| TITLE: Future's Past AUTHOR: Faery FEEDBACK: Glowing responses and * Constructive* criticism will be cherished like chocolate. Flames will be fed to my dog to tear up. DISTRIBUTION: I would be honoured, just let me know first. PAIRING: Sarah/Irons Sarah/Ian (sort of) RATING: I'm gonna say R FANDOM: Witchblade the TV series DISCLAIMER: Nothing about Witchblade belongs to me. If I could own the characters, I wouldn't just be writing about them...believe me. SUMMARY: Sarah discovers that the Witchblade isn't the only thing she's destined for. "Hello, Sarah." Sarah whipped around, her gun aimed at the sudden presence of an intruder in her apartment. "God! Don't *do* that!" she exclaimed as she lowered her gun. "I could have shot you!" "You can't harm me, Sarah," Nottingham replied quietly. "What, just because the Witchblade doesn't seem to work on you, you're suddenly immune to bullets?" she asked as she raised her gun again. "If I shot you now, would you bleed real blood, or are you some fairytale like the rest of my life?" Nottingham walked towards Sarah and placed his hand on hers, guiding the gun to the middle of his chest. "It's not in your nature," he said calmly, absentmindedly brushing a strand of Sarah's hair from her face. Sarah jerked away from his touch, noticeably shaken, and hurried to set her gun down on a nearby table. "So what is it you want," she said curtly. "Will it be business as usual? Leave a cryptic message and disappear into the shadows...or are you actually going to tell me something useful this time?" "Kenneth Irons requests your presence at his home tonight." "Whoa...Irons must be pretty pissed at you," she said sarcastically. "You've been demoted from thug to messenger boy." Her tone abruptly changed as she stared into his dark eyes. She glared at him, placing herself mere inches from his face. "You can go back to your boss or master or whatever the hell you two are to each other, and tell him that I will *not* be summoned," she said angrily. "There are few others who could instruct you so well. Do you care so little for the gift you've been given?" "Yeah, well the last time I saw Irons, he asked me to run away with him. `Come see the world with me,' he said. I think Mr. Irons is interested in a little more than the Witchblade." "Whatever you believe about Kenneth Irons' intentions, it is ultimately you who will control the Witchblade, not him. But for that to happen, you must first learn that control, otherwise the Witchblade will destroy you. The choice is yours." Sarah turned to stare out the window, considering her options. Finally, her desire for some semblance of power over her own life won out over her uncertainty about Irons. "Fine," she said in a resigned tone. "Tell him I'll be there." "Dinner starts at 7:00." "Dinner?" she said, looking over her shoulder and arching her eyebrow. "Yes, dinner." "Oh, and Sarah..." Ian said softly. "What?" she snapped. "Wear something nice." "Screw you," she replied, finally turning away from the window to glare at him, but it was too late... he was already gone. "I hate it when he does that," she muttered as she stared at the suddenly empty room. Once she doubled-checked to make sure he was really gone, she collapsed into her easy chair and rested her head in her hands, wondering what she would do that night. She was startled from her reverie by the jolting sound of the phone ringing. "What?" she said shortly into the receiver. "Whoa, what's with you? Someone give you decaf today by mistake?" "Hey, Jake...sorry. It's been a rough day." "Then let me help ease your pains. Come to dinner with me?" "Jake...I can't," she replied regretfully. "C'mon, Pez. You can't keep living in a shell like this. You get weirder by the day. Let's just go out and have a nice, normal evening." "Believe me, you don't know how wonderful `normal' sounds, but I can't. I already have plans." "Yeah, whatever," he said angrily, not believing her. "Another time?" she offered. "Sure. Whatever you want. `Night, Pez." "Goodnight, Jake." "Great, just great. Can the night get any worse," she muttered as she hung up the phone. She glanced at the clock and decided to hop in the shower before dinner. She quickly bathed and then slipped into a simple dress. The white color and flowing design made her look deceptively innocent, her steely strength hidden beneath the surface. Just as she was about to leave, there was a knock at the door. "Hey, Pez. I'm here to rescue your evening!" Jake cried from outside