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Date Posted: 22:45:24 11/04/03 Tue
Author: Yarvarni
Subject: 7
In reply to: Yarvarni 's message, "Witchblade/The Pretender Crossover" on 22:29:45 11/04/03 Tue

Sara slipped out of the dress and ito the shower. She let the spray fall over her mulling over the decision they had made to slow down It was a wise one emotionally although her body was still on fire. She had never had a healthy relationship outside of friendship and she doubted he had either. She saw what Danny and Lee had and desperately wanted it, Ian was the first man she ever felt it was possible to have that with. He understood her, could stand her moods and deal with the Witchblade. She was finally beginning to see the man he had always been but kept hiddden because of Kenneth Irons. She stepped out of the shower drying with of the luxurious towels, she frowned not finding anything to wear, she wrapped herself in the towel going in search of the errant Ian Nottingham.

She found him standing in the center of the room, his back was to her so she couldn't tell what he was so intently eyeing. She cautiously approached him sliding her arms around his taunt middle, looking past him she saw a large painting resting upon an easel. The woman in the portrait was sitting with her back to the artist, masses of curly dark hair falling across her nude back. Her elbows were resting against the back of the sette, her arms stretched in front of her. Her head was turned glancing over her shoulder, eyes cast seductively to the floor, a violin rested against long elegantly stretched bare legs. Shocked by the sheer myriad of emotions emitted by the painting, Sara quickly looked to the womans wrist fully expecting to see the Witchblade residing there. Not finding it she questioned Ian, "who is she?"

"I think that is my mother."

"What?!" Sara looked at the woman, the resemblances becoming glaringly obvious, the hair, the exotic features.

"I found the portrait in one of the storage rooms beneath a bunch of prints, paint had been smeared across it obscuring it. He was not one to keep something that had been ruined, so it intrigued me. I sent it to an art restorer before I went overseas, I had forgotten about it."

"Do you know who painted it? Maybe he's still alive, you could ask about her."

"My father painted this, his initials are at the bottom. I know she was a violinist, that is how they met. I learned to play on that violin before..." Ian paused lost in the memory, "before I displeased him and he destroyed it. The box on my bedside table is made from the pieces I salvaged of it."

Sara kissed his shoulder and went in search of the box, she spied a note as well as a large manilla envelope on the bed. "Ian, there's a note here."

"Read it please," he requested.

Sara hesitated at first before unfolding the note and read,

Master Ian,
This was delivered today. The restorationist found this sealed envelope between the canvas and the backing to the frame.

Marcus

"Do you want me to open this?"

"Please."

Sara slid a finger beneath the wax seal and broke it. She dumped the contents on the bed, dozens of photos fell out along with a lock of hair. "Ian, come here there are pictures of her." Sara picked up one photo, the woman was smiling that little half smile of Ian's, bright copper eyes reflecting a combination of emotions, love, sensuality, and a hint of humor aimed towards the photographer. She flipped it over to find, My Katia, written in what she recognized as Kenneth Irons's script.

Ian chose a photo as he sat down beside her, "he loved her, look at this." He handed the picture to her. Kenneth, held her chin tenderly in his large hand, smiling down at her upturned face with a look of what could only be described as love. Sara nodded in agreement, not quite believing that the man in this picture was the evil monster that abused Ian and became so obsessed with her.

Sara began filing through the photos, that followed along the vein of the first two until one caught her eye. She gasped holding it towards Ian, when he reached for it and their hands touched both were drawn into a vision.

Katia reclined upon a velvet covered bed, "Kenneth, enough with the camera."

"No, not enough, Katiania."

"Where is he, I have traveled half way round the world, I want to see him."

"Agnes will bring him up soon." A knock sounded upon the door. "See. Come in."

Katia sat up clasping her hands in front of her. A maid held the object of her anticipation in her arms. He held his chubby little 3 year old arms out towards Kenneth not spying the woman on the bed, "Papa!"

"Hello, my boy," he said as he took him from her, "thank you Agnes." His charge watched him adoringly as he cut his eyes towards the bed. Bright eyes followed his gaze and gasped, "Mama!" He squirmed to get down. "Down, Papa!" Irons placed him on the floor and he raced towards her now outstretched arms. He launched himself from the floor to the bed and wrapped his arms around her neck, burying his face in her hair.

"He's grown so much," she kissed the top of his head, covered with shining curls and looked up at Irons who was pointing the camera at them. "Look at Papa," he looked up briefly and upon seeing the camera reburied his face in his mothers neck. "Kenneth, he's so shy and sweet, I think he did not get his nature from either of us."

