Chapter Text
Kitty sighed as she sat down at the computer. It had been a day already, and it wasn't even noon. She took a sip of her soda and a drag on her cigarette, and willed the Muse to come. Soon.
Sara Pezzini pulled the blankets over her head with a groan. "Sunlight bad," she muttered as she burrowed deeper into the covers, trying to push herself back to the comforting realms of sleep. It had been a good night, the Witchblade actually allowing her relaxing dreams. Of course they still included Ian Nottingham, but then, nothing was perfect. Though why she should ever consider dreams of Nottingham relaxing. She closed her eyes tighter. What was it about him? Why did every dream have to involve him? Psychotic stalker, black-clad throwback to another age.
The waking world intruded more forcefully as she smelled the aroma of fresh brewed coffee. "Nottingham!" she yelled and sat straight up. He had done it again. She didn't expect a reply, and none came. Gritting her teeth, she threw off the covers and stormed into the kitchen, her irritation fading slightly in the face of morning coffee. After one cup, Sara was in a better mood. After the second, she was definitely ready to face the day.
"At least he has the decency to pick good coffee," she muttered aloud. His lately adopted morning ritual of sneaking into her apartment and fixing her first pot of the day before he disappeared to who knows where had its benefits, she admitted sourly to herself, draining the cup to the dregs before wandering in the direction of the bathroom to start her day.
After showering and getting dressed, she poured herself a third cup of the heavenly brew and stood at her window. Suddenly, the thought occurred that it was her day off and she had nothing to do. She mused on the unusual prospect, wondering idly how to spend her day, in a rather odd mood, when she saw a shadow move down below her within the doorway of a neighboring building. A slow smile spread across her lips, a delightfully evil idea coming to her.
Carefully slipping away from the window, she went back to her bedroom and opened the closet door. After digging for several minutes, she pulled out a plain blue jacket, an old, red baseball cap and a pair of dark sunglasses. Crouching low, she crept to her front stairs, making sure to stay out of sight of the windows. Once she was sure she was out of sight, she donned the jacket and pulled her hair up under the hat. She started laughing as she put the sunglasses on. Let's see how the stalker likes being stalked, she thought, grinning wickedly as she slowly opened her door and slipped out the back of the building, the tigress on the hunt, in search of her ebon prey.
Below her, Ian Nottingham tucked his binoculars away in his coat and smiled. So, Sara wished a game? He would do his best to oblige her.
Just as Kitty was planning the game of hide and seek that would ensue, the phone rang. Irritated, she picked it up. No, I do not want aluminum siding for my house! It already has it, thank you! Now, then, where was I? she asked of the room at large. The snakes just oozed quietly to themselves and she went back to work.
Sara looked at her watch. Forty-five minutes. She had been watching him for forty-five minutes and he was still standing in the doorway. Her pleasure at apparently slipping out unnoticed was being quickly replaced by agitation. 'How does he do this?' she thought to herself. She looked to her watch again. Forty-seven minutes. She was ready to give up in exasperation when he started to move. "Finally," she breathed and started carefully following him, unable to see the broad smile lighting his face.
The phone rang again. Or a lovely Disney vacation aboard the Big Red Boat!!! *click*
He walked directly to a good-sized black BMW K1200 motorcycle, parked about a block from hers. Black. Of course, it's black. Rolling her eyes, she kept an eye on him as she moved toward her Buell. As his bike roared to life, she started her own and followed him, careful to keep enough distance and hoping his hearing wasn't extremely sensitive. His maneuvering in and out of traffic rivaled her own, and she was pleased that she could keep up. After a couple of miles, Ian pulled into a small parking lot. Sara stopped a block behind and watched to see where he would go.
Ian walked into a bustling florist shop. Somewhat surprised, Sara waited a few minutes, then followed him in. Standing behind a refrigerated case of roses, she watched him surreptitiously from the side, as Ian and the shopkeeper spoke in low tones, too low for her to hear. She shook her head in frustration. Why would he be here? Did he have a girlfriend? At that thought, the Witchblade began to warm on her wrist, and then went quiet again. Sara's eyes widened a little in surprise. She looked up again and saw him writing something on a piece of paper, and then paying the florist cash. He quickly turned and strode to the door, the florist calling out behind him, "I will have these delivered as requested, sir." Ian nodded his acknowledgement and left.
