(An Alternate Season Two/ Alternate Reality Fanfiction)
by Lady Cailin
Summary: Alt. Season Two. An accident reveals to Sara the events of the previous continuum, and a whole lot of things she didn't know about the Witchblade, her past, her future, and the blood that binds them all.
Disclaimer: Witchblade and related materials are copyright Time Warner, TNT, Top Crow, and subsequent companies. This Fan Fiction was not produced, and is not intended to be reproduced, for profit. No infringement of said copyrights is intended by the author and should certified officials of Time Warner, TNT or Top Crow view this, then the author would like to ascert herself as a loyal viewer and demand a third season and/or the syndication of the first two seasons of Witchblade. Thank You.
Author's Note: My apologies on the long wait. I actually had this chapter finished a month ago, but my poor Beta reader got berried by that evil institution we like to call 'College'. She's doing better now, she's even stopped trying to bludgeon herself unconscious every time she sees a text book. We've got high hopes that she's going to be one of the lucky ones that survives. Incidently, to take some of the pressure off of her, I'm looking for a second Beta. Anyone willing should be prepared for chapters that generally run about fifteen to twenty pages, with two chapters a month. Please email me at animeromantic@yahoo.com.
CHAPTER TWO: Foresight
Sara pulled into the parking garage across from Voschlag Industries, receiving several looks from employees returning from their lunch hours as she cut the engine of her bike and pulled off her helmet. It was cold again today and the air slipping in past the collar of her leather jacket sent a shiver down her spine. Or maybe it was being this close to facing Irons again that did it. She still had her doubts about this. She'd rather avoid the bastard all together, but her dad had always said that if you let a sleeping dog lie, he'd probably bite you in the ass when you least expected it. Pop hadn't exactly had a way with words, but she knew he was right. If she ignored Irons then he'd inevitably make trouble. He wasn't going to just let her walk with the Witchblade. He wanted it too much.
It was Monday again, and she'd taken time off on account of the hole in her shoulder. She should be in bed resting, but instead she was out here in the cold, about to storm gates as it were. She just hadn't been able to lay there one minute longer thinking about the visions and all the things that had happened, that might still happen. So she'd scrapped together a vague plan and headed over here to confront Irons and find out what he was up to this time.
Sara pushed open the door of the lobby and headed up the series of twisted stair cases towards the elevators. She forced a smile at one of the suites who entered the elevator with her, looking her black leather and jeans up and down. Sara pushed the button for the top floor where she knew she'd find Irons office. She'd always hated this building. It was cold, twisted and unnatural. Like Irons himself. The doors opened swiftly at the last floor and Sara walked out and towards the desk where Irons secretary waited. She had just flashed her badge and asked to speak to Irons when a voice from behind her shook her nerves.
"I'll show the Detective in Marsha."
Nottingham.
She turned sharply and found herself meeting his midnight eyes, one of the few times she could remember having done so. He quickly lowered his gaze, one darkly gloved hand sweeping out to indicate the way. Sara followed after a moments hesitation. He was an unnatural shadow here in the bright florescent lights and sterile white walls of the office building. He was dressed for the outdoors, his dark hair under a cap and a long coat following his steps. She wondered idly if he had been trailing her again. Probably. Irons would want to know her every move now that she had the Witchblade.
Nottingham remained silent as he walked a few steps ahead of her to guide the way, his face lowered. He stopped in front of Irons door and stepped to the side so she could enter. Sara glanced at his face as she passed and he turned to the side to avoid her eyes.
I love you. . .in unguarded moments.
Sara frowned down at the Witchblade for a second, not sure why it had felt that reminder was necessary. Sara then turned towards the metal doors and watched them swish open as always. Maybe he was worried she'd recognize him from the other night, that she would mention his helping her to Irons. She could only imagine the trouble something like that could get him in with old Kenny. She frowned when she spotted Irons standing before the windows of the office, looking pale and washed out in the bright lighting.
Speak of the Devil.
Irons turned as she entered, that polite and engaging smile on his lips, that same old hunger in his eyes. The hunger for the Witchblade.
"Detective Pezzini, I'm Kenneth Irons." He drew closer, his eyes running over her, resting one moment too long on the area where her jacket covered the Witchblade. Sara forced a brief smile as she nodded at him in greeting, but it fell away directly after.
"Mr. Irons I'd like to ask you about Thomas Gallo."
It had been the best reason she could think of to come after Irons. She knew Gallo had looked into the Rialto. Irons owned the Rialto. Gallo was now under heavy investigation due to charges of attempted murder. So she had every right to be here in the logical order of things. Not that logic had much to do with her life lately. But as a cop she liked to at least pretend she was following the rules of normal human behavior.
"Of course Detective, but please: call me Ken." He took another step and she felt the Witchblade react immediately.
Pretender.
Sara raised one eyebrow and refused to back away. The Witchblade was letting her know didn't like Irons, but it was more than that. There was something else bellow the surface trying to make itself known. It felt like something scrapping away at her, nagging and clawing at the edges of her consciousness. She could feel her arm tingling with the need to push Irons away.
