Sara looked down at the Witchblade as it hissed to life. It stayed in bracelet form so she drew her gun as she quietly unlocked the door to her apartment. She glanced over the interior, nothing seemed out of place. Wait, the window was opened. "Nottingham! Where the hell are you?" The damnable man had preoccupied her thoughts for most of the day. She had not laid eyes on him for several days, of course that didn't mean he wasn't there melted into the shadows watching her. But it was odd that he had not made some sort of contact. "Look, I've had a pissy day and I'm not in the mood for your games." She stalked around the bedroom, this wasn't like him at all, usually that silky voice would have purred out her name and a cryptic comment by now. "Nottingham?" She walked to the window, the blade hissed and glowed an angry red as she looked at his usual perch, the fire escape. No sign of him, she closed the window and turned to survey the room again. She couldn't shake the sense that something was terribly wrong but also could not put her finger on it. She headed for the sofa, if he's here he'll come out when he's ready, I'm not going to cater to his whims. "Fine, be that way." Sara had almost made it when she tripped over something very large lying next to the sofa. She fell to the floor knocking over her favorite reading lamp. She rolled off the lump that had tripped her as well as broken her fall. The lump groaned softly. Sara lunged for the lamp praying the bulb was still intact, it was. The light revealed an unconscious Ian Nottingham on the floor. His breathing was shallow. "Nottingham?" Shaking she tentatively shook his arm. "Hey wake up....." She pushed him on his back noting the large lump on his left temple. "Somebody got you good." She went to the kitchen grabbing a towel and some ice. She turned to see Danny looking down sadly at Ian. "Any chance you know what happened to him, Partner?"

"No, Pez, but you better get him outta here, he's in deep trouble."

"What do you mean?" Her cell rang loudly at that moment. Danny vanished. "What?"

"Detective Pezzini" Her heart clenched at Irons' silky voice, she looked down at Ian.

"What is it Mr. Irons?"

"Have you seen my Ian?" She cringed at his possessive tone.

Turning her back on the unconscious form in front of her, "no, in fact I was just wondering if you had returned your little pet back to the macabre zoo where you found him."

Irons laughed, amused by her attempts to lie to him. "Humph, well if you do see him, do send him on his way."

As soon as the phone clicked off Sara could clearly see Irons turn to a man dressed in black, with clenched teeth he grated out, "he's there, go and get him, bring him here. He will pay for his insolence and disloyalty."

She stuffed the phone in her jacket and knelt at the prone form. "Nottingham, come one wake up, I gotta get you outta here." She grabbed a half empty glass of water off the table and threw it in his face. That roused him a bit.

"Wha?"

"GET UP! We gotta go. Irons is sending someone over here for you."

He looked up at her quizzically not understanding but he obeyed. "Sara? What happened?"

"I don't know, one foot in front of the other." He stumbled "Come on man, I've seen you jump off roofs and dodge bullets, you gonna let a little thing like a bump on the head stop you?"

He stiffened and stood a bit straighter. She led him down the back stairs and to her car. He collapsed in the passenger side as soon as she opened the door. She drove around aimlessly for a few minutes just in case they has a tail. She hadn't see one. Sara felt a shudder run through Nottingham. "Hey" she reached out and touched his shoulder. No response. "What am I going to do with you?" She instinctively knew a hospital was out of the question. Irons could track that too easily. An image flashed before her eyes, her as a child playing near a lake, her father and Joe Siri fishing.....the cabin. At least that would give them a place to lay low until she could get a handle on this situation.

The witchblade hissed and moaned the entire trip out of the city, when she hit the highway it settled down. "What the hell?" She looked at it pointedly...."damn thing." The cabin was about an hour out of the city. She stopped to gas up the car, get some supplies, and check on her passenger who was still unconscious.

Sara happened to look at the clock when they pulled up to the cabin. 11:11. What was it with that number. "Be right back, Sleeping Beauty"

The key was where it had always been, under the 4th brick. Good old Joe she smiled, a killer's worst enemy but a burglar's best friend. She opened the door and felt around the wall for the breaker box. Hopefully there would be electricity. She flipped the switch and the walkway lights lit shown weakly. Opening the door to the bedroom she turned on the light and pulled the covers back. Now for Nottingham she thought. It took some struggling but she finally got him out of he car up the walk and onto the bed. "Never has the term dead weight applied itself so well," she muttered to herself. She unlaced his boots, jumping back as she unknowingly tricked the curved blade out the sole. "Damn. Gotta get me a pair of those." She dropped the heavy boots to the floor. She finally looked at the man that lay on he bed. During the struggle to get him in the cabin his stockingcap had fallen off and his usually qued back hair had fallen in unruly waves around his face giving him an angelic childlike innocence. Of its own accord her hand palmed his cheek then she ran her fingers through her hair. It was then she noticed the blood. Where had that come from. There was just a knot on his temple no cut. She stripped off his overcoat rolling him to his stomach, he groaned. She smelled blood, a lot of it. His coat was damp from it and his sweater and undershirt were soaked. The Witchblade roared to life extending the blade slightly. She cut his sweater and coat off him gasping in horror as she saw the wounds that covered his back. She felt nauseous as she brushed the tips of her fingers over the only unmarred bit of skin. She saw his chained, shirtless and could hear a buzzing in the background. Then Irons's voice. "You have become exceedingly disobedient Ian. I taught you better than that. You WILL do this for me."

She could not make out Iron's face but could clearly see Ian's, "I will not." was his quiet answer. Then she heard the lashes and his pained hazel eyes looked straight through her before he lowered his head to accept his punishment.

"Jesus, Nottingham, what has he done to you." Sara went to the bathroom and gathered up what few medical supplies she could find, alcohol, peroxide, gauze, and luckily a good supply of neosporin. She sat on the edge of the bed hands shaking as she cleansed his wounds with warm water and peroxide. Cleaned to her satisfaction she took a deep breath, time to disinfect. "I hope your out cold for this one." She poured the alcohol on his back, he surged up grabbed Sara by the neck and pinned her to the bed. His eyes widened in surprise and he quickly released her. "Sara, I'm sorry..." Head bowed in shame and pain.

"Its ok. If I had been in your shoes you'd probably be dead right now. But I didn't know what else to do." She hated that she had caused him more pain than he had already suffered. "Turn around, let me finish."

"Lady Sara, you need not tend to me."

"And how would you manage? Just be still while I put this ointment on and bandage you up. Hands over your head." He could be so annoying at times.

Confusion showed in his eyes. "What?".

"Hold up your arms. That blow to the head really addled you didn't it?"

He nodded and complied. Sara began wrapping the thin strips of gauze around his chest. "Is this to tight?"

"No, its fine. Thank you Lady Sara."

"Cut the Lady Sara crap, Nottingham." That title of reverence annoyed her. "You want some aspirin?"

"No. I'll be alright."

"Irons can pump you full of black dragon meds but no aspirin huh?" His disregard and nonchalance for what had happened to him pissed her off.

Anger flashed in his eyes as they met hers, "no more drugs of any kind." His gaze quickly lowered.

Sara touched his arm, "I'm sorry, I didn't think."

"You tend not to when your angry, Sara. You should keep your temper under more control."

"Like Irons controls his?" Ian paled slightly, chin to chest. Sara pushed herself off the bed and stormed out the back door. She didn't stop until she had made it to the lake.

"Tortured souls know no rest." Danny appeared staring out at the black glassy water.

"Not now Danny."

"You won't help him by abusing him further."

"He's an assassin, reported to have caught bullets in his hand, he was elite special forces. My god Danny did you see what he let Irons do to him? He could have DIED from those wounds." She didn't know who she was angrier at, Irons for doing this or Ian for allowing it.

"He's a victim of chronic abuse, Pez, you see it every day. But all the physical abuse that Irons throws at him doesn't do half the damage you do with mere words."

The expression of utter dejection on his face when she callously called him a freak flashed before her eyes. Now she was more disgusted with herself than anything

"What are you trying to say Danny?"

"Go make nice with your assassin friend. He's been through more than you'll ever know." He pointed towards the cabin and faded away.

Sara watched the water a bit longer trying to stave off her temper. Ian was right she needed to control it more but it raged when an innocent was harmed and much to her dismay the killer waiting for her in the cabin was very much an innocent
She made her way back to the cabin, she could just make out the white of his bandages in the stillness of the black night. "You should be in bed."

He was leaning rather weakly against the post. "I wanted to make sure your were alright."

Sara shook her head at the ever gallant knight. "Come on, lets get you to bed, I don't think I can drag you back in there again, you are a lot heavier than you look."

She wrapped his arm around her shoulder and helped support him back into the house and led him into the bedroom and sat him on the bed. "Lay down, get some rest."

He remained still, studying the floor as usual. Minutes passed as they sat in companionable silence before he softly spoke, remorse dripping from his voice. "I shouldn't have brought you into this. I am not sure how I ended up at your apartment. You should not help me. I am sorry."

"Where else would you have gone, huh?" She was sure Irons allowed him no friends, at least not any that could aid him in any type of escape. Ian's shoulders slumped even lower and guilt wracked Sara. She gently pulled him to her in a hug. "Look, we'll figure this all out tomorrow, right now you need to get some rest, you lost a good bit of blood." He nodded.

"I am tired."