the apartment. Sarah opened the door and he gave her a stunned look. "Wow...would you look at you? Careful, someone might actually mistake you for a girl if you dress that way." "Jake, I told you...I already have plans." "Well how am I supposed to know?" he snapped. "You say one thing and then do another. Half the time I don't know if you really mean what you say, or you are just lying to cover something up. Forgive me for actually *caring* about my partner!" Sarah brushed past Jake, locking the door behind her. "I have to go," she said shortly. Jake followed her to her car, the two walking in stony silence. As she was about to unlock the car door, Jake reached out and touched her shoulder. "Hey, Pez..." he said gently. "What?" she sighed. "You look great tonight. Really." "Thanks," she smiled as she got into the car and rolled the window down. "Bye now." "Hey, if this guy tries anything, let me know. I'll rough him up for you, ok?" Jake joked. "What are you going to do? Hit him with your surfboard?" Sarah teased. "Man, you hit below the belt, girl." Jake was met with a laugh coming out the window as Sarah drove away. Sarah approached the Iron's residence with a bit of trepidation. She glanced around the grounds before stepping out of her car, and she fingered the gun in her purse as she nervously approached the front door. Sarah rang the bell, and a minute later she was ushered inside. The maid showed her to the dining room and then silently slipped away. "Sarah!" Irons said happily, rising to meet his guest. "You look absolutely lovely. Won't you sit down?" "Cut the crap, Irons. I'm here about the Witchblade, nothing more. Don't delude yourself into thinking that this is a date." "Sarah, by now you should have realized that *everything* in your life is about the Witchblade. Everything connects. This evening will be no more informative than any other night if you simply choose to open your eyes." "Great. You're beginning to sound as cryptic as your pet thug. Where is he, anyway?" "Ian? I'm certain he is somewhere here about. Why? Am I his keeper?' "Actually I'd have to answer yes to that one," Sarah said snidely. "I am merely his employer," Irons protested. "Yeah, and I'm just a cop." "Ah, so you *do* admit that you might be something more?" Irons replied, diverting her attention from the topic of his somber employee. "Why don't you tell me?" "All in good time. But first, why don't we get on with the pleasantries. It would be a shame to let such a fine dinner go to waste. "You know what, I'm beginning to think that this was a mistake. Maybe I should just go." "The Witchblade is your destiny, Sarah. There is no reason to fear it." "I don't fear it," Sarah said defensively. "Then you'll stay," Irons said matter-of-factly, motioning to the table. Sarah grudgingly sat down, and they ate in silence. That is, until Sarah tried the wine. At first, she tool a small, tentative sip, then she held the glass away from her in admiration and drank more deeply. "This is *very* good," she said in surprise. "Yes, it's one of my finer vintages," Irons remarked. He refilled Sarah's glass with no protestations, and she quickly drained that as well. "This wine...it's so sweet," she said dreamily. "That's to hide the taste of the drug," Irons said coolly. It took a moment for his words to register in her mind. Her glass slipped from her hand, shattering on the ground, as shock spread across her face. "Drugs?" she said accusingly, pushing back from the table and sending her chair flying. "You drugged me...?" Irons slowly approached Sarah, his look disturbingly calm. "You claim to want information about the Witchblade, yet you close your mind to it at every turn. The drugs will merely open your mind, knock down some of those carefully constructed walls you've built up. The Witchblade can offer you sight unlike any other, open you up to experience beyond the scope of a normal mind. But only if you let it. Open your mind, Sarah, and let the Witchblade in." Sarah's eyes opened wide. She could still see Irons standing in front of her, but superimposed overtop of him were other images. Flashes of a different life. In a dream-like state, Sarah walked towards the fireplace. She could see the polar bear skin rug at her feet, but she could also see a much less fancy version of the rug, dark brown with matted fur on the dirt floor of a hut. The walls were lined with various sorts of weapons, but on her wrist was the most powerful weapon of all, the Witchblade. Its