Part 12

Sara Pezzini was sound asleep. The gunman smiled as he lifted the barrel of the gun against the window. A man�s voice interrupted him and he whirled around. Ian Nottingham leapt from the roof of the car he was perched on and took down Gallo�s man in one swift move, his strong gloved hand snapping the man�s neck. He tapped the glass of the window Sara was sleeping against and her head jerked up. She quickly opened her door.

"Nottingham, what the hell is . . . " She saw the body at Nottingham�s feet. Her eyes flew wide.

"Unlock the back door, Sara."

Sara fumbled with the door locks a moment and then found the correct button. Ian opened the back door and loaded the body into the back seat. He closed the door and calmly walked around to reclaim his position in the driver�s seat.

"Need to go in?" He glanced at Sara as if nothing had happened. She shook her head. He cranked the car and began backing out of the parking space.

Sara looked at Nottingham her brows knitted together. "Why are we taking him along?" She gestured to the back seat.

"Gallo won�t send out another man until he finds out what happened to this one."

"And what is going to happen to this one?"

"He looked as if he�d enjoy a swim. I didn�t kill him without reason, Sara. He had a gun pointed at your head."

"He what?! Some protector you are!"

"You are alive, are you not?"

Sara grumbled and slid back down in the seat. They rode quietly, Sara occasionally hazarding a glance in Nottingham�s direction. It wasn�t long before the lull of the car�s large engine caused Sara to drift off to sleep.

Ian looked over to where Sara slept, a peaceful look on her face. He fought down the urge to reach over and clasp her hand in his. Keeping his eyes on the road with an effort, he drove in silence until the terrain changed, the dark soil giving way to sand. He had memorized the route while waiting for Sara at the police department. Within minutes he parked the car in front of the wooden fence at once of the beach accesses.

"Sara. Sara, wake up."

Sara lifted her head groggily and covered a yawn with the back of her hand. "Hmm?"

"We�re here. " Ian lifted a hand and pointed to the beach.

Sara looked out the windshield. The view was breathtaking, the sun just cresting over the endless horizon of water and the sky filled with bands of color. Wordlessly she got out of the car and headed towards the sand.

Sara stood at the water�s edge for a long moment, turning as she heard movement behind her. Ian came to stand beside her.

"Beautiful isn�t it?"

"Yes, it is." Sara replied, shivering slightly in the cold ocean breeze. They were the only two people on the entire beach.

Ian removed his overcoat and draped it over Sara�s shoulders.

Sara protested, "but you�ll be cold."

"I�ve something to attend to." With that Ian climbed back up the sand-covered wooden steps.

Sara stood watching the sun�s first rays dancing across the ever-shifting waves. Sensing movement from the periphery of her vision, she turned to see Ian coming back down to the beach, a bundle over his shoulder. She frowned.

If Ian noticed, he gave no indication. He carried the body to the water�s edge and dropped it. He removed his boots and then began removing his clothing, putting each piece atop his boots to keep them from getting covered in sand, until only his pants remained.

Sara could not help but watch as Nottingham undressed. For the first time she saw the scars criss-crossing his back and let out an audible gasp. Nottingham turned towards her, their eyes meeting momentarily before he turned back to the task at hand. Easily lifting the dead body across his shoulder he waded into the frigid water. Sara watched as he swam into the ocean, the body of the would-be killer in tow.

Ian swam back to shore, long powerful strokes carrying him easily through the water. As he walked through the surf, headed back to the pile of clothing, he ran his hands over his hair, pushing water out.
He dressed quickly, not making eye contact with Sara. Once again clothed, he walked to her. "I�m sorry you had to see that."

"See you undress or see that poor guy get fed to the sharks?"

"Either. Both." Ian stared at the sand.

Sara took off Nottingham�s overcoat and wrapped it around him. She brushed a wet strand of hair back off his face gently. "You did what you had to do. Thank you."

Ian lifted his eyes to hers briefly. "Sara?"

"Yes, Nottingham?"
"I . . ." he stopped, staring at the sand again, shivering.

"Let�s go rent a beach house. One with a hot shower." Sara grabbed Nottingham�s arm, pulling him towards the steps. At the bottom step they both stopped, casting a long glance back to the ocean before continuing up to the car.

Ian sat in the car with the heater blasting as Sara went inside to deal with the realty company. Bright morning sunlight shone off the little blue building, the sign out front proclaiming beachfront condos and houses were available year round. He silently cursed himself for ruining what might have been an opportunity, but the body had to be disposed of and best to have done it before people began milling about.