She helped him lay down and tucked the covers up around his chin. "You've got a pretty nasty concussion, so I'm going to have to wake you up periodically."

"I will be fine, you need not fret over me, Lady....Sara."

Fret? "Brace yourself Nottingham, because I'll be fretting over you for several days." She said mildly amused half waiting for a protest but he was already asleep.

She brought in the supplies then stretched out beside Nottingham, jokingly looked at the Witchblade and told it to wake her in an hour. Whether it was the blade or her own internal clock she woke up hourly and pestered Ian awake. "What is your name?"

He fought to see through the haze in his mind, "Sara?"

"Wrong answer? I need your name."

"Ian."

"Ian what"

"Nottingham."

"Who am I?"

"Lady Sara."

"Do you know where you are?"

"You haven't told me."

"Good, you can go back to sleep now." She considered pumping him for more information, there was so little she knew about him but decided that would be unfair. After repeating this process for 3 more hours Sara fell into a deep sleep. She was awakened by Ian thrashing around. She turned on the bedside lamp.

"Ian." She shook him gently, "Wake up." She brushed a lock of hair from his face, he radiated heat. "God, you are burning up." Given the amount of trauma done to his back she should not have been surprised at a fever but this was Nottingham who until now she had thought invincible. He began muttering, she could not make out what he was saying. "Ian, wake up." She shook his arm. He struck out with his other, catching Sara on the arm with his ring. "Damn!" She grabbed the offending hand and wrenched the ring from his finger and rubbed at the cut on her arm. She took off his gloves and tossed them onto the nightstand with the ring. She got up and filled a basin with cool water and began bathing his fevered brow. He hissed at the sensation but settled down a bit. "Shhhhh." Over and over she bathed his face his arms and drenched his hair, trying to bring the fever down. An hour a four basins of water later she realized that despite his vehemence about taking medication, he would have no choice. "Ian, listen."

"Mmmm?" His fever glazed eyes met hers briefly.

"Your gonna have to take something. I can't get your fever down. I'm going to crush some aspirin in water, will you take it?"

He nodded slightly.

She came back to the bed with a glass and helped him to a shaky sitting position. He drank the water willingly grimacing at the taste.

"While I've got you up, I'm going to check your back, Ok." She crawled in bed behind him. Gently as she could she unwrapped his back, the wounds were still seeping. She redressed them and trussed him up as tight as she could. "I know that hurts but we need to keep pressure on those wounds." She stretched her legs out on either side of him and pulled him back into her embrace, "just rest ok?"

He reached out and squeezed her hand tightly for a moment as if trying to covey the feelings he couldn't put into words at the moment and a brief smile showed on his face as she entwined her fingers with his and squeezed back. She traced the scars on his chest above the bandage with her other hand wondering if they had come from his training or from Irons. He shivered and she grabbed his other hand pulling both arms to his chest. Then pulled the covers over them both. She was half asleep absently running her fingers down his arms when the Witchblade hissed and roared to life. She felt the scars and lifted his hand from beneath the blanket. Deep jagged scars half circled his wrist at the base. Perpendicular to that and running up to his elbow was a more precise line. "Ian, my god."

"Man...."

She looked up tears streaming down her face to see Danny beside the bed. "I guess he tried to escape once."

"Listen to the Blade, it looks like it has a story to tell." He looked pointedly at the whirling colors.

She wrapped her Blade hand around his wrist, closed her eyes, and waited. She could hear voices and she moved towards them.

"You seem to be doing well in your studies, young Nottingham."

"Thank you. Sir." Sara could see Ian perhaps 12 or 13 years old standing with head bowed in front of Irons.

"Tell me what is your mission, why are you here."

"To protect you, Sir."

"How will you do that?"

"Have I not proven that I can fight, Sir? I have won all my matches and surpassed..."

Irons cut him off, "yes, yes you have proven yourself physically but are you prepared to sacrifice everything for me? Are you prepared to give your life for mine?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Prove it."

"Sir?" Ian looked up briefly confused trying to make sense of his masters request.

"On that table you will find a straight razor, use it."

Ian slowly walked over to the table and finger the razor realization of what was being asked of him slowly creeping in. "Sir? How can I protect you if I am dead?"

Irons struck him across the face, "you have no right to question me! Prove your loyalty."

"Sir, this is wrong."

Ian reeled from the next two blows, "You will not question me again, boy!"

Sick at heart Ian slowly drew the razors blade across one wrist then the other. His hands shaking dripping blood over the floor he held them up to Irons from approval.

Irons smirked, "that was a good try Ian, now do it correctly."

"Sir?" His voice wavered tears forming in his large eyes..

"Wrist to elbow. If you make the slits across, the blood will clot before you bleed to death. Pick up the razor and do it correctly this time."

He did as he was told, holding his arms up for inspection when he was done. "Good." Irons's clear eyes glowed almost a red as he watched to boy stand head bowed watching his own blood drip to the floor and pool at his feet. He waited until Ian swayed struggling to stay on his feet then turned his back on him and sat at his desk. Ian collapsed as Irons pressed the intercom, "Doctor? Could you please come in here, now. It appears that young Ian has done something foolish."

Sara let go of Ian's hand, struggled out from under him and ran to the bathroom vomiting until nothing was left. "You ok, Pez?

"Danny. How could he do that to a child?"

Danny shook his head, "I don't know."

"I'll kill him the next time I see him. He won't get away with this."

"That's not going to help, Ian. His past is his to bear, you just needed to understand how loyal he was to Irons and how hard it was for him to leave."

"But..."

"No buts, Pez, just accept it and move on. He needs you, your strength and your reassurance, your kindness." Your love, he thought but left that unspoken. She had a lot to process.

Sara returned to Ian's side. She felt his forehead, "you've still got a fever but its not as bad." She picked up his hand holding it tightly. What else have you endured in your life? "I won't let him hurt you again." She brought his hand to her lips, "that I pledge to the boy you were and the man you are. You have been my protector, my watcher, and a true friend, now I will do the same for you." Her promise spoken, she lay down next to him and slept.


Over the next 3 days Ian had fleeting episodes of lucidity, but Sara knew he was getting worse. "Danny, what do I do? You've seen his back, it isn't healing. I've done everything I know to do. Danny? Danny! Why are you never here when I need you!"

"Sara," Ian rasped.

"Hey. How you feeling?" She smiled down into his fever bright eyes, trying not to let him see how worried she was.

Barely a whisper "phone. I need my phone."

"Who are you going to call?" She had news for him, he wasn't about to call Irons.

"No one."

She gave the phone over to his shaking hand and watched in disbelief as he began dismantling it.

"What are you doing?!"

"Tracers. He began switching my phone out with one that has a tracer in it. He could track us here."

"I thought he trusted you."

"He has not for some time now."

"Since I came along?"

"Yes, he does not like my newfound autonomy." He looked thoughtfully at the phone, now in pieces, "its clean."

"Ian, I have to take you to a Doctor. You are getting worse."

"No."

"Your fever is still high, you aren't healing, and your dehydrated. If I don't take you somewhere, you'll die."

I know he thought to himself. Irons must have put something on the cat-o-nine tails that poisoned him, the fever had come on too fast. "Perhaps that would be best."

That was easier than she thought. "Ok, let me get you some clothes and we'll be on our way."

"No, I meant if I die."

Was he serious. "What!!!!" Had to be the fever talking. "Who would sit out on the fire escape and watch me? Who would slip into my apartment uninvited and walk around like he owns the place? Who would fill my fridge and cabinets with my favorite foods?" She caressed his cheek.

He didn't answer for the longest time savoring her touch. "I can not go to a doctor. He would find us."

She held up her wrist, "Can this help you?"

"I do not know. The Blade heals its weilder, but I have no idea about anyone else." He closed his eyes to shield his gaze from the distress in her eyes.

"I know you remember our pasts together, don't you know of any instance....?"

"No, Sara. You are beginning to trust your memories now?" He had been hopeful she would.

She nodded

Ians strength was waning. "You must trust the visions, They will aid you on your path. You must delve into the stone and into yourself to see what must be done. Trust the blade, it trusts you. It can give you answers you seek."
Sara watched helplessly as he sank back into the oblivion of fever. When had she begun to believe in their mutual pasts? What was she going to do? She stared into the amber eye of the Blade. It remained silent. "Come on!" She shook her wrist. "Listen, this man has survived a living Hell to serve you, help him, please." No response. Fickle bitch.

She carefully put Ian's phone back together hoping it would work, pray Gabe would answer the phone when he didn't recognize the number. Dial tone and it rang.....Yes!

"Who is this and why are you calling me?" Chirped the familiar voice.

"Gabriel, thank God!"

"Yo, Chief, where are you? No wait don't want to know. You ok?"

"I'm fine but I need some info."

"Anything for my favorite drummer girl."

Smart ass, "not now. Look you got anything on the Witchblade and healing?"

He frowned "You hurt?"

"Not me, a......" she paused, "a friend."

"Mr. Tall, dark, & scary?" There was more between those two than Sara cared to admit.

Cringing at his accessment of Ian, wishing he could understand. "Yes."

"He's in some serious trouble, Chief. He's got several hits out on him."

"WHAT?!!!" Hits on the ultimate hitman?

"Don't know why or who, but there is a whole dossier about your pal on the net."

There was a long lapse in conversation. Gabe broke the silence first, "You still there?"

