Title: Visionary
By: Kara
Begun: November 22, 2004
Finished: Almost finished!
Rating: PG-13
Summary: After a businessman dies suddenly and unexpectedly, supposedly from committing suicide, not long after contacting Gabriel about taking an artifact, the case is handed to Sara. While Sara probes the victim's death, Jake and Danny suspect Gabriel's involvement in the crime. When Gabriel begins to exhibit some of the same symptoms the victim experienced before his death, Sara investigates, hoping to save her young friend's life before he meets the same end as his predecessor, but Nottingham's unsuspected offered aid causes her to wonder whether Irons is involved in the situation.
Chapter Five – Reconnaissance
After her argument with Gabriel in the parking garage, Sara didn't hear from him for the rest of the day. She returned to the precinct, apologizing to Jake for her 'late lunch,' realizing only then that she hadn't actually grabbed a lunch, nor had she eaten anything since the previous night. Sighing inwardly, she resigned herself to starvation for the rest of her shift, realizing that if she picked up food now, it would definitely set off some warning bells in front of McCarty, who was already suspicious enough as it was.
"So, you went to lunch with Gabriel?" McCarty asked her, sitting down across from her desk. "He find out anything new regarding the Box?"
Sara organized a stack of papers on her desk. "Just some stuff about the legend behind the artifact. Nothing that we could connect to Reynolds. I think we may be searching for a motive that doesn't pull through," Sara told him, omitting the truth that she already knew the reason behind Torpe's death. Still, since Reynolds could have had a hand in delivering the Box to Torpe, she wasn't ready to rule him out as a 'suspect.' The only problem would be finding enough evidence to link Torpe's killer to the crime itself.
"He wasn't able to figure out Torpe's source? Where he got the artifact from?"
"Not yet," Sara cursed, realizing she hadn't asked Gabriel to look up possible sources yet, focusing more on the myth behind the object—something she could actually fight with the Witchblade. If she could ask Gabriel to find the source, she may be able to connect Reynolds to the crime.
But no, Sara thought disappointed. She couldn't ask Gabriel to locate the source for her because she wasn't talking to Gabriel anymore.
As angry as she had been when she'd made the declaration, Sara had to admit it was getting increasingly harder for her to maintain that she didn't need the kid to solve the case. He was feeding her information on Raleigh's Box, and now he was being directly affected by it. His well being practically depended on her solving the case now, and here she had rejected him.
Or he rejected me, Sara thought bitterly. She still couldn't believe he'd said those things. It was extremely unlike Gabriel to be jealous of Sara's powers. He had never showed any envy toward what she did. On the contrary he always seemed rather fascinated by her use of the Witchblade and how it all fit in with this twisted destiny she never chose for herself. He practically lived for that stuff.
"Gabriel and I actually hit a rut, sort of…" Sara admitted aloud. "He's been kind of… bogged down lately, by other stuff, and I think my asking him to help with the case is too much for him."
"These other things that are bogging him down… they wouldn't happen to be all these crime-stopping activities he's been pulling you into, lately, would they?" Jake leaned back in his chair and regarded Sara almost suspiciously.
Sara rebuffed his second attempt in as many days to incriminate Gabriel and responded brusquely, "No. That's not it. But I think I have another theory. I have to see someone, though."
"Again?" Jake sat up in his chair. "Do you need me to come?"
"I would love it if you could, but I'm gonna have to decline again. He's an informant of mine, and he doesn't really like it when I bring other people around." Sara knew it was a poor excuse, but McCarty seemed to buy it, so she left him to his paperwork, grabbed her coat, and headed back out to her motorcycle.
o-o-o-o
15 minutes later she was parked in front of Kenneth Irons' mansion.
It was the last place she wanted to be, but she had reached her wit's end regarding this case. The Witchblade wasn't giving her anything, and she knew that Irons knew something, considering Nottingham's cryptic message the previous morning.
She was shown inside to Irons' office, and she found him behind his desk, Nottingham, as always, at his side, head down, ever the obedient bodyguard. He was different around Irons, she noted. More subdued, less eccentric, and she was surprised to admit she hated it a whole lot more than when he stalked her outside of Irons' presence.
"Detective Pezzini, how nice to see you. It's been so long since we've been acquainted." Irons said pleasantly, with a grin on his face, as he turned to greet her.
"I think I could have gone another lifetime without coming here again." Sara said sarcastically.
"And yet, here you are." Irons gestured to include the room. "On your own free will nonetheless. I take it this isn't a social call."
"Well, I'm not looking for tea and a chat about the weather, if that's what you're asking."
"Then please, sit. Ian, get Sara a chair."
