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Summary: Sara saves Conchobar with help from Ian. But did it cost Ian his life?
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I don’t own anything dealing with Witchblade, just a fan who wanted to see things happen a little differently.

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Sara lay in bed awake staring in awe the way the moonlight crept into her darkened apartment, illuminating the few areas of the room, and leaving the rest in shadows.

‘Shadows,’ she thought.

She knew that he would have been there watching over her. She knew he would have been there to protect her like he always did. Yet, she also knew he was not there. What she knew was that he had risked his life to help her save John (Conchobar) from those Irish kidnappers.

‘Had it only been 48 hours since the kidnapping?’ Sara wondered to herself.

Two days of knowing he wasn’t around. Two days of not knowing where he was or could be. There were times she had thought Nottingham was there in the shadows. Ready to come out and annoy her with one of his cryptic messages. Then it would hit her, the lethal and loyal, Ian Nottingham was gone. Unsure if he was alive or even dead. The latter made her shake with uncertainty. She knew the man went beyond the limits to protecting himself. She was even sure the man could dodge and even catch bullets with his hands. However, a small pang in her heart told her other wise.

It felt strangely odd that he wasn’t there. Nottingham had become a part of her life whether she wanted him to or not. The security he had given her, it felt nice to be the one being protected and not the other way around. And rather or not she cared to admit the sense of being wanted and protected with such vigilance and passion.

‘Was it wrong to lie in bed next to your lover and yet continuously thinking about him?’

‘Why am I thinking about him?’

‘I don’t even like the guy!’

‘Do I?’

“Maybe deep down you really do like him,” A male voice quickly snapped her out of her train of thought.

“Jesus, Danny! Give a girl a warning next time.” Sara felt her pulse quicken as her dead partner appeared before her.
       
“Sorry Pez” Danny said with a hint of amusement.

Sara swung her legs over the edge of the bed, standing to face her partner. Holding back the urge to hug him. Knowing full well that was impossible.

“So what’s bothering you, partner?” Danny questioned.

Sara looked over her shoulder making sure John was still asleep. She didn’t want to explain about Danny. It was bad enough she was awake in the middle of the night talking to her dead partner, but to be awake and insane was another thing.

“I want to know why half the time I’m thinking about…Nottingham?” For the past two days he was all she could think about. She had even dreamt about him.

“Its pretty obvious you care about the man, Pez.” The corners of his mouth slightly rose trying hard not to smile.

Sara quirk her eyebrows at Danny.

“Danny, I can’t stand the guy. Always lurking around in the shadows, following me everywhere I go, speaking in riddles, and @#%$. Which by the way is annoying” Sara pointed a finger at Danny as she spoke those last words. This time Danny couldn’t help but smile.

“And you think I care about the guy?!”

“You forgot to add that you become a bitch every time he’s around.”

Sara’s jaw dropped and her eyes narrowed on Danny. She would have kicked his ass if he wasn’t already dead. About to protest, “I do not…”

Danny interrupted before she could finish, “Oh don’t try to deny it, Pez. Every time he’s around you get all defensive. He practically cringes every time you open your mouth. You know your little assassin has feelings too.”

“First of all he’s not mine and secondly he has no feelings, Danny. The man is a hired killer and not to mention Kenneth Irons’ lapdog.”

She tried to continue but Danny raised a hand to stop her from saying any more.

“Sara,”

Sara knew by tone he used to say her first name, Danny was either fed up with her or what ever he was going say was important enough to grab her attention.

“What?” Sara stood there and listened. “I think its time you know more about Ian Nottingham before making any judgments. Remember every thing is not as it seems.”

This was too much for Sara to take. Sitting back down on the bed, she buried her face in her hands. ‘She didn’t want to get to know Nottingham’ –or did she?

“Distance tests the endurance of a horse; time revels a man’s character.”

“What the hell is that suppose to mean?” Sara muttered.

“Danny?!”

He was already gone when she finally looked up. Typical. That was the other annoying thing. What is it with these guys, appearing out of nowhere, with their mystic mumbo jumbo, and disappearing acts?

‘It’s funny how Danny and Nottingham actually had some thing in common.’ She mused.

Sara looked down at her clasped hands; her eyes widen realizing then she did not have the Witchblade. Sara vaguely remembers leaving the warehouse, but she was sure she had left the blade behind. She was so out of it she really didn’t think about getting it back from that Fiona woman. All she cared about was saving John and getting out alive.

‘So how the hell was it possible to still see Danny?’

‘Its official I’m crazy’ Sara thought to herself.

No Witchblade yet still able to communicate with Danny? ‘Confusion tolerance my ass’
She needed to get some sleep. Sara sighed as she looked over to her alarm clock 1:30 A.M. ‘Great not only am I crazy, I only have a few hours of sleep left before I have to get to work’. Maybe this time since losing the Witchblade she could get a few decent hours of sleep. No more haunting dreams or visions. Sara leaned back onto her pillow.

