Title: A Simple Gift Of Home

Author: Nicci

Email Address: Nicias.us@verizon.net

Series/Sequel: No

Website Address: http://www.lexslash.com/~nicci

Pairings: Ian/Sara/Jake

Rating: PG

Fandom/Crossover: Witchblade

Archive: Yes to WWOMB

Feedback: Feedback and constructive criticism are welcome.

Warnings: None

Summary: Ian experience the lost of love and ponders the thoughts of Christmas.

Sharon Cross performed beta service. Theresa gave it a read through and provided suggestions. Thanks, guys!

Disclaimer: The characters belong to Top Cow Productions. I don't own them. This fan fiction was written for enjoyment. No money has been paid and no copyright infringement is intended

"A SIMPLE GIFT OF HOME"
by Nicci
January 2002

Ian sat in his car doing what he did best. Watching over Sara and taking in his fill of the Witchblade wielder as she slowly came to understand the gauntlet's secrets.

Today, Sara wasn't alone. Not that this should be anything unusual. It's just Sara had this tendency of slipping away from her partner, Jake, for long periods of time. She would take off to parts unknown, investigating crime scenes using her typical unconventional police tactics.

Jake somehow had managed to connect with Sara early on the morning of Christmas Eve. A morning devoid of snow and the cold frigid weather that sometimes accompanied this time of year. The sun was bright and was sending
streams of pale yellow light to warm up the atmosphere.

As Ian sat within the confinement of chrome, metal and glass of his car, he saw something very different was happening between Sara and Jake. Perhaps it was how close Jake hovered next to Sara, or maybe, it was the fact that Sara was rubbing Jake's arms up and down with her hands as her forehead leaned against his. They were standing so close. Not much was likely to fit in the empty spaces between them. The image of Sara standing with Jake was like a
snapshot in time. Immortalized - two people giving solace to each other . . . just like lovers.

Raw, naked feelings began to swirl nervously in the pit of Ian's belly. The feeling increased at an alarming rate the more he watched Sara and Jake, as he imagined the change in their relationship. His gut reaction was based on nothing really concrete; so unaccustomed to losing love and watching it rebound with another. Ian suffered more heartbreak. It was a strange anomaly in his life: weird, unexpected, angry and possessive. All rolled up into one long emotional trauma.

Ian had thought any emotional residual from his decision to let go was in the past and he had worked very hard at eradicating the sadness it had brought him. Often, when he wasn't doing Irons' bidding or watching Sara, he was in
his bedroom meditating for hours trying to calm his chaotic emotions. He would light a single candlelight, fold his body into a lotus position on the floor, close his eyes and attempt to drain his thoughts of his former lover. Ian fought the strong desire to take back the words, to will his lover back to his side. He was a loner and had been alone much of his life. It was his karma, his fate to walk a solitary path. If only his heart and mind would just remember how it was before he fell into the relationship with his ex-lover. Shouldn't he be able to go back to the way it used to be just by ordering his thoughts, putting his world in its proper perspective? Then why was it so damn hard to watch Jake and Sara as a couple?

Ian shivered, wanting to shake off the bad feelings and his suspicion. He really didn't want to believe what he thought his eyes were seeing. Sara and Jake - touching, joyous -- and the happy smiles spread wide across their
faces. He couldn't accept his ex-lover forgetting about him so soon.

Ian crouched deeper into his car seat. He continued to watch with a sinking heart as Sara and Jake got into their car. Feeling helpless, he was uncertain of what his next step should be. All he could do, really, was to scrutinize them. The need to do so was compelling and, besides, it was the best way of getting answers. So he watched, naturally, using traits honed a long time ago as the protégé of Kenneth Irons - along with other deadly skills.

His ability to see sharply and to be patient had saved him many times, had given him an edge and had prepared him for the unusual. Not that danger always made its presence known - not of the deadly sort anyway. Danger didn't have the sense to always appear in the same package. Oftentimes it was subtle and sneaky. Conveying hidden messages, like it was time to move on and forget the past.