Nottingham moved to comply but Sara called out, "No, I won't be here long. I'm just here for what I need then I'm gone."
"Well, it's not very hospitable of me, but if you insist," Irons nodded to her. "Continue."
"I think you have information I need for a case."
"That's putting it quite bluntly. I probably have a lot of information you need." Irons grinned surreptitiously and clasped his hands together.
"I need to know everything you know about Raleigh's Box. Your minion here already clued me in that you know more than you're saying, which is why you've been having him follow me these past two days. Now one of my friends has been affected, probably with the same thing, and I want to know how to stop it."
"Ah, young Mr. Bowman." Irons nodded. "I've been told you were spending a lot of time with him lately… practicing your spontaneous acts of vigilantism."
"Not by choice," Sara said.
"I suppose you want me to tell you all about the Box, then? What it does? How it operates?"
"Actually we already know its purpose. And I know how it works too. I want to know how to stop it."
"I'm afraid I don't have that information." Irons told her dismissively.
"Bull shit, you know something about this I don't, and you're gonna tell me," Sara crossed her arms, giving Irons a good view of the Witchblade.
"Mr. Ironshas no more knowledge of the Box than you do on that subject, and that, Lady Sara, is the truth." Nottingham looked up slightly to meet her eyes and Sara found herself surprisingly believing him.
"Then how about where it came from? If you can't help me stop this, maybe you can help me find the person who actually has that knowledge."
Irons considered her for a moment. "I do not have his name," he answered her finally. "But I know the owner of Raleigh's Box previous to the unfortunate Torpe is here in New York City. Before that it belonged to an… associate of mine, for some time. He kept it as a part of his collection. He… met an ill-fated demise earlier this year, however—"
"Nothing that you would know anything about, right Irons?" Sara interjected.
"Of course not, my dear!" Irons dismissed her intent. "If you must know, he committed suicide."
Sara's blood ran cold, but she didn't let her fear show. This vicious pattern that was emerging was beginning to get to her. She vowed to call Gabriel tomorrow, after they'd both calmed down, and make sure he was okay. She would never be able to forgive herself if something happened because of her and the Witchblade.
"All I can tell you is that the artifact came into the possession of someone in-state, probably a colleague or friend of my associate's. They were seeking the artifact, from what I hear, but toward what purpose I'm not sure. I'm not even certain they're still alive, to be frank." Sara considered this information. "If you want my honest opinion—"
"Which you know I'm dying to hear," Sara put in.
Irons smiled slyly. "If you want the truth about what happened to your 'murder' victim… perhaps you should go straight to the source."
Grasping his meaning, Sara nodded dimly, and quickly regained her composure. "I think I'll try that." She looked about the millionaire's office airily before turning heel. "You know, you can actually be quite helpful when you're not the one behind the murders."
"Thank you, I hope we meet again soon, as well—it's been a lovely get together!" Irons chimed after her. Sara retreated with a flippant wave of her wrist. When she'd gone, Irons turned his head slightly to acknowledge Nottingham. "Ian, I want you to continue trailing Sara."
"Yes, Mr. Irons." Nottingham nodded.
"I have a feeling this will continue to escalate before it reaches its peak."
o-o-o-o
Gabriel had left the parking garage feeling the need to release his anger. He started to walk around the city block, blowing off steam. How could Sara suggest that he was jealous of her abilities? He'd never once given the impression that he was jealous of her. He just couldn't understand her hesitation to accept his visionary power for what it was. It could help innocent people—where could the harm be in that? Sara just couldn't accept that she wasn't the one behind the rescues for once, Gabriel thought bitterly.
He was pretty sure he didn't want to keep the premonitions. He'd only had them two days and already he was exhausted. Unless he was able to get some sleep soon, he knew he wouldn't be able to keep up the pace they had set for him.
Why, then, couldn't Sara accept this temporary blessing for what it was?
Gabriel walked briskly over to the nearest coffeehouse, feeling the need for a pick-me-up. He was hardly in the door when he heard a cheerful voice calling out his name.
"Gabe! Gabe, honey!" Gabriel paled, but plastered a grin on his face and turned to see the last person he was hoping to meet that day.
"Hannah!" He called out in a falsely cheerful voice, and held out his hands to give her a hug when she practically attacked him. Two other girls sitting at a nearby table sipping coffee 'awwed' at the scene and Gabriel assumed they were friends of Hannah's. Hannah was dressed in her work clothes, her shoulder-length blonde hair pulled back in a loose bun, and Gabriel assumed she must be on her break.
