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 Six – Complication

Sara was up bright and early the next morning to head over to the funeral home first thing upon opening. She hoped she would have less of a crowd to contend with if she went right away.

All the previous evening she'd tried to talk to Gabriel, to console him, but he had locked himself up in his apartment and wasn't answering the door or his phone. She was getting increasingly worried, but hoped the Witchblade would warn her if Gabriel harmed himself in anyway. She wondered if this was what happened to Torpe and all the other victims before they finally killed themselves…

With this call for urgency adding speed to her actions, Sara made it to the Colman Fuller Funeral Home just as the wake was starting. As she expected there were few people there to visit Torpe. A pair of women she assumed must be coworkers of Torpe's were seated in the back of the room talking quietly. At the front of the room, the casket was placed, alone.

Sara quickly signed her name to the guest book and walked calmly up to the casket, trying not to be noticed. Robert Torpe lay, looking peaceful but despite the common conception that corpses looked like they were sleeping, Torpe didn't look very lifelike. Sara had seen too many dead bodies in her lifetime to hold a positive opinion of what the 'other side' looked like.

She looked down on the body and sighed. "Look, I don't know how this works. If you wanna just come right out and say something, or if I have to ask the right questions…" she sighed. "God this is creepy. I shouldn't even have come here."

"You're doing the right thing." Sara was shocked out of her stance by a man's voice. She looked down at Torpe. His body had suddenly come to life, reanimated and looking rather well-rested.

"That was fast," Sara commented.

"I didn't have many things to do in life," Robert Torpe said. "What makes you think I'd be in a hurry to get anywhere in death?"

"Is Heaven that boring?"

"I wouldn't know. I haven't gotten there, yet," Torpe admitted. "I've been stuck in a sort of limbo since I died. I don't even know if I'll be allowed up there yet."

"Why wouldn't you be?" Sara wrinkled her brow.

"They kind of frown on that whole suicide thing in Heaven, you know?" Torpe shrugged—actually shrugged.

"You didn't kill yourself, though," Sara said. "Did you?"

"I'm afraid it was my decision to take my own life, just as it was for the Box's victims before me. There was no other option." Torpe's face became pained. "There was just so much…hurt. I couldn't take it anymore."

"Listen, Robert. I don't have a lot of time here. I need to know who your supplier was—who gave you the Box. A friend of mine is going through what you went through, and I want to stop it before the same thing happens to him. Can you tell me who it was?"

"I'm afraid I don't know his real name," Torpe said apologetically. "It was an internet exchange. I met him on a website – under the screen name 'Raleigh's Gift.'" Torpe chuckled. "Of all the ironies, huh? Guess I should have just paid attention the first time around…"

"The dealer was supposed to be here in New York. Do you know anyone who might have wanted to get revenge on you for anything, maybe wanted something from you?" Sara knew she was fishing, but it didn't seem to matter to her right now.

"Not really… well, I sort of had this… competition with a coworker of mine, Paul Reynolds. He and I always competed for everything—and I mean everything. Positions, money, the boss's attention, even women we met. It was a silly thing, really. I'm rather upset I wasted so much of my life engaged in something like that."

"I'm sorry," Sara said, but on the inside she was rejoicing that Torpe himself was giving her further proof of her inclinations… but then he added to his statement.

"But I don't think Paul is capable of something like that," Torpe said truthfully. "He was rather dull, not too cultured. He doesn't seem like the type to plot out a murder in such an… intricate fashion."

"I'm sorry to tell you this too late, but you don't always know what people are capable of."

"They say that the dead still tell tales long after their demise, but I must admit I've never seen someone actually converse with the deceased before." Sara turned, startled and came face to face with Father Merrick. "I came to pay my respects to my unfortunate parishioner. He may not have acted in God's wishes by taking his life, but every man deserves a caring soul at their wake. I see I'm not the only one who had that idea." Merrick smiled at her sweetly.

Sara grinned back. "Hello, Father Merrick. I thought I might stop by before my shift. It's a shame there are so few people here." She glanced back down at Torpe, who had reverted back to his original appearance.

"Yes, well, as you already know, Robert didn't have many friends or family about him. He must have felt terrifically alone to end his own life as he did… If only he'd known that the Eye of God is always upon him… he might not have gone down the road he did."

"Perhaps not," Sara agreed.

"You don't seem to be refuting me, and I haven't heard anything on the news, so I assume that Robert's death has indeed been ruled a suicide, then?"

"Yeah," Sara lied, knowing full well that someone else had a hand in Torpe's demise… but not in a way she could reveal to the priest. "It's a shame, isn't it?"