"Yeah. Just check out the healing possibilities for me, ok? Call me when you find something."

"Sure thing. I got the number on ID."

Sara coaxed Ian onto his stomach and removed his bandages, the wounds remained unchanged. Restless and frustrated she decided to let the wounds air and she stalked around the cabin. "Damn, forgot the phone." As she entered the bedroom she stared in shock seeing the well manicured figure of Elizabeth Bronte gazing intently at Ian.

"Elizabeth, help him."

Elizabeth slowly turned, "all that I have given him apparently can not help him this time."

"What?"

"Kenneth infused the boy with my DNA from the moment he obtained him, hoping to turn him into a male Weilder or into someone more easily able to control the actual Weilder. One never knows Kenneth's true intentions." She arched an eyebrow, "don't look so horrified, Sara, this changes nothing between to two of you."

Sara stood dumbfounded trying to make sense of it all, twisting the bracelet nervously around her wrist. "Could the Blade heal him if he wore it?"

Elizabeth shrugged, "heal him or kill him."

Her seeming indifference enraged Sara, "don't you want to help me save him?"

She ran her gloved hand through Ian's hair, "I couldn't save him when he was mine, Sara, what makes you think I can save him now."

She made her way out the door leaving Sara to ponder those words. Sara stood in disbelief staring at the empty door frame. The phone shocked her out of her reverie. She checked the number, "please tell me you got something."

"Sorry Chief. Nothing on healing anyone other than the Weilder. I take it he's pretty bad off?"

"Yeah." She sat down beside Ian, his fever was rising again. "I don't know what to do. I can't keep his fever down, his wounds won't heal. I think maybe Irons poisoned him somehow."

"Phone," Ian said softly into the pillow.

"Hang on Gabe."

"Ian, you ok?"

"Who is that?" He turned as much as he could without help.

"Its Gabriel."

"Give me the phone, please."

Puzzled, but willing to do just about anything for him at this moment. "Gabe, here's Ian."

"Huh?" Surely he's not going to try and threaten me.

"Gabriel, there is a panel under the floor beneath the Pompeii urn. Open it and please do as I have asked." Ian's voice was weak but intent on this mission.

"No booby traps, Nottingham?"

He managed a weak smile, "No booby traps." He handed the phone back to Sara. "Promise me you will get him to see my instructions."

She could see Ian was growing weaker and more pale by the minute, "I promise."

Sara listened as Gabe shuffled things around, "You find it Gabe?"

"Yeah, how bad off is he?"

"Why?" She didn't like the sound of that.

Reading the letter outloud.

Gabriel,

In the event of my death, please make sure these disks are sent to INTERPOL. They are packaged and ready to go just messenger them. Please watch over Lady Sara for me (as much as she will allow it). I apologize for placing you in danger with this request but you are the only person aside from Sara I can trust. Continue to walk in the light, no matter how closely the darkness looms.

Ian Christian Nottingham

"He thinks he's going to die, Chief."

"You will not die on me Nottingham! You are not going to abandon me! I won't let you," she yelled at the unconcious man.

‘There is a letter addressed to you. You want me to open it."

"No! See what is on those disks, report back, and put it all back where you found it."

"Sure thing. I let you know as soon as I have something."

Sara started to hang up the phone when she heard a loud, whoa, from Gabe. "What? You have something?"

"Yeah, there's a king's ransom in here. At least 2 million bucks in the bottom of this bag. With a note that says this is for all my troubles." What was with Nottingham, why was he doing this for him. He had done nothing but threaten him.

Concobar's ransom, Sara thought sadly.

"Chief?"

"Let me know when you have something, ok." She hung up the phone tears in her eyes. The counterfeit money was never recovered from the crime scene. Ian had taken it and given it to Irons, a vision of the bag burning in the gigantic fireplace in Irons's study played out in her mind. Him saying the money was nothing. Striking Ian across the face. Then images flooded of past abuses, Ian beaten as a young child, locked in a small dark closet for hours, strapped to a steel table large needles being inserted into his spine, chained shirtless repeated viciously whipped at different ages. "Stop, please!!!!!" She closed her eyes tightly.

The eye of the Blade began to burn hotly, angrily. She was quickly transported into a vision of her in a grey tunic brusing down a gigantic horse.

 A rider approached, "Milady, Sir Ewan has been gravely injured, come quickly!" She lept on her steed and followed Ewan's faithful servant over the moors to his adjoining manor lands. "What happened Eisley?"

"His Lordship was attacked on his way back from the village. He was thrown from Drac and dragged a good ways. The injuries from that are as bad if not worse than the ones inflicted by the sword."

Upon reaching Ewan's massive stone house, she swiftly dismounted and flew upstairs to his bedchamber. Colleen, his long time housekeeper was pressing a poultice on his back. "How is he?"

"E's worse off than I ever seen him Milady."

"Cat?" She barely heard him whisper.

"Yes, my dear friend, I am here and will not leave you."

"Drac, please check on him. He saved my life again, he dragged me to a safe vantage point. I was able to fire my crossbow and force my attackers into retreat. They tell me he is fine but I worry. Please, Cat."

"I will just as soon as I see how you are doing."

"I shall be fine once Colleen removes this wretched poultice from my back."

"You being cranky is a good sign, old friend. I believe I will go check on the Drac now."

"Check him as if he were your own, Cathain, he has a great heart."

She sat down gently beside Ewan and brushed his curly waist-length hair from his face and kissed his cheek tenderly. "It is good to see you are safe. I don't wish to lose you to foolish bandits."

He kissed her palm softly, "even in my death you will not lose me My Lady, I shall follow you through time. Our souls are so deeply intwined, we shall me in the next life and everyone there after."

Cathain smiled down at him, "you should have been a bard, Milord." She swiftly made her way to the stable. Eisley was busy brushing down Drac with a soft bristle brush.

"How is he?"

"He shall persevere. I imagine Sir Ewan sent you down to check him yourself?"
"I thought I would thank him for saving my good friend." The great black steed nickered as she scratched his head and whispered in his ear. "Thank you, I do not know what I would do without your Master." Patting him on the shoulder she turned to Eisley, "take care of him."

"I will, Milady. You best hurry on now and save Sir Ewan from Coleen's constant doting."

Cathain laughed Coleen was not doubt fretting over Ewan, worrying him to no end. He did not like being fussed over. She was not surprised to find the stout little redhead smoothing down the covers nervously. "Coleen, why don't you fix a meat broth for Milord, I shall watchover him."

"Yes, Milady, I will get Eisley to bleed one of the cows and boil some blood with it, he'll need it to regain his strength."

Cathain heard a mumbled thanks as the heavy door closed. She chuckled lightly, "I am here if you need me."


Cathain had long since fallen asleep in the great chair beside Ewan's massive bed. She had no idea how long she had been asleep when a low moan jerked her from her slumber. "Ewan?" She sat beside him on the bed, she could feel the heat pouring from him even before she touched him. She brushed his sweat drenched hair from his face, his breathing was extremely shallow and his skin entire to hot. As she reached for the cord to summon Coleen, she noticed the Llan glowing a deep red. She placed her hand on his forehead closing her eyes and willing the power of the blade into him. The blade extended and led her hand to his back.

Sara looked down in shock as the blade itself extended and glowed a bright red. It guided her arm to Ian's back. She resisted unsure of its intent until she heard Ian's soft voice in her mind, "believe in the Witchblade, it believes in you." Taking a deep breath she laid the glowing blade against the deepest cut on his back. Pulling back the blade she watched in amazement as the cut knitted and scarred before her eyes. Quickly she did the same to each of the many wounds until his back was nothing more than bare scarred skin. The Blade retracted and exhausted beyond belief Sara collapsed next to Ian on the bed.

Sara woke to find herself staring into wide hazel eyes. "You're awake." She cupped his cheek in her hand. "How do you feel?"

"Weak." He rubbed his cheek in her palm savoring her touch and the tender look in her eyes.

"You've been through a lot. And scared the crap outta me." When had this man come to mean so much to her?

"My back no longer burns."

"The Blade healed your wounds." She wasn't sure how but it had and she was more than thankful. "And I think you slept off the concussion."

"Thank you, Sara," he stated simply know that a mere thank you could not repay everything she had done for him.

Sara finally broke the prolonged silence, "why did he do this to you, Ian? You owe me that much."

"I refused orders," he said flatly.

I know the answer to this myself so why am I even asking, "He wanted you to kill me and take back the Witchblade, right?"

He nodded his bowed head, "yes." The word and hung in the air for several minutes before he spoke again. "He also wanted me to kidnap a child."

"What?" What was the maniacal bastard up to now. "Who, why?"

"The Bronte girl has had a child. He wants it." He raised his eyes to hers, "I will not take a child, if it is lucky enough to have them, from its parents. I will not harm a child or take it from a loving home. I will not allow him to do to someone else the things he did to me. I am not a complete monster, Sara." Tears glistened in his dark eyes.

She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close, "you aren't the monster, he is." Ian buried himself in her comforting embrace and wept silently.