"Hey, sweetie. What are you doing over here? This is a weird place to meet up—I didn't know you liked this coffeehouse." Hannah stepped back to get a look at him. "Oh, Gabe, you don't look so good. Are you sick or something?"
Gabriel opened his mouth to speak, but closed it, not sure which question to answer first. "Uh, I don't come here too often. I was on my way over to Sly's to help him with the comic. He lives nearby here—" It wasn't exactly a lie; 'nearby' was more like 5 city blocks, but Gabriel didn't feel like coming up with a better explanation. Besides, it's not like Hannah would ever know.
"You're going over to Sly's still? You look like you need some sleep. Why don't you go home and rest and I'll bring you over some soup after my shift ends tonight?"
"No, that's alright. I don't get sick," Gabriel covered. "Anyway, I got a lot of work to do, but I'll get some sleep tonight, I promise." Gabriel grinned. Now he was pretty sure that was a lie, but a guy could hope…
"So are you, uh, are you in between shifts, then?"
"Yeah, I just thought I'd grab some coffee with my girlfriends. Oh, by the way, this is Shandra and that's Denise." Hannah gestured to the two young ladies at the table, who waved politely.
Gabriel waved back then turned to Hannah. "Well, I guess I better get going."
"OK…" Hannah stood in her spot, looking around idly. Gabriel could swear she actually shifted weight from one foot to the other.
"Uh, I'll… call you tomorrow?" He offered, at his wit's end. Hannah immediately grinned and leaned in to give him a peck on the cheek.
"Cool, I'll talk to you later then. Don't stay too late at Sly's, OK?"
"Alright, have a good evening. I'll talk to you later… Hannah," he fumbled awkwardly, and turned to get his coffee. He asked the man at the counter to give him whatever drink had the most caffeine in it and the man regarded him skeptically, but wordlessly complied. Gabriel surveyed the items for sale on the countertop briefly when he was hit with another wave of nausea without warning. His head swam and his vision lost focus—
Three men in dark masks pushed open the doors to a bank and started yelling. There were about twenty or so patrons and workers standing about, shocked at the sudden intrusion. They were ordered to the ground and complied, but one woman didn't move, too afraid to react.
A security guard, emerging from a back room, took this opportunity to release his weapon, but another bank robber noticed and shot him. The woman screamed as she too was propelled backwards by a shotgun blast. She fell to the ground dead, and there were more screams…
The three men were able to get into the vault and shot the bank manager who had helped them as well. Police arrived… there was a shootout… mass casualties…
And Gabriel snapped back to reality, still in the coffeehouse at the counter. He had been able to get a better hold on the intensity of the visions, but they still caused him considerable headaches. He was leaning on the counter, hunched over and breathing laboriously.
Acutely aware of the scene he was making, Gabriel straightened himself up to see every single one of the coffeehouse patrons staring at him blandly. Hannah rushed over to him and put her arms on his shoulders. "Gabe! Gabriel, are you OK? What just happened?" She asked, sincerely concerned.
"Uh, nothing. Don't worry about it, Hannah. I just get these migraines sometimes."
"You didn't tell me about any migraines." Hannah stood back as the patrons who'd been listening in went back to their own activities.
"Well, I don't get them often anymore. I usually take something for it, but I didn't get much sleep last night, so that's kind of messing with it…" he covered lamely, accepting his coffee from the ever-more-wary looking clerk. He thanked him and paid for the cup and headed for the door despite Hannah's persistent ministrations.
"Well maybe you should go home then, or to the hospital. That didn't look like a migraine, at least not any I've seen. You looked like you were going to collapse."
"Believe me, I'll be fine. Just, don't worry about me, OK?" Gabriel shrugged her off. "I gotta go. I'll take my medication at Sly's alright?"
"I guess…" Hannah looked despondent, but relinquished her hold on him. "Just, take it easy then, OK?"
"Sure thing." Gabriel exited the coffee shop calling out over his shoulder. "I'll see you later!"
He turned the corner, looking around fervently for the nearest payphone and found one about halfway down the block. He rushed over to it and made sure no one was looking before he picked up the phone and dialed '9-1-1.' On the second ring an operator answered and Gabriel quickly told her, "Yeah, I'd like to report a bank robbery that's going to take place today… on Holden Street and 4th Avenue today, sometime in the next hour... Yes, thank you." Gabriel hung up and sighed, hoping that his warning would be enough.
The police wouldn't ignore an anonymous tip like that though. They'll put men on it in time. He could prevent the whole, bloody scene from happening.
