Yuku free message boards

“Jeez…” she pointlessly breathed.

“I told you to stay until I gave word…” Ian’s voice said in return. There was a bit of grit in his tone. Sara wondered if he was angry or just in agony.

“Are you hurt?” Sara asked, kneeling at his side.

Nottingham held one gloved hand tightly in a fist, the other hand rubbed his wrist. “Give me a moment…” Then he slowly opened the fist. Nestled in folds of tearing leather tinted with red, lay two copper bullets. “He drew faster then I anticipated. He was good.”

“You’re lucky to be alive, let alone still be having two hands still,” Sara gasped as she rose for a moment to move about. She had a plastic bag to hold the bullets and a wet dish towel.

“Careful,” Ian warned as he tipped the bullets into the bag, “they’re still warm enough to burn.”

She heeded his warning and placed the bag on the counter. After that, she tried to clean up the wound that Ian insisted to keep on. “Take off the glove,” Sara said with a maternal tone that was strange to her. “You need to get that cleaned up.”

With a sigh, Nottingham complied without argument, removing both. Sara swallowed a gasp at the sight of his hands. She had seen people who didn’t go out into the sunlight, last year she had a murder suspect who never left the house and was as pasty as can be. But Ian Nottingham’s hands were like none she had ever seen before. They were pale, almost, but not quite albino because of the slight peach tinge. His fingers were callused at the tips, no doubt from all the weaponry he used. That wasn’t the thing that caught her attention; all over his hands were scars making his skin like a tigers with so many lines thickness ranging from hair thin to almost a finger width. The sight frightened her as well as unexpectedly thrilled her. His hands were a weird work of art made by pain and most likely violence. Disgusted, Sara realized that she found them beautiful as well as incredibly agile looking. The strangest part was he didn’t have any fingerprints. ‘This is going to make things interesting.’

The moment was amazing for Ian was well as Sara. Her hands were small in comparison, unmarred by any sort of mark natural or other wise. Sara’s palms were slightly rough from her work, broken in to fit her work. Her fingers had a certain delicacy to them, disregarding the texture. They were long and elegant, although none the less strong. His skin warmed at the slight touches of hers. Ian looked at her face as she failed to discreetly steal glances at his wounded palm. He couldn’t interpret the emotion etched in her face, but there was something there. “You need to get some proxide on that or something, it might get infected…”

The spell that Nottingham had let fall upon himself disintegrated, he rose grasping the hand towel to stop the bleeding. “Pack whatever you can, we can’t stay here.”

“I can’t just leave, this is a crime scene now,” Sara protested standing over the body of the marksman. “Breaking and entering, attempted assault, attempted murder, illegal weapons ownership, this could even go as an organized crime… Dante’s going to eat this up. This is just a case out of the movies, how the heck can I walk away from this?”

“Call it in, your co-workers can pick up the pieces. We’ll be gone by then. You’ll no doubt hear about it from Detective Woo when all the write ups are done. Come now, we don’t have time to be a part of it or your recklessness,” Ian said impatiently. “Unless you feel that you’d like to die here.”

“Hey, you don’t have to talk like that,” she returned with just as much exasperation as she began moving about the apartment, stuffing things into a navy duffel bag. “Just because I want to do my job doesn’t mean I’m stupid and reckless, Nottingham.”

