Title: For James

Author: Struck

Rating (PG-13 for slash relationship, no sex)

Pairing: Ian/Sara, Ian/OMC

Summary: When Sara and Ian become closer, Ian feels he should disclose information about his past

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Top Cow Productions, Warner Bros., etc., with the exception of James O'Neill.

Archive: Yes, please. Just let me know.

AN: Since the italics don't work when I send this, asterisks substitute for indicating italicized text. I know you all have great imaginations, so should be no problem. 8-)

For James
By Struck

Sara was up three hours before she needed to be awake. It was the Witchblade that woke her. Although, she didn't get a vision from it, the amulet glowed brightly on her wrist. She felt a presence and a heard a whispered name; 'Ian.'

Lately, when she and Ian met, Sara felt a longing. He told her things as he always did; in a vague, prophetic fashion that still frustrated her, but she found it somewhat ironic that each time they talked and she turned to find him gone, something troubled her heart, a sense of emptiness.

She had wanted to keep their relationship business only, such as it was.

She knew that Ian was infatuated with her, but she didn't know what to expect from him. Their past was too full of tumult and unanswered questions. She was afraid the future would hold much of the same.

Ian's past, alone, made her wary of getting involved with him. In Kenneth Irons' employ, Ian had been little more than a slave, although he was supposedly Iron's son. Sara didn't like to think about how Ian must have grown up. In fact, in many ways, it was apparent he was never
allowed to grow up. Irons had control over him well into his adulthood. Ian was sophisticated at times, but sometimes, being with Ian was like being with an overgrown eight-year old. Unnerved that she found *that* attractive, Sara reassured herself that it must have something to do with her maternal instinct.

Still, Sara felt a kinship with Ian. How he was now, had as much to do with his past lives, as it had to do with his childhood in this life. The Witchblade had shown her that they had been together in different lifetimes. The glimpses into those lives showed scenes of love and compassion and, just as often, scenes of grief concerning the two of them. Ian was not always the cause of that grief. Many times it was Sara, herself. She wondered if it were to be any different this time around.

Sara arrived at her office, distracted by these thoughts. As she walked to her desk, Jake's voice broke through the haze. "Hey, Pez, Acknowledging your coworkers just takes a second, you know."

"Oh. Uh.sorry, Jake. I'm not quite awake." Sara smiled weakly at him.

"Well, you're in luck." Jake set a Café Mocha on her desk. "I must have known."

"Hey, McCartey, now I feel bad. Thanks. I owe you."

Jake waggled his eyebrows. "Cool."

Sara gave him a reproving look. "Don't get excited, Rookie. I meant 'coffee'."

Jake pretended to be insulted. "Of course. I knew that."

Sara's phone rang. She answered in her usual direct manner. "Pezzini."

"Hello, Sara." Where once, Ian's voice would have grated on her, now it had a soothing effect.

"Hey, Ian." Sara almost sighed her response. She looked up to see Jake mimicking her same words in a coquettish display. She kicked him in the shin while maintaining a pleasant disposition on the phone. "What's up?"

"Sara, we need to talk. Meet me at Wave Hill after you get off work." The phone clicked.

"Ian, wait." Sara shook her head in disbelief. "Damn, another encounter with Captain Vague. Kind of a big place there, Nottingham."

Jake questioned her. "What did *Nottingham* want?" Jake didn't bother to hide his disdain for the man. He was clearly not a fan of Sara's new love interest.

"To talk." Sara answered curtly. "And stop being such a wuss!" seeing Jake rub his shin.

"Excuse me, Xena! Jake limped pathetically back to his desk. "See if I ever get you a Mocha again."

Sara went over the cases she was working on. A call came in about a murder, and Sara, along with Danny and Jake went out on the case. It disturbed Sara, despite her training and experience, in that it looked like a double murder of a young couple. They were shot while they were in their bed. Sara said a silent prayer for the couple and their families. The three detectives returned to the precinct. Sara checked the time. 5:15 pm. She finished up her preliminary report on the case and left for Wave Hill.

There were quite a few places to look. 'C'mon Pezzini, you're a detective, where would Nottingham be?' Sara was somewhat amiss. Ian usually found her. She wasn't used to seeking him out.

Sara remembered coming to this park with her dad. She had liked the different gardens. She remembered the flower gardens and the Pergola Garden, the best. The tropical plants and the view of the Palisades charmed her.