Leaning forward, Ian turned on the ignition. His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly. Maybe they were just beginning their tour of duty on this Christmas Eve. It was possible that they had drawn the unlucky straw at the
11th precinct police station and had to work. Unable to rid himself of the image of Sara and Jake imprinted on his mind, he decided to suddenly trail their car to see where it might take him.

***

Keeping a discreet distance, Ian followed the car as it traveled through the congested maze of New York City traffic. Today the traffic was heavier than usual because of the looming Christmas holidays. More people were out shopping, moving along through the streets, going from one place to another either on foot or by car. It was slow going for Ian as the sound of beeping car horns shrilled through the air, signaling impatience and arrogant
attitudes.

Ian couldn't understand what was the big deal about this holiday. Why the people were hyped and so happy. Most were anyway. The Christmas holidays were just another bunch of ordinary days strung together culminating in a ew
year.

Religious beliefs were not part of his upbringing unless you wanted to count the Witchblade history as canon scriptures. Which meant Ian had no conception of religious meanings attributed to Christmas. Nor did he
understand why people went to great pains to acquire gifts and to spend an enormous amount of money they probably could ill-afford.

As he drove his car painstakingly through the traffic, recognizing that Jake and Sara were suffering from the same malady, he remembered how he felt as a child this time every year. He was a curious boy who had asked a lot of
questions. Although he didn't socialize outside the boundaries set by his master, Irons, there were occasions when he had overheard the conversations of other children. No one he knew, they were children he saw in passing. They had always seemed excited, discussing what they were going to do during the holiday vacation and what gifts they had wanted from Santa. When he had asked Irons, what was this thing called Christmas? The response was, "Not to worry, young Ian. Christmas is nothing but a meaningless ploy for the mundane in the world to celebrate. They spend their money, they attend ceremonies in their sacred places, and later, when the celebration is over - they forget the reasons for celebrating and go back to whatever they were doing before. No need for you to concern yourself." Irons had further impressed upon him, "We don't concern ourselves with everyday mortal endeavors."

Ian had accepted those explanations believing in everything his master had taught him. There were no other options. Despite his faith that this holiday was not important, an underlying feeling of sadness occurred each year when the day arrived. He wanted so much to be involved with children his own age. To earn their companionship, be part of the group and to share in their joy.

Even now unhappiness was a part of his mainstay. Now that he was an adult, his ability to think evolved to a higher plane without the overwhelming influence of Kenneth Irons. Experiencing life, not in the way designed for him, had deepened his sadness. He had fallen in love.

But he locked it away, shielding his heart before fate crept up on him and threw him a hard ball. Threw him something from which he could never recover. He had dragged himself back into his cold world, of his own choosing. Believing that it was best for all because he knew that Irons wouldn't tolerate divided loyalties.

***

It wasn't always easy to spot the two he was tracking. The shopping mall was filled with what seemed like hundreds of people of every size, shape, age, and gender. At every turn, he felt someone brushing against him, touching him on all sides. Shivers of apprehension spread through him. He held himself in check by clenching the edge of his coat tightly around his body. Fighting the need to clear the spaces, to defend himself from being swallowed up by the masses. He kept his eyes peeled on Sara and Jake as they weaved their way through the crowds, riding on the escalator to another floor.

There was laughter, talking, music and excitement in the air. The shopping mall had its own unique music. The humming of elevator and escalator sounds merging with rebound noise from the ever-present activities. Ian looked on with a child-like awe at the unfolding mirage.

There, stood within a tall open space, a highly adorned tree. It stood with pride, shimmering and glistening ornaments dancing around its edges as the tree overlooked the domain it was gracing. Colors of red, gold and white
garlands were intertwining among the spurts of sparkling, blinking lights. The tree was well over seven feet tall, and Ian had never seen one up close before. It was beautiful.