Sara came out of the small office, a smile on her face. She held up her hand, a set of keys dangling from her fingers. She opened the door and clambered into the warm car. "Head that way." She pointed down the street. Ian backed out of the parking space and followed Sara�s directions.

A few minutes later they pulled up in front of a small bungalow. Its exterior was a cheery yellow and rows of conch shells flanked the little walkway. Sara was obviously delighted, the smile on her face almost blinding. "It�s been forever since I�ve had a vacation. This place is great! Whatcha think, Nottingham?"

Ian nodded. "I enjoy seeing you this happy, Sara."

Sara blushed. Flustered she jumped out of the car and headed for the door. Ian released the trunk latch and retrieved their bags, following Sara up the walkway.

The interior of the cottage was furnished with a nautical theme. Ian placed Sara�s bag on the sofa and headed for the bathroom. Sara was in the kitchen. "We�ll need to go to the grocery," she called out. Hearing the shower come on she walked to the bathroom door. "Do you have towels in there?"

"Yes, thank you."

Sara cracked the door a bit and poked her head in grinning, "What about soap and shampoo?"

"Sara!" Ian ducked behind the shower curtain.

"Sorry." Sara laughed at Nottingham�s modesty. "Yell if you need anything, I�m going to unpack." She smiled as she closed the door.

Ian stood under the steaming spray, his heart thudding in his chest. For the briefest of moments he had thought Sara was going to shower with him. He reached down and turned off the hot water, leaving the cold on until he couldn�t stand it anymore and shut it off as well.

Sara took the opportunity to check out the rest of the bungalow. Pretty basic set up, living room, kitchen and dinette, bathroom up front. She wandered down the hallway where she found two more doors. She opened the first. Bedroom, two full-sized beds covered in ocean blue comforters. The nautical theme was continued here, a seashell filled vase on the cherry dresser. She walked out and tried the other door. Uh-oh. Closet. Sara heard Nottingham coming out of the bathroom. "Uh, Nottingham? We might have a small problem."

Ian came down the short hallway.

"There�s only one bedroom. Two beds, but only one bedroom. I asked for two bedrooms, but I guess they misunderstood." She knitted her brows together.

"I will sleep on the couch." He bowed his head, and began to turn.

"No, it�s allright with me. I was thinking you might have a problem with it, but if you don�t . . . " she shrugged. "At any rate," she quickly switched the topic to avoid further embarrassment, "we need to go get some food. I�m starving."

Ian nodded and took some money out of his pocket and handed it to her. He did not tell her it had come from the pockets of the man who had tried to kill her.

"What�s this for?"

"Food."

"Nottingham, there�s five hundred dollars here. Don�t you think that�s a bit much?" Sara stared.

"I don�t know."

"You don�t know?" Sara repeated. "I guess Irons has servants to take care of that, huh? Well, come on, let�s get this over with. Oh, before I forget . . ." Sara reached in her pocket and handed Nottingham a plastic card. "That�s for the account . . . the money I invested for you."

He held the card out, intending to give it back.

"I got two cards. That way if one is lost . . . " she let the sentence go unfinished.

He nodded and held the door for her.

The grocery store wasn�t a very large one, but Sara was finding all the necessities. Coffee, milk, sugar, some meats and vegetables, some fresh fruit. Nottingham followed along behind her, his attention occasionally diverted by something on the metal shelves. They went through about half the store in this manner before Sara said, "If there�s anything you want to get, toss it in." No sooner than the words were out of her mouth, Nottingham vanished, returning a few moments later cradling some items in his arms. She watched as he put them in the cart. Oreos, a box of sugary cereal, cola, microwave popcorn, and some comic books. She raised an eyebrow at him, but remained silent. Boys will be boys, she reasoned.

Shopping done they returned to the bungalow. Nottingham sat on the small sofa, munching on cookies and reading one of the comics as Sara put away the food. She looked over to him and smiled, shaking her head. "So Nottingham, reliving your childhood?"

Ian closed the comic and chased the last cookie with some cola. "I did not have a childhood, Sara. Not the type of which you speak."

Sara noted the hurt in his voice. "I�m sorry . . . I didn�t mean to . . ." she flustered. She closed the refrigerator and went to sit beside him on the sofa. "Forgive me?"

"I would forgive you anything."

It was then that she noticed he was still wearing his gloves. She rested her hand atop his. "Do you ever take these off?"

"Sometimes."

"You had them off at the beach."

He nodded, but did not speak.

"I can�t recall seeing you without them at any other time . . . " She grimaced. "I�ve gone and done it again, haven�t I? Brought up something I shouldn�t have." She sighed heavily.