“I never said you were stupid,” he said softly, he raised his head. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah, let’s go before my landlord finds me here and asks about the noises,” Sara grumbled letting Ian lead her to the car. When they settled she mouthed, “And I’m not reckless.” Nottingham pretended not to hear over the music.

~~~

“You are not at her apartment,” Irons stated. His own voice hung in the library as he moved to look into the fire. “Why?”

        “We were followed, I felt it was essential to take her elsewhere out of any possible peril,” Nottingham’s voice answered from the other side of the line. “That is what you wish, is it not?”

        “Yes, but I would have preferred if you would have contacted me at the time this transpired,” Kenneth answered, an edge came into his voice. “Perhaps next time you will consider that option in great detail before acting, it could save you from punishment as well as danger.”

        “I didn’t feel it was appropriate to speak to you in Sara’s presence.”

        Irons felt a grin on his mouth as he bit into a quiche, he paused a moment to chew. “Why would you say that?”

        “She doesn’t trust you.”

        ‘Very amusing, my dear Sara,’ Irons thought. “And how did she make her misgivings known?”
       
        “I offered to take her to your estates, with our permission, but she refused…greatly.”

        “Typical for Sara Pezzini,” Irons muttered as he took another bite, “Where did you take her then?”

        “The Lynbrook,” Ian said as softly and calmly as he could muster hoping that perhaps it would be over looked as some of his comments were on very rare occasions.

        Kenneth tried not to choke on the second quiche that decided at that moment to not go down his esophagus. Unfortunately for Nottingham, his coughs were sent through the phone line. “State your reasoning as to why you feel its imperative to take Ms. Pezzini to a five star hotel which, might I add, I have a great rapport with, right now Ian before I send Dante after you for whatever crime he sees fit to pin you with.”

        Again, Nottingham’s voice was forced into a composed and confident tone, “With an officers pay, the DeNoct Society would no doubt check all the motels and hovels in New York in search of her. No one would suspect a homicide detective to be in an expensive establishment on such sort notice, Sir.” He paused to breathe, and then added. “If this displeases you then I will relocate to where you see fit.”

        “I would very much like that you learn from this experience, Ian. You have been growing a few bad habits, these days. I do not want to have a conversation similar to this one again, is that clear?”

        “Crystal,” Nottingham responded.

        “Your location is ideal, I admit that, but if you cause so much as one minor stunt and ruin my credit at the Lynbrook… let’s just leave that to your ever active imagination. I trust you, Nottingham... If there is any need for critical decisions, contact me.”

        “Yes, Sir.”

        Kenneth Irons already hung up. Ian took a gulp of air as he leaned on the bathroom wall. ‘So far so good. Why on earth am I being impulsive? There are hundreds of hotels in New York, why did I choose the most expensive ones? What on earth am I thinking? This isn’t going to work… I may have brought Sara here, but she still isn’t trusting me. She still is holding up her defenses well. Why did I think I was going to impress her by catching the bullets?’ he gloomily thought. ‘And now Irons is upset with my behavior… how could I be so ignorant. Why do I care? Why can’t I just brush all of these difficulties off? Why do I feel so helpless?’

He didn’t the time he wanted to sit and think, “Nottingham! Are you done yet? Did you fall in? You’ve been in there for almost ten minutes.” Sara yelled as she pounded on the door. Ian promptly opened it, his head held downward. He silently brushed past her. “Thanks, I was going to say…” The rest of her sentence melted when Ian walked into the bedroom and heavily dropped himself onto his stomach on the bed. He didn’t move at all, as though he had been shot dead. His head of dark curling hair hung loosely over his forehead and what parts of his face that weren’t shoved against the mattress.

Sara had done such an act before, she felt a small guilt. “Nottingham? …Ian? You okay?” she asked, walking into the room.

Slowly, embarrassed Ian sat up. He was very grateful that his hair concealed most of his now red face. “I’m fine… I just…have a bit of a headache. It’s nothing really.”

“Okay…it just looked like for a second you were going to curl up and die,” Sara answered with a bit of a laugh, he missed the joke completely. She sighed, “Well, I’m going to shower. There’s some Advil in my duffel bag in the small side pocket if you need some.” She turned and walked into the bathroom.

She didn’t hear or get to see his answer, once again she renewed Nottingham’s sense of self.

~~~

The aroma of melted cheese and hot tomato sauce hung strongly in the air. It was joined by the smell of pepperoni. The scents coaxed Nottingham out of sleep in to waking. Ian realized finally how hungry he was. His stomach growled painfully. He opened his eyes to find the room dark, the door that separated the first bedroom (the one he was in) from the living room. The big screen TV volume was up in a dull roar as a hockey game glowed on the screen. Sara was draped across the white couch munching on a slice of pizza. She didn’t notice his emergence from the bedroom. As he stepped closer he noticed the box rested on the couch. With a sigh he moved it to the coffee table.

“Hey, how was your nap? Head ache gone?” She asked eyes not leaving the game.

“Yes,” Ian answered looking at the large pizza. It was already half gone, and still warm! “You ate this much?”

“Nah, I let the pizza boy have some too, he looked like he was starving…” she replied still not looking at him.

“I wanna go to the pool,” Sara said as she went over to the duffel bag.

Ian could see the contents of the bag; jeans, shirts, undergarments, a few CDs and books. “You don’t have a suit.”