Unaccustomed to such delights, the tree beckoned Ian to come closer. He bent down, at first hesitating, than reaching out to caress the beautifully wrapped gift packages gracing the foundation of the tree. As he sat back on his bent thigh, staring up at the blinking lights, his mind began to wonder. The vision in his eyes was fading to a misty gray. Hidden codes unearthed and connecting to the inner mind. It was a rhythm of long ago.

"Sir," a voice said.

A hand was placed onto his shoulders. "Sir." He heard the voice filtering through his foggy mind. "You're not supposed to touch the decorations."

Reality closed in as his mind cleared. Ian rose up quick to defend his back. "Sir, are you okay?" He turned around to jerk away from the hand that came down on his back when he noticed several people looking at him with an odd expression on their faces. Shivering, he came out of the light induced euphoria.

"Sorry," he whispered to the man standing next to him in a uniform. "I'm fine," said Ian as he backed away, lowering his head, refusing to meet the stares.

It was a condition he knew, a remnant of his days with the Black Dragons. It made him different and susceptible. The lights were dangerous and hypnotizing - Ian knew he had to avoid a repeat of the situation while he was in this place.

Remembering why he was there, Ian scanned the vicinity until he saw Jake and Sara. They were looking in the window of a store and pointing at an object. Ian couldn't see what they were looking at, but he could see a smile forming on Sara's face.

Jake was telling her something when she raised her hand and brushed it against his hair. Jake's hands came up as if to hold off further advances from Sara. His eyes crinkled at the corners as his lips curled upward into a smile. Sara looked happy - if her response was any indication. It was rare to see her in such a mood. She was playful and relaxed; more of the same he had witnessed earlier that day.

Then Jake grabbed her by the arm, pulled her along close to his body. He wrapped an arm around her waist while she slung her arm around his shoulders. And together they merged into the moving crowd, going away from Ian.

Ian saw and his heart momentarily stopped beating.

At the end of the long corridor, Sara and Jake went inside of a men's clothing store. Not wanting to see anymore displays of affection between the two, Ian wandered a little way off into the open spaces that formed the end
of the corridor.

Didn't he have his answer? His heart was breaking. The pain was sharp and brutal, tearing him into little pieces. Every time he saw them touch, he wanted to howl. To tell them it was dangerous, this coming together because one of them belonged to him. Forget that he had forfeited the right. The need to demand that his lover return to his side was strong. He realized the jealousy he was feeling was more wrenching than the fear he had of the relationship. He could finally admit to himself that it was jealously he was experiencing when he first saw Sara and Jake together and noted the change in their body language. And now it was too late to call back the words he had said to his former lover that destroyed their relationship. He really should move past the situation. If he didn't, he would do something harmful and knowing his capacity for violence, nothing of benefit would be gained if he lost control.

Glancing around and looking for an exit out of this place, he found instead, Santa Claus. A big, robust, jolly man dressed in a bright, red suit and trimmed in white with a large black belt circling his rotund stomach. He was sitting on his throne in the middle of what appeared to be a castle that took up most of the open space at this part of the corridor. The castle was pretty but not very realistic. Smiling at the absurdity of it, Ian mentally compared it to the castle-like abode he was raised in by Irons. This one, though, was made with low walls painted in a deep beige color. The fake doors were a bright red. The windows, circled in white. Narrow, sloping ridged rooftops painted in red served mainly as the entrance to the open construction.

It was all make believe and it was wonderful. A good number of adults and children were mingling within the walls of the castle. There were benches for sitting where some of the adults rested as their small ones stood in line. Waiting with energy and noise for their turn at Santa Claus. The castle was another maze of confusion and yet gave off joy and harbored happily chattering children.

"Daddy, daddy, look! There's Santa Claus," said another little kid as he ran towards the front entrance. Bouncing on his little toes, he urged his father, "Hurry! I want to see Santa."

The little one was cute. He was a dark haired youngster with bangs that flopped on his forehead. He was around eight years old, and with the exuberance of the young, he hastily pulled his father along towards the end of the line.

"We got to get in line," the little one commanded.

"Slow down, son. Santa isn't going anywhere," the father said laughing as he was forced to pick up speed to match his son's.