Sara had a hunch to try the Woodland. Once there, she started walking, feeling ridiculous for even trying to seek Ian out in the park's vastness. Maybe the Witchblade would give her a clue. She looked down at it. Maybe not. She kept walking. Again, on a hunch, she searched a mystical-looking grove. Bingo! She saw Ian from a distance. He was sitting with his back to her. Sara wondered if he was as forlorn as he looked.

She approached him. Before she got within twenty feet, he stood and turned. She hadn't made near enough noise for a normal person to hear. "Damn, Ian. That's eerie."

He smiled endearingly. "Sara, that was child's play. You should know that."

"Yeah, guess I should." Sara strode up to him. "You wanted to talk?"

Ian stood silently, gazing thoughtfully at Sara.

"Ian? I'm used to you being obscure, but the telepathy's not working. Talk." Sara urged, uncomfortable with his silence.

Ian looked somewhat embarrassed. "I'm sorry, Lady Sara. I wanted to gaze upon your beauty before I say what I have to say.before this day ends."

"That's a start. I was hoping for something a bit less medieval, though."

Ian seemed mildly offended, but took the hint. "Sara, lately we've been spending more time together, willingly. Not that I ever was unwilling to be with you." Ian smiled, wistfully. "I remember when you were always on guard. You used to run off immediately after I told you something. These days, you treat me differently. You seem happy when you're with me. If
I could dare to believe it, I'd say you're falling in love with me." Ian looked past Sara, seemingly afraid to see rejection.

Sara smiled softly. "Dare to believe. Look, Ian. I started paying more attention to the Witchblade. I guess I just couldn't deny what's true, anymore. I know we've been together in different lives through good times and bad times. Part of me thinks that we are meant to be together in this life, also." She paused, gauging Ian's reaction. "Part of me is scared to death at the thought."

"I know. Which brings me to what I want to say. You see, Sara, I am scared of the thought of us being together, as well." Sara gave him a puzzled look. "That's surprising coming from me, I'm sure. I have been smitten with you since I first saw you, yes. But, my heart feels cold with fear, at times. Let me explain why.

You have a basic understanding of my upbringing.of my relationship with Irons. So often, I wanted to kill him. Strangely, when he died at your hands, I actually missed him. I felt lost. Irons defined who I was. I craved independence, but I really didn't know what it meant. I think he planned it that way."

"But, he's dead, Ian. You are independent. You need to live your own life." Sara tried to sound convincing.

"He still has power over me, Sara." Ian was distraught. "Irons is dead, yet, I feel his presence, his control. And I feel that I cannot break free. I cannot have happiness, Sara. When it comes my way, somehow Irons manages to rip it away. Dead or alive, it doesn't matter. And the worst
part is, as a result, those involved with me are harmed.or.killed. I cannot let you be part of that."

Sara swallowed. "Maybe the choice isn't yours."

"Maybe not. But, there's more, Sara."

"I'm listening."

Ian continued. "There was a time when my life had a small gleam of hope.

There was something to breathe a spirit into my otherwise predestined, mechanical existence." Ian paused, meeting Sara's gaze.

"What was it, Ian?" Sara was intrigued and happy that there had been something good in Ian's life. It bothered her that it was apparently short-lived.

"Actually, it was someone." Ian's breath caught in a quick sigh. It seemed like he was struggling to get the words out without emotions taking over.

Sara wanted to reach out and offer a touch of reassurance, but she was afraid he would stop talking. She encouraged him to continue. "Go on."

Ian gained control and smiled faintly. "He was so alive and beautiful." Sara didn't know she had done so, but she must have flinched, because Ian stopped abruptly, and lowered his gaze. "I apologize, Sara. I should have realized you would be uncomfortable learning that I had a male
lover."

Sara's heart almost broke for him. She spoke as evenly and as sincerely as she could. "Ian. It's all right. It just caught me off guard. I do want to know about him."

Ian looked up, studying Sara's face. Reassured of her genuineness, he continued. "He was Irons' groundskeeper, an Irishman."

Sara smiled. "Seems we both fall for Irishmen, don't we." Ian gave her a strange look. Sara was afraid she might have offended him with the intimation of her relationship with Conchobar. Ian's mouth gradually turned up at the corners. Sara let out the breath she was holding. "What was his name?"

"James O'Neill."

Sara moved to the bench and gestured for Ian to sit down with her. "So, Ian, tell me more about James."

Ian recounted his days with James.