"It is most unfortunate. But I'm glad Robert wasn't murdered. It always pains me to hear of murders. To think that a human being can commit such an awful crime against another living thing, be it man or animal. I cannot watch the news at night anymore, because I'm afraid to turn on the television and see nothing but pain. I am thankful for people like you, Detective Pezzini, because you have the ability to stop such things from happening. I think everyone should take full advantage of their potential to help other human beings… too many people just walk away."

Sara burned with guilt, thinking of her earlier statement to Gabriel, urging him to stop his quest. Of course he didn't want to stop. He was Gabriel Bowman, best friend extraordinaire, and all-around nice guy. There was no way he would pass up a chance to help out another human being; Sara should have known that.

"I know what you mean," Sara agreed. "Well, I'd better get back to work now, Father. The sooner I get back, sooner I can stop more bad guys, huh?"

Merrick smiled. "Yes, of course. Thank you for stopping by, Detective. It was very charitable of you."

"You too, Father. I'll see you." Sara waved and left the church, jogging back to her bike. She had a destination in mind, but she was going to stop and check on Gabriel first.

o-o-o-o

A teenager sat in a living room, smoking a joint with his friends. He opened a drawer and pulled out what looked like a handgun. Laughing at his discovery, he showed the weapon off to his friends, pretending to aim it at his head. There was a sharp crack—

And Gabriel snapped back to alertness, laying draped across his old, worn couch in his apartment. It must have been his eighteenth attempt at falling asleep since the previous night, and still he found himself unable to close his eyes. Ever since he'd left the Park the previous afternoon after failing to save the woman and her children from their father's ire, he had ignored all subsequent visions… but it was getting harder and harder to do so.

He hadn't slept in over 60 hours, but every time he tried to rest he found himself barraged with another series of violent images. They had started to occur regularly on fifteen to twenty minute intervals, without reprieve. Gabriel hardly noticed the details anymore, he was just so tired...

He had tried taking sleeping pills twice now, but they only served to make him more exhausted. The fear of getting another vision kept him from closing his eyes…

This is how an insomniac must feel… Gabriel thought dejectedly. He'd always considered himself a night owl, but it had always seemed then to be by choice. And insomniacs don't get premonitions of death and mutilation, he reminded himself bitterly.

Hannah and Sly had both tried to phone him that morning, but Gabriel ignored their calls, hoping they would take the hint. He didn't care what Hannah thought anymore—that he was trying to ignore her or whatever. None of it mattered to him right now.

A woman attempted to apply makeup at the wheel during rush hour traffic. She wasn't looking and blew past a red light. A truck veered into her vehicle, the left side of the car taking the full brunt of the impact. Her screams were drowned out entirely by the honking of horns, the screeching of tires, and the crunching of metal against metal as the two vehicles collided…

The scrape of the metals rent the air and echoed in his apartment as the vision ended. Gabriel squeezed the bridge of his nose between his fingers, cringing. It had been two hours since he'd last taken some Advil. He was starting to think he would have to step up soon to something more powerful.

Gabriel sat up after a few minutes nonetheless and headed over to his bathroom cupboard, pulling down a bottle. He took three more pills, downed them with a glass of water, and stared at himself in the mirror.

He looked horrible, he realized. He had started to carry the appearance of a homeless addict. The bags under his eyes were so defined it looked like he hadn't slept in two weeks, not two nights.

"Way to go, handsome," he muttered, turning away from the mirror and leaving the bathroom. As he walked down his hallway back to the living room, he felt that familiar feeling wash over him and braced himself against a wall instinctively.

On an unrecognizable New York street, a face-off between a group of police officers and a pair of suspects resulted in an intense shootout when both of the criminals pulled out their guns. In minutes, bullets were flying, and screams could be heard from frightened onlookers. One cop was shot in the upper chest, and he went down hard in the street, alone and out of reach of his fellow officers.. His blood quickly spread, amassing into a large puddle, his life force seeping out of him…

And with a gasp Gabriel was pulled back to reality. He was kneeling in the hallway of his apartment, his knees smarting and bruised from the dive he took. Gulping in air, he tried to stand on shaky legs, knowing immediately that he needed to get to a phone.

The cop in his vision had been Danny Woo.

He reached the phone in three strides and dialed the number for the precinct, but the cop who answered told Gabriel that Danny was in a briefing, but it should be over any minute now.

Gabriel thanked him, hung up, and grabbed his coat. If Danny was still in the briefing, there was an excellent chance that he could catch him before he left the precinct. He just had to get there before Danny and the other cops left. It was at least a twenty minute walk to the precinct the way Gabriel usually took. If he hurried, he could get there in under ten.

He was barely outside the door to his apartment when he nearly collided with a tall, dark figure.

"Good morning, Mr. Bowman." Ian Nottingham greeted him. "Where are you off to this morning?"