"Mr. Irons I think it would be in your best interest to tell me the extent of your dealings with Thomas Gallo." Sara told him, keeping her gaze direct and level, her voice an even tone. Irons simply stared at her for a moment, and she knew he was trying to get her to lower her gaze, back down. She smiled ever so slightly, letting him know she was aware of the game, and that she had no intention of backing down. Not in this lifetime, or the next. He finally looked away, turning his back on her.
"I'm afraid I wont be of much help to you Sara. . .may I call you Sara?" He turned his head to the side, watching her from the corner of his eye as he asked the question.
"I'd prefer you didn't." Sara said simply, the tingling in her arm growing stronger. He was doing something to aggravate the Witchblade, but what? Irons gave a tight, bland smile."I wont be much help to you concerning Mr. Gallo. I'm afraid my dealings with him were somewhat limited. As I'm sure you know already, I own the old Rialto. Mr. Gallo was considering it as a business venture in the near future." Irons voice was lyrical as always, rising and falling in tones without emotion or depth save the slight taint of an ever present amusement. As he spoke he turned towards his desk and picked up a small gold timepiece there, his fingers running carefully over the engravings on its surface before he opened it and checked the time.
He snapped it shut promptly as he turned back to her.
"But this isn't what you really came to ask me Sara, is it?" His eyes had that starved look again, and she tried not to smile at the irony of all of this. Irons was twirling on her strings now. And somebody was getting impatient, maybe even a bit cranky. The tingling in her arm suddenly became violent, and the Voice cried out again in anger.
Pretender.
With a sudden clarity she understood what it was trying to tell her without words. She knew what he was doing. He was trying to use his connection with the Witchblade to feel her out. He was probing the Witchblade and her for reactions. Tricky bastard.
"No, it isn't." Sara held up her arm so the jewel, glowing with its own anger, slipped free of the covering of her jacket. Then Sara did something she'd only tried once before, in a moment of danger when the Witchblade had been on the wrist of another. She spoke back to it, commanded it.
Shield Us.
And the Witchblade obeyed.
"Do you recognize this Mr. Irons?" she asked. She watched his face carefully, the tingling in her arm fading as the wrinkle of confusion between Irons icy eyes grew. He finally looked away from the glowing jewel and into her eyes. Sara was careful to keep her expression blank, her gaze level. His frown cleared after a moment and he smiled at her once more.
"The Witchblade." he whispered, his eyes touching it lovingly. Irons eyes followed its decent as Sara lowered her arm and the cuff disappeared beneath her jacket. He then met her gaze again as his long fingers reached into his pocket and pulled out a white card she recognized, handing it to her. She was careful not to let those icy digits touch hers.
"Don't hesitate to call either number Sara. I am an avid art collector and I have a whole room devoted to the Witchblade. I believe you would quite enjoy it." He then smiled in parting and turned, making it clear the meeting was over. The dismissal was abrupt and without the lingering hints he had always loved to throw her. For a moment Sara wondered if he had been unsettled by the exchange. She didn't know if that would be good or bad for her in the long run.
Sara pocketed the card and turned towards the doors without a backward glance. She knew he was waiting for her to look back, she could feel him watching her. The cold metal doors slid open once more to reveal Nottingham standing opposite the entrance, waiting for her. She stepped past the doors and into the hallway, waiting for the hiss as they closed behind her.
He never raise his head, again avoiding her gaze, only indicated that she should follow him. But what had she expected? It was Nottingham. In the year that she'd known him all he'd managed to give her was darting glances and what she liked to refer to as the kicked puppy look. The one that made her feel like she'd kicked a damn puppy. She didn't pretend to understand him or any of his actions, and she didn't want to even think about the whole possibility of them being related.
Sara took a corner too tightly and her left shoulder hit the edge, jarring her wound rather badly. She stopped short and took a deep breath as she gripped her wound. Nottingham turned abruptly, his wide eyes filled with something that looked like concern.
Dark eyes filled with concern. A bullet flying towards her, covered in Nottingham's blood.
You had never joined your blood with that of my line before now Sara.
Of course. She'd joined blood with Nottingham during the attack. Sara grimaced to herself. She should have figured that out right away, but she'd been trying not to think about that dream. She hadn't wanted any new mysteries to figure out. She'd concentrated instead on all the things she could change now. Danny was alive, and Conchobar. . .The sharp ache of longing was immediate, and Sara pushed that thought away again. She stood up straighter and let her hand fall back to her side.
"Its nothing, just a little scratch." Her voice was weak, belying the confidence she had intended.
Nottingham nodded once, his unconvinced eyes lowering to the floor as he turned to lead the way. Sara frowned to herself as she followed him. What the hell did this mean? Sara watched the silent figure and measured steps of the man in front of her carefully. It meant Nottingham had the blood of the other wielder's line running through his veins, thats what this meant. He'd exposed her to it during the attack, and now she had strange women in her dreams. Still, it didn't add up. Irons had said he'd cooked Nottingham up using Elizabeth Bronte's stem cells. If they were related, then shouldn't they already share blood?
They had reached the elevator when he turned to her. She could tell from the way he was standing he was about to pull one of those vanishing acts. Before he could she dropped the bomb that she knew would gain his attention.
"So how's the shoulder Nottingham?"
He looked directly at her.