"But he may not have enough time. It's almost Christmas. I gotta give him my toy list."

Because the crowd was thickening by the moment, the father bent down and picked up his son as they rushed to the end of the line. Watching, Ian noticed how much the man reminded him of Irons. Tall, slim, and blond, he had the look of a classical gentleman with refinement imprinted on his face. There was gentleness in the way he handled his son. As if he was the most precious thing to this man.

The father kissed his son on his cheek, and asked, "Do you have your list ready?"

Squirming in his father's arms, the boy said, "Yes, Daddy. Put me down."

Smiling, the father did what he was told. "Okay, we're here. Remember, Santa has to see a lot of little ones just like you. It may be a while."

"I'll be good," said the little dark haired imp. Then he stood in front of his father and put his little hands inside of his pants pocket to retrieve a crushed piece of paper. He opened it, savored the writing on the paper, and then promptly returned it to his pocket. The boy leaned against his father's legs for support as if he knew the waiting was going to be awhile yet. The father's hand reached down and gently ran his fingers through his son's hair.

Ian stood immobile, gasping softly at the sense of ease and warmth between father and son. The image of father and son had reawakened the time when he was young and he had asked Irons about Christmas. Although this man had
similar blond features to Irons, that is where the similarity stopped. All of his life consisted of following orders, from the beginning of time. Irons would have never set foot inside a shopping mall, and he certainly would have
never allowed Ian to visit this so called Santa Claus. Toys and gifts were not part of their tradition.

Even as a child, his best memory was of him wearing a cowboy hat and a pair of guns standing in front of Irons sitting in a chair asking him when could he fight. The room had been dark with only the light from the blazing
fireplace lighting up the shadowy spaces. The hat and guns were the only gifts Irons bestowed on him. He had so few treasured moments of truly pleasant memories.

He knew why. It was part of his training, to enhance the dark seed all men were saddled with at birth. Celebrating the gift of life, feeling the joy this holiday would bring was not to be condoned by Irons. While other children went to bed with butterflies in their stomachs, Ian slept in his bed with no other expectations.

Turning away from the images that were once wonderful and now painful, he retraced his steps to where he had left Jake and Sara. He saw that they were still in the store. Sara was holding a royal blue sweater against Jake. She held the garment against his shoulders while she tilted her head from side to side. Her lips moved and Jake responded with an affirmative shake of the head. Sara turned to give the sweater to the salesperson. Jake suddenly swept Sara into his arms, hugged her close and kissed her on the cheek.

Ian had enough. He turned away and swiftly left the mall.

***

Ian knocked, barely believing he was standing in front of this particular door. He couldn't recall how he had gotten here. It was well into the early hours of Christmas morning.

From the time he had left the mall until now, he had done nothing but drive around the city. He stopped off a few places, from time to time, to take care of personal needs. Occasionally, he sat in the car and stared off into the dusky day that was slowly turning to night. He felt conflicted and his emotions were riding the spectrum of highs and lows because of the idea of Sara and Jake as a couple. He wanted to be happy for them. He wanted to tear them apart.

Ian couldn't resist coming here although he knew they were probably in bed, already snuggling up close, skin to skin and breathing in each other's air. Ian just didn't want to go home. Everything within him fought the idea of returning to a cold mausoleum with nothing but Witchblade history to keep him company. He had no other place to go.

"Who's there?" He heard the irritation in the voice.

The door to the apartment swung open with force. Jake was standing on the other side looking sleepy, annoyed and very adorable.

"Ian!" Jake said, shocked. "What time is it, anyway?"

Ian looked down. Fear of rejection was beating against his heart. He had no idea how Jake would react to his sudden appearance.

"Can I come in," he whispered.

"Look at me."

Ian lifted his eyes only to catch his breath at the beautiful sight of his former lover. Jake's hair was sticking up on end -- as it tended to do when it was messed from sleeping. He had on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. Ian could see the concern in his eyes.

"Is everything okay? Why are you here, Ian?"