*********
Ian left the seedy, run-down building, stepping out into the cool night air. Irons had sent him to set up surveillance equipment to keep tabs on certain Vorschlag employees who had been seen meeting there.

Ian walked down the alley to his car. His eyes narrowed as he saw two men hovering over a crumpled figure. He stole swiftly upon them. They were going through the man's wallet. Ian coughed. The pair turned in unison. He threw a punch at one, while at the same time, kicking the other in the groin. He made sure they wouldn't get back up for a while, then turned back to assess the victim's situation.

He recognized him as Irons' groundskeeper. The man had received a blow to the head and was unconscious. Ian lifted him over his shoulder, and carried him to his car. He took him back to Iron's estate to the groundskeeper's cabin. He tended to the man's injuries as best he could, and then let him sleep. He kept watch over him until the next day when the groundskeeper awoke.

The man sat up clutching his head and peered hazily at Ian. "Sweet Jesus. What happened to my head, and what are you doing here?"

"What do you remember?"

"Going out, buying beer, and.being approached by a homeless person who apparently had a nasty temper."

"Two men attacked you and were about to rob you when I got there. Your wallet is in your pants pocket. You will be all right. I'll inform Mr. Irons you will return to work in a few days." Ian gave the man a subservient nod of the head and left.

In the evening, Ian returned. He found O'Neill, awake, but drunk. "O'Neill, have you eaten, today?"

The groundskeeper turned, almost toppling over. He gripped his head and cursed at Ian. "Damn you. Never sneak up on a man when he's drinkin'. Especially, when he's got a head injury."

"I brought you some food." Ian set down a bag with enough food for a couple of days. "You should eat." He turned to leave.

"Nottingham!" Ian stopped. It surprised him that the man knew his name. "I am grateful. I don't know how to thank you."

"There is no need."

"Of course there is." O'Neill scowled, and added, "You know, every time I see you, I am reminded of a vampire. You go out after sunset all the time.you wear a great deal of black, as well. I was almost surprised to see you in daylight."

Ian responded coolly. "Mr. O'Neill, is there anything else I can do for you?" He paused, watching O'Neill wave him off, and was inspired to add, "Bite your neck, perhaps?"

O'Neill chuckled. "No Thanks. But, I should offer you a drink, at least. Beer, not blood."

"I must return to Irons. Save one for me. We'll drink another time."

"Fine. Call me James." He put out his hand.

"James, then." Ian shook his hand. "Ian." He smiled a half-smile and left.

Ian felt buoyant. He wasn't used to the feeling. Aside from Irons, he had no close relationships. His encounters with others usually involved Kenneth Irons' business affairs. When he went out into the city, his appearance and mannerisms were enough to keep most people away.

He thought about what would happen if he took James up on his offer to have a beer. He was afraid he would have nothing in common with the man, and be rejected. He surprised himself by actually being worried about it. Was this friendship something he wanted?

In the weeks that followed, Ian made a point to stop and talk to James, often. Ian became more comfortable with their casual conversation and camaraderie. "I think it's about time we had that beer, O'Neill."

James feigned shock. "Lad! There's hope for you, yet."

Drinking beer was another first for Ian. He drank wine occasionally with Irons. Ian decided that although the flavor was strong and bitter, he liked beer. He liked the light intoxication, although he found listening to James more intoxicating.

James talked about his family and friends back in Ireland. He talked about traveling. It sounded like fairy tales to Ian. He loved to hear someone talk about life with such passion. Ian recalled how Irons always talked about ordinary life as if it were vile. Irons' held reverence for things that were unworldly and intangible as far as Ian was concerned.

"What about your family, Ian? Where did you grow up?" Ian froze. It was obvious that James thought he was only Irons' employee. He expected Ian to have a family elsewhere. James saw his look of panic. "Uh oh. Secret past, eh? You don't have to tell me. You should say something, though. You let me blather on. I probably bored you to death. What do you do for fun?"

Ian thought of making something up, but decided to be as honest as possible, without seeming too odd. "I read a lot. I love to study history and philosophy. I don't have much time for anything else. Irons keeps me busy."

"You and me both, Lad."

Ian smiled. It was time to go.

When Ian returned home that night, he thought of James. He was around twenty-five or so. Ian, himself was in his early twenties, as far as he knew. James had wavy gold hair with hints of red. His skin was tanned, but not leathery. His face was well shaped without being too angular. His nose was mildly aquiline. His eyes were a soulful brown. Beautiful, Ian thought.

