The man got as close to the house as he dared. Peering into the sliding glass door he noticed the familiar red light that denoted the alarm system being armed was off. Here was his opportunity. Steeling his nerves he slid the door open ever so slowly. He held his breath, waiting to see if the dog was going to come bounding his way. He could hear the voices of the two men coming from the bedroom. He heard the younger man ask if it was ok to feed the dog. What luck! Quietly he closed the sliding glass door and opened the door to the basement, closing it behind himself and then slipping down the stairs unnoticed.

Sara tucked the warm plastic pouch into her jacket pocket and straddled the Buell. The fingerprinting of the dart had turned up no latent prints. She had guessed as much. Irons and his "employees" wouldn't be so careless. Cranking up the bike she took off in the directions of Irons' mansion.

The phone rang and Gabe jumped up to get it. "Be right back, big guy."

"Do not worry. I do not plan on going anywhere." Ian smiled sarcastically.

Gabe laughed and went to the kitchen to grab the phone. "Nottingham residence."

"Uh . . hi. I was expecting Sara to answer." After a brief pause, "This is Jake, Jake McCartey . . . her partner. She had said Ian was ill so I called to see how things were going."

"Hey Jake, this is Gabe. I'm over here with Ian while Sara runs some errands."

"Oh, ok. Would it be all right if I stopped by? I had something for Sara, but if she's not home I can wait "

"No, no, it's fine. I'll be here til she gets back. She didn't say how long she was going to be."

"I'll be by in a little while then. How is Ian anyway?"

"Not good." Gabe tried to peer around the corner to see if Ian was paying attention, but he couldn't quite see. "He's not able to move on his own."

"Oh my God. You're serious?"

"Yeah."

"I didn't have any idea it was something that bad. How is Sara dealing with it?"

"Putting on a brave front."

Jake nodded, even though Gabriel couldn't see him. "All right. See you in a while then." He hung up the phone and sat in stunned silence for a few moments. Why hadn't Sara trusted him enough to say something? They were partners for chrissakes. He looked at the fruit basket sitting on his desk. Seemed like a rather poor offering considering what Gabriel had just told him. He stood and went in search of Captain Siri.

In the basement, the man stretched out carefully on one of the padded weight benches. He was unsure of how long he would have to wait. Bits and pieces of conversation floated down to him from the ceiling. So the dark-haired man was ill, bedridden even. The woman, Sara, had left the younger man in charge of him. This may turn out to be easier than he had imagined.

Kenneth Irons turned to Hector Mobius. "Sara Pezzini, ah excuse me, Sara Nottingham is on her way to us it would seem." He smiled maliciously.

Hector Mobius looked at the man who was now his boss. "Do you wish me to kill her?"

"No, no . . . nothing of the sort." Irons stared into the large fireplace. "The only reason you should ever lay a finger on the fair Sara is if she should threaten my person. I do not think she would try that considering the condition her husband is in." He said the word husband with a great deal of disdain.

"Yes, Sir. Would you like for me to make my presence known?"

"Not unless it becomes necessary."

"Very well, Sir." With that Hector Mobius retreated into a dark recess of the room, vanishing from sight.

Irons touched the headset phone at his ear. "Dr. Immo, would you join me in the study please?" He tapped the phone again, too quickly to even wait for a reply. He returned his attention to the fireplace, rubbing the scar on the back of his hand absent-mindedly.

Gabe rejoined Ian in the bedroom. "That was Sara's partner, Jake, on the phone. He wanted to bring something by."

Ian scowled, but said nothing.

"Did I do something wrong? I said it would be ok."

"I do not trust Jake McCartey."

Gabe winced. "Sorry man, I didn't know."

Ian sighed. "It is all right. I am just concerned with things he has done in the . . . past."

Gabe looked curious, "Like what? Or should I not ask." Gabe wondered if Jake had been putting the moves on Sara.

"It would probably be best if you did not ask." Ian closed his eyes, trying to shake the images of that other lifetime that didn't happen but did. Jake, the White Bull. Jake's betrayal of Sara. Jake firing at him. Beating Jake to a bloody pulp. Sara stopping him before he could kill the traitorous bastard. Perhaps things would be different this time. Perhaps. Hard for a leopard to change its spots.

Gabe noticed Helmut sniffing at the floor near the edge of the bed.

"What's he after?" Gabriel asked Ian.

"Hmm?" Ian opened his eyes, looking first to Gabriel and then the dog. "Probably looking for more pizza."

"You need anything? A drink?"

"Something cold to drink sounds good."

"A beer? No wait, that's probably a bad idea."

"I do not drink alcohol. Cola, if there is any, would be fine."

Gabe left the room to get the requested drink.

Helmut continued to show interest in the floor, sniffing at it and occasionally digging lightly at the carpet.

Ian considered the dog. "Helmut. Stop. Lie down."

Helmut did as asked, lying down with his head on his paws, but not before letting out a frustrated whine. Why did no one else hear the things he did?

Sara pulled up to the gates of Irons mansion and went through as they swung open. Looking over the large expanse of perfectly manicured green lawn she repressed the urge to go do a few spin outs on it. No need to antagonize Irons further she supposed. The thought of doing just that brought a little smile to her lips, but she managed to resist.