It wasn't actually that hard to figure out why he lowered his eyes so often. They gave away too much of his thoughts, his emotions. One look and you could see it all. Nottingham looked alarmed, confused, and there was a hit of something that could have been fear. It was the fear that bothered her, made her wonder what Irons would do if he found out she'd had a little help surviving the other night. She glanced up at the numbers above the elevator, unable to meet that look anymore.
"Don't worry, I didn't tell Irons about that." She glanced back at him and his head lowered again. It was the way he remained as she stepped onto the elevator. "But you might want to get a thicker coat if your going to be doing Kenny's stalking for him."
The elevator doors closed on his dark gaze, and Sara found herself smiling. He'd looked at her directly again. Three times in one day, she must be unsettling him. It was a nice switch from the last time. Sara shifted in the elevator, trying to make the ache in her shoulder recede without much luck. The wound was healing faster then it should have, probably a gift of the Witchblade. Helpful, yes, but also involving a lot of pain. The past few nights had been miserable.
Sara looked down at the cuff where it rested on her wrist. It had been silent ever since she'd shot that order at it in Irons office. Sara smiled again as the elevator hit the halfway mark. It hadn't liked Irons, and she found herself having a bit more faith in its judgment because of that, but so far it hadn't reacted very much to Nottingham. It had liked him enough to resist her when she tried to attack him that last time. Which didn't sit well with her, even if the guy had taken bullets for her in both time loops now.
"I know I can't trust Irons," she whispered, touching the stone carefully "but how about Nottingham?"
The Witchblade hummed softly in response, the momentary light in its depth fading as the doors to the elevator opened onto the rest of the world.
* * *
Ian entered Mr. Irons office silently and waited as his master turned from his musings at the large windows that dominated the room. He dared a quick glance at the elder man's face and immediately lowered his gaze from what he saw there. His master looked thoughtful. He had hoped Mr. Irons would be pleased upon first meeting Sara Pezzini. Still, it could have been worse. He could have been angered.
"Sara Pezzini is an intriguing woman." Kenneth Irons began, his voice raising enough to be heard by the younger man, even if these words weren't truly for his benefit. Ian was often used as a sounding board for his employer's thoughts and forming plans. "A difficult woman, but still manageable. What I find intriguing is her connection with the Witchblade."
Ian's head raised a fraction, a question for explanation.
"No new wielder, pretender or true could possess the ability to block my connection to her through the Witchblade." His master's eyes became vacant as he lost himself in thought and memory. "Yet today the Witchblade protected Sara, shielded her from my invasion. There is only one explanation, and I can scarcely believe it."
Irons turned abruptly, his eyes intent on Ian, and he returned to his subservient stance immediately. Irons was displeased with him for something, he could feel it like a weight upon his shoulders, on his very being.
"The Witchblade is protecting Sara Pezzini."
The silence of the room met that statement and it was only after a careful moment that Ian dared a response. He knew it would be unwise to in any way remind his master that he had suggested this possibility only a few days ago. This was the very reason he could now feel Iron's cold displeasure weighing down on him. He must allow Irons to retake the position of superiority.
"Then Sara Pezzini is a true wielder." he stated simply, his eyes darting once to gauge his master's reactions, "is this not what was desired?"
Irons eyes hardened, making it immediately evident that Ian had miss stepped in his attempt to placate his master's displeasure.
"What I desire Ian, is a wielder I can control. I cannot control Sara Pezzini if the Witchblade is protecting her from me." Irons mellowed voice became rough with the edge of frustration and he turned from Ian, his breathing heavy in the returning silence of the room. Ian respected that silence after Irons had spoken, watching the angered working of his master's jaw.
There was a brief moment in which he considered telling his master about Sara's strange behavior of a few moments ago. She had known his name, and had recognized him from the attack in the alley. She had also indicated that she knew of his surveillance, which he could scarcely believe. The idea of telling Irons any of this was discarded as quickly as it had come. Somehow Sara had known the retribution he would face should Irons become aware of his actions that night in the alley. She had shielded him from that. He would respond in kind.
Ian turned his attention to his master's angered form. He knew he had to offer reassurance. If his master believed his case with Sara Pezzini a failure then he would turn against her, and thereby the Witchblade. He knew nothing good could come from fighting the will of the Witchblade.
Any other motives for his actions must be guarded against.
"Perhaps," he hesitated, waiting until Irons had shown his interest by turning towards him enough to offer a profile, "the wielder might persuade the Witchblade on the subject."
Irons completed the turn, facing Ian with the beginnings of a smile on his face, the seeds of this new plan shining with bright excitement in his eyes.
"Very good Ian." Irons wandered towards the large windows that dominated the office, gazing unseeing at the landscape as he began to construct the details of his plot. Ian watched his master twirl the gold timepiece in the hands he had clasped behind him.
"Sara could be convinced to ignore the Witchblade, or even change its mind." Irons smiled out over the city, the image reflecting back to Ian in the glass. "And what is the best way to convince a woman to ignore danger?"
Ian lowered his head, knowing the question was not meant for him to answer. Irons smiled as he made his way back to his desk. He sat down, leaning back in the dark leather with satisfaction and a thrill of excitement written on his sharp features. He placed the timepiece on the glass surface before him with a sharp click that was too loud for the sudden silence of the room.