"None of your business, Nottingham," Gabriel sneered. The guy gave him the creeps, the way he followed Sara around like a stalker. Gabriel got bad vibes off him anyway, in general. It didn't help to know that he was practically the Igor to Kenneth Irons' Dr. Frankenstein. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

"I am here to ensure your safety," Nottingham replied simply.

"Wow, I didn't know you cared," Gabriel drawled.

"I don't. As it happens, your fate is unfortunately tied to that of Lady Sara… and if I must protect you to protect her, then I shall do it."

Gabriel continued walking and Nottingham followed him deftly, keeping up his pace. "Do you know anything about this stupid Box?" Gabriel asked, suspicious.

"No more than you," Nottingham told him. "I find it rather amusing, though, that you are still under the impression that your actions will have any effect on the evil this world generates. You've seen far too little and are far too young, Master Bowman, to truly understand the inevitability of human nature to do evil."

"Don't bother with your pessimist witticisms, Nottingham," Gabriel shot back. "I already know I can't save the world… Right now I'm just trying to save one life."

"That's touching, Bowman."

"I'm glad I brought a tear to your eye, but I still don't need your protection. I can do this by myself."

"I am merely doing my job," Ian insisted. "Lady Sara would wish me to make sure you don't do anything… drastic."

Gabriel stopped momentarily to meet eyes with Nottingham. "Look, if you want to help Sara, go help Sara! You're not gonna do any good stalking me. I'm going to a police station. What kind of harm do you think I can run into there?" Gabriel continued walking. "And anyway, where the hell were you when Sara got shot two days ago? If you're so bent on protecting her, you shouldn't even be helping me. I'm the one who's getting her into all this trouble."

"You speak volumes, Master Bowman. And perhaps you also begin to see why you and I cannot get along. You deter Lady Sara from her destiny far too often with your idealistic methods."

"Then why are you still here, Nottingham?"

Another pause. "Point taken," Nottingham said finally. "Good luck with your quest." Before Gabriel could reply, the older man had vanished.

Gabriel continued on his way, turning down alleys and cutting corners as often as possible. He shot a glance at his watch. It was just past 9. 10 minutes had passed since his phone call.

He ran through every scenario in his mind of why Danny would still be there, trying to reassure himself that he wasn't too late, as he reached 11th Avenue, where the precinct was located. He turned on to the busy street, looking past all the early morning rush hour traffic, businessmen and other New Yorkers walking down the busy avenue, to the front of the 11th Precinct. He broke into a dash, but was interrupted abruptly by another vision.

An elderly black woman in a white blouse and blue pants was walking down a busy street. She was coughing violently, rubbing her sweaty forehead, obviously hot with fever. The sickly woman began to cross at a corner where there was no stoplight. She had barely made it off the curb when she stopped to cough into her fist. The fit lasted only a few seconds, but it was enough of a delay for the cab driver coming in her direction, who was distracted by something he'd dropped on the floor, to miss her entirely. The car collided with the woman and she collapsed to the pavement in a heap…

Gabriel was surprised to find himself still standing when he snapped out of the premonition. This vision was different from the others, somehow, he knew. There was a certain immediacy to it that he couldn't place…

…And then he saw an elderly black woman with a white blouse and blue pants walking toward Gabriel on the opposite side of the street. He blinked, shocked at the realization that the vision he'd just had was only seconds away from happening. Reacting quickly, Gabriel yelled out to the woman, tried to get her attention, but she didn't hear him over the din of all the people on the street. Patrons stared at Gabriel curiously, as if he was crazy, but he ignored them all.

He watched the woman reach the corner. Gabriel was only a block away. He broke into a run.

Completely oblivious, the sick woman crossed the street. She was halfway across now…

Gabriel ran into the street, waving his arms. Still, she didn't notice. She stopped, suddenly overcome by the coughing fit he'd witnessed in his vision. The yellow cab was only feet away and, like in the vision, the driver wasn't watching where he was going…

And then several things happened at once.

Without warning, something collided with the elderly woman… but it wasn't the cab. Gabriel dashed across three lanes and pushed the woman with all his might. She went tumbling onto the sidewalk, scraping her arms and legs on the pavement as she collapsed heavily onto the cement.

Across the street, coming out of the 11th Precinct, Danny Woo and his partner, Mark Rowlands, exited through the front door, getting ready to head out to a crime scene. He looked up just in time to hear the commotion.

The male cab driver finally picked up his cell phone which he'd dropped on the floor and looked up just in time to see an older woman being pushed out of the way of his vehicle, only to be replaced by another figure.

And in the middle of the street, Gabriel Bowman, too stunned to react, hesitated just a split second too long. The cab collided with him in a fury of crunching metal and screeching of tires. Gabriel felt himself being propelled over the hood of the cab and landing brutally on his right side, and as he lay in the street feeling something warm spreading over his arms and face, his world stopped spinning and faded to a welcome, smothering black.