"You did the right thing, sweetheart." Sara rocked him back and forth gently crooning unintelligible words in his soft hair. She held him tightly wishing she could erase his past and all the evils that Irons had wrought upon this gentle man. It amazed her that he had remained so pure of heart growing up under Irons thumb and guidance. What must your childhood have been like, Ian? Desolate, isolated, cold were words that came to mind. Hers had been a happy one, she had desperately loved her father who showered her with attention. His life had been her and the force. She didn't remember her mother who had died when she was very young. Had anyone ever shown any true affection for Nottingham? Had there been anyone to kiss a scraped knee or chase away closet and under-the-bed monsters? Or had Irons cut off all contact with people, making the child totally emotionally dependant upon him.

She was surprised when Ian softly said, "yes, no, and yes."

"What?"

"The answers to your questions." He pulled her close to him. "I had various caretakers and tutors but as soon as they showed me any kindness or encouraged my interaction with other children, he removed them."

How had he known. "Can you read my mind?"

"I can hear your thoughts sometimes when you project them." Just as you can hear mine.

Her eyes caught his shocked, "can I?"

Try it.

Can I? He nodded and grinned. She gasped in surprise and clapped her hands like a child.

He smiled broadly. Very good, Sara. I'm proud of you.

But how?

He reached out and stroked her cheek gently, "we are connected, you and I."

"By the Blade?" she asked, knowing his simple words to be true.

"The Blade, past lives, love....You see glimpses of our pasts in your dreams."

"Yes, but they are never clear, just fast-time images, emotions. But you remember them don't you."

"They are the only pleasure he has been unable to take away from me. I do not think he realizes how connected I am to you."

Sara thought of her earlier visit by Elizabeth, "what do you remember of Elizabeth Bronte? Well, not you, but the past you." She hoped he understood what she meant, she wasn't sure that even she did.

His brow furrowed as he closed his eyes deep in thought, "I infiltrated the Furor's ranks and was assigned to guard his Objects of Power. I first saw her when her lover brought her to the vault attempting to impress her."

"Who were you? Were you working for the Allies?"

"No, I am not sure. I had nothing to do with the war, I was there to serve the Blade, protect it." He blinked trying to make sense of the memories flooding through his mind. "I was very young, too yound I thinnk...I...I.... can not sort it out. I am sorry."

She reached out and squeezed his hand, "it's ok."

He cocked his head as an image flashed in his mind, "her lover shot me in the back."

"Was it Irons?" All things are connected.

His eyes widened in shock then narrowed as he saw the officers face in his mind, "no, it was your partner, Jake McCartey."

"What?!!" No wonder he hated Jake so much. "Are you sure?" Jake couldn't be mixed up in all this.

"Yes, Sara, I'm sure. What do you remember?"

"Nothing, absolutely nothing of her." She was the most recent Wielder before me Sara thought, I should hold her experiences closest.

"Then why did you ask?"

"She paid us a visit while you we out of it and as usual raised as many questions as she answered. She can be as cryptic as you at times." Sara paused wondering if she should open this can of worms, he might not know. "Ian, did you know Irons infused you with Elizabeth's DNA when you were a young boy?"

"She told you that?" He looked at Sara in disbelief, "I was created in Immo's lab from her stem cells." Or so Irons and Dr. Immo had told him.

"She said he obtained you when you were a young child. Why would she lie, Ian?"

Elizabeth had nothing to gain in a deception but Irons did. Ian realized quite joyfully in his heart that this was the truth, "I am not HIS creation."

"No you aren't. You don't belong to him, you are your own person." She smiled at the look in his eyes, a child on his first Christmas morning, tree lit, surrounded by presents.

"I am not his creation," he said again. Then something happened that Sara had never seen from this intensely quiet man, he threw his head back and laughed. She laughed as well, hugging him fiercely enjoying the feel of the rumbling in his chest.

He hugged her back not quite knowing what to say or do. She had saved his life, something he would have never believed in his wildest dreams. He was free, relatively, of Irons, another impossibility or so he thought. It was an emotional overload for a man who knew little of emotions. He needed to be alone, he needed time to think, to process everything that had taken place. "I need to take a shower."

"Your still weak and I am not risking you falling and getting hurt again. I'll fix you a bath."

"I can fix my own bath." He was unsure how to handle her newfound protectiveness, she had always kept him at an arms length, if not farther. No one had ever taken care of him before, at least not out of kindness anyway.

"Humor me."

He followed her down the hall to the bathroom, watching patiently as she ran the water, laid out towels, toiletries, etc. She turned to find Ian with a bemused expression on his face. "I guess you can take it from here, huh?"

He nodded, "I will be fine."

"I'll make us something to eat." She paused in the hall, "if you need me, just yell."

"I will." He stripped out of his boxers and into the steaming water, sighing with pleasure. He soaked for a while, clearing his mind of all the niggling questions that swirled around in his mind.
He meditated until Sara broke his peaceful respite. "You ok in there? Dinner's almost ready and I tossed some clothes on the door."

He jumped, realizing the water was now cool wondering how long he had been sitting there. "I'll be out in a minute." He bathed and washed his hair quickly. As he toweled off he looked at the clothes hanging on the door, various t-shirts with NYPD themes and a couple of pairs of sweatpants. No long sleeves, he peered at the scars on his wrists and arms willing them to disappear. No such luck. He was deeply ashamed of them, he had no desire for Sara to see how weak he had been. He was sure she could not sunderstand the hold Irons had on him, especially when he was a child. Dressed, he padded softly into the kitchen where Sara stood at the stove.

She turned and grinned the ultimate assassin dressed in grey NYPD sweats and a t-shirt, "Cadet Nottingham, you look ready to enter the academy."

He chose to ignore her comment, "that smells good." He looked over her shoulder at the pot she turned to stir.

"Hope you like ramen noodles & toast."

"That is fine." He was so hungry he didn't really care at this point.

"Hey, you aren't a vegetarian are you?" She hadn't thought about it before, she'd been feeding him chicken soup while he was ill.

"No. Would it be a problem if I was?"

"Whew, been feeding you chicken soup and this has chicken bullion in it. It never occurred to me until now."

"What would you feed me if I was?" He was amused at her relief.

"Peanut butter sandwiches." She handed him a plate piled with toast and noodles, "here, go sit and eat. I will warn you, I'm not much of a cook."

"Don't worry Sara, when I was training for Special Forces, they made us eat bugs." Head bowed over his plate, he cut his eyes to where she sat waiting for her response.

"Was that a JOKE, Nottingham?" She burst out laughing, "I've never heard you crack a joke before. Keep it up." It overjoyed her to see him free.

They finished their meal in companionable silence. Ian insisted on helping clean up the kitchen and dishes. He studied her as he dried dishes, "you look tired, Sara, would you like me to draw you a bath?"

She grinned at his serious tone. "A nice long soak sounds good, but I think I can manage. You still need to rest."

"I do not understand why you think the turning of a faucet can be such a strenuous chore," he smirked.

"Smart ass!" She turned on her heel and left him standing at the sink, towel in his hands.

An hour later she emerged from the bathroom yawning. The living room empty she walked back to the bedroom to find Ian asleep. She pulled the covers up and climbed in beside him laying her hand palm down over his heart, reveling in the feel of its strong steady pulse. Lulled by the content hum of the Witchblade and the beating of his heart, she slept.

The Witchblade fed the sleepers images of them in past lives, Sara in his lap in a gigantic chair before a hearth, his dark hair brushing across her breasts as he kissed her neck. Him stretched out beneath her in a field, his hands gripping her hips. Tunics cast aside falling into a large tile tub. In their sleep they turned to each other playing out the images in real life that ran through their minds. Both woke in the heat of passion, melded into one another's embrace. Sara smiled leaning over Ian and his eyes widened in shock. She pulled back a little and he touched her parted lips tentatively with his fingers. "Sara." He slowly ran the tip of his index finger over her soft lips barely touching like butterfly wings. She closed her eyes savoring the sensations Ian was creating. Unable to stand them for long she bit his finger, eliciting a gasp from deep in his chest. He tried to pull his finger away but she held it between her teeth arching an eyebrow at his astonished expression. She bit down a little harder then laved the hurt with her tongue. Their breathing had quickened and a sense of urgency filled them. More images of past instances flashed between them. Sara pulled away ripping the Witchblade from her arm and placed it on the nightstand.

"What are you doing," Ian was incredulous that she would take off the sentient bracelet.

"I want no one between us. Not Cleopatra, Joan, Elizabeth, none of the others. This is you and me, this is not their memory, it will be ours."

"I love you, Sara."

"Ian I can't tell you I love you. I truly don't know how I feel about you. All I can say is I feel a deep abiding bond between us, and I want you." Truthfully she knew she loved him, but was too frightened of losing him to tell him. She had lost way to many people she loved over the past few years.

"I understand, Sara."

The stared at on another for a long moment the Sara pulled his shirt over his head. "God you have an incredible body" She skimmed her fingernails across his chest smiling as his taunt muscles bunched under her touch. "I bet there is not one ounce of fat anywhere on you." Her lips followed the trail her nails had made.

Ian closed his eyes, no one had ever touched him like this. In fact except in violence no one had ever truly touched him at all. "Sara, I've never done this before."

She raised her head to look up at him and touched his lips lightly as he had hers moments before, "somehow I think you will be an extremely apt pupil."

He touched her finger with his tongue then captured it between his teeth as she had, I learn quickly, Sara.

The sound of his voice in her mind had an incredibly erotic effect on Sara, Kiss me.