"Seduction."
* * *
Sara threw her jacket on the couch as she entered the apartment. Danny had caught her at the pool tables after work and sent her packing it home. He was overreacting. There was nothing wrong with hanging out for a little bit. She hadn't even been playing. Sara frown, running a hand through her hair and then carefully rotating her left shoulder with a wince. Alright, so it hurt a bit, but she wasn't pushing it. She was fine, and sitting around here wasn't going to help her get better any faster. It was going to help her go insane a bit faster.
There were a dozen red roses sitting on her table, bathed in the moonlight poring through the windows.
Sara stilled, her hand slipping casually towards the side table next to the door where she kept one of her 'at home' pieces. The gun was cool to the touch as her fingers curled around it and drew it to her side. Her eyes darted around the room before she moved, checking her corners and shadows. She approached the table carefully, already having a feeling about who had left the roses and how they'd managed to get in. A white card stood out starkly among the scarlet offerings and she plucked it from their midst with one long and suspicious look at the shadows around her. The card was signed in a sharp, scrawling handwriting she recognized.
Kenneth Irons.
Nottingham had been at it again. She glanced at the windows, noting that one of them was unlocked. Heck, at least he'd closed it this time. Sara ran a finger down the silken petal of one o the large blooms, her expression thoughtful. This hadn't happened last time, and she silently wondered what had caused the change. The very, very quick change. She'd only seen Irons this afternoon, and she'd been fairly sure he hadn't been happy with the outcome of the meeting. Not to mention that she had barely left her apartment for an hour to go meet the guys.
Sara bent down, smelling the flowers, surprised at the strong sent. The big roses usually didn't have the perfume of their smaller counterpart, as if you had to trade off size and sensuality somewhere along the way. The fragrance on these large roses was quite strong and, she noted as she ran a finger down long one stem, they were thornless. Somebody was going all out.
Sara turned and walked back to the window, flicking the latch closed again. Not that it seemed to be a deterent to her friendly neighborhood stalker. It had always annoyed her that they thought so little of her privacy, but she supposed she was getting used to it by now. Irons thought he had rights to the Witchblade, and as long as she held it he'd delude himself into thinking he had rights to her as well.
The moon was high tonight, large and luminescent above the rooftops of the city. It bathed everything in pale light and deep shadows outside her window. The stars had been drowned out by the lights bellow, but the moonlight overpowered them here, and Sara stood transfixed by it for a moment. She looked down at the Witchblade, cool and silent under the moon's pail light.
Sometimes the world got so bad that she forgot how beautiful it could be.
Sara frowned slightly to herself and rubbed a hand down her face. She was getting sentimental, which meant it was time to go to bed. There was work tomorrow, even if Danny would fuss. She had a thousand questions she needed answered, and sitting around here another day wouldn't make it any easier.
* * *
Ian watched Sara move from the window, wondering for a moment what thoughts had caused such a wistful expression to cross her face. The gift, perhaps? He frowned and forced down the sudden surge of something violent and possessive that passed over him at that thought. He should be pleased. He was pleased. If Sara yielded to his master's seduction then she would be safe, and he would be allowed to serve them both. He was pleased. Ian focused on the thought again. It didn't change the fact that he was most certainly not pleased.
He turned and leaned against the edge of the building opposite Sara's apartment. It was the same spot where he had taken care of her would-be assassin with such vengeance. Ian closed his eyes as he tried to focus his thoughts and force his heart to follow.
He must guard against these feelings, or be damned by them.
Ian pulled out the phone weighing down the pocket of his coat and pushed the button that would speed dial Iron's private line. A soft click was the only greeting before he began his report.
"She has accepted the offering. She seemed. . .pleased."
* * *
"The Dragon woos the Maiden." Mobius marveled, his eyes barely seeing his comrade. The younger man who stood before him had just finished his report. He had been sent to follow the Dragon's Flame, a dangerous mission now that the Dragon had turned against them. Now that the Flame stalked their shadows. Black Death. Silent Death. Their former brother. He took them one by one.
Hector Mobius' eyes glowed with a strange inner light in the darkness of Black Dragon's adopted home. A warehouse they had moved to only a few nights ago. They were moving every few days now, afraid of their own shadows and the death that stalked them by Kenneth Irons orders.
"The Maiden is the key."
* * *
The barren landscape of the Witchblade met Sara's eyes as she opened them to the dream world. A breeze blew hesitantly and something dark caught her attention at the corner of her eye. She turned sharply and there, leaning against the nearest tree, was the woman again. The other wielder. She smiled her mercurial smile in greeting and watched as Sara made her way towards the tree. She then opened her arms as if to offer Sara something.
"You have questions Sara, I have answers."
Sara simply stared at her for a moment, her green eyes reflecting the dullness of disbelief. Someone was offering her information? No deals, no catches, no need to pry and pull it out of them? Just a simple offer of information?
"So your telling me. . ." she hesitated over the words in half anticipation, half dread of the answer ". . .I can actually get a straight answer out of you?"
"If you ask the right questions, then yes."
