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I sat in a booth at the back of a small diner, waiting for my order. I'd been awake all night, on the move, sure that one of Dante's boys would find me if I stayed anywhere too long. I was tired and starving. I was running low on cash, but I hoped some food would help with the exhaustion. I wanted -needed- Danny to make an appearance. I leaned my head back, closing my eyes, hoping Danny would be there when I opened them.

"Hey, Sara."

My eyes flew open. Nottingham. I didn't question any more how he always knew where to find me. I resisted the urge to run. Maybe I could get some information -even though I never did- and, besides, wouldn't he just find me again later? I didn't bother to ask him why he had cut my hand yesterday. I knew I wouldn't get a straight answer.

Instead I asked, "What do you want?"

Looking at me straight in the eye, he replied softly, "What I cannot have."

His words were cryptic, as they often were, but that look in his eyes always told me that there was some truth there, and all I had to do was find it. I hated it when he did that.

"Yeah, well, join the club."

"What is it you want, Sara?"

Images flashed through my mind - Dad, Joe, Danny, Conchobar...three of them I had lost since the Witchblade entered my life. Who would be next? Gabriel? Jake? Was loneliness the price of wielding the Witchblade?

I closed my eyes, pushing those thoughts away, and found myself saying, "Everything I've lost."

When I looked at him, his expression seemed so sorrowful I almost believed it. This time I was the one who averted my eyes. Damn him. I wondered if he was sorry that he'd had a hand in everything I had lost or because he couldn't give me what I wanted. You couldn't fake the sadness in his eyes. God help me, I did believe it. Damn him.

Finally, I asked, "What are you doing here?"

"Taking you to Gabriel."

"Gabriel?" I was sure I sounded as surprised as I felt. "You know where he is?"

Nottingham nodded. "He is staying with a friend."

I hesitated, doubting him. For all I knew, this was all part of one of Irons' schemes and that was the last thing I needed right now.

"I would never lie to you, Sara."

I glanced at the Witchblade out of habit, but it was no help when it came to Nottingham. As usual. If Gabriel was in danger, it would tell me, wouldn't it? Before I could say anything, the waitress came with my order. It was past noon but I'd had a craving for breakfast food. The waitress asked Nottingham if he wanted anything and he said didn't, but I could have sworn he kept eyeing my bacon.

I took a bite of my toast and scooped up some eggs with my fork. Around that mouthful, I asked, "Is Gabriel all right?"

"For now."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I demanded.

Angrily, Ian replied, "Think of me what you will, but I would never harm him."

"Funny, that's not what I hear."

Ian softened his tone. "He needs protection, but not from me."

I felt bad enough that Gabriel was mixed up in this whole mess. I didn't need the reminder. I swallowed another mouthful. "Why is Gabriel's safety suddenly your concern, Nottingham?"

He lowered his head, not meeting my eyes. "Isn't it enough that it is your concern?"

"No," I replied honestly.

He looked up at me through his lashes. "I can arrange to set Gabriel up with a new life out of the city. He will be safe. You wouldn't have to worry."

"And in exchange...Irons wants what?"

"Mr. Irons is unaware of my offer."

I was surprised and a little impressed but mostly suspicious. "Why are you doing this?"

Nottingham wouldn't meet my eyes. "Because I can."

Unlike Irons, I didn't think Nottingham was the type to flaunt his wealth. He could be a bastard at times, but I couldn't deny the fact that he had helped me more than once. That was the thing about Nottingham. For every bad thing I could say about him, I could find something good to balance it.

"Please, Sara. Before it is too late."

The almost desperate tone in his voice caught my attention. I took a moment to look at him, to really look at him, the way we had been trained to study people at the police academy. I noticed his usually trim beard was getting shaggy and his clothes were rumpled. He sat, outwardly calm, but his eyes were troubled, as if he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. I knew that look because I had seen it often enough in the mirror. What could make someone like Ian Nottingham feel that way? Wasn't he the ultimate bad-ass, immune to the troubles of us lesser mortals?

It was easy to forget that Nottingham was a human being. When was the last time he had slept? When was the last time he had eaten?

"All right. Let's go."

He stood, dropping some bills on the table. I almost stopped him, then thought better of it. Well, if lunch was on Irons, that was fine by me.

On the way out of the diner, Nottingham stopped at the register. The man reached below the counter and retrieved two motorcycle helmets. He gave them to Nottingham in exchange for another bill and a muttered, "Thank you."

I seriously considered asking him for the address and taking the subway. I would never admit it, but I knew that if I went with him, I wouldn't be followed.

Nottingham stood there, offering me one of the helmets. "Something wrong, Sara?"

"No." I snatched the helmet from his hand. "Well? Let's go."

I followed him outside to his bike. It was bad enough that I'd be riding on the back of his bike, but the bastard had a beautiful bike. A Buell Thunderbolt S3T...a nice little bike, though a bit pricey. He probably got it just to keep up with me. Damn, I missed my bike.

I grinned, putting on my helmet. "Can I drive?"

Nottingham barely glanced at me, straddling the bike. "You don't know where we're going."

He put on his helmet then turned to me as I settled in behind him. "Perhaps next time."

I could have sworn I saw a twinkle in his eye, and if I didn't know any better, I would have guessed he was smiling behind that helmet just before he lowered his visor. I put my hands loosely on his sides, tightening my grip when he turned on the bike. The purring of the bike's engine was muffled by my helmet, but it sounded vaguely familiar. Not exactly like my bike, but close enough to trigger a pang of loss and a flash of anger.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Nottingham expertly drove the bike, weaving us through traffic as necessary. Every once in a while, I absently noted where we were, but I was enjoying the ride and the time to clear my head. It was good to be back on a bike.

I suddenly remembered quite clearly the day I had met Nottingham in the museum. I remembered looking into his eyes, so intense and beautiful that I found it hard to make eye contact with him for the longest time after that. I remembered cursing Vespucci, because I had to get back to the chase when what I really wanted was to talk to this stranger...despite the funky coat.

I couldn't deny he was a very attractive man -just my type, too- but then I got to know him. I didn't think I could trust him since he worked for Irons - even though the Witchblade apparently did. I knew how dangerous he could be, but I was never afraid of him...probably because of the Witchblade. It was never concerned with his presence; to even threaten him, I had to force my will on the Blade. Ian and the Witchblade seemed to have an understanding, and sometimes I felt they were conspiring against me.

Suddenly, time seemed to slow, and I tightened my grip around Nottingham, bracing myself for a Witchblade vision.

I was on horseback behind a man, my arms around his torso, my cheek against his back. I looked up. Those long dark curls could only belong to Nottingham...A hearth, a roaring fire, animal skin rugs. Nottingham in armor standing in front of me, his eyes dark and sensual...Me running my hands along a well-muscled back as I helped remove the suit of armor. Then, sometime later I knew, I was naked, pressed against him, desperate with desire...

God dammit! Stop it!

I blinked, forcing that vision to fade. It wasn't the first time the Witchblade had shown me with Nottingham...like that...and I suspected Nottingham had had similar visions courtesy of the Witchblade. Had any dreams lately, Sara? Oh, yeah, he definitely had. I swear Nottingham flirted with the damn thing.

And those eyes of his. Everything he was and everything he did was reflected in those eyes. And, sometimes, when he let his guard down, what I saw in those eyes wasn't such a bad thing. Was that why I let him get away with all the crap he pulled? Or was it the Witchblade trying to run my life?

"...according to my master,
I have all a dragon needs.

My master fails to notice,
Though I know that he is smart,
The incalculable sadness
Deep within my dragon heart..."