"It is allright." He lifted his hand from beneath hers and took his ring and gloves off, laying them on the arm of the sofa. He held his hands up in front of his body.

"You have nice hands, Nottingham. Why hide them?" Sara looked at his hands. Both were well manicured and strong looking with long fingers.

"The gloves are not to hide my hands, but rather to protect them." He paused. "When I touch things with my bare hands, the sensations are sometimes more than I can stand." He reached for the gloves and started to put them back on.

"Touch me."

Ian froze. "Sara, I . . . "

Sara held her hand near Nottingham�s bare one. "Touch me."

"The Witchblade, Sara. I dare not."

Sara removed the bracelet from her wrist and sat it on the coffee table. "Now?"

Ian drew in a deep breath and slowly reached for Sara�s hand.

Part 13

Ian wrapped his fingers around Sara�s hand, his body immediately tensing as he did so. With his eyes closed tightly, large tears rolled down his cheeks as he held her hand. His mind flooded with images of happiness and alternately, grief. His grip on her was tight, almost painful, but he was so enthralled in the visions he did not notice. Finally her voice broke through to him.

"Nottingham! Let go!"

Ian�s eyes flew open, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he released her hand.

"Damn, I�m sorry. Ignore my suggestions from now on, ok?" Sara swore under her breath.

Ian regained his composure and put the second glove on, placing his ring on the index finger. "You need not apologize, it was beautiful . . . elation, sorrow, compassion . . . passion. All glimpses of your memories . . . emotions I rarely experience in this lifetime. Thank you, Sara."

Sara was stunned. "You saw all that? That quickly?"

Ian nodded, his gaze falling to the bracelet resting on the table. "You should put the Witchblade back on your wrist where it belongs."

"Not right now. Right now I want to be normal . . . not a wielder, not a cop, just Sara."

Ian captured her hand in his gloved one, his dark eyes looking up to hers. "You are truly beautiful, Sara. Inside as well as out." He brought her hand gently to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to it.

Sara blushed furiously and turned her face away. She stood, pulling him to his feet. "Let�s fix some food, I�m incredibly hungry."

"So am I." Ian replied, not speaking of food.

Sara missed the inference and headed to the kitchen.


After they had shared a meal, Sara put the Witchblade back on her wrist and they walked on the lonely beach for several hours. Neither said much other than pleasantries. Sara collected some seashells and showed each to Nottingham as she found them, impressed with his ability to identify them.

Ian watched Sara as she delighted with each find. Her happiness so genuine that it was almost painful for him to watch. He was intoxicated by the way her eyes shone, the way the breeze blew her hair back. At last he stopped and looked back at the trail of their footprints. He wished with every essence of his being that it could always be thus, that their paths would be side by side. But it was time to head back. He opened his overcoat and she nestled into his side, leaning against him. He closed his eyes and savored the moment, committing it to memory, before they turned and went back in the direction they had come.

Once back inside the bungalow, Sara announced that she was going to take a nap. Ian nodded and settled on the couch with a comic book.

Sara laid on the bed without even pulling back the comforter. Exhausted from walking she fell asleep almost immediately.

The visions began without warning. Flashes of past lives, pieces of history seemingly unlinked. Mists swirled in the vision and suddenly Sara found herself standing in a ring of trees. A woman dressed in armor faced her, the face exactly that of her own. Alarm and fear gripped her.

"Do not fear, Sara. You have tread this path before." The woman took Sara�s hand and all the details of the Periculum came flooding back to Sara�s mind.

"You are Joan."

"Yes, I am Joan. I am you."

Sara nodded. "Why do you come to me now?"

"I must ask you questions. You must answer true and well."

"I will try." Sara answered, nodding.

"The sword and shield are ancient armaments of battle. You wield the Witchblade, Sara Pezzini. You must name your shield."

"I . . . I don�t understand."

"You must name the one who is to protect you."

Sara blinked. Nottingham�s words came unbidden to her mind. "I am your protector." Sara thought of him, a man who lived by the sword. She herself was sworn to "protect and serve," her badge in the image of a shield. Why had she not seen this dichotomy sooner? She fought with the Witchblade, he put himself in harm�s way to shield her. Sword and shield.

Sara spoke, her voice clear and calm. "Ian Nottingham."

Joan nodded once. "He will be tested."

"Tested? How? What do you mean? Wait!"

The mists swirled around Sara and she awoke. She sat up in the bed, her chest heaving. "Nottingham!"

Ian�s head jerked up at the sound of Sara�s voice and he went running.