"That sounds like something Nottingham would say," Sara snorted. She was about to turn away from the other woman when the wielder's words and her own response ran through her head again. The other woman's words had been slow, measured, as if she were trying to say something else with them. And now, after the mention of Nottingham, she was smiling.
This was about Nottingham.
Sara turned back to the other wielder, eyeing her carefully as she rolled this over in her mind. She was being offered the chance to figure this all out. She'd be able to find out who Nottingham was, why his blood had started these strange dreams. She might even be able to stop them, quiet the Voices.
"Who is Nottingham really?" Sara asked, eyeing the other woman carefully. She didn't move, didn't react, only stood there against the tree as if she had all the time in the world. Sara supposed that technically, they did. A soft breeze brushed at the other woman's dark hair, pushing the dark folds of her skirt against her legs. She turned her face into the breeze, as if enjoying it. Sara sighed after a moment, realizing that question wasn't going to be answered.
"Let me guess, wrong question?" Sara ground out in rising frustration. The other wielder turned back to her, that smile raising just the corners of her mouth once more. Sara turned away, pacing for a moment as she chose and discarded possible questions. She had to be specific, ask something that could lead to all the other answers. After a moment Sara turned back to the other woman.
"Irons told me Nottingham was created from Elizabeth Bonte's stem cells, that we were related." Sara took a deep breath and crossed her arms, spreading her feet as if preparing to take a blow. "Is it true?"
"Yes. . . and no."
"At that enlightening answer Sara felt a scream of frustration rise like denied fire at the back of her throat. Could she never get a decent answer out of these people? Just when she was on the edge of a real answer they pulled back, like cats teasing a mouse."Dammit, why don't you just cut the crap and tell me what the hell is going on?" Her hands shot down to her sides, balled into fists of anger and frustration. The other wielder seemed unaffected by it, merely raising one darkly curved eyebrow at Sara.
"Its true that the man you know as Ian Nottingham was created using Elizabeth's stem cells, but that does not mean he is related to Elizabeth."
Some of Sara's anger evaporated, leaving behind the now familiar confusion. If Nottingham was created using Elizabeth's cells, then how could he not be related to Elizabeth? Sara had just opened her mouth to ask another question when the wind started up again and the edges of the horizon around them began to blur and fade. The last thing she heard before the darkness of sleep took her was the voice of the other wielder.
" Do a little research my girl. Expand your horizons, it will be good for you."
* * *
Vicki Po was sitting at her usual spot in front of a microscope down in the labs of the eleventh precinct, sipping a cup of coffee. She barely had time to look up from her notes when Sara came barging in like an agitated cougar.
"Vicki, what do you know about stem cells?" she asked abruptly, and then as Vicki opened her mouth, "And please, try to keep it as simple as you can. I think my head is going to explode if one more person says something cryptic to me this week."
Sara knew she should be asking for the lab report on the attack in the alley, but she had more important things on her mind, and Vicki could help her with a few of them. She hadn't been able to stop thinking about that dream all this morning and despite the response she knew she'd get from Danny, she'd finally decided to come into work today. She'd been told to do some research, so here she was, doing research.
"That kind of week huh?" Vicki asked with a sympathetic look over her glasses. She didn't seem to need an answer after looking Sara up and down once. She then shrugged in response to the question posed to her.
"Well its pretty basic. Cells differentiate. Lung cells, kidney cells, blood cells, they're all different. Stem cells have the possibility of becoming any type of cell."
Sara frowned, realizing that told her very little. It didn't tell her anything about any relation between Nottingham and Elizabeth Brontes. She frowned down at the Witchblade, cold and unresponsive on her wrist, and then sighed. At least it was Vicki, she'd actually give Sara a straight answer.
"So if you took stem cells from me and used them in someone else, would we be related?" she asked, figuring that was as direct to the problem as she could get without explaining way too much about her life and leaving Vicki in no doubt as to her level of sanity. Vicki frowned and made a face.
"Not really. I mean the stem cells do contain your genetic information, but it would be more like an organ transplant. If you donate a kidney to a stranger, that doesn't really make you related." She shrugged, glancing back into the eyepieces of her microscope.
Sara mulled over this answer as Vicki turned back to her notes for a moment and jotted something down. So Nottingham might not be related to Elizabeth Brontes. She frowned slightly as a thought occurred to her. If Elizabeth's stem cells hadn't been used to clone or create Nottingham, then how the heck had they been used?
"Why, did someone ask you to donate some stem cells? I wouldn't recommend it, it's a pretty painful process." Vicki asked, making another face as she did so. Sara smiled for the first time that day, even if it was a wry sort of a smile.
"No, I just had some questions. I figured I'd go to my favorite girl in a lab coat. One more thing though."
"Shoot." Vicki said, taking another sip of her coffee.
"Why would you transplant stem cells?" It was the only other possibility, but she couldn't figure out why it would have been done. It was Vicki's turn to frown.
"Transplant stem cells? You mean augmentation? Well in theory you could do it for anything really, although they would be most useful in repairing nerve endings."
The witchblade warmed on her wrist, making the blood running through her fingers tingle.
Listen
"Nerve endings?" Sara repeated. Vicki seemed to take it as a question and began explaining as she took another look into her microscope.