Sara sighed at him and shook her head as she held up a sports bra and running shorts. She walked into the bathroom, leaving him standing there. Her voice came through the door somewhat muffled, “I’m not sure what you’ll use if you plan on swimming. Wet pants are no fun this time of year.” When she emerged, a large white shower towel hung over her shoulder, “It’s a good thing the pool is indoors.” Ian swallowed hard and tried to keep his glances to her face rather then the other parts of her body that seemed to demand his attention. He had seen her boxing a few times, he was able to freely admire the lithe and powerful form she sculpted herself into, but now candidly staring was a sin. Ian could feel a force tugging on his eyes that now rested on her small bare feet and how their pale color contrasted with the carpet. Unfortunately for him Sara noticed, “What? Is it as bad as that?”

“No…I just…” He stammered uncomfortably feeling incredibly stupid. Ian attempted to speak once again but his line of sight kept rising above her ankles. When his eyes reached her belly button no words formed at all and no thoughts registered. Ian was totally wiped blank of anything but his sight.

Sara was taken aback with confusion, then at her stomach. “What?” Again she shook her head and started for the door, leaving him standing there. “Come on, Nottingham.” Ian locked the door and walked three steps behind, standard personal space, into the elevator. “I take it you don’t like scantily clothed women…”

“No, I do,” he muttered looking completely downward at a painful angle. Sara didn’t question farther. Ian was glad that it dropped as quickly as it came up.
When they got to the pool silent sighs of relief passed through them. It was empty, after all it was about dinner, and all of the customers of the hotel were in the ballroom or out for the meal. No one to bother them… except perhaps each other. But the room was large.

To Sara’s delight the pool was deep, not at all like the Broadway Plunge she learned to swim at. The Lynbrook pool wasn’t littered with NO RUNNING or NO DIVING signs. Sara supposed that went without saying to the rich. Ian stretched himself across a lounge chair on the same side of the pool she stood at. From the way he looked under the bright lights overhead, he could be taken for a black sunning lizard. The blue and gray tiles were cool beneath her feet. Goosebumps were starting to form. She had to smile to herself at the thought of swimming in the middle of winter. Without another thought, she dived in and let her worries sink to nothingness for a while.

Nottingham was grateful he this opportunity gave him some time for reflection. He didn’t have any idea who far he had come in terms of their relationship it was impossible to tell. Closer perhaps, but in an inch to a mile…he was still far away from his given goal. He let the sloshing of the water lull his mind as he watched Sara’s muscles ripple as she propelled forward in the water. Droplets glistening like diamonds on her skin. ‘Perhaps tomorrow after work I could get her proper clothing…’ She did not wear very many things. And although her wardrobe suited that of a police detective it would never do for European aristocracy. ‘If she is going to pose as a lady she would have to look the part as well as play it.’

A moment of peace for them both was something to be savored. Tomorrow was going to be difficult. Not only for Sara, who would at once dislike how close he would have to be, but for he himself. If he acted that way a few moments ago tomorrow, there were going to be some serious problems. His self-control needed to be in gear more then ever before, whatever foolishness attempted to over throw his mannerisms he had to keep them back. There were going to be other difficulties Nottingham thought of. He knew about her cases usually before she did. Long ago he enjoyed the knowledge until it occurred to him that it was a lot like seeing answers before a test. It took out the thrill of pursuit. Another important and perhaps the most dangerous of them all was the presence of Daniel Woo. If he was suspicious in any way, it would be over. But would this all be worth it?

The sound of water running of clothing brought him back to the present. Sara was on the end of the pool with the diving board. She started in a little sprint then leapt into the water, barely making any waves. When she came up for air she tossed her head back, sending her hair away from her face. For a while she treaded water, catching her breath. Ian smiled when he understood that she was ignoring him. The cold shoulder, not insults, just quiet indifference. Nothing too harsh. Maybe this could be worth it after all…

***

He sat there, perched on the edge of the balcony, his feet dangling below him. The street was becoming alive underneath him, the cars, taxis and buses started to pile up and create a mechanical vein. The snow was starting to melt, and a wind blew in from the north, chilling everyone. He knew that average people were afraid of such a view. That made him smile. Ian never had a fear of heights to begin with. If people only dared to try…oh what a sight they’d be able to see so closely! He raised his eyes to the sky. The clouds were long reeds of white caught in a red and orange stream on the horizon. The sun rose in a great golden ball bobbing lost in the endless sky. The first day of work. ‘5:45 AM... or so,’ he thought by the position of the sun. Nottingham moved away from the edge and went back into the room.

