen to write the total for our order down, and figured you'd need them to cut the rest of Nottingham's shirt off."

"Why would I do that?" Sara hoped her blush would pass unnoticed. She could think of several good reasons to rip Ian's clothes off, but all of them were naughty, and SO did not include Gabriel.

"I saw his burn when you found the Witchblade. There was no way he was going to be able to pull what was left of his shirt over his head with that kind of damage. He looks like a bull that got on the wrong end of a cowboy with a branding iron." Gabe passed her the scissors.

"Lovely image there Gabe." Sara shook her head.

Nottingham eyed Bowman. It was an odd phrase for a New Yorker, especially one so in to computers. Was he hinting that he knew something about the White Bulls? The younger man had quite a varied and eclectic storehouse of artifacts and knowledge. It was possible.

"Hey, it's true." Gabriel shrugged and sat back down at his computer. He angled the screen so he could see the two of them out of the corner of his eye. The change in Sara's attitude toward Nottingham had not escaped his attention, but until he knew why, he would continue to treat the dark-haired man with caution.

Sara opened and closed the scissors experimentally. They seemed ok, which was a miracle, considering she used them for everything from paper to plastic. Gingerly she slid the blades into the burned hole, pulling the fabric out and away from his body with her other hand.

After a moment of internal debate, Pez decided to cut up first, since there wasn't so much fabric going that way. A few snips later, the collar proving more resistant to the shears than the rest of the shirt, the strong column of throat and a lopsided vee of chest were exposed.

Now it was time to deal with the bottom half of the shirt. Sara slid her hand up under fabric to lift it away from his skin, fingers brushing over his torso as she did so. Throat dry at the feel of crisp chest hair and hard muscle, Sara moved to place the scissors at the bottom of the charred circle.

A glance upward through long lashes showed that Ian had not been unaffected by her touch. His eyes glittered down at her, the desire in them easily read. Sara looked back down, knowing she wasn't steady enough to do this with her attention divided.

The bottom of his shirt yielded much more easily than the top half had. In moments the black fabric parted and, following gravity, dropped away from his torso. Even with the burn marring the perfection of his chest, Sara couldn't help but stare. Damn, but Ian was hot.

Ok, so she knew that already, but… damn.

Sara closed her eyes and fought to rein in her libido. A shudder passed over her frame, echoing the fine tremors in her hands. She still had to put the antibacterial ointment on the burn and cover it with gauze, and neither job should be attempted by someone with hands shaking as much as hers were. She wanted nothing more than to cut the rest of his clothes off and prove in the most basic manner possible that she was still alive.

Unfortunately, that was not going to happen, no matter how much Sara might want it to. Nottingham needed a far different kind of healing than she'd been dreaming about. Finally pulling herself together, Sara dabbed ointment over the burn and laid the gauze pad over it. At least the heat of the burn had scorched off the chest hair, so she didn't have to worry about trying to shave the area she was working with. Her hands weren't that steady.

"There you go, all patched up." Sara sat back on her heels.

"Thank you Sara." Nottingham nodded gravely at her. "I will need to leave soon and report to Irons."

"What? Are you high? You just stay put, Irons is a big boy. He can wait to see you." Sara planted a hand on his shoulder to keep him from moving.

"I have to tell him what just happened here." Ian objected, but made no effort to move. He would much prefer to stay here with Sara than return to Kenneth.

"Hell, you got a phone, call him if it's that damn important." She narrowed her eyes. Nottingham might be some kind of military-trained and enhanced super soldier, but he still needed to stay off that knee. Kenny could just wait.

Ian winced at the idea. Irons would be furious if he made such a report over a device that was not secure. "I will wait, if it will please you."

"Yeah, it pleases me." Pez watched him for another minute, to make sure he was really going to stay put, and then stood up. "You need a drink or anything?"

"Water would be much appreciated, thank you." Nottingham watched her head for the kitchenette.

"So, what do we do next?" Gabe asked from behind his hand. He had put it there to hide his smile; they were just so cute together. Sara was already bossing Nottingham around like they were an old married couple.

"What do you mean, next?" Sara asked as she passed him.

"The Witchblade may keep Ceto from possessing your body, but I doubt it's going to keep her from coming after you again. We need a plan, or you're gonna get your ass kicked." Gabe shook his head. "It's not like she doesn't know where you live or anything."

"I believe I can be of some assistance as far as protecting the apartment. There are certain wards that can be set that will keep her out, now that she doesn't have access through Lady Sara," Ian tilted his head so he could see what kind of reaction that bit of news would bring. Pezzini really didn't like the supernatural. Sure enough, her shoulders stiffened. Sara didn't say anything though, just continued on her errand.

Gabe was watching him, intrigued by the idea. "So what do we do?"

Ian shifted in a vain effort to get comfortable, and began to explain. By the time the delivery boy showed up with the Chinese food, he had told Bowman everything he knew about the warding, and was grateful for the interruption. Gabriel had been asking him rather pointed questions about his relationship with Sara.

Ian was not comfortable with the gleam in the younger man's eyes. Nottingham knew he was being teased, he just didn't know how to respond to it. If he knocked Bowman out, as would be his normal response to such invasive questioning, Sara would not be pleased.

The fact that dinner was take-out was a little disappointing. Ian thought he had impressed upon Sara the need for better eating habits. He looked up from the little white cartons to lecture, "This is hardly nutritious. The cabinets and refrigerator are both well stocked, surely something better for you could have been made."

"Hey, there's vegetables in here!" Sara objected, waving a snow pea in her chopsticks for emphasis.

"Fried in oil," Gabe pointed out.

"Thanks for the support there buddy." Sara glared at Bowman, feeling ganged up on. "Whose side are you on anyway?"

"Hey, you're the one who's been in the hospital. Besides, he's bigger than you are." Gabriel laughed and held up his box of General Tso's to block the vegetable projectile Sara threw at him.

Dinner was filled with laughter and camaraderie. Ian hesitantly joined in, not quite sure how to go about it. This was an entirely new social situation for him, and he didn't want to screw it up. When the fortune cookies were brought out at the end of the meal, Nottingham was surprised to discover he had enjoyed himself immensely.

Ian didn't want the night to end, but the wards needed to be put up, and then he needed to return to the mansion. In the morning he would have to make his report, if Irons did not ask for him upon his return.