"Yeah, they don't really regrow by themselves, so you use stem cells instead." She looked up and shot Sara a smile, and Sara returned it, slowly nodding to herself. It wasn't exactly what she was looking for, but she'd file it away for later use.
"Nerve endings. . .Thanks Vick. I'll call you later in the week and we'll get that drink we've been talking about forever." They had been talking about it for a long time Sara reflected, glancing down at the coffee cup her friend had been drinking from all this time. That bottle she'd seen in the trash last time. . .
"Yeah, I've heard that one before. Don't work too hard Pez." Vicki laughed, shaking her head as she turned back to her work. Sara smiled at her and turned towards the door.
She stopped short when her eyes met with black ones. Vicki let out a startled gasp behind her.
Nottingham.
He took a step back from her, his eyes lowering in submission as Sara tried to calm her breathing. Jesus Christ, did he ever make more noise then a damn shadow?
"Hello Sara." His voice was dark and smooth as always, teasing in its own way. He knew he'd startled her. She frowned at him slightly.
"Nottingham. What brings you here?" She tried to keep her voice cold, but she was more then a bit curious. It was a unsettling. Nottingham had never come to the precinct last time. She knew she shouldn't expect everything to stay the same, not when she planned to change so much on her own, but it would have been nice to at least be able to know what Irons and Nottingham were up to.
"Mr. Irons wishes to extend to you an invitation. A special charity event to be held this Friday." he said. She arched one dark eyebrow at him, her hands on her hips as she faced him. So Irons was getting Nottingham to ask her out now? Interesting.
"I'm pretty busy here at work Nottingham-" She began, already hearing the weird sounds of protest Vicki was making in the background. She'd probably put together the words 'Mr. Irons', 'charity event' and 'Friday' and realized exactly who and what they were talking about. News about the upcoming AIDS benefit had been plastered on the newspapers since its announcement weeks ago. Sara couldn't imagine Vicki thinking going to an event with Kenneth Irons was a bad thing.
"He had hoped you might take this opportunity to explore your common interests." His words were suggestive, and his eyes trailed to her right wrist as he spoke, clarifying the message for her. Irons was inviting her to discuss the Witchblade.
There was the tantalizing trail she'd come to expect of Irons. Throw out the lure and watch the wielder come running. Sara took a deep breath. Alright, so she might have to keep Irons busy. As much as she hated the idea, as long as he thought he was in control of the situation then she could stay on top of his activities. She might even get the chance to bring his operation down around his ears. Sara smirked at the thought.
"I'll think about it."
Nottingham nodded once and then turned as if to leave. As he did so Vicki got a good look at him and leaned forward, the rack of test tubes at the end of her desk getting pushed off the edge by the papers that shifted with her. Before Sara could react, Nottingham was there, his hand cradling the rack, the liquid contents of each tube barely moving within their glass casings. Vicki gave him a smile like he was superman and had just saved her kitten as he handed them back to her.
Superman.
"Nerve endings." Sara whispered, the blood draining from her face. She turned sharply as she refocused on the world around her.
"Nottingham-" But only Vicki was there, looking around in confusion as she held the test tubes.
He was gone.
* * *
"Hear you got a hot date Friday night Pezzini." Frank Smitty raised his voice as Sara passed and she stopped short with a visible wince.
Sara shot Danny a glance out of the corner of her eye and noticed Jake looked up from his spot at the coffee machine. Both were giving her that 'And why haven't I heard about this?' look. It was nearly five and she'd been hoping against hope that she'd be able to get out of here before Vicki got the chance to pass along the conversation she'd heard this afternoon. Then she could have some time to think up a reasonable explanation as to how she knew Kenneth Irons and why he was inviting her to the charity event on Friday. She should have known better. Word got around here like nobody's business. And thats what it was: nobody's business. She turned on Smitty and glared at him. He just gave her a cheeky grin, knowing he was setting her up for a whole lot of attention she didn't want.
"Kenneth Irons' red carpet event eh Pezzini? Your moving up in the world." Sara made another face at Frank and leaned close.
"I'd kick your ass for this Smitty, but you know how lady like I am." She growled with one eyebrow raised. Smitty cleared his throat and retreated quickly, his head lowered to dodge possible projectiles. Sara glared at his back as Danny and Jake approached. Danny grinned at her, his eyebrows raised in question. Sara opened her mouth, prepared to send him running as fast as Smitty, but another voice surprised her.
"You know Kenneth Irons, Pezzini?" Bruno Dante stood behind her, his head cocked to the side and that snide look she knew so well written across his face. The expression was an insinuation in itself as to relationship he was obviously assuming between her and Irons.
Sara smiled sharply at him.
"We've got a few mutual acquaintances, similar interests. That type of thing." Let Dante think what he wanted, it would just make it that much easier to nail him and the rest of the White Bulls if he thought she was under Irons' protection. She turned to Danny and shot him a look.
"And I haven't accepted yet, so don't go making a big deal out of this."
The door to Captain Seres' office opened behind Sara and she turned to see him holding the door open, beckoning her in.