The door separating Sara's area from the rest of the room was opened. She was sporting an over-sized Metallica T-shirt and long tube socks that went to her knees. The rest of her long legs were exposed, leaving Ian to wonder whether or not she wore boxers...whether he wanted to wonder or not. Her hair was mussed and it hung in her face as she rubbed her neck. She went toward the mini-bar not giving Nottingham a glance.

"Good morning..." he greeted.

Sara gave a little start at the sound of his voice and turned to look at him a coke in her hand. "Jeeze, don't do that," she bristled, her voice low and husky. Ian could see that she was still mostly asleep. When she popped the top off and took a drink, "Good morning to you too." After a long gulp she put it down and went to gather clothes.

"Would you like me to get you some coffee?" he asked, not liking the uselessness he felt as he watched her go about her morning grooming. She now moved to the bathroom garments hanging over her shoulder.

"Naw. That's alright, I won’t be needing any for now. I'll be out in a few. Get your stuff ready or whatever," she answered not looking back.

He didn't respond Nottingham wasn't sure how. She was just too natural and easy going at the moment. He knew that for sure the rest of the day wouldn't be as smooth. Ian remembered that Detective Woo would be present.

The sound of a cell phone ringing distracted Nottingham from envisioning more humiliation. Luckily it was his and not Sara's. Answering her cell would most certainly be incriminating.

"Yes, Sir," he said after answering.

"It's your first day of close observation," Kenneth responded without greeting.

"I am fully aware of that."

"Don't be too quick to please, if you can find that possible. That would most certainly make our dear Sara suspicious."

"And what of Detective Woo?"

"Let him think what he wishes. He will be enthralled with his own problems soon enough. For now let his own green eyed monster bite. If all goes well this will be the only day he will really be a challenge."

"I don't understand, Sir."

"You won't not until it all falls into place."

"Will he be-?"

"Come now, Ian. Do let me surprise you once and a while, it keeps you sharp."

"Yes Sir."

"Have a pleasant day."

They didn't say goodbye. It was a damn good thing too. "Who are you talking to?" Ian whirled to find Sara standing before him. She was fully clothed wearing a green long sleeved shirt, thankfully with no low neck and a pair of jeans. While waiting for an answer she slid on her leather jacket.

"No one in particular."

"Does Irons want some assurance I won't kill you?" she asked, testing.

"I wouldn't know." Ian answered tactfully.

"You ready to go?" Sara started for the door not waiting for him to reply. Nottingham followed. They were silent on the way to the parking lot. Ian moved to the driver’s seat but was stopped by Sara's hand on his shoulder pulling him back. "I'll drive this time. I don't want to make it look any worse then it already is. Is that alright with you?"

He nodded, and when to the passenger side as she started the engine.
On a second thought, Nottingham turned down the stereo as the engine came to life making what would have been a roar and a rude awakening to a hum. "Can you take that out?" she asked, gesturing to the disk drive. When he did, Sara began switching around looking for a station. Ian just sat there.

She didn't understand how he could just sit there. Out of the five good steady boyfriends she had, none of them let her change the station in the car. None. 'Not gonna bite?' she thought. Sara was very tempted to put it on the "smart talk" station but that was up there on her list of cruel and unusual punishment. She settled on NYC-ROC, the same station she'd been listening to since high school. The Stone Temple Pilots' Sour Girl came on. And for good measure she turned it up.

Nottingham decided to take the role Sara was forcing him into. He put his hand around her waist. It would have been more convincing if he would have put his hand on her butt, but such a thing was unthinkable to Ian even if it would be in character. It just wasn't right with out her permission. 'Like that would ever happen.' He tried not to have his voice shake as he gave his thanks and paid for Sara's lemonade.

Then, as if their acting hadn't been enough, Sara moved from being at Nottingham's side to in front of him. Halted in mid-step, he helplessly looked into her face as it rose up to his. Ian couldn't breath or even think, he just froze. Sara reached around his head with her free hand letting down his hair. When it settled she put her head on his shoulder.

"I'm going to jump on you, be ready to carry me," she whispered her breath hot against his ear.

Nottingham swallowed and nudged his head against hers as an affirmation. And she did jump on him, arms around his neck, legs about his waist. He secured her there by unwillingly gripping her butt after all.

