Jake’s knees gave way and he fell into a heap onto the fuzzy bathroom matt. He hid his head in his hands and Sara quickly knelt down beside her partner. Her heart ached, because she realized that his pain was her fault. "First, I should be dead from my gun shot wounds, but instead of dying I live, and I was healed in four days! Nottingham is stalking me. I get into a fight with him and ten minutes later my face looks like I haven’t fought! What the hell is going on?" Sara looked at the floor, wondering if she should lie to him, or finally revile the truth. Deep within her heart she knew the truth must be told, despite her own fears. Finally Sara pulled back the right sleeve of her leather jacket, exposing her silver bracelet. Holding up her hand, she summoned the witchblade to encase her arm. Jake’s eyes became large as he looked at the metal gauntlet.

"What the hell?"

"It’s the witchblade," she said, simply. "It’s some mystical object, which I really don’t fully understand yet. For some reason or another I was graced or cursed with the opportunity to wear it. I used it to heal you." Jake continued to look confused, so she elaborated. "It gives me powers, strength and the ability to sense things. It’s all stuff you’ve began to feel since I‘ve healed you." Jake allowed the new information to sink in for a moment.

"You saved my life?" She nodded. "How long will I be like this?"

Sara shrugged. "I’m not sure. Maybe just a little while, maybe forever." Jake stood up and then left the room. She shouted after him. "As for Nottingham he works for Kenneth Irons and both are obsessed with the witchblade."

"If they want the damn thing so bad, why don’t they just take it?" Sara walked into the bedroom where Jake sat upon his perfectly made bed.

"Men can’t wear the witchblade, only women can. Men who try usually end up losing their hands or their lives."

"What’s going to happen to me then? I mean if it doesn’t like men and you made it heal me…" The prospect of an impending death did not set well with Jake.

"I don’t think anything bad will happen."

"You don’t think?" Jake stood up, and he turned his back to her, he was too angry to look at her. "So you don’t know?"

"No," she muttered, truthfully.

"I wish you would have let me die in the hospital! I wish you had let me die an honorable death! I don’t feel normal, Sara! I don’t want to be a walking time bomb! He shook his head. "Why didn’t you just let me die?" Jake spoke from his heart and that scared Sara.

"I-" Sara searched for words and her green eyes diverted to the carpet. "I couldn’t let you die, Jake. I didn’t want to lose you. I’ve suffered so much this past year that I wasn’t ready to endure more pain."

"So for your own selfish reasons you saved my life," he snapped. He made the healing she performed sound dirty and evil. Again he shook his head, unable to believe how his life had been altered forever.

"Jake, listen," Sara paused. "The witchblade has been know for abandoning its wielder in times of need. Just because I wear it that doesn’t guarantee my safety." She walked over to him and placed her hand on his arm. "I’m sorry Jake," Sara muttered, tears swelling within her eyes. "I shouldn’t have done this. I was being selfish and wasn’t thinking what could happen to you." Jake turned to see her face creased with sorrow and pain. Despite the fact he was worried about his own fate he realized he could not be angry with her. Jake hugged Sara.

"At least I know I’m not crazy," he said softly, his chin resting on the top of Sara’s head. "And now I know why you always shut me out."

"I didn’t mean to. I just thought it was the safest thing to do. Besides, how was I supposed to tell you that I had some magical bracelet on my wrist? You wouldn’t have believed me." Sara stepped back and Jake looked away.

"So, now what?"

***

"Well?" Irons asked, standing beside the window of his penthouse. He had been admiring the view and pondering about the witchblade. The wealthy businessman turned to face his servant who had just entered.

"He has changed." Nottingham confirmed what they both suspected.

"Yes," Irons agreed, looking over Nottingham. "It seems as if he has gotten the best of you."

"A mere coincidence," Nottingham assured Irons. "It shall not happen again."