Sara debated what to do. She was half tempted to question the florist, but knew that that would take too much time. Besides, she felt a little foolish following Nottingham and wasn't about to let anyone else know about it. Deciding on her course, she slipped out the door and made it to the Buell just as Ian was pulling out of the parking lot.
~~~~~
And again. Or to reduce my credit card debt! *slam*
A sense of dread filled Sara's heart as she looked upon the tower that was Vorschlag Industries. She had known they would end up here eventually, but had hoped against hope that this place could be avoided today. It had seemed a distinct possibility this morning as she followed Ian. After several stops to various non-descript buildings, she was beginning to think he wasn't going to come here at all today, that he had decided to play hooky from his day job. No such luck. And she was becoming ever more curious as to what it was he actually was doing. She could never get quite close enough to hear or see anything in any great detail. Occasionally the Witchblade would grow warm, or begin a small dance of light to give her a hint when it seemed that she was about to lose the trail, but otherwise, it all seemed just out of reach.
Still staring at the tower, Sara knew there was no possibility of entering the building without Ian, or worse Irons, knowing about it. She settled on a bench across the street and began to question her decision to play stalker today. It wasn't all that different from police surveillance. The major distinction being, if she got in trouble, she couldn't really call for back-up. Try explaining this to Danny. She unconsciously rolled her eyes. Ian just better not get her into any trouble today, that was all, or she would never hear the end of it.
Early in the afternoon, as she sat watching and thinking, waiting for Ian to return, Sara noticed a florist van park in front of the building, the same florist Ian had visited earlier today. The driver stepped out of the van and opened the back to pull out a beautiful bouquet of flowers in an exquisite green cut-crystal vase. The arrangement was huge, filled with roses and lilies, as well as several other flowers she could not immediately identify. The driver entered the building and Sara found herself just a little jealous. Who on earth would Nottingham being sending flowers to? She willed the Witchblade to show her where the bouquet was going, and, rather to her surprise, it obliged.
The image of an office filled her mind as the driver walked in. The willowy blonde looked up from her desk in surprise, a sudden smile crossing her features. She took the flowers from the driver and set them on a cabinet near her desk. She opened the attached card and a slight blush rose as she read it. Suddenly she turned back toward the door as Ian Nottingham walked in. Although she could hear nothing, Sara could make out the words "thank you". Ian and the blonde woman spoke for a little while, then he left. The blonde went back to her desk, pulled out a small make-up bag, and began to touch up.
Sara clenched her teeth. What was her stalker doing giving flowers to another woman? Then she stopped herself. What am I doing getting upset about it? If tall, dark, and scary has a girlfriend, it makes sense that she would work here. It's not like he has a life or anything. Besides, if he does have a girlfriend, maybe it means he'll quit following me. The Witchblade grew hot on her arm and Sara looked down at it. Before she could question herself any further, she was thrown into another vision.
Ian Nottingham standing in an elegant lavatory, buttoning a pair of black dress slacks. His feet and hands were bare, as was his chest. Sara's breathing quickened as she watched him turn toward a mirror and begin pulling his hair back into a tight ponytail, smiling mysteriously as he took long sensuous strokes with the brush. The mirror allowed her a view of the hard planes of his chest as well as his magnificent muscular back, enhanced rather than diminished by the faint traces of scars. The shock of seeing more than his face struck her. Beyond beautiful, he was ancient, primal God, and she could feel herself growing warm, in a way that had nothing to do with the 'blade. He leisurely, Sara would have almost said teasingly, reached for a black silk shirt and slipped it on slowly over his arms. As he unhurriedly buttoned it , Sara felt a strange sense of loss as his body gradually disappeared beneath the sleek black fabric. She was mesmerized as he tucked the shirt in, then slid his belt through the loops on his pants. His fingers moved deliberately as he buckled his belt. Drinking in every movement as a drowning woman with the promise of an oasis ahead, highly aware of the strength and agility present in those hands that were moving so purposefully, Sara briefly wondered what else his fingers would be good at. In the middle of her musings, the vision abruptly ended.
And MO-OM!!! *whimper* She put her head down and pounded it against the wooden computer desk for a moment. When she raised her head, she felt better, if slightly headachy. Back to work.