"So far so good," Sara laughed low in her throat. "Okay, now start walking but make like I'm all over you."

"I-I don't know what your talking about..." he said glad that it wasn't that loudly.

"Loosen up, Nottingham. No horny guy in New York walks like you do to bed... you aren't that good of an actor."

"Sara, as much as I'd love to practice such ways... you forget that I am most often cracking bones instead of jumping them..." Ian said against Sara's ear, his cheek against hers.

"You smart-"

"You should start learning to hold your tongue... especially if you want to pass off as the daughter of a duke," he interrupted as they reached a large ornate wooden carving of a rooster. "Speaking of which, we are going to have to get you some proper clothes."

She pulled her head away from his to glower at him. "Let me down a bit, Mr. Headmaster," Sara growled as she loosened an arm, lemonade still in hand. They looked at the rooster. Each one of its tail feathers splayed out in a separate direction, curling. "I think one of those are a lever of some kind."

"But which one is the question..." Nottingham murmured.

"I think it's..." Sara's hand hovered over the feathers one by one. On the eleventh, the Witchblade jewel put on a light display, "this one's it." She pulled down on the piece of wood.

A panel pulled out then back for a moment. Ian looked back down the hallway then in front of them before carrying Sara in. All the while he mentally grumbled wishing that Sara's work day was short or job was easier, he couldn't decide.

"Oh my god this is so ghetto.." Sara groaned as she saw several round beds in one room. She looked up to find a mirrored ceiling. "How trashy can you get? Sex in public AND in the same room with several other people... Sheesh." She turned to Ian to find him caught in some kind of inner dilemma. His gaze kept shifting from her to the floor to his arm. Sara lifted an eyebrow and brushed off the weirdness of his behavior, not wanting to make this job any worse. "You can put me down now..."

"I'm sorry..." Nottingham breathed.

"Forget about it and start looking around for evidence. I really doubt that they clean these places."

Maybe it was the entire situation. Or maybe it was the fact that seconds ago he had the wielder’s body pressed against is.... Whatever it was, Ian Nottingham professional assassin was but a statue.

Sara on the other hand moved all over the small room, looking under the mattresses and sheets. "My god, I should have brought Danny...." she grumbled to herself. 'But I can say that with he Witchblade and Nottingham no one in their right mind would jump us.'

Something in Ian's vision moved. He took his standing position to the fullest and waited for the movement again. "Sara..." he said.

"What?" she snapped looking up from the floor.

"That's a video camera..." he said pointing to a small circle no bigger then ping pong ball hole in the wall.

"Crap..."

Sara stood as well with a hand over her eyes. "Damn perverts...They don't have a television but they have a camera... Oh, God...what do we do?"

"Get into the bed..." Ian said softly, his lips hardly moving.

"What?" Sara was definitely the embarrassed one. 'What do you have hiding under that servant bit, Nottingham?'

"I know you heard me...Don't make me imply again...just do it."

Sara obeyed, setting her drink on the floor. Ian climbed in after her, pulling the sheets up with him, but more then that on top of her, arms on the sides of her head and his knees framing hers. To top this all off, he put his mouth to her ear. "What do we do now?"

"You are such an @$$ hole, Nottingham. One minute your a prude the next..."

"I beg your pardon for my behavior but considering that if I hadn't acted this way we'd still be standing in the middle of the room. And should anyone upstairs cared to look upon the television they could plainly see that no lovers in New York have intercourse like that," Ian said in a soft mocking whisper in her ear.

"Okay, okay... you've had your revenge. Any ideas?" she said trying to shake off how positively unsettling it was to actually say now that she had been "in bed" with Ian Nottingham.

"If only..." Nottingham muttered.

"We’ll call Danny!"

Sara pulled out her cell. Before dialing, "Nottingham...start doing push ups..." she mumbled. Ian heard her, whether he wished to or not. The mattress groaned like Sara wanted to. They both hoped to god that the camera didn't record sound.

***

Danny just sat there. After a night with little sleep and visions of Pokemon bouncing through his head his sanity was certainly out of the question at this time of the day. And now what the hell was Sara trying to pull? She took Nottingham to investigate... she may as well have just given him the finger and took his wallet.