With a flash she was there in that abandoned warehouse, fighting together with Nottingham. She was there trying to protect John and Nottingham was there protecting her. Yet, the dream took a bizarre twist. Instead of living the nightmare, she watched from the sidelines, as if she was watching one of those drama cop shows on television. This time seeing things, she never would have noticed since her only concern was for John.

She watched at how close she came to losing John. Fiona, the woman she gave the Witchblade to, stood above John’s body ready to plunge the blade into his heart. “NOOO!” Sara’s scream echoed in the abandon warehouse. Then suddenly something went wrong; just as Fiona was about to push the blade through John, it froze in place. It would not move an inch and it wouldn’t let Fiona go. At that moment, it gave Sara the opportunity to empty five rounds into that Irish wench.

“FIONA!”

Sara watched, as Sean, the leader, emerged behind a few wooden creates. Her other-self hadn’t noticed him, she was too focused on John and Fiona.

He raised his gun, aimed at her, and fired. Suddenly time slowed down. She watched as the bullet made its way to her other-self. Her eyes widen, watching as Nottingham appeared out of nowhere and placed himself in front of the bullet. The impact pushing him back, landing him besides John. Time returned to normal as Ian pulled out a gun and shot Sean in the heart. While at that exact same moment her other-self was finishing off Fiona.

She had no way of knowing he was injured. Damn it, the man is a hired assassin, a witness stated that the man could catch bullets with his bare hands, and bodyguard to the most egocentric man in New York, Kenneth Irons, that alone should make him a bad ass.

The other-Sara quickly rushes over to John, freeing him of his restraints and helping him to his feet. Still, unaware of Ian lying besides them with blood slowly flowing out of his wound. It was until he spoke that the other-Sara noticed he was there at all.

“Go Sara, take your lover and go,” Ian demanded as he slowly, even for him, got up from his kneeling position. Before leaving he gently took a hold of her hand, looking up from his bowed head and staring deeply into her eyes. Ian had no idea why he chose this moment to tell her. May be the fact that he just may die here or may be since saving her lover his only chance of ever becoming inseparable with the wielder had been lost. Such sacrifices had an even greater consequence.

*I love you, Sara. It’s the one thing he can’t control*

She gasped at his confession and realized he hadn’t spoken the words aloud. He was there in her mind, professing his feelings. Her eyes widen in confusion, she began to speak but the words were caught in her throat, and all she could do was stare at him.

“C’mon baby, we have ta go! I can hear the cops getting closer!” Sara turned to look at John as he grabbed her other hand. When she turned back Ian was gone. Quickly, she swept the area of the abandon warehouse, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. Nothing. She was frozen, she couldn’t move.

“SARA!” Jake’s voiced snapped her out of her trance.

Sara watched her other-self leave the warehouse with John and Jake. Not once looking back to see if Ian was still there. Sara made her way over to the spot Nottingham had landed. She could see the pool of his blood. Nottingham had placed himself in front of a bullet that was meant for her. He saved her life. It wasn’t the first time he had saved her ass, but it was the first where he got hurt doing so.

Sara looked up and was surprised as Nottingham stepped out of the shadows, his once graceful moves not evident. His movements were slower and staggered. He knelt down to retrieve the Witchblade from the lifeless wrist of, Fiona, the pretender. He stared into the red stone of the Witchblade. It glowed back, as if it was speaking to him. No words were said, but Sara continued to watch Ian. He took his hood along with the skycap from his head. Dark locks covered his face as he bowed his head to the Witchblade and what appeared to be making, what? An oath? She was not sure. He stood and to her surprise faced her. As if they were there together in that warehouse, not some dream. For the first time he had not bowed his head or averted his eyes. He boldly looked deeply into her eyes. The pain and anguish she seen in those eyes was unmistakable.

It may have been her dream, but it was Sara who averted her eyes, the intensity in those dark eyes had captured her heart. All that lost passion coming from a man like, Ian Nottingham. He seemed to be looking straight into her soul. She couldn’t pull herself to look at him again. It was all too much for her to take. Instead, she concentrated on the wet spot on his sweater. He was shot, probably bleeding to death, and all he could do was stand there, and stare at her.

He stood so close to her she swore she could feel his body heat. Sara could feel the hot tears, she never knew she had, roll down her face. Wait! Your not supposed to feel in your dreams. This was a dream, right? Right! So, if she took her hand and placed it over his wound she wouldn’t be able to feel the solid form of his chest, the warmth of his blood, or the heat of his body.

Sara took the chance, eyes still averted from Ian’s; she raised her hand and covered the wound with her right palm. This was way beyond confusion tolerance. She could actually feel his body, the warmth, the blood, and even the beating of heart. Sara froze as she watched Ian place the Witchblade back on her wrist. The red stone swirled in approval and began to intensify. The room began to grow an eerie red. The warehouse had disappeared; the presence of death was gone. As if the red glow had engulfed them in a protective cocoon. The only ones that mattered at that moment were there in each other’s arms.