He released her finger and their lips met. Lightly at first then the kiss deepened, exploring each other. He pulled her down on top of him, she wrapped her hands around his neck massaging the sinewy muscles there. Then the phone rang. She pulled away.

"Don't answer it," he said catching his breath.

"Gabe would freak if we didn't answer." She tried to get her breathing under control as she picked up the phone. She sat on the side of the bed. "Yeah,"

"Hey Chief, how is he?"

"He is fine"

"So it does heal others?"

"Yeah, it does. Whatcha got?"

"I've been checking out those disks."

Gabriel chatted on proud of his decoding prowess, but Sara heard none of it. Ian sat up behind her brushing aside her hair with his nose and was nuzzling her neck, planting butterfly kisses, and stroking her with his beard. His large hands slid beneath her shirt and cupped her breasts.

"Pez, You haven't heard a word I've said."

"Sorry, I'm a bit distracted." Distracted wasn't nearly the right word. "What was that again."

Ian explored down her spine until he found the expanse of skin where her shirt and boxers didn't quite meet. He ran his tongue across her back then gently insistently nipped her side.

She hissed, apt pupil was an understatement. "Gabe, I gotta go. I'll call you tomorrow."

He grinned finally catching on to what was happening, "have fun."

She flipped the phone and it dropped it to the floor turning on her tormenter.

"Jesus, you do learn fast," she said straddling him. He reached for her t-shirt and pulled it over her head in one swift motion. Taking his index finger he traced her forehead, nose, high cheekbones, lips, and chin. She let her head fall back as he ran that finger down her neck between her breasts. He traced the Witchblade scar that ran over her heart, then lightly skimmed around her areola. She was biting her lip by the time he reached her nipple. Don't take all day, Nottingham. She met his wicked gaze. He raised up licking across her breast and she nearly screamed when he took her deep in him mouth and drew sharply on her. Her hands were wrapped in his dark hair as he moved to her other breast continuing his torment. She ground her herself onto his hardened shaft enjoying his groan. He bit her then and she screamed his name.
There was a flurry of motion as they stripped off their remaining clothes. Nude they lay side by side, Ian ran his hand down her long leg, pulling it over his hip, kissing her deeply. She pulled away from the kiss tasting his chest, returning his torment to him, brushing lightly over his nipples, biting him here and there. She scraped her nails down his sides laughing at the way he flinched. Filing the tickilish spots away for later use, she made her way down his hips, thighs, to his knees, then began the return trip slowly erotically up the inside of his leg. He arched off the bed towards her hand, "Sara!" No where near through with this torture yet she ran her hands around him tugging gently on the dark curly hair that surrounded his straining shaft. Don't take all day, Sara. At that she let out a throaty laugh that sent shivers down his spine. He rolled to his back, not sure at all that he would survive this experience. She grasped him in both hands worshiping his length, glorying in the wash of emotions playing out on his face. He gasped as she took him in her mouth she ran the tip of her tongue along his head, then sucked slightly. He grabbed her by the arms and pulled her up his body, "I can't take anymore of that."

They rolled until he was on top, he took her ever-searching hands in one of his and imprisoned them in his grip above her head. He slid his other hand down between her legs finding her wet and slippery. He explored her as mercilessly as she had him, he was loving the play of emotions crossing her face. "Ian, I need you inside me now." His answer to her predicament was to insert a long finger deep inside her. "Ian." His thumb found her erect bud he rotated it clockwise until she was writing with need. "Ian, now, I need you, not your finger."

He hesitated, she looked deeply into his eyes, "you are sure?"

"I've never been more sure of anything in my life. Make love to me." He released her hands wrapping his arms around her, pulling her closer. She ran her hands across his shoulders, down his back to his tight buttocks. She wrapped her legs around his waist arching up to him. He entered her slowly. Achingly slow. Sara thrust upwards sheathing him to the hilt. They both groaned. He kissed her deeply his tongue mimicking the motions of his hips. He thrust deeper and deeper driving them both to the brink. She broke the kiss pulling back gaze into his passion dilated eyes. He pulled out completely then slammed back into her again and again, hitting a place deep inside her that no man ever had. He bit the nerve running from her base of her neck and shoulder sending screaming over the edge. Her violent spasms milking him he shuddered crying out her name in a hoarse voice, collapsing on top of her spent. Drained they lay there joined small quakes still wracking their bodies. He tried to roll over, she stopped him, "no, lets stay like this for a while."

"I am to heavy for you."

"No your not. I love the feel of your weight on me and you still inside me." The lay there relishing the afterglow, the closeness, the meeting of two souls that belonged together. Spent, they fell into a dreamless sleep.
A loud crash awakened him. He was startled at first on sudden alert but then realizing he would have been summoned had he been needed. He stretched lazily gazing lovingly at his hands. They were his favorite toys, his tools, his favorite weapons. More crashes and crystal breaking. He's throwing quite a tantrum. Hmmmm? Couldn't be me, I've been here all day. In confinement. Sent to my room like a child. He heard a tortured scream then what sounded like a bookcase crashing to the marble floor. I suppose I should go in there and see what all the drama is about but I'm not cleaning up that mess. One of the other servants will have to do it. Damn, the other servants had been dismissed following the incident with the gardeners assistant, he would have to clean it up. He sighed deeply rolling his eyes he got out of bed. Grinning wildly he thought of a t-shirt he had seen once when he was in the military, "Patience my Ass, I wanna KILL something!!!!" Had he been in the military? He didn't remember the actual experience but he held the images and training in his memory.

Silently he made his way to the study. He leaned over the railing balancing himself perfectly. The source of the noise was Kenneth Irons smashing everything in sight with the fireplace poker. He smirked, he feels just as I did before I killed the yard boy. Steeling his features, knowing there would be retribution if any amusement was observed, he quietly asked, "Is there anything I can do for you, Master."

Irons turned on him, "Yes," he hissed, "Yes, there is. Go find your predecessor and bring him to me."

"And what of the Weilder?" The image of the beautiful lithe warrior flashed before his eyes.

Irons swung the poker so hard at the priceless Ming vase he stumbled, "she will follow him here." Calming his rage slightly he looked at the man before him, "You will not harm her nor will you kill your predecessor."

"As you wish." Damn, so much for a little fun.

"Got some Intel on that ring of Nottingham's."

"You want to come on over for dinner and tell us all about it?"

"On my way Chef."

"Cute, actually Ian is cooking."

Gabriel made a face, "can't picture that." Today on Julia Child, so you have an assassin in your kitchen.....

Sara was setting the table when Ian went downstairs to let Gabe in.

"Man that smells great."

"Thank you."

"Cheese ravioli covered with a portebella mushroom alfredo sauce." Sara chimed in from the kitchen. "It is sinful!"

Ian playfully pointed his finger at her, "I told you to stay out of those pots."

"Too much temptation." She raised an eyebrow at him.

You know nothing of temptation, he whispered in her mind.

Ian placed the food on the table and turned to take his place in the corner before he remembered himself. He caught the hurt look on Sara's face and Gabriel's confused one. "Habit, I apologize." He took his place at the head of the table.

"Have you ever heard of the Knights of the Temples?"

"Yes, they were a group of Knights in the Middle Ages who were ultimately destroyed by Phillip of France."

"Yes, but they were not only fierce warriors they were also guardians of sacred objects, the shroud of Turin, the Holy Grail, sacred texts, and even possibly the Ark of the Covenant."

"I know of the Templers, this is not a symbol of theirs."

"No, but that was my first instinct, a search of them led to an obscure reference to another group of Knights they guarded even more mystical objects. Objects the church considered sacred but balked at possessing. "

"What were they called." To name is to know, Sara thought.

"The Dragons of Midnight, pretty cool, huh?"

"Black Dragons?" Sara asked.

"Basically."

"Ian, who came up with the name of the unit?"

"I did, it was my unit. I did not know why, it seemed appropriate." He sat silent staring at the ring as if willing it to speak aloud its secrets.

Whatever Ian was thinking he kept it to himself, so Sara turned to Gabe. "What else?"

"Nothing, that was it. I did an exhausted search on the Dragons of Midnight and found nothing more than that obscure reference. Only pieces of the text are on the web, the real text is in some monastery in England. Looks like its the only copy."

Ian finally spoke, "Sara, why would I not remember? I remember all other aspects of my former existences. Why not this one?" His hazel eyes searched hers longingly.

"Some core beliefs are innate," she said not quite knowing where the thought came from. "You said you had the ring as long as you could remember, what if Irons destroyed your memory when he got you?" It would explain why Ian remained so "good" under Irons's tutelage. It would explain his devotion to her to the Witchblade.

"I just assumed no one held memories from that age."

"I do?"

"You are rather special, Sara." What an understatement he thought.

Gabriel sat watching their exchange trying to make sense of it all. "Gabe, what're your earliest memories?"

"Ummm, standing in a crib watching a fire truck go by, hearing sirens. Learning to tie my shoes, begging my mom not to make me go to kindergarten."

"See, he did something to you, he had to."

"Wait a minute, let me get this straight. You're saying Irons stole him, erased his memory, then reprogrammed him?" Ian and Sara stared at him. "I see those looks, I am not leaving without some answers."

"I will answer as many of your questions as I can," Ian said solemnly

"What?" Sara was shocked. "He's already too involved as it is."

"He is correct, he deserves an explanation."

"You don't trust me chief?"