'Sara should be able to take care of herself. I can't go on doing this. We're partners and as long as it's that way I have to keep my decent distance. Jennifer does already not like the fact that I took a drive twice last night. I'm pushing it... Pez just needs to stick this out mostly on her own. Nottingham is a jerk so far he doesn't seem like the type to rape and kill a person he's suppose to protect... But still... an assassin?' The shrill ring of his cell phone sliced through his thoughts.

"Woo here," he answered focusing on his drink.

"Danny, you need to go upstairs," Sara's voice said commanding. No hello just straight to business as it always it was.

"What? Wait! Where are you?"

"Ugh...in the back room. Jeeze, Danny if you could see it. It looks like something out of Austin Powers or something. We've got a camera on us... I'm thinking that there'd be evidence on tape if we can get it."

"I'll be on it Pez," Danny affirmed. Then he paused, just about ready to hang up. A weird muffled noise came through the line. "What's that sound?"

"Don't ask... I'll tell you sometime..." Sara grumbled as she hung up.

"How did it go?" Ian asked, taking a moment to breathe between pushups.

"Pretty good... I don't know how long it'll take."

"Sara?"

"Yeah?"

"How long are we to be like this?"

"Oh boy Nottingham..." Sara sighed closing her eyes and cursing every freaking mythological weaver of fate, "usually it takes until you get tired..."

"That's NOT what I mean. Do you suppose we should assist Detective Woo?"

Her face turned a deep, and to Ian, utterly beautiful virginal red. "Yeah..."

Together, side by side, an arm about each other, Sara and Ian emerged from the dreadful and as Sara put it so gracefully "ghetto" room. There where wordless because no words could be said. Both of them had unwillingly been thrust into perhaps one of the most embarrassing situations in their life. And with that, in that unspoken pause between the room and the hall a bond began to be forged. Not out of cunning or tact as Kenneth Irons would have wished it to be, but out of respect, and perhaps, friendship of the most honest kind. Unbeknownst to Sara and Ian, this wouldn't be realized until the critical moment.

"Did you have a good time?" the bartender asked with a wide and sickening grin on his face. The movement made all the rings in his nose bunch and clash and the ones on his lips separate.

Ian answered first, "How couldn't I?" he laughed with a surprisingly wide grin. For good measure he put his other arm around Sara from the back.

'Woh,' she thought, 'if he's getting handsy I certainly have something to worry about. This is way different from the guy who took out the assassin in my kitchen, not too long ago he couldn't stand to look at my belly button. Would he hesitate to force me if he really wanted to get down and do it?' She mentally swallowed.

Ian leaned close to her, cutting off her thoughts and increasing her frantic new fear. "Detective Woo is gone..." he murmured against her ear.

Casting aside her dignity for the mission she leaned against him, "He's upstairs waiting... Let's go and follow..." She began moving away when she was shocked to find that he gripped her waist quite possessively and tugged her back against him.

She held her breath as he rested his chin against her neck, "Are you sure? I don't think it would be safe... We should call him first..."

Sara broke away, fearing that this situation would worsen if she let it. To answer his question she shook her head no and started upward when the bartender was looking away. She was expecting a struggle of some kind on his part, but none came and she remembered that this was Ian Nottingham, not any other guy she'd been with.

Getting up the stairs was tricky only because they were very narrow and full of lovely little squeaks and groans. Lucky for the two a few very scantily clad women dropped by for a drink. Ian didn't even look once in their way after she pointed them out to him. The more this workday went on the more and more he frustrated her. What the hell did he do in his youth?

(Enjoying reruns Jen? There is an update today at Digitablum Magae...)

She finally opened her eyes. The spinning and whirling had stopped. Everything was still in the hotel room. Sara didn't remember walking there. She gave the Witchblade a glance and then remembered that it was having some sort of grudge against her. She didn't want to sit up in fear that the bruise most likely being formed on her stomach would hurt.

"Are you feeling all right?" she heard. Ian came up from somewhere behind the couch (probably the kitchen) to her side. In his hands he had a glass of water and a plate of toast. He followed her line of sight to the small plate. A short small smile flashed over his face as he set down the tray, "I'm not sure if you can handle eating anything to flavor filled. The fight left you in very bad condition. I shouldn't have let you think of going to work today."

"I felt like I had to..." Sara whispered. Her throat hurt. Going to bed with a good beer in her stomach sounded very promising at the moment. “I don’t like feeling like an invalid. Especially when there are people who are far worse off then I am.”