"In my office for a minute Pezzini." Everyone turned back to what they had been doing immediately after that, their heads down to avoid whatever trouble was falling on Sara. She shot Danny and Jake a wry glance for this, and Danny shrugged once before clapping Jake on the shoulder and guiding the rookie out of the line of fire. Joe gave her a stern look when she entered the office and motioned for her to close the door. Sara grimaced, knowing she was in for it. The door shut with a sharp click, and Sara turned to find Joe leaning over his desk on his knuckles.
"I want to know what the hell happened in that alley Pez." He gave her a stern look and cut her off when she opened her mouth to answer "And I don't want to hear any of that bullshit you put on the report. I'm worried about you. Two of those guys were attacked by some type of a blade."
The Witchblade hummed on her arm, warning her not to mention its existence to this man. Sara frowned and rubbed the bracelet until the feeling subsided.
"I honestly don't remember a whole lot Joe, and what I do remember doesn't make a whole lot of sense. Whatever they drugged me with was pretty strong. It was all I could do not to puke on Gallo's shoes." It was as close to the truth as she could get. She hated lying to Joe, but he wouldn't understand.
He didn't look convinced, and it was no wonder. Joe had always been second only to her dad in his ability to read when she was lying to him. It had always annoyed the hell out of her when she was a kid to walk in the door and have the truth written all over her face. She'd gotten better about hiding after Dad had died, but Joe was still Joe, and he knew something was up. She preempted further questions with one of her own.
"Maybe you could tell me something Captain. Something about engraved bullets at some of my crime scenes and cases getting closed before their solved?" She let the words hang in the air and watched the blood drain from her old friend's face. Joe glanced at the door and then walked around the desk. He took her gently by the shoulders and looked down in her face the way he had after Dad had died, when no one else had been able to look her in the eyes.
"Listen kid, I didn't bring you in here to fight. I'm just worried about you. I'm not going to be around to look after you forever." Sara smiled up at him. She already knew what he was trying to tell her. She really shouldn't be this upset about it. But that didn't stop the tightness in the back of her throat.
"You trying to tell me something Captain?" Joe smiled at her and took a deep breath.
"I'm retiring Pez." Sara looked down, trying to blink away the burning behind her eyes. She'd known this was coming. Joe had retired last time, Dante had become Captain. It was supposed to happen. She just didn't know why it had to be so hard to say goodbye. She'd always had trouble with goodbye. Probably because she'd never been able to say a proper one to either of her parents.
"Hey," Joe tilted her chin up, smiling at her. "I'm not dying here, I'm just taking it easy. Stay at home, drink a few beers, thats all."
Sara nodded, forcing breath back into her lunges and a smile onto her lips. It would be okay. He wouldn't die this time. She just had to keep her investigation of the White Bulls as quiet as possible, and Joe would live to testify. She'd keep him safe. Joe leaned in to hug her and Sara returned it tightly, the Witchblade glowing on her wrist.
She'd keep them all safe.
* * *
The wheels of her Buell screeched bellow her in an attempt to grip pavement on the sharp turn. Sara leveled out and caught the speed again, the details of the world around her blurring together once more. Only the road in front of her lay in focus, sharp and clear like the wind beating against her jacket.
Sara had managed to escape the third degree from Danny and Jake about Iron's invitation. She'd left quickly after the meeting with Joe and decided to take the long way home. She needed to think. She needed to plan. It was the only way she could keep her friends safe. The Witchblade glowed brightly on her wrist, casting its red light on her as she took the turns fast and sharp.
She needed to build a case on the White Bulls. Jake could probably help her there, but she wanted to have as much evidence as possible before going to him. It wasn't that she didn't trust him, it was that she didn't want this dragging out. The longer this dragged out the more danger it put her and her friends in. Joe hadn't survived last time, and Gabriel. . .Sara took another turn sharply, the protest of the tires screaming into the silence of the back road. She didn't like to think about Gabriel. She still had nightmares about the look in his eyes, that silent plea for help. . .
She already knew where she could get most of the information. She'd have to be patient about gathering it, when being patient was the last thing she wanted to do. Dante already had his eye on her, and any hint that she knew he was dirty would mean trouble. Sara's hands tightened on the handles of her bike, the knuckles turning white. The only good news was Dante's interest in her connection with Kenneth Irons. Sara was sure she could use that to her advantage somehow, but it meant spending time with Irons. On her list of least favorite things to do, spending time with Irons was right next to getting stabbed in the back. Oh wait. It was the same damn thing.
Sara grimaced to herself and took a deep breath as she pulled into her spot. She glanced down at the Witchblade once before she cut the engine and kicked down the stand. No signs of danger. She pulled off her helmet and headed for her apartment.
She was getting a little frustrated, that was all. Maybe it was knowing she'd be stuck biting her tongue and cow towing to killers for the next few months. Maybe it was the dreams about the past. Or maybe it was the visions, voices and the half answered questions about Nottingham and the other wielder. Sara chucked her helmet and jacket in their usual spots and collapsed into her couch. After she kicked off her boots her attention was pulled to the glow of the stone on her wrist, and she sighed tiredly.
At least she'd gotten some answers today.