"I do, I'm trying to protect you, Gabe."

"He is already involved as it is. Irons knows he is supplying you with information. What is your first question?"

Gabe sat dumbstruck, he hadn't expected that from Nottingham. Of course the Nottingham that sat at the head of the table wasn't exactly the same man he had threatened him weeks earlier. He pushed his plate and silverware out of the way and turned his chair towards Ian. "Ok."

Ian held up his hand, "shall we retire to the living room before we begin?"

Ian and Sara sat on the couch and Gabe took the matching leather chair. "So Irons is not your father."

"Apparently not." Somewhere deep in his heart Ian had always hoped up until the past few years.

"You were really in Special Forces?"

"Four years in SF and two years leading the Black Dragons."

"You retire or quit?"

"I left the unit after Desert Storm. Honorable dishcharge, but those records have been destroyed."

"You were in Desert Storm? You never told me that." Sara was in shock, Ian was in the war.

"It is not something I care to talk about. I was..." he sighed deeply and his gaze bore into the floor. "The entire unit had been fed enhancing drugs, I lost myself and became the ultimate soldier. When I returned to Irons, I was everything he wanted me to be, everything he had me train for all my life, his assassin, his perfect obedient slave."

He reached out and took Sara's hand and held it tightly. She expected visions, images from the war but there was only silence. The blade felt icy against her wrist. "Why no visions."

"You can not see through the darkness." He pressed her hand to his lips, "do not worry, neither can I."

"Visions? Wait a minute. You two share visions?"

It was Sara's turn to answer, "yes, we do. You were right about this," holding up her wrist, "it does give me clairvoyance, speed, intuition, and visions of past wielders lives. Ian has been with us, with me in each of them."

"So you remember this stuff too?"

Ian nodded.

"How? I mean she's got the Witchblade, how do you know? Is it the ring?"

"Truly, I do not know."

Gabe looked to Sara who shrugged, "neither do I, that's what we are trying to sort out. Who we are, were before Irons royally screwed with our lives."

"Somehow we have been connected through time, at times it is clear to the horizon of the dawn of time but other times it is clouded as the mists."

"Pretty profound, Nottin....Ian." Somehow after all his disclosures calling him Nottingham didn't seem right.

Ian chuckled softly.

Sara yawned, "guys, its late, I'm exhausted. I'm calling it a night."

"Yeah, I should be going."

"Sara's right, it is late, we have a huge spare room, you should stay. Perhaps in the morning you can show me where you found the information on the Dragons of Midnight."

"Sure, ok with you chief?"

"What do you think?" She shoved him and grinned,. "come on I'll show you to your suite."

Ian smiled at them as he cleared away the dishes.

"Thanks Gabe."

"For what? That type of stuff is my life, I love digging it up."

"No, I mean being...."She felt stupid, "for being nice to Ian, he's never really had..."

"Say no more. He's a good man, Pez, I'm glad you two found each other. You deserve it, you both do. Although the whole idea of you and him playing house is a little weird, even for you."

"I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that." She hugged him tightly, "good night, sweetie."

"Night, chief."

Sara found Ian in the shower.

Steam billowed out the stained glass door as she opened it. He took scalding showers, she reached around him and took the rough bar of bay-rum soap from one hand and then turned the cold water on slightly. "Sorry baby, can't stand it as hot as you."

He leaned his water slick body back into hers, "You planning on using that soap?" He brushed his wet hair against her forehead.

"Mmmhmmm." She ran the scratchy bar against his skin, over his scarred back, reveling in the spicy smell and steam coming off his perfect body. "You are so beautiful, honed to perfection." She soaped his back, arms and buttocks, slowly torturously, then pushed him forward slightly so the water could rinse him off. Pulling him back a bit she raised up on tiptoes touching his neck with her tongue. He sucked in a deep breath and goose pimples formed all over his skin, he tried to turn around, "nope, I'm not finished with you yet." She eased down his body placing biting kisses on his shoulders her hands playing across his chest, teasing his nipples, scraping her nails down his well toned abs. She ran her tongue down his back to the base of his spine. That was his breaking point, "Sara", he ground out between clenched teeth, "this is too much temptation."

She laughed, returning his words to him, "you know nothing of temptation."

He turned yanking her up his body grabbing her buttocks in his hands he took two steps back to press her against the shower wall. She wrapped her legs around his waist, he entered her swiftly and harshly slamming her against the tile. "God, Ian." She repeated that litany over and over till the both reached the edge of the precipice. His mouth covered hers just in time to capture her scream. He eased her trembling body down so that her feet touched the floor. Leaning heavily against her he kissed her neck, "the water is cold."

She smiled up at him, "I hadn't noticed."

Ian pulled her from the shower and they dried each other with plush towels. Sara laughed as Ian threw her over his shoulder and tossed her onto their bed. "What a pretty picture you make." Sara leaned up reaching for him. He pushed her back, "no, I want to play."

"I suppose I'll allow that." Sara was beginning to like this more agressive self assured side of him. He certainly was a fast learner and was more than willing to expirament. She ran her foot up his abdomen. He caught it, massaging her muscular calf. Sara moaned leaning back against the covers closing her eyes enjoying the sensations. "Ayyy," she yelled in protest when she felt sharp teeth bite her knee. "What the hell was that?"

"I thought you had fallen asleep," Ian arched an eyebrow and grinned mischeviously.

"With you standing over me naked? Not possible. Sooo, now that you have me, what are you planning on doing with me?"

"Give away the secrets of a tactical assault? What kind of a soldier do you think I am?"

"An unarmed one?"

Ian lowered his eyes briefly, "you want to rethink that, Detective?"

Sara laughed at his joke but her laughter was soon interrupted when Ian knelt beside the bed simulatneously placing one leg over each of his shoulders. Sara barely stifled a moan when she felt him nibbling his way down her left thigh. This man was going to be the death of her and it was going to be one hell of a way to go.

Jerking movements woke Sara. "Ian?" Another nightmare. She rolled over and shook his arm. "Baby? Wake up! Its just a dream." She flipped on the lights, he continued jerking, his face contorted eyes rolled back in his head. "Gabriel!" she screamed. "Gabriel, get in here now!" She knew from her academy first aid course there was nothing she could do for seizures, just make sure they don't hit their heads or choke. Wait it out. "Gabriel!"

Sleepy eyed he ran down the hall, sliding into the bedroom door. "What? What is it Chief?" He looked at Ian. "Damn. He ever done this before?"

"No." She stared at the Witchblade, come on come on. Do something, She held it to his forehead.

Five agonizing minutes passed no change, "You want me to call 911?"

"We can't. Irons would find him."

"Chief, his brain can't take this much longer." If it wasn't fried already.

She picked up Ian's phone off the nightstand.

"Hello, Sara." The smile in his voice was unmistakable.

"You're killing him, stop it."

"Stop what?" It had worked. Perhaps he would get some much needed rest tonight.

"Don't play games with me."

"Why don't you use the Witchblade to save him?"

"I tried, it didn't work this time." Sara was on the verge of panic, "whatever you're doing please stop."

It didn't work this time, she had said. She had healed him. The Blade had chosen Ian.

"Kenneth, if you ever felt any love for the boy you raised, please stop this."

He flipped off the strobe. "Very well, Sara." He had to rethink his plans.

Slowly Ian's seizures subsided. "Thank you." The response was a dead line.

He knew Sara had taken Ian as a lover, his own unique connection with her had made that painfully obvious. But she had healed him,. therefore Blade had chosen Ian as well. A worthless vagabond, an orphan, an abandoned piece of trash found on the streets of London. Trash that he had made a treasure, clothed, fed, trained, and educated. He turned on his heel and retreated to his study. He sank down in his throne before the fireplace, things had changed. Things had changed indeed.



Gabe entered with a cup of coffee. "How is he?"

"Still out cold, but no more seizures." Sara unwound one arm from Ian and accepted the cup.

"A friend was epileptic, she slept a lot after an episode. As bad as that one was he may be out for a while." He looked at Ian's pale face, "how did Irons do that? Does he have an implant or something?"

"I don't know, Gabe. It has something to do with the Black Dragon training, the modifications he underwent through all of that. Vicky said something about enlarged reptilian portions of the human brain being highly sensitive to lights and frequencies. I know he's extremely careful around strobe lights but the room was pitch dark."

"Remind me never to take him clubbing." Gabe's phone rang. "Hello. Yeah, the shipment came in yesterday, the vase is perfect. Look something has come up, can we reschedule?"

Sara grabbed his arm, "Go, there's nothing you can do here."

"You sure?" He didn't want to leave her, she had really freaked when Ian seizured.

"Yes."

"All right see you at the shop in about an hour." He looked down at Ian, "if anything happens, call me ok, Chief?"

"I will." She managed a weak smile before he turned to leave.

Gabriel returned moments later a slight blush covering his face. "I can't get out."

Sara laughed, "Ian is a stickler for security." She unlocked the front door then walked Gabe down the stairs to his car. She hugged him fiercely, "Thank you for everything."

"No problem, Chief."


Sara ran back upstairs after resetting all the alarms and sat in vigil beside Ian for hours, stroking his face, winding his curly locks around her fingers. "Baby, please wake up. Give me some sign that you are going to be ok.."

His eyes flickered a bit, "the lights," he rasped, "they are too bright."