"What happened when you went upstairs?" It was funny what Nottingham could do with his voice. One day or second it could be so menacing and powerful like a war cry. In the next it was so soft and gentle as though he were talking to a little kid.

"It just didn't work for a second, like it was stuck in gear and wouldn't move forward or back...." Sara muttered. "Did-did I do something wrong?" She took a bite of the toast on the plate. It was plain with no butter. It tasted like cotton in her dry mouth but it felt good to get something in there. It was gone in seconds.

“I don't know." Ian said. He moved to the balcony and stared out into the darkening sky. It started to snow again. The white puffs danced and spun in intricate patterns to the city streets below. "You should try and eat something. You were falling in and out of consciousness I couldn't keep you awake long enough. It was as though you have narcoleptic seizures." Sara thought she heard a dry laugh.

"Can you get me a beer from the mini-bar?” Sara said lying across the length of the couch.

Ian coughed and then promptly gristle, “No”.

"Why not?"

"It's no lady like."

Sara stared up at the ceiling, a smile tugging on her face. "So? Your point is...?"

"Are you planning on taking the undercover offer?" his question was left in the air as he walked into his side of the room.

"Yes..." Sara still didn't know where he was leading her on this. “I still don’t know were you’re leading.”

"Then you should exercises acting like one," he answered coming back in with a deck of cards in his hand. Without really looking at her, he seated himself cross-legged in the middle of the room.

Sara heaved a sigh as she sat down on the floor across from him. He shuffled the cards with a bit of clumsiness she didn’t expect in him; it was good to see that at least he wasn’t a Supreme Being in all ways. She watched as he set out the cards to play solitaire. Why was it that he was ignoring her now? It’s not proper etiquette to play a game on your own before offering, she thought to herself but decided to save a remark like that for later. "Why do you keep on reminding me that I'm going to play princess or whatever?"

"Because it’s important, isn't it?" he muttered placing the large stack of cards by her knee.

"Well... yes, but I don't need to be told it’s important to know that it is," that return sounded awful even to her ears. Smug , she thought. “I can act, I know I could pull it off.”

Ian flipped over the first face down card, queen of hearts. "It’s not the acting that is concerning. In order to really fool the entire United Kingdom you have to put on quite a show. You will be under a lot of public scrutiny with your return from whatever limbo they’ll say you were in.”

“Point made, but I’ll get it down. Heck, I played an understudy for my entire drama class in high school during flu season. I was Balthazar and Benvolio in Romeo and Juliet on the same night, I’m sure that I can manage a stuffy spoiled lady for a few days.”

“You’re missing what I mean to say, Sara. Who will you learn from? There is going to be a lot of things you need to memorize and I believe that many of the questions you will be asked will not pertain to any sort of script. You really need to be totally committed. It’s going to be a big task… I could help you, you know…and so could Mr. Irons. He most certainly knows some people who specialize in refinement."

Sara pulled her hair over her shoulder and started to comb through it with her fingers, "Not a chance. Nothing personal, Nottingham but that man isn't the sort of person I'd turn my back on, let alone play Henry Higgins to my Eliza. He’s hiding something and I don’t like the sort of vibes he gives off."

Nottingham bit his tongue in his mouth and drew another card, ace of diamonds. "If you don't trust him then its best to have him be your benefactor if only for the money."

"And go on with the keep your enemies closer then your friends bit?” she asked leaning over his game that occupied his attention. She stared at him hard trying to make him look up under the weight of her gaze. “Is that really why you’re here with me now?” As she tried to meet eye level with him her hair swept across the game revealing a covered two of hearts. Ian put it back into place and moved the three of clubs. Sara moved away and stood up stretching, “Oh, why am I talking to you about it any way... how do I know you aren't just giving me some candy coated sh** to get on my good side?"

The doubt and bitterness in her tone wouldn’t let Nottingham allow the comment to disappear. "How can you doubt me? I saved your life at the benefit. I disarmed the assassin in your apartment. I carried you from the Celestial Gardens and iced your bruises. Now I am not one to be studying your ritualistic rites of passage among people but that looks to me like something you can't deny Sara. If I were here to be an enemy I would be spouting out riddles for you rather then this," Ian said dropping his gaze after his monologue.

He again caught her. What is he mentally recording every conversation and even we have or something? Sara wondered. He could pull out references to other conversations in a snap and twist them his way. "Alright. I'll give you that much. I'm grateful that you stepped in when I needed someone but..."