Gabriel smiled to himself as he took a sip of his coffee, wincing at the bitter taste. He didn't need Sara after all, it turned out. This was going to be a lot easier than I thought…
o-o-o-o
Sara decided not to take Irons' advice right away, and held out until the end of her shift. Sensing that Gabriel wouldn't be of much assistance anymore, McCarty had taken up trying to locate Robert Torpe's source, where he'd got the Box from in the first place.
Which was all well with Sara, she figured. As long as McCarty was occupied with something else, she could focus on the Witchblade's connection to the case.
5 o'clock loomed and Sara found herself staring at the clock. Her plan was to head over to the funeral home where Torpe was being held before burial. There was a viewing tomorrow before the ceremony, but Sara hoped to get there tonight before the place closed. If she could get to the body, she could use the Witchblade to talk to Torpe himself. It wouldn't be the first time a body helped her with its own case, she thought morbidly, then sighed. How had her life come to this? When did it all stop being simple?
And speaking of complexities, Danny and his temporary partner for the day, Rowlands Sara thought his name was, walked back into the precinct, talking quietly to each other. Danny waved 'goodbye' to Rowlands and headed for the men's restroom, not even glancing in Sara's direction.
Mustering her gall, she stood up and followed him, right on into the men's bathroom. Danny and another detective were the only ones in the room. Danny was washing his hands at the sink and the other detective squinted at her smugly. "You about finished, Hubbarth?" Sara asked him, crossing her arms defiantly.
Hubbarth just glared, muttering something under his breath, washed his hands and left without another word. Danny, still refusing to look at Sara, just shook his head. "I think you may be in the wrong room, Sar'."
"I think I'm in the right place."
"I don't want to talk about anything today, Pez'." Danny finished washing his hands and grabbed a towel to dry them. "I just want to go home to my wife, eat dinner and go to bed. We can talk about this some other time."
"No, we really can't." Sara countered. "I want to get things straight again. I know I've been ignoring you a lot lately, avoiding telling you things… but I want you to know there's a reason behind it all."
"I'm sure there is, Sara. I don't doubt that."
"I need you on my side again, Danny," Sara pleaded.
"We've always been on the same side, Sara. You're the one who doesn't seem to notice this." He sighed and faced her. "You can trust me, Sara. You've always been able to trust me. I don't understand what changed."
"I changed, Danny. I'm the one with the issues. It's not you at all. I don't mistrust you…"
"Then why can't you just tell me what's going on?" Sara didn't answer, still too afraid to go down that route. "I just don't understand how you can trust a complete stranger like Gabriel with whatever secrets you're keeping but you still can't tell me… Partners tell each other everything, Pez. They share with each other, help each other. Until you feel like you can tell me what's bothering you again, I don't think I can be your partner." Danny moved past her and Sara didn't try to stop him. "I'm sorry, Sara."
Sara listened to the door close behind her and she leaned heavily against the wall, muttering to herself, "Damn it…"
o-o-o-o
Ten minutes later, Sara found herself exiting the precinct, the sun setting in the distance. As dusk settled over the city, Sara hurried to her motorcycle, hoping to get to the funeral home before it closed. She hadn't even got her helmet on when her cell rang. She pulled it out, surprised to find Gabriel's number flashing on the screen.
"Gabriel, what is it?" Sara asked immediately upon answering.
"Sara… I need your help." Sara frowned at his troubled tone.
"What is it? Where are you, Gabriel? Are you okay?"
"No, I'm fine. I'm at the east end of Central Park, but I've got a problem. Pez, I just had two visions at the same time."
"Two visions?"
"Yeah, of two entirely different crimes, in two entirely different parts of town," Gabriel told her. "I don't know what to do. I can't stop them both. I don't even know which one's going to happen first."
"What do you need me to do?" Sara asked.
"I'm going to try to stop one. A murder is supposed to happen here in the Park somewhere. I don't know if I can reach it in time, it's pretty far away, but I'm gonna try. The other one is at the Hunter Apartment complex in Queens. Some guy shoots his wife and her lover… Apartment 12B. Pez', you need to stop it. I can't get there in time, there's no way."
"Alright, I'll see what I can do. Gabriel—be careful." Sara hung up before he could reply and quickly put on her helmet. So much for her initial plan…
She drove as fast as she could, cursing the traffic. Too many people were heading home from work; she would never get past the rush hour traffic to get there in time… Hoping time was on her side, Sara kept going, and twenty minutes later, found herself in front of the shady apartment complex. She banged on the door to the main complex, yelling for someone to let her in. After several minutes, a woman walked up and Sara followed her in, rushing past her up the stairs, not even bothering to try the elevator.