shape was slightly different, but yet it was the same. As quickly as she felt like she could recognize a scene, it changed on her. Ancient Egypt...Medieval France. The scene continually shifted, yet she remained the same. Eventually Sarah became aware of something. She was not the only constant in the picture. In every scene there was another presence, a figure hidden in shadows. Something as integral to the scene at the Witchblade itself. Irons crept up from behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. His lips grazed her neck and then her ears as he whispered, "What do you see, Sarah?" "It...it keeps changing, but I think...I think it's my past," she said in a hushed tone. "Yes," Irons hissed urgently, squeezing her shoulders tightly. He slid his hands down her body and around her waist, pinning her arms between her body and him. "Now look deeply. What else do you see? *Who* else do you see?" "A man..." she whispered. Irons allowed his hands to slide up and cup her breasts before slowly pushing down the thin straps to her dress, exposing her bare shoulders, which he reverently kissed. "And who is this man," he asked, trying to lead her to the answer. "My protector...my lover," Sarah sighed. In her mind, the dark figure finally came out of the shadows. He began to caress and kiss her before lowering her down to the fur carpet at their feet. She smiled in acceptance as she ran her hands over his body, but try as she might, she couldn't pierce the veil of shadows over his face. Irons trailed kisses along Sarah's neck, slipping her dress over her head before lowering her to the ground. He jumped slightly in surprise when she smiled up at him and began running her hands over him, removing his clothing. A slight frown creased her forehead as her hand reached up to touch his face, but he quickly remedied that by taking her hand and placing a soft kiss on it. Soon, both of them were without clothes. Irons leaned over her and murmured into her ear, "You are mine Sarah...for all eternity, you are mine." An animal passion swept over Sarah. She savagely kissed the mouth of her lover and growled "Mine" in agreement. She made love desperately, feeling every year of the centuries she had been separated from her love. She moaned and arched her back, her wide eyes still taking in the ever-changing scene around her. As her pleasure built, the background shifted more and more rapidly. Finally it was nothing but a white blur. A primal scream left Sarah's throat as she dug her nails into her lover's back. Blood mingled with sweat dripping down his pale back as he let out a scream of his own. Shakily He eased her trembling body down to the ground and finally the shadows were lifted from his face. Sarah looked up with vision-clouded eyes and stroked his face. "Ian," she murmured reverently before drifting off into an exhausted sleep. Irons kneeled over Sarah's prone form, admiring the way the firelight played across her body. For a second, he allowed himself a moment of tenderness before his visage returned to the icy mask it normally wore. From behind him, the silent watcher melted from the shadows, fire smoldering in his eyes. Irons quietly put his clothes back on as Ian undressed. He stood before Irons, proud as a warrior in his nakedness. Irons cupped his face and leaned his forehead against the brow of the other man. "She is never to know," he said urgently. "Breed her as you will, but the first child I claim as *mine*." Ian gave a reverential bow before taking his place next to Sarah. Instinctively, she curled next to him, molding herself to his side. Irons turned to walk away and was stopped by Ian's voice. "You have changed nothing," he said dispassionately. "You will always be a pretender, obsessed with the Witchblade, but never truly claimed by anything but your lusts. The Witchblade does not want you, and neither does Sarah." Irons kept his back to Ian as emotions played across his face. Finally he regained his composure. He turned stiffly and gave Ian a curt nod. "Goodnight, Ian," he said icily. "Goodnight, Mr. Irons," Ian replied, his voice even. Ian wrapped himself around Sarah, giving her a deep kiss before allowing himself to fall asleep. From a distance, Irons watched the two lovers twine themselves around each other with a natural sort of grace. With a sigh, he retreated to his own room, his sleep tormented by dreams of the Witchblade and the lover that would never truly be his. Faery So...what did you think? :-) |