The Witchblade enhanced the senses. It physically changed a wielder who had passed the Pariculum. Strength, speed, the power to heal wounds that would kill another, and veritable immortality. These were the gifts of the Witchblade. Elizabeth Brontes had been changed by the Witchblade. Her stem cells contained unique genetic information that allowed her to possess these and a host of other abilities. Sara looked down at the veins of her wrist, dark blue lines bellow skin encased by the metal of the Witchblade. She traced one of the dark paths with her finger, the sound of her heartbeat overpowering the silence of her apartment.
It was all in the blood.
Elizabeth Bronte's stem cells enhancing Nottingham's nerve endings, and god knows what else. Add to that a few of those Black Dragon superman cocktails and you had yourself a human weapon. Somehow he also possessed the blood of the other line of wielders. He was more deeply connected to the Witchblade then she'd thought. It explained a lot. Why she heard the voices so clearly around him, perhaps even why the Witchblade refused to work against him.
The Witchblade wanted her to know this for some reason.
What all of this didn't explain was Nottingham's connection to the other wielder. His blood ties to her had started this mess. Had Irons stolen that woman's genetics as well? Sara curled up on the couch, one finger tracing the stone as she searched her sleepy mind for the answers. Her eyes drifted closed, and in the silence of the room before sleep took her she heard one final whisper.
He always had an eye for a fine brood mare.
The dream scape rushed in on Sara. Trees on a desert plane and the shadows of pre-dawn filled her vision. She turned to find the other wielder behind her. Her dark eyes were downcast, her hands held behind her back, but a smile played at the corners of her full mouth. It was a familiar position of subservience, but it didn't belong on this woman. With a sharp rush, everything clicked together.
"Nottingham, he's-" The other wielder met her eyes as Sara spoke that name, the smile coming to full bloom on her lips. She inclined her head at Sara once.
"My son . . .and yet, not really my son."
Sara shook her head, not sure if she really wanted to know all this. Nottingham was an heir to the Witchblade.
"Irons used your genetic information and Elizabeth Bronte's stem cells to try and create his own wielder. . ." The other woman made a 'tut 'sound, shaking her head at Sara playfully.
"Not only my genetic information Sara. I may pride myself on many things, but it takes two to make a child." Her voice was playful and her eyes flashed with amusement as she spoke. Sara took a step back, her brow furrowing in confusion. She'd thought Irons had only been using this woman's genetics, but she was implying. . .
"You mean you and. . .Irons?" The other wielder laughed, the deep sound very much like a large cat purring. She turned and began to circle Sara casually.
"Don't sound so surprised darling. Kenneth Irons can be, and has been, many things in order to get his hands on the Witchblade. Kind, seductive, charming, and cruel. He is not an easy man to love, but surely an exciting one." She smiled again, but this time it was distant, as if she were remembering. For a moment Sara felt lightheaded and the echo's of distant voices teased at the edge of her awareness. The feeling faded quickly and the other wielder was watching her once again.
"You fight the Witchblade." She whispered, as if sad. Sara ignored the comment as the wind around them began to pick up. She recognized the signs immediately and turned back to the wielder.
"What's your name?" She asked, raising her voice to be heard over the tempest.
To name is to know. To know is to control. . . Sara.
The woman smiled, the wind around her almost drowning out the words as the dream scape faded into darkness.
"Diana Nottingham."
This time consciousness returned quickly, the world coming into a sharp, quiet focus as her eyes flew open. Her apartment was dark save for the moonlight poring in from the windows and the soft glow of the Witchblade faded away before her eyes. It left her in silence with the sound of her heartbeat and the knowledge that she wasn't alone in her apartment.
Without another thought she called the Blade as she flew out of the bed, bringing it to the throat of her enemy. In the moment when it should have savaged its way through his flesh and tasted his blood, the Blade retreated as if it had never been called at all.
Nottingham
* * *
NEXT CHAPTER: Sara puts Ian on the path to discovering who he is. Irons continues his attempts to seduce Sara, and the Black Dragons attack.
Author's Note, the Second: My thanks to everyone who has reviewed. You all don't know how much it helps me to see your responses. I'm glad to see your all enjoying my efforts so far, and I'm sorry again for the wait. For progress reports on future updates please refer to my bio here at FanFiction.net. I've been updating it periodically to let people know how the new chapter is going.
While I love Sara, there aren't enough interesting women in the Witchblade world. Dominique Boushere came close, but was killed before she actually reached 'interesting'. Perhaps the producers felt another strong woman in the show would detract from Sara? Whatever the case, don't be surprised when you see new characters popping up here and there and old characters explored more fully. Some of these characters will be female, some male. Some will be good, some will be bad. All will play their parts in the web of the Witchblade.
Sorry to Jake fans who were looking for more about him and his new 'partner'. I changed my mind mid-stride due to a few new ideas that sprang up the other night, and because of that Jake's part in the storyline wont come in until later (Chapter Four Jake Fans). I'm sure you'll all like it when it gets here. Interesting times for poor Jake are ahead.
To those who asked: Yes, I will be bringing in Conchobar and Gabriel. Sara's got her reasons for waiting. Those two will both appear in later chapters and have their own secrets to reveal and be revealed. I know a lot has been very similar up until now, but less and less will be the same as we go on. Things are about to get wildly different. New and old villains will appear, and there will be a death Sara isn't expecting. . .