"Indeed." Irons moved away from the window his footsteps echoed throughout his office. "You disappoint me Ian. I would have thought you would have done a better job against Det. McCartey. First you allow your emotions to cloud your judgement with Sara and now you have a problem with Det. McCartey." Irons brought back his hand and slapped Ian across his right cheek. "You are to destroy Det. McCartey and I will not accept failure, is that understood?"

"Yes."

"You are dismissed." Nottingham walked out of his master’s office. Irons stood in the sterile environment with his arms crossed. He was not amused by the sudden turn of events.

***

Sara groaned and through half opened eyes gazed at the alarm clock. It read 9:30 and she was late for work, again. Her head fell onto the pillow and she pulled the covers closer to her body, unwilling to move from the confines of her bed. For a moment she was disoriented, wondering where she was, then it all came back to her. Jake invited Sara to stay the night because it had been very late when they finished talking about the witchblade and what it could mean for the both of them.

As she lay within his bed, in one of his old shirts, Sara felt calm and at ease, almost as if being within Jake’s bed was natural. A smile slowly emerged upon her face. After a moment or two, she decided it was imperative to go to work and threw back the covers. Sara walked into the living room and saw a pile of neatly folded blankets upon the couch where Jake had slept. Upon the coffee table she found a note, which informed her that he had left for work.

"He doesn’t think it would prudent to be seen with you," Danny said and Sara placed the note back upon the table. She agreed with Jake’s logic, though a small part of her was upset to see he had already left.

"Danny, what’s going to happen to Jake? Hell what is going to happen to me now that I forced the witchblade to heal him?"

For a moment he did not speak, which caused Sara to become increasingly uneasy. Then he bestowed some of his wisdom upon her. "I’m not sure."

"Great." Sara threw up her hands in frustration. She needed to know what was going to happen to them.

"It isn’t your place to know your fate, nor Jake’s. Besides, it doesn’t matter if you do know, because there is nothing you can do about it. No matter how you attempt to prevent your fate it will come to pass."

"So you’re saying this was suppose to happen?"

"Everything happens for a reason. Those reasons can be both good and bad. For instance, Joan of Arc had to die at the stake. No other death was suitable. If Joan had died in battle would her death have had the same impact on the men of France? Many people wish she had lived and married. But could you see the virgin warrior having six children and living the remainder of her life in a castle? Death by fire was Joan’s fate and it was an appropriate one."

"Are you telling me that I am going to be burned at the stake?"

He smiled. "I don’t think they do that anymore."

"That’s comforting," Sara grumbled. "Danny was this meant to be?"

He exhaled deeply. "I can only tell you that you can demand the witchblade to do things, but if it doesn’t want to aid you it won't. Oh, and Sara."

"Yeah?"

"Listen."

"To…" she looked around the kitchen but did not see Danny. "Great. What am I suppose to be listening to?" She heard a muffled sound come from her jacket pocket and reached in. Sara pulled out her phone. "Yeah? I’ll be right there."

***

"McCartey," Sara called, as she walked through the crime scene. He threw a white sheet over the victim, so curious onlookers would not see her decapitated body, then walked towards his partner. "What do we have?"

"Young girl looks like a hooker. She lost her head." Sara nodded as Jake continued to ramble on, as he looked at his notes.

"What time did you leave?"

"Huh?" Jake asked, stopping mid-sentence. He looked up at her and she sniffed.

"I was just wondering when you left, ‘cause when I woke up you were gone."

"Yeah, well," Jake’s eyes nervously looked around him, making sure no one was listening. "I thought it would be best. I just didn’t want anyone to see us together, you know. How’d ya sleep?"

"Not to bad. I was.." an officer walked by. "So do we have any leads?"

"Some freak with a big knife?" Jake offered, and Sara gave him an annoyed look. "Sorry." Sara walked over to the body and lifted up the sheet but she did not want to inspect the body. "It’s pretty gross." Sara grabbed Jake’s wrist and forced him to touch the girl’s bare arm.