It occurred to him that it was strange to be thinking about James this way. Granted, he had never really had a friend, before, so he thought his intense feelings were due to this new experience. However, he also knew from his reading and what he overheard others say that people felt this way about lovers, not friends.

What he was feeling was sexual attraction. Ian had been attracted to many women. He had never been attracted to another man until now. It bothered him that he might be homosexual. He was different enough as it was without that stigma.

James invited Ian over for another beer later that week. That evening, Ian was uncomfortable. He was afraid to show any type of affection or admiration. Each time he laughed or smiled, he felt like his attraction to James was clearly evident. He tried to minimize his reactions.

James picked up on his discomfort. "Ian. I know you're the silent type, but have I said something that's bothered you?

Ian finally spoke. "James. I haven't told you much about my life. I have been afraid to"

James looked perplexed. "I don't understand, Ian."

"Irons is not just my employer. He is for all intents and purposes, my father."

"Your father? What do you mean by 'all intents and purposes?"

"I'm not certain that he is my biological father, but he has raised me since I was five or so. However, it hasn't been the most traditional upbringing. Irons provided me with shelter, an education, of sorts. But, things like affection and nurturing never rated high in Irons' esteem."

"What about your mother?"

"I don't remember her."

"Just Irons' then, eh? It's a wonder you're as normal as you are."

Ian sighed. "Speaking of what's normal.James, I need to ask you something. I feel an attraction to you. I wondered if it was because you are my first friend." He glanced at James quickly, and looked down.

James was definitely surprised. "Well, that could be."

"I understand if this ends our friendship." Ian said, quietly.

James spoke quickly. "No, it won't. Would you want more than just friendship, Ian?"

Ian's heart beat wildly. He feared the loss of his new and only friend. "I don't know."

"I hope so. I'm in love with you."

Ian's eyes widened. He felt strange, as if he had been thrown off a cliff, but he hadn't hit the ground. It took him a while to find his voice. "James. I am honored just to have you as my friend. I can't believe you are in love with me. It goes beyond my hopes."

"Then I think we should be lovers, don't you?" James said it as if it would be the most natural thing in the world.

Ian nodded. He reached out to touch James's face. James took Ian's gloved hand and pressed it to his lips. He started to remove the glove, but Ian stopped him. "No James."

"When you are ready, then." As James spoke, he leaned his face towards Ian's. Ian closed his eyes. He felt the heat from James' breath. When James brushed his lips over Ian's mouth, Ian felt a jolt of electric pleasure go through his body.

First friend, first lover, first kiss. Ian was reeling. The sensation of

James' lips was almost too much, as deprived of pleasurable physical contact, as he had been all his life. It made him want more, though. He reached gently around the back of James' neck and pulled him back into a kiss. James responded languorously, at first, and then dispensed with
tenderness. They continued their kiss in rough passion. When they broke, it was a long moment before either of them could catch their breath.

"I have to leave." Ian broke the silence regretfully.

"What? Why?" James looked crestfallen.

Ian had to reassure him. "Before this moment, I've never been kissed by anyone. I have never kissed anyone. This was sacred to me. I need time to savor this. Do you understand?"

"I think so." James sighed. He finally smiled mischievously and teased,

" Maybe next time we can advance to taking off your gloves."

Ian smirked, raising an eyebrow. "We'll see." He left James' cabin.

The next day, Irons summoned Ian to his study. "Ian. You seem different, these days." "You are frequently distracted. Is there something you should tell me?"

Ian responded carefully. "If I have not performed my tasks as you have directed, then I leave it to your discretion to deal with me as you see fit. However, I think you will find everything in order." Ian kept his gaze focused on the floor.

"Yes. That is true, Ian. You continue to execute my commands with precision, as always." Irons stood and moved close to Ian. "However, it is the future that concerns me." Ian tensed as Irons walked around behind him, placing his hands on Ian's shoulders. "If I may be so bold as to speculate." He slid his hands slowly forward to rest on Ian's collarbone. ".I think you have a lover. Yah, Ian?"

Ian fought the urge to shake off his master's hands. He remained silent this time. There was nothing to say. Irons knew of his relationship with James. That was a given. Ian awaited the inevitable.