"I don't know. I had to come," he whispered. He wanted to tell Jake that with him is where he wanted to be. Knowing he had thrown away the right to say those words, he remained silent.

"Come on in," Jake said as he backed away from the doorway.

Ian stepped across the threshold of the one place he always had felt was home. Not that he had spent night after night with Jake. But Jake's apartment was the one place he could let his guard down, let the love and warmth of Jake's care overwhelm him. There was no one to beckon him to perform his duty. Ian didn't have to wonder if Jake would punish him if he didn't fulfill any requirements. Jake saw beyond the violence and tamed him into a gentle dragon.

As the door closed behind him, Ian glanced around the apartment looking for evidence of Sara. In the corner of the living area there stood a gorgeous Christmas tree, not very tall, yet it was just as beautiful as the one he had seen at the shopping mall. Large and small boxes, beautifully wrapped in assorted colors were positioned around the bottom of the tree. He thought with relief: No blinking lights.

"Ian..." he heard Jake whisper.

Turning around to face him, Ian said, "Have I come at a bad time?"

Smiling, Jake said, "No, I'm a little surprised to find you at my front door. We haven't spoken in three months." Jake walked over to the kitchen area and began filling the coffee pot with water. "You want?" he asked as he raised the pot upward, showing what he was doing.

Ian tilted his head sideways and said, "Yes." He stood staring at his ex-lover, absorbing every movement -- the way he handled the coffee pot, his leaning against the counter top as he reached towards the sink, and his bare feet touching the floor. Jake, smaller in build than himself, was wonderfully proportionate. A broad chest tapering into a small waistline that slipped into taut hip and thigh muscles. Ian felt his cock harden. He wanted desperately to reach out and shed them both of their clothing. To crawl over Jake, cover every inch of bare skin and to bathe in his sweet
essence. He wanted to come home, beg forgiveness and pay tribute to Jake's sacred body.

As if an invisible thread was pulling him towards the one thing that mattered, Ian took a step forward. Realizing with sudden clarity that he shouldn't - no he couldn't. Jake was probably in love with Sara. He stopped in his tracks.

Jake turned to look at Ian. Ian could see that the smile on Jake's face was replaced with a frown.

"Something on your mind, Ian? You just don't decide to visit in the middle of night without a reason. You're going to talk," Jake said in a demanding voice. "Give me your coat, and sit down."

Sensing Jake's determination and unable to express his confused feelings, Ian evaded the issue, "I thought you would go home for the holiday."

"Yeah, I was. Changed my mind."

"Won't your family miss you?"

"Sure, but this isn't the first time I couldn't make it home. What's bothering you, Ian?"

"Do you know, I've never seen a Christmas tree up close before today?" He blurted aloud. Ian hadn't meant to reveal his thoughts.

"Am I hearing you right? This is your first time seeing a Christmas tree?

"No, I've seen them. In pictures. Sometimes, I've passed by a tree that was displayed in a window."

"Shit, Ian. That is so weird. I know Kenneth Irons was your guardian. Didn't you guys celebrate the holiday with all the traditional crap?"

Shaking his head, Ian remained silent.

"Here." He felt a touch on the back of his shoulders. He turned and Jake placed a filled coffee cup in his hand. "Come on and sit," Jake gently demanded.

Ian slouched down onto the couch and took a sip from the cup. He was exhausted from today's events. He placed the cup on what served as the coffee table. Leaned his head on the back of the couch and closed his eyes. He rubbed his eyes trying to bring some relief from the strain. He felt tired and worn. "I saw this little boy today," he began. "He was with his father and they were having this conversation - about Christmas. The father reminded me of Irons. Both had the same build and coloring."

"Yeah?" Jake said, encouraging him on.

Still lying back, he turned his head to look at Jake, "Do you know I wasn't raised like most people? I never knew my mother, have no siblings, and my worth was based on how well I completed my lessons."

"Every father has certain expectations of their sons. There is nothing unusual about that. Irons -- he is your father, isn't he?"

"I guess," Ian muttered.