"What the.." Images began to flood Jake’s mind and he saw the young gilr standing in the alley, attempting to look seductive and older than she actually was.

"What do you want?" She was not going to waste precious time on small talk. "I can do a lot for ya." Despite the frigid fall day she did not appear to be cold although she was wearing a small tight dress.

"I want you to make me happy," the man said, walking towards the hooker.

"I can make you very happy."

"Oh, I know you can." The girl’s face dropped and she backed up against the stone wall.

"Get away from me!" She screamed. The hooker closed her eyes and began to pray feverishly for divine intervention, but none came. Cold metal sliced easily through skin and bone, causing her head to fall onto the concrete. Blood splattered across the wall and dripped onto the ground where the body lay. The killer stepped forward, then knelt down beside the body.

"Forgive me, but this needed to occur."

"Jesus Christ!" Jake snapped pulling his hand free.

"What did you see?" Sara asked.

"Everything!" Jake was pale and shaking.

"Tell me," Sara pressed and Jake ran his fingers through his hair.

"I-I saw her, the girl, the hooker, and I saw what happened to her. I saw who killed her. Jesus Christ, Sara, is this normal?"

"Yes." Was her simple reply. Sara placed her hand upon his arm to reasure her partner that everything would be all right. "Take a deep breath Jake."

He did as commanded. "I need a drink."

"Trust me that will only compound the problem." She spoke from experience and did not want Jake to fall into the same trap she had. "Who killed her?"

"Nottingham." Jake’s voice was cold and harsh.

"W-What?" She was stunned. "Nottingham wouldn’t do this."

"I know what I saw, Sara." Jake was adamant.

Sara shook her head. "This doesn’t make sense. I can’t believe he would kill a common hooker."

"Why wouldn’t he? The man’s a freak; for Christ’s sake he stalked me just to beat me up. He isn’t exactly Santa Clause!" Jake’s temper was rising again, for she was taking Nottingham’s side. "I’m not lying to you."

"I still don’t believe it. Maybe your hatred for Nottingham somehow interfered with what you saw." Sara was grasping as straws in a vain attempt to make an excuse for Nottingham.

"Why can’t you believe me?"

"Because it doesn’t make sense. Nottingham doesn’t associate with hookers."

"Why? Because he has you?" It came out before Jake had an opportunity to stop himself. Sara raised her eyebrow and they stood looking at each other for what seemed like an eternity. Without another word Sara turned and walked away from Jake.

"Shit!" Jake swore and looked up to the sky. He never meant to say it, but his hatred for Nottingham once again clouded his rational thinking. "Shit!"

"Son of a bitch!" Jake swore as he slammed the door to his apartment. He was angry with himself and distraught at what he had said to Sara. "God I’m stupid sometimes." Jake threw his keys on the kitchen counter then stormed into his bedroom. The bed had been neatly made by Sara. He turned on his stereo, fell onto the bed and gazed at the ceiling. "Fuck."

Before his stupid comment, Jake could feel a bond forming between them. However, that was destroyed once he referred to his partner as a whore. He could see she was not amused by his accusation, and Jake never meant to say it, however his temper destroyed his ability to think logically. Jake made a fist and pounded the matters. He hated Nottingham with every fibre in his body. The first day Sara mentioned Nottingham, Jake knew he was not going to like him and his instinct had been correct. It seemed to him that the man clad in black was constantly driving a wedge between Sara and himself.

Jake lay upon his bed brooding, as the stereo pumped music throughout the apartment. It would only be a matter of minutes before his neighbors would begin to pound on the walls due to its volume, but Jake did not care. He only wished he could erase his statement and start over again.

***

Sara quietly sat upon a park bench, watching people walk past her as if she was not there. And as she continued to watch their movements, Sara could not push Jake’s comment from her mind. She wondered why he had said such a thing. Was he angry towards her, or had his hatred been focused upon Nottingham and he took it out on her? She knew there was bad blood between them, there always had been.