Placing a gloved finger under her chin, he gently spoke, “Sara, look at me.” For once she acquiescently complied.

Sara gasped as she watched the tears roll down his face. Here a man who she thought was void of any real emotions was crying. Why? Finally green and caramel eyes locked with each other. At that moment, Sara, realized the real reason he would never look at her, head always bowed.

Danny once told her, “The eyes are the windows to a person’s soul.” She never quite understood what he meant until now. Ian Nottingham held so much raw emotions in those dark eyes.

“The Witchblade seems pleased that it has been returned to its rightful owner.”

“Ian….” she whispered.

“Shh….” Ian lightly placed a gloved finger across her lips.

“Sara, the blade was angry at you for abandoning it to that Irish pretender. Irons being right about one thing, the blade was jealous of your involvement with your lover.” Ian looked away as he said the last word. Still not looking at her, Ian continued.

“The blade would have surely punished you, by taking your lover’s life.”

“Why? He hasn’t done anything” Sara still could not understand how a piece of metal and stone feel at all let alone feel jealous.

Ian didn’t say anything; maybe he wasn’t to sure himself. There were still so many mysteries surrounding the Witchblade. The web it so cleverly weaved, the connections, everything. Yet he knew there were always a reason the Witchblade toys with the souls around it. Why? Kenneth once told Sara that only the true wielder could know all the secrets of the Witchblade. Until she learns to control the blade they were left in the dark.

“Either you’re not telling me something or you really don’t know. So what is it Nottingham?”

“I don’t know.”

‘Good for the first time he was just as confused as I am,’ Sara thought.

“It’s obvious the blade didn’t take his life, why?”

“Because I sacrificed mine instead. My blood was spilt protecting you, the true wielder.”
Ian knew by risking his life for her the blade would see Sara to be a worthy vessel. And upon passing the Periculum, which he knew she would, the blade will no longer consider to abandon her. To finally reveal the secrets it held within. He had so much to tell her but by some force of will –his, -Irons, or even –the Witchblade he could not.

Sara could only stare at Ian’s bowed head.

“The blade evidently agreed, by giving you the chance to kill that Irish wench.”

Sara recalls the instant satisfaction she got when she emptied five rounds into that bitch.

“Why did you risk you life for me?” the words came out as a whisper. Deep down she knew why. She needed to hear it once more to be sure.

Ian returned his gaze, caressing the side of her cheek with his gloved hand. All the while slowly lowering his lips to hers.

“I love you, Sara. Like the Witchblade, I am back where I belong.”

Tears began to well in her eyes as he professed his love for her once more. Their lips merely a breath apart. “My heart, my love, the very essence of my soul has and will always belong to you.”

Sara leaned in as Ian finally closed the distance of their parted lips. Their need for each other was evident in their kiss. Their passion surged through their bodies like electricity. Bodies molded perfectly together, as if they were meant for each other. Sara wrapped her arm around his neck, pulling him closer. While her other palm, still remained, placed over his chest.

The blade began to glow once again. Unknown to them both the Witchblade had made a choice. Ian pulled Sara flushed against his body. The feel of his solid form against hers sent shivers down her spine. She wanted so much more from him. The kiss deepened as Sara delved her tongue into his mouth. The unique taste and feel could only belong to Ian Nottingham, something that was strangely familiar.

Suddenly his taste seemed to be different, the passion was no longer there. Even the feel of him was beginning to change. Sara opened her eyes to find herself back in her apartment, on her bed, and kissing someone not Ian. She pulled back to see Irish eyes looking back at her.

“Morning baby,” John’s sleepy Irish voice pulled Sara back into reality.

Sara looked over to her alarm clock; it was 5:45 A.M. She needed to get ready for work. Though, what she really needed was a cold shower and a moment to get her bearings. The dream was too real for her liking. It left her confused, unsettled, and far more, wanting.

“Is something wrong, Sara?” She didn’t want John to see the disappointment in her eyes. She decided to cover it up. “I just have to get ready for work or Jake will have my head for being late again.” She said with a weak smile. Before he could protest to her leaving Sara was already out of bed and headed for the bathroom. Firmly closing the door behind her, closing her eyes she leaned her forehead against the door. ‘Just breath’, opening her eyes she stared at the closed door.

With a sigh Sara hurriedly undressed and hopped under the cold sprays of water.
She raised her fingers, lightly touching her lips. Those same lips that kissed Ian in her dream, those same lips that still tingled from *his* not John’s kiss. Warmth suddenly hit her; she couldn’t understand why she didn’t see it, why she hadn’t felt it on her earlier. The Witchblade was back on her wrist. “But how?”

Then Ian’s voice ran in her mind.

“The Witchblade is pleased that is has been returned to it’s rightful owner.” Ian placing the blade backs on her wrist.

“Like the Witchblade, I am back were I belong.”

Sara couldn’t take this anymore, she needed some answers soon and there was only one person who could tell her.

“So where the hell is Ian Nottingham?”

Fin?

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