After parking the Buell, she walked directly up to the front door and placed the eye of the Witchblade up to the retinal scanner. The doors opened, swinging inward soundlessly. Sara found her way to the study, knowing Irons would be there by the fire. She briefly wondered what it was about that fireplace that drew him to it. Such a large mansion and he stayed in the study the majority of the time. Creature comforts she supposed.

Sure enough, Irons was exactly where she had thought he would be. Leaning against the wall next to the fire, staring into its flames. He lifted his head and turned his gaze to her as she entered the room.

"Sara, what a lovely surprise." Irons voice held none of the warmth that the words indicated.

"Kenneth. I think we both know why I'm here. I want whatever it is that is needed to cure Ian."

Irons quirked an eyebrow at her directness. "I see time hasn't made you any more subtle."

"A direct attack on my husband didn't do a lot to help my mood, no."

Irons moved from the fireplace, walking past Sara to pour himself a glass of wine. "You really don't think I would try to harm Ian do you? I raised him, after all."

"No, Kenneth," Sara spat out his name, "you trained him to be a slave."

"I must have done something correctly, Sara, seeing as you found him perfect for your own needs."

"Look I'm not here to waste time playing word games with you, Irons. Do you have whatever it takes to kill the virus you had him darted with or not?"

Irons sat down his wine glass and looked at Sara thoughtfully for a moment. "And what are you willing to give for it?"

Sara held up her arm and tapped the bracelet at her wrist. "If you're thinking I'm giving you the Witchblade you are dead wrong."

Irons turned away from her, "Then we have nothing further to discuss, Sara."

"Oh, but we do." Sara reached into her jacket and retrieved the plastic bag she had stored there. "I think I have something you might want . . . other than the Witchblade."

Irons looked back to her and saw what she was holding. "What makes you think I would trade for such a limited supply?" He tried to hide the apprehension in his eyes under a cool exterior façade. Here was a wielder, a true wielder, offering him a pint or more of her blood. The amount needed to prolong his life and sustain his youthfulness was minuscule. Limited supply indeed. That one bag would last him a year or better easily. Longer possibly.

"Because it wouldn't be a limited supply, Irons. If this is the only way you will leave Ian and me alone, then so be it."

"You would provide me as much as I wished?"

"Within reason, yes."

"Why do I have the feeling there is a catch to this little bargain, Sara?"

"There is no catch, Irons. The only exception I can even begin to think of is should I get pregnant. I think you should be able to store enough that it shouldn't pose a problem to your vitality."

Irons smiled. "Funny. I can almost see you as a mother, Sara. You have the protective qualities already. Are you trying?"

Sara blushed slightly and shook her head, "No, not trying. Not trying not to either though."

"From the frequency of your endeavors I would have suspected otherwise."

Sara's mouth flew open and her eyes widened. "You know when . . . I mean, you . . . " Sara was at a loss for words.

"We are linked, you and I. Does it surprise you, Sara?"

'It disgusts me." Sara fought down a roiling in her gut.

Irons took a look of displeasure on his face before turning partially away. "It has not been precisely easy for me either, Sara. It has become somewhat of a torment."

Sara's mind raced back, thinking back over the time that she and Ian had been together. Almost five months now and almost every day she and Ian had . . . hell, sometimes all day on her days off. "I don't know what to say, I didn't realize . . . " she left the sentence unfinished. She studied Irons' profile.

"I've canceled all but the most important of my dinner engagements. I rarely leave the house." Irons shrugged, his voice sounding somehow injured."

"I am truly sorry. I will make sure to remove it before . . . engaging in that type activity in the future." Sara reddened even further. She inhaled deeply, "So do we have a deal?"

Irons looked to the corner of the room and called out, "Dr. Immo?"

Immo came into the room from whatever alcove he had been standing in.

"Would you be so kind as to accept that gift from the fair Sara?" Irons inquired.

Immo walked toward Sara with an outstretched hand.

"The cure first." Sara clutched the plastic bag close to her body.

Immo withdrew a small bottle from the pocket of his lab coat and offered it to Sara. She exchanged the bag of blood for the bottle.

"This had better work, Irons. Otherwise the deal is off."

"It will work, rest assured. Before you go I must insist that Dr. Immo be allowed to test a sample of that blood to verify that it is indeed yours," he paused, "and that it is free of the virus."

Hector Mobius stepped out of the shadows and stood in front of the door as Immo disappeared down a corridor.

"I see you have a new pet." Sara smirked.

"Hector is serving as my employee." Irons picked his wine glass back up and sipped from it.

Sara stared at the small bottle in her hand for a moment before stuffing it into her pocket. "How long is this going to take?"

"Immo is the expert, Sara, not I." Irons smiled "Would you care for some refreshment while we wait?"

Sara shook her head. "No, thank you."

"You really should calm down, Sara. You look quite nervous. Should I be concerned about anything?"

"No, Irons. I'm just in a hurry to get back to Ian."

Irons simply nodded and then smiled as Immo came back into the room. "Well, Doctor?"

"It is her blood and it is virus free." The shorter man nodded in affirmation.

"Excellent." Irons turned to Sara, "I suppose you are eager to be on your way. Do not forget our little bargain, Sara. I would prefer not to have to send Hector to deliver a reminder."

"Don't worry Irons. If it will keep you out of my hair, I won't forget." Sara turned and, sidestepping Hector Mobius, strode out the door.