Irons leaned in, speaking softly in Ian's ear. "When love comes, the feelings it brings consume you. The world around you becomes hazy and unfocused. Yes, you see your lover clearly, but such a focus is too narrow. You are blind to everything else. Love weakens you. You forget
what you are about, what your true destiny is. It is a mortal folly. You're not immune, my Ian, but you can and must rise above this common affliction otherwise known as love. You are meant to fulfill a greater purpose. One day, you will understand."

"I'll end the relationship, Sir." Ian kept his posture dutiful, not wanting to convey any emotion. "I will tell him tonight."

Irons lifted his hands away and moved around to face Ian. "I'm afraid that would complicate things. I think it is best if you leave for a while. I've arranged for you to further your martial training. You will be picked up in a few hours. It will be an extended period of time. A year.perhaps two."

Ian lifted his head in shock. He didn't meet Iron's gaze, but he knew Irons was watching his face. Horrified, Ian felt a tear escape from the corner of his eye. He tried unsuccessfully to hide it. Time slowed, tortuously, as Ian watched Irons reach out to wipe the tear from his cheek.

"Don't worry, Ian. This is for the best." Irons smiled in a fatherly way. "You will be very busy." His words trailed off as he walked over to sit by the fire. "No time to think of him." Ian took his cue to leave.

********

Sara spoke. "So while you were gone, Irons dismissed James, I take it."

Ian's brows knit together as he shook his head, no.

"He was still there?" Sara was puzzled.

"No!" Ian spoke more harshly than he intended. "Irons waited for James to come asking about me. He told him I had been killed."

"Oh, Ian." This time, Sara risked touching Ian's arm to comfort him. Ian made no move to discourage her.

He told her the rest of the story.

**********

Ian returned to the mansion almost two years later. He dreaded being back. He knew James would not be there. Irons' would have found some reason to dismiss him. Ian met with Irons in his study.

"Ian. Welcome home. You look well."

Ian tolerated the welcome home speech and the news Irons felt was necessary to impart to him. Ian answered the questions Irons asked of him, as well. Their conversation was interrupted by a telephone call. Ian waited. Irons ended the call, and Ian took the opportunity to find out about James.

"Sir. May I inquire about James O'Neill?" Irons would not be pleased with him, but Ian couldn't help but ask.

Irons sighed. Ian expected that. "Ian. I was hoping you would have put him from your memory." What Ian didn't expect was Irons next statement.

"I am so sorry to have to tell you.he took his own life."

"Why would he do that, Father?" Ian remained dispassionate, hoping his feigned nonchalance would elicit more information.

"Rather than tell him I had sent you away, and have him await your return, I told him you were killed. I hoped he would ask to quit and return home, or something to that effect. Unfortunately, he chose suicide."

"I wish I were as brave." Ian said, distantly.

Irons grabbed Ian's chin and jerked his head up, speaking forcefully. "There was no bravery in that foolish man's act, Ian. You are stronger, yah? Soon you will protect the next wielder of the Witchblade. You will be rewarded for the strength you possess through your training." Irons released his grip.

'If that reward means your death, then maybe there is something to live for.' The thought was bitter, and Ian knew that the reality of it would not be rewarding, but it made him feel better. "Is there anything else, Sir?" Ian could not keep the hostility out of his voice.

Irons studied Ian, icily. "Go, Ian. Rest. Your destiny awaits."

Ian finished, looking up at Sara. Her eyes shone with unshed tears. "Don't pity me, Sara. I just need you to understand. You understand why I told you this, don't you?"

"Yeah. You're saying we can't be together, because bad things could happen. Look, Ian. You know what I do for a living. You know what I've been through since the Witchblade chose me. You aren't the sole bearer of bad Karma, around here. And, for the record, I don't pity you. I feel empathy.but not pity."

Sara breathed deeply, letting the breath out slowly. "Let's just accept that through good and bad." she hesitated, and added, ".Through normal and supernatural, we're meant to be together."

Ian held her gaze. Sara saw the hope there. "Is this mere acceptance, or do you truly want this, Sara?"

"Ian. Give me your hands." Sara said in a firm, yet gentle voice.

Ian held his hands out, tentatively. Sara took his right hand, removing the ring from his third finger, palming it. Next, she slowly pulled the glove off Ian's hand. He closed his eyes, surrendering control to her. She took off his other glove, and was moved to hear him sigh softly.

Sara took both of Ian's hands into her own, lifting them to her lips. "For James."

Ian opened his eyes, slowly, allowing her to see his tears. "Thank you, Sara."

"And Ian." Sara paused, smiling. ".I truly want this."

END