She hit the twelfth floor just in time to hear a gunshot ring out. Two kids playing in the hall looked down at 12B with fear in their expressions. "Go inside," Sara shouted at them, drawing her gun. "Go inside, lock the door and call the police, OK?" The two children nodded, wide-eyed, and disappeared inside the nearest open door.
Sara gritted her teeth, fearing she was too late, and rushed down to 12B, kicking the door open with one hit. She entered the apartment just in time to see a man holding a gun to a scantily-clad woman's temple… and pulling the trigger.
"NO!" Sara shouted, firing her weapon. But she was too late. A second shot rang out and the woman collapsed in the spot, right next to the prone form of a younger man. The husband reeled from Sara's bullet, which found its mark in his shoulder. He dropped the weapon and Sara immediately kicked it away. Her wrist transformed into the gauntlet as the husband reached for the gun and Sara landed a stunning blow to the side of his head. He fell to the ground, unconscious and Sara cuffed him to the bed. She immediately went over to the lover and checked his pulse.
There was none.
Cursing loudly, Sara leaned back on her haunches, putting her head in her hands. She was too late…
She looked up to see the two small kids standing in the doorway once more, staring fearfully at the three bodies. Sara hurriedly grabbed a sheet to cover up the bodies so they wouldn't have to see.
"We called the police," the older boy said mutedly. "They're coming now… Is he dead?"
Sara stood, holstering her gun, her mind searching for excuses to tell the police for her sudden appearance. "Yeah, they are," she told them resignedly. "Go on back to your apartment, OK? Go on."
The kids disappeared, and Sara suddenly remembered Gabriel. She only hoped he reached the other crime in time to stop it, so that at least one of his visions would go to use today. The police arrived not too much later and Sara retrieved her handcuffs as quickly as she could, explaining to them she was visiting a friend in the area and saw the fight through the window. It was lame, but in her hurry, she could only hope they would accept it.
Hurrying back to her bike, Sara sped all the way to the west end of Central Park, where she'd assumed the murder was supposed to take place. On the outskirts of the park, near a rundown part of town, the streets were blocked off by police cars. Sara parked and used her badge to get past them, dashing to where a line of police tape had cordoned off an area surrounding an alley. This had to be the place… Sara thought, and her thoughts were confirmed when she found Gabriel himself sitting on a bench behind the crowd of onlookers. She rushed over to him, but to get there she had to pass the body of the victims. A man in his forties was being hustled into the back of a cop car, looking stony-faced. On the ground were the bodies of a woman… and two young children, surrounded in chalk, crime scene investigators swarming over the place.
"Gabriel, GABRIEL!" Sara called out for his attention when she reached the bench he sat at. She knelt in front of him. "What happened?" She asked, thinking she already knew.
Gabriel looked ahead despondently, past Sara. "A father killed his ex-wife and kids. He was angry at her for putting a restraining order on him and taking the kids away… so he decided not to let anyone have them," he replied dully, without a hint of inflection in his voice.
"I was too late," he added.
Sara was silent, not sure how to break it to him that she'd been too late as well. Never one to keep her luck, Gabriel looked up at her. "Did you stop the other murder? Did you get there in time?"
Sara opened her mouth to speak; words failed her. Sighing dejectedly, she put her hand over Gabriel's comfortingly as his eyes widened with the realization. "You didn't save them, did you?"
Sara shook her head. "No, Gabriel, I didn't… I'm sorry."
Gabriel turned away, trying to conceal the pain in his eyes. Tears brimmed at the edges and he wiped them away fervently with the heels of his palms. "Oh God…" he exclaimed desperately. "I can't believe this… What's the point of getting premonitions if you can't possibly stop them from happening?"
"It's not your fault, Gabriel," she told him. "There was no way you could prevent them both."
"But I couldn't stop either of them from happening! This is insane, Pez. You were completely right. What was I thinking, trying to do this? It's hopeless, there's no way I can do this by myself." It never occurred to Sara to tell Gabriel 'I told you so.' However angry she'd been earlier, she had absolutely no desire to rub it in his face now, seeing how upset he was at his inability to save the lives of these people. "But I can't just stop either… You don't know what it's like… seeing all that pain every time I close my eyes and believing I can do something to stop it, but not being physically able to… And they're coming in faster now, the visions. I'm getting more and more of them. I can't keep up. I can't keep—" Gabriel shook his head and stood. Sara tried to follow him as he began to walk away.
"We'll fix this, Gabe. We'll stop the visions. I promise I'll help you, if you bear with me just a little bit longer—"
"I can't do this anymore, Pez'." Gabriel said. "I can't save these people, and if what happened earlier at the Post was any evidence, even if I try to save them I end up doing more harm than good… You were right, Sara. I give up."