She quickly turned them out. "How do you feel?"

"My head hurts, my mind is fuzzy. What happened?"

"You had a seizure."

He tried to see through the haze in his mind. "Were there lights, strobes?"

"No. The room was dark."

"Specifically timed strobes are the only things that trigger those seizures. They were used in some of us in Black Dragon Unit in case of noncompliance. A type of failsafe mechanism."

"It was Irons, he did it. I called him and convinced him to stop whatever he was doing."

"You what?!"

"I had to do something, my god Ian you seized for 10 minutes, I was terrified. I tried to use the Blade, it did nothing. I knew I couldn't call 911. "

"Was the scatter on the phone?"

"Of course." Her temper was beginning to take over, "what would you have me do Ian, let you lay there and seize until your brain scrambled?"

"I am sorry, Sara, but..." A sharp pain struck on his temple, "damn." He held his hand to his head. Let me out....let me out....let me out..... He felt the pain again.

"What is it?"

Let me out..let me out....

"Ian?"

"I can hear him. Irons has him in the box. He put him in the box and turned on the strobes to get to me."

Please let me out...help me

"I have to go. Let him out."

"No! Have you lost your mind? Irons will kill you."

"Sara, I can not leave him there. It is selfish of me but I can not listen to his voice in my head begging me to help him. I can not retain my sanity feeling his head pounding against the wall, muttering let me out let me out over and over. You do not know what it is like in that chamber. I must do this. I will do this, with or without your approval." His voice was sure and steady as he spoke his last sentence but his eyes, those soulful eyes begged for her permission.

"Let's go." He looked as if he were going to protest she stopped him with a glare, "don't think you're going into the lion's den alone. And don't think you're driving, he may turn those strobes back on."


Neither spoke as Sara drove to the mansion. The voice in Ian's head fading fast only faintly now begging for his freedom. Parking at the service entrance Sara asked, "are you sure about this?"

"Not really but I do not think I have a choice."

She held up the eye of the blade to the sensor of the door. Ian quickly took the lead, "follow me, but stay sharp." They slipped quietly down the halls, deeper into the mansion. Sara began to worry about the lack of resistance. Ian held up his palm as they came to the juncture of a hallway. He pointed to the other wall, she slid from behind him and flattened out against the wall. "Got you covered." Tensely Ian nodded and turned the corner.

He hated this particular hall. The lab was at one end, an untold chamber of horrors. He had nothing but tortured memories, being strapped to the table needles inserted in his spine, his veins, being shocked, searing pain. At the other end was the box. The chamber Irons used to break him completely. He could not recall how many days he had spent in that 4 x 4 room, doing the same thing his clone was. Banging his head against the cold wall, begging to be let out. There had been no one but the one who placed him there to save him. Irons always made him go in, his was the last face he would see before he entered the darkness and the first to see when emerged, his executioner and his savior. Ready, Sara? They spun around the corners, Sara checking one end him the other.

All clear on this end. She turned to Ian. He was staring down the corridor. She knew he was facing personal demons but she had no idea of the depth of them. Stepping up to him she looked past him and saw a man in a lab coat looking intently at the wall. Who? She asked. Dr. Immo, Irons scientist. There were a lot of advantages to this mental link between the two of them she thought. Immo had yet to notice them. They began to slowly make their way towards him.

"What is in the box Doctor?" Ian asked quietly.

The doctor jumped. "Ian you're back home."

"You and I both know this is no home, Immo."

"Ian."

"The door, Doctor."

"He will kill us all." Sara could taste the older mans fear.

Immo stood at the door, Ian behind him. "Open it."

"Ian, I don't think it is wise. He is unstable to begin with. If my supposition is correct he will have to be destroyed."

"Then I hope that YOU are prepared to destroy your creation, Doctor, because I will no longer clean up yours and Kenneth's mistakes."

"Kenneth is dying, Ian."

"Open the door."

"He collapsed earlier I infused him, it seemed to help but...." he trailed off hoping to appeal to Ian's sense of duty.

"I do not wish to repeat this again, open the door."

"Ian don't you want to know about your past? If you return, Kenneth will tell you everything. You are like a son to him."

Sara knew what Immo was trying to do and wasn't about to let him get away with it. "Open the damn door, Doc."

Knowing it was futile to pursue this further, Immo leaned over the retinal scanner and quickly moved to run.

Ian grabbed him by the arm. "You are not going anywhere." He reached up and pulled the lever that opened the door. Sara willed the Witchblade into readiness. Immo let out a strangled gasp and struggled from Ian's grip. The chamber was empty. "He's escaped, he'll kill us all for this."

Sara caught him as he tried to run. "You've got a lot of explaining to do, your going nowhere."

Ian knelt at the door there was blood everywhere.

"Ian?"

"He is gone, Sara. I can not hear him anymore."

"He was only given the enhancing agents once, Ian," Immo said quietly. "The effects have probably faded."

Ian looked sadly at him, "let the fool go, Sara. His fate will seek him soon enough." She let him go and Immo quickly retreated down the hall to his lab, "let us go home my love, I am finally free."

They were halfway back to the service entrance when the alarms went off. "Damn, the doors will be sealed off. This way." He grabbed her hand, they ran through the study, past the fireplace, Ian pushed against a panel. The wall slid open. Grasping her hand tightly he took off again.

She noticed an eerie glow and the Witchblade erupted in colors, "what the?"

"Keep running, Sara." He did not want her to see this.

She wrenched her hand from his turning towards the glow, staring at a face much like hers.. "Oh my God. It's Elizabeth!"

"Yes, Sara, we have to go."

"But!" She could do nothing but stare in horror at Elizabeth's body on a dias frozen in time.

"Do you want to end up like that?" Ian hissed in her ear.

"No!"

"Then RUN!" They made their way down the escape route and around the mansion, weaving between spotlights to the car. Ian stared at it a moment.

"What are you waiting for?"

"We'll leave it. Catch a cab and go back home. I doubt there was anyone to tamper with it but I would rather not take the chance."

Neither spoke in the cab. They were both relieved when they entered the warehouse and the security system was up. He collapsed on the couch. Sara paced. Ian watched her, it was going to be a long night, he thought to himself. "What do you wish to know first, Sara?"

"Is that really Elizabeth?"

"Yes."

"Did he kill her?"

"Truly I do not know. He says he did."

"Did he take the Blade before or after she was dead?"

Ian shrugged, "he had to cut her arm off to take it, whether she was alive at the time only they know."

"Why does he keep her?"

"I think he loved her once. Maybe he still does, as much as he is capable. He also uses her tissue as an elixir to help keep him young."

She looked at Ian in horror, he hugged Sara close to him as she sat down. "He's insane, Ian."

"I know. He thinks that he and Daemonic Boucher are complete opposites, that she took only pain and lust and ambition from her brush with the Blade, yet he does not see it in himself. I never understood that. They are mirror images."

"What do you think happened to the clone?"

Ian looked at the floor. "There was a lot of blood, he tried to clawed his way out but that is solid stone and steel, I know from experience. Immo could have been deceiving us but I think he is too much of a coward to have opened that door without a certain amount of duress. Irons could have let him out I suppose. I do not know."

Emotionally exhausted she laid her head on his shoulder and fell asleep. Ian gathered her in his arms and carried her to the bedroom. She woke a little as he undressed her. "Shhh, go back to sleep, love." He tucked the covers around her. He stood in the shower letting the scalding water pour over him. Faced with Kenneth's evils always left him feeling filthy. He did not emerge until he felt cleansed from the nights events.

Sara slept peacefully. He smiled as he slid under the covers next to her. He took her hand in his bringing it to his lips, kissing it softly, "I love you, Lady Sara." Her fingers twined with his he fell asleep as well.

The Witchblade glowed softly then intensified into a deep orange as a tendril wrapped around Ians wrist and tightened. Feeling it bite into his skin he awoke instantly only to find himself in a brightly lit blue tiled room. He heard the faintest of footsteps behind him and felt a hand on his should just before he turned. Standing before him stood a woman looking much like Sara but with black hair and black kohled eyes. She gasped as her eyes met his, "Anthony." She gathered herself. "Do you know me, Ian?"

"Cleopatra."

"Do you remember?"

He closed his eyes visions assailed him. A dias, a crowd, a booming voice, legions shouting Caesar. Clothes falling, swimming in a large tiled pool, the queen lying dead an asp at her breast, him lying on the floor beside her.

"I see you do. But your first memories were of Caesar."

"It is how I met you."

"You served him."

"But I loved you."

"We both did. Only after his assasination, we sought solace in one another."

"What is your point my lady," Ian said catching to gist of her veiled accusation.

She raised a kohled eyebrow at him, "would you die for Sara?"

"Yes." She stared at him searching his eyes. "Just as I died for you."

She pointed a finger at his chest, "you did not die for me, you died because of me. You were my guardian, when I died, there was no longer a reason for you to exist. You know the adage, take the cause out of a man, there is no cause for a man. I was your cause."

"Do you know who you truly are Ian Christian Nottingham?"

"I am the guardian of the Wielder of the Witchblade."

"Very well." With that she walked away into the gathering mists and disappeared from his sight.

Sara stretched against Ian's warm form. Lazily she opened her eyes, the Witchblade glowed brightly and a sickeningly green glow infused the room. "What the?"