Irons smiled and fooled with the camera before coming to sit beside her on the bed, putting his arms around the both of them, brushing a kiss across the boys head and to her cheek, the moment caught perfectly by the timer of the camera. "He is quiet and shy, I think he needs a sibling to play with, he is a very little boy alone in such a large house. Perhaps a little sister?"

"Kenneth, I gave you your son, I can give you no more you know that. We were lucky with him, no one found out. My husband will not allow me an extended tour this time, that the man doesn't know I bore a child is a miracle."

"You could leave him, I can protect you."

"We have been through this, I have obligations to my family, to my people."

"He needs his mother."

"Under the laws of my people he would belong to my husband no matter who sired him. Christian is the heir of my people, the only son born to the only daughter of the Rom King. They would take him away, you would never see him again. I do not want my son to rule a dying clan, to live in poverty and disease, to travel the old routes persecuted at every turn. We do what we have to in order to survive but I can save him from that and I will. He is meant for greater things, you know this, I have shown you this."

"Ya, you have." He ran his fingers through the boys curls, "he is you made over, love. I can not bear to have his hair cut because it reminds me so much of you. He is my little gypsy child."

She laughed half at the man beside her half at the boy wriggling from between them. Once his escape was made he ran over to a large slate grey wolfhound lying before the fire. The great beast groaned as the boy lay across him giggling. "Poor Cinnead."

"They are constant companions, never long without one another. Cin is very mindful of young Ian."

"You are calling him Ian now?"

"He is into everything and Ian gets him out of whatever trouble his is in quicker than calling out Christian."

"You, the ruthless business man is letting our son run wild?"

"I can seem to deny him nothing when he peers up at me with those big amber eyes. Much like his mother." He kissed her gently, "I love you, Katia." He pointed to the little figure wresting with the large dog, "and I love him, he is a wonder and the only joy in my life when you are gone."

"Let him stay with us tonight, we have so little time together, the three of us."

"I will have dinner sent up and have Agnes take the evening off." Kenneth reached for the phone as Katia eased off the bed and scooped the giggling boy in her arms and spun him around.
"Pa...pa...hep."

"You will make him ill before supper. Ian why don't you got get your new puzzle to show your Mama."

Katia placed him on the floor and both adults laughed as he weaved an unsteady path to the windowseat raising it, pulling out a large jointed wooden puzzle. Kenneth sat before the fire holding his hand out to Katia, she sat beside him and Ian soon joined placing the puzzle in his father's lap. Kenneth scrambled the movable wooden pieces then handed the puzzle back to the small boy who insinuated himself between his parents placing the puzzle box on his outstretched legs. He studied the scrambled figures for a moment before busily moving piece by piece to form an inticate celtic knot. "He's so clever to be so young."
"Ya, it is exceedingly difficult to keep him occupied. He has taught himself to read by following along with my stories. He is able to understand German and French, I plan on having him being formal studies as soon as I find an appropriate instructor."
"He speaks so little."
"What use is it to him? He recieves everything he wishes through non-verbal communication. The entire household is a fool for that boy."

"Including his Papa," she said slyly.

He was saved from agreeing when Ian hopped up and ran to the door. He struggled a bit before opening it, revealing several servants carrying trays. Once the bustle of activity was over the trio was seated again before the fire a small coffee table serving as a dining table. Katia smiled into her wineglass watching as Kenneth fed the boy from his plate, pushing aside the plate of chicken strips and cooked carrots the cook prepared for him. Like a little bird he accepted anything offered. Kenneth caught her observation, "you would have him eat that pedestrian swill?"

She chuckled, it amazed her to see this brash arrogant man so gentle and mindful of their son. Had anyone told her he would be so enamored of the child she would have called them insane. It would be nearly impossible not to look down at the little cherubic face, those large soulful eyes framed by dark curls and not adore him on sight.

The vision ended as quickly as it began, both recipients shook themselves mentally. When Sara looked at Ian she saw tears in his eyes. "He loved me, he said so, what happened? What did I do that was so wrong to make him hate me so?"

"I don't know, baby." She gathered the photos and put them aside, she pulled him into her arms as she laid back on the pillows, he curled up seeking the comfort her embrace afforded. She didn't know what to say to him. It was nearly impossible for her to divorce the man from the vision from the Kenneth Irons she knew. Something terrible had happened to warrant such a change, she only hoped when and if they discovered it Ian could handle it.

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Replies:

  • 8 -- Yarvarni, 22:48:05 11/04/03 Tue
  • Amazing! -- Cindy, 04:49:11 11/05/03 Wed
  • I agree wholeheately that was an amazing story more please -- thelma, 11:27:57 11/05/03 Wed
  • 8A---Cause I'm an idiot and skipped a section OOPS ;-) Thanks Thelma :-) -- Yarvarni, 15:38:11 11/08/03 Sat
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