"Don't you know?

"He raised me. Look, Jake, there are some things I cannot talk about."

There was a silence in the room. As if Ian's comment had cut off the potential of delving into the details Ian had wanted kept secret.

Ian sat up and studied the Christmas tree. Staring intently at the glaring brightness, he said, "As a child, I grew to be a devoted and loyal son to Irons without a thought to my needs. I catered to his whims, his instructions. I think Irons loves me. I'm not always sure now. It wasn't until I became an adult that I realized there was something lacking in our relationship. That is when my thoughts became my own, a slight divergence from his beliefs. This time of year is usually very sad for me."

Jake had moved closer to Ian as he revealed something of himself. There was this internal force pushing him to say the words. To relieve the spiraling emotions that had been building for a long time. He felt he owed that much to Jake. Ian also knew too much information could be dangerous to Jake.

"Yeah, and sometimes we bring a boat load of sadness to our own front door. Is this the reason for your sudden appearance?"

Ian thought he could hear resentment in Jake's question. And why shouldn't Jake be hostile after what he had done? "I wanted Santa Claus to give me a gift. Since I don't know enough about him, I gave myself a gift."

"Ian, man, I don't get it," Jake said exasperated.

Ian got up and started pacing the floor. He looked at his coat lying on a chair nearby and almost went for it. Ian wanted to put it on, enclose himself in it to hide away from the tumultuous emotions he was feeling. Instead he stood in front of Jake, who was still sitting on the couch watching him in wonder or was it just fear? He asked harshly, "Who's Santa?" Laughing with bitterness, Ian answered his own question. "Christmas day is just another day like any other. You know what I did growing up? I meditated, did my lessons and listened to Irons lecture about history.
Performed the same routine as the day before, and the day before that. Then I ate my dinner alone in my room. There was no loving gathering of the family. No special celebrations or dinner. Jake, I have never even been in
the same room with a Christmas tree, let alone received any gifts. I've always been on the outside. Sometimes I would hear other kids talk about their special time. That is, if I could sneak away from the mansion."

"Damn," he heard Jake mutter.

Pacing again, Ian uttered, "Yeah." Expressing his response the way Jake would have. "Then I would be punished for taking off without permission. "Remember, young Ian, we are not made up of the same fabric as those mere mortals," Ian said, mimicking Irons.

Drained, he felt relief for the first time in the past twenty-four hours. Ian was glad his anger had done no more than flare up and had died as quickly as the words had flowed from his mouth. He glanced over at Jake who was rooted in his seat. His expression -- was it pity? And if Ian wanted anything with fervor, pity was not it. Grabbing his coat, he took long strides toward the door. "I'm leaving, Jake. Sorry to bother you."

"Wait...Ian." He thought he heard the desperation in Jake's voice as Jake followed him to the door. Ian wanted to get out of there, the memories of his life leaving him cold and floating in a sea of unworthiness. He had lost his chance with Jake and he certainly didn't want his pity now.

He felt Jake pulling at his coat sleeve. He fought the need to thrust the man away from him so that he could run swiftly out of the place he no longer felt welcome. He fought the conflicting desire to hold still and enclose the man in his arms. The need to flee, though, outweighed his desire, knowing rejection would be at hand. He was preparing to open the door when...

"Ian! Don't... you... dare... leave." The force in Jake's voice stopped him cold, compelled him to turn around and to face Jake. He saw anger. It was apparent on his face, in the way his lips were stretched tight. Jake's eyes gleaming with a fire Ian hadn't seen in a long while. Jake stood with tension strumming through his body and his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

"I shouldn't have come here. You should be sleeping, getting your rest for the festivities later today."

"Don't tell me what I need. How would you know? You walked out on me before without giving me a chance to understand. You're not doing this shit again." Jake, furious, closed in on Ian, forcing his back against the door. He
pressed his hands to the sides of Ian's head. Having him so close, Ian could almost touch the anger. So much so, he dropped his head so he wouldn't have to look at him.

"Don't do that shit eit