"He is being tested my dear." Elizabeth Bronte sat at the foot of their bed.

Sara looked down at their entwined hands, Witchblade vines had wrapped around his wrist and up his arm. "Like the Periculum?"

"In a sense."

"Can I help him?" He had been through enough tonight already.

"It is his test, Sara, not yours. You faced it alone, so shall he." She gazed at Ian's seemingly sleeping form. "You are concerned he might not pass?"

"No, I have complete confidence in Ian's abilities, he will pass easily. I just don't wish to cause him anymore pain than he has already been through because of this." She gestured towards the Witchblade.

"He has led a difficult existence has he not? Life with Kenneth is not an easy one, but Ian's path was chosen long before his birth as was yours and mine and the others before us."

"Do you know Kenneth...." Sara wasn't sure she knew how to tell her this. "Has you..."

"On ice? Yes, Sara, I know all about Kenneth's little perversions. The body is only a vessel, the spirit survives without it."

"Were you dead before he chopped off your arm?"

"I think I died the day I met Kenneth Irons," she said noncommittally.

Looking down at her beloved Ian, "how is he doing?"

"As well as can be expected, my dear."

"Why couldn't you save him? What happened when he was with you?"

"He was little more than a teenager, Sara. He wasn't ready for the task they threw at him. Rolf Germer interrupted the cycle of the Witchblade by a few years by stealing it. Ian was guarding the vault of the furors treasures, Germer would take me there to impress me. I could feel something calling me, I would go there alone at times. He was so unlike the Nazi's, polite, intelligent, well spoken, educated, sweet. One of Germer's reported to Germer that I was getting friendly with him, so he caught us one day. We were deep in discussion of various artifacts when I saw Germer out of the corner of my eye, he pulled a gun and shot him before either of us had time to react. As he died in my arms I saw visions of us in the past." She looked into Sara's eyes, "timing is always a problem with us and our guardians or so it seems. He hasn't always passed the test, my dear."

Sara gazed down at Ian, when she looked back up Elizabeth was gone.

Ian stood shrouded in mists slightly confused. He listened closely from another to approach it didn't take long. He heard the armor clang, Cathain?Joan?

"My Lord."

"My Lady." He knelt at her feet.

"Do you know me, Sir?"

"You are not Joan or Cathain," he walked around her looking over her armor and sword, "Celtic but earlier than Cathain. Boudccia, the Irish Queen."

"Very good, Ian."

"You were not a true Wielder."

"No, I was not."

"But I stayed with you nonetheless."

She smiled regally, "you did."

"I convinced you to protect the Witchblade until the true Wielder could be found. It was I who sent you and the Llan An Caeligh to Cathain."

"So you did. If the Blade abandons her for another and she survives, will you...."

"I will never leave Sara, my Lady, have no fear."

"It is your duty and your destiny to protect the Wielder, Ian."

"I will not leave her."

"Very well." With that she was gone.

Thundering hooves bore down on his position, Ian swirled dodging the steed.

"Ho! Ian."

"Cathain."

She dismounted, "do you ride still?"

"No, my Lady." Smiling fondly, "but I do remember our races beside the river."

"As do I, my old friend." Cathain hugged him tightly, "Ewan how I have missed you."

"Do you know why you are here, Ian?"

"I assume it is a guardian version of the periculum."

"Your test is at hand."

"I shall do anything asked of me to prove my worth, my Lady," he said kneeling at Cathain's feet.

"Stand, Ian, you need not bow to me. Fight the good fight and fight it well, old friend."

Ian stood, Cathain caressed his face with her palm. "You will need this." She handed him a broadsword. He tested its weight and marveled at the fit in his hand, this had been his. His eyes filled with wonder as he looked from it to her. "You look surprised I kept it for you." With that the room went dark. Ian tested the sword again, it was heavier than his katana but familiar. He had trained with various styles of swords but preferred the lightweight Asian blade to all others. Smiling to himself as he wove figure eights in the dark with the broadsword, this one will do nicely. "Thank you my lady." But she was already gone.

He stood quietly trying to get a sense of what was to come. Irons had called them his special gifts, his clairvoyance, his ability to manipulate weaker minds, to project his mind and voice. He could almost remember someone telling him he was a child of the light but it could have been from another lifetime. Those senses were doing him no good now. He waited wondering if Sara was experiencing this or if she was as shut out as he had been during her test. He fervently hoped she had not awakened, knowing she would be distressed about her lack of control over the situation. He heard a hiss and felt something jump on his shoulder briefly then using it as a launching pad the small creature jumped away. Wary, he readied his stance and his sword. Torches dimly lit a corridor and he could see its glowing amber eyes and could just make out the shape of a lemur. It looked directly at him and screamed. Shapes filled the corridor. People in masks and cloaks surrounded him. Torches were thrust at him. Stunned at first he did not fight back but when a torch came a bit to close to his face, he blocked it with the sword chopping it in half. "Back!" he commanded. "I mean you no harm but I shall return it if it is given to me." He turned around slowly trying to make out the faces behind the masks and cloaks.

The figures parted at the end of the corridor in an anteroom stood a knight in full armor, sword drawn. Blade met blade as Ian swiftly covered the ground that separated the two. They sparred both fairly equal in skill. Ian was at a disadvantage however, he wore no mail, he could afford no mistakes, nor did he feel the need to destroy this combatant. The fight felt familiar, more of a dance than a battle. Blocking a downblow he was able to spin away and get a good look at his competitors armor. Seeing the star and cross he quickly bowed. The blade stopped just a fraction away from his neck between his shoulder and jaw. "I will not fight you, Jeanne," he said softly.

"You would rather submit to defeat than actually be defeated by me?" She removed her helmet.

"I never wished to fight against you, only with you."

"Yet still you fought and you were killed for your trouble."

"It was my life to give."

"And you would again give it so easily?"

"For Sara, yes."

"You are still a fool. The Witchblade will abandon its wielder and you along with it."

"Because you were abandoned does not mean Sara will be."

"We all are abandoned eventually, you will do well to remember that, Ian Nottingham."

Angrily Jeanne de Arc vanished and the tunnel was filled with flames. They swept around Ian, who moved not a muscle.

"Come forward, child."

Ian rose and began walking towards the voice but could not see.

"Your test is almost over."

He smelled acrid molten metal as he neared the voice.

"Stop," bade the voice, "but do not kneel."

Ian stopped.

"Torch please Dragon."

A small amount of flames lit the room, igniting her torch. Before him was a woman of indeterminate age in a flowing silver/black cloak and beside her curled almost lazily lay a dragon. Its scales were like quicksilver and its eyes glowed red. Smoke drifted from its nostrils. It yawned, blinked its eyes, then seemingly bored it closed them.

She almost smiled at Ian's fixed and fascinated gaze, what was it about knights and dragons? "Do not mind him. He is old and ornery." She patted the relaxed dragon on the neck, he purred at her touch. "Do you believe you have passed your test child?"

"I believe so, but I also think there is more to come."

"Name me child and the test shall be over."

He did not recognize the face nor the manner but he remembered the spirit, the passion, and intelligence. Various Weilders names flew through his mind.

"Can you not name me child? Shall I feed you to the Dragon?"

Ian smiled, he remembered the wit as well, "You are the spirit of the Witchblade. You are the Witchblade."

She scratched the bony protuberences on the Dragon's head, he yawned and stretched. "You have passed child, go back and protect your Lady." Ian stared after them as together they dissaipated into the darkness.

Ian opened his hazel eyes finding Sara's worried green ones staring intently down at him. He smiled widely, "I passed, my love." They both looked down to see the Witchblade vines detach from his arm and weave their way back to the bracelet.

"I knew you would." She pulled at his hand looking at his wrist. He quickly jerked it away out of habit. "I've seen them baby. I want to see if the Blade left ones like these." She showed him her wrist.

He bowed his head, "I am sorry." He reluctantly help up his hand, slowly turning it over for her perusal. Identical to hers were two puckered circular scars.

"See."

"I see."

"You have never asked me about this." He assumed she would, as much as he tried to hide them, she knew his body as well as he knew hers.

"I know what happened. When we were at the cabin I discovered them. The Witchblade showed me what he made you do."

"Oh."

"Ian you should wear these scars as a badge! They show you have survived everything he did. You lived!" She kissed the scars. "I love you scars and all." She kissed him on the lips and bounced up in front of him in the bed, "tell me about your periculum."

He laughed at her enthusiasm pushing away the horrible memories of his youth. "I will tell you whatever you wish to know."

He told her about each of his encounters smiling when he got to the last test. "For the final test I had to face a cloaked lady and a dragon." He waited for a wry comment but she just raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "The lady was the spirit of the Witchblade."

"What?"

"I had to name her. She was going to feed me to the dragon if I did not answer her."

"You're serious about the dragon aren't you?"

It was his turn to bounce up on the bed, "it was incredible, Sara. It smelled of molten metal, was the color of mercury and had red glowing eyes. It lit her torch and then curled up like a dog beside her. Smoke billowed from its nose as it breathed."

"A fire breathing dragon?" His eyes glowed with excitement, he looked like a child telling about an adventure. Even his normal well thought out sentences were choppy.

"Yes! I wish you had seen it."

She patted him on the hand, "Nah., I'll leave the dragons for you." She ran her finger across his ring, "did it look like your ring?"

He studied the ring, "it did."