"You aren't trusting," Ian finished. He drew out a three of spades.

She sighed, "For all that black, Nottingham you aren't that full of crap. Deal out a round of poker and let's see how well you can play." They made quite a picture. A woman in jeans and a wrinkled leather jacket, shoes taken off, hair tousled sitting cross-legged with a man in black pants and knit sweater both looking intently at the five cards in their hand. For betting chips, they used M&Ms from the mini bar.

In the moments that they stared at the cards, Sara shifted off her jacket. Ian's eyes looked up a moment. From the low neck of her shirt he saw the beginnings of what looked like two arches made up of ruptured skin. "Where did you get that?"

Sara looked at him confused then followed his line of sight. "Oh... That..." she pulled her shirt up higher hiding the scar. "I got that from a raid between homicide and SWAT, a regular picnic you could say. A cart of illegal weapons exploded and I was right in front of it. I moved but it still managed to knick me. I didn't want to get stitches...my med. plan was lousy back then. Now I wish I had... It looks disgusting," she put two cards down and picked up two more from the stack. "But that's nothing. I've had worse."

"What do you mean you had worse?" Ian asked as he put down three and drew three.

"Oh, one time when I was fourteen I was riding a bike at top speed down the street and my neighbor's stupid Pomeranian ran in front. I tried to stop I fell over the bar and split open my knee, broke my ankle and lost a tooth...and that's just starting my bad injuries."

Sara was shocked to hear a low husky laugh: it was Ian! "That's not that bad...I would have loved to have that happen. When I was at came in Utah I fell from a climbing pole to a chewed up net. I broke a leg, an arm and a collar bone."

"What? You think just because you got top dollar training means that you've seen more?"

"No..." he said as he showed his cards. Seven of hearts, six of spades, five of diamonds, four of clubs and a three of spades: a flush. "I was just saying that's what happened to me." Ian moved to take the pot of colorful candy in the center of the rug.

"Not so fast," Sara laughed. She held out a king of diamonds, a queen of spades, a jack of hearts, a ten of diamonds and an ace of clubs. "Royal flush beats your flush I win, hand over the M&Ms."

"Wait a minute...you had that same hand a while a go."

"Your point being? Yeah, I’m a good poker player," Sara said as she shuffled again, mockingly popping a blue M&M in her mouth.

"I believe you are cheating Ms. Pezzini," he said softly daring to look into her face.

Sara put down the cards and gave him a hard stare, "you must have grown some back bone Nottingham in order to say something like that."

"Stand up," he commanded his voice serious.

"Uh, no we're playing a game."

"I don't play with cheaters..." Nottingham said his voice low and hard.

"And I don't play with people who make accusations... now sit down, get another bag and play." Without any warning, Ian picked her up from underneath her arms and held her there. Lo and behold, there lay her last hand. She was sitting on them. "Put me down now!" she hissed talking a jab at his knee. Ian went down. Sara fell on top of him, sitting on his stomach. By his foot she found his flush. "You dirty hypocrite.."

"You do a lot of hypocritical things yourself Sara," he grunted below her. "Would you mind getting off?"

"Yes," she said with a grin popping more candy into her mouth. "I do mind."

"I will move you if you don't," he answered.

"I'd like to see you tr-" She was interrupted by a knock at the door. Sara rose and quickly moved to the door before Ian could. She looked through the eyehole to see the pale face of Danny glowing in the low hallway light. "It's Danny...what's he doing her so late?" she muttered to herself. She opened it and he stepped in without any greeting of any kind. At once Sara knew there was something the matter. She moved to take his coat that radiated cool but he gently swatted her hands away. "Hey, Nottingham can you give us a moment."

Ian didn't say a word he simply nodded and retreated to his side of the room, closing the door until there was only a fine crack from being closed.

"Is there something wrong, Danny?" she asked not quite knowing how to get him started. The questioned sounded stupid. Of course something was wrong that's why he was here at about midnight.

"You're going to have to go to England on your own, Sara," he said his voice flat and hallow.

"What are you talking about? We're in this together; Dante can't just pull you out without a word. He's an @$$ but he wouldn't do th-"

"It isn't Dante, Sara that’s stopping me."

"Then what is it? Who’s telling you to stay?"

"I am, I have to stay here, Pez... We don’t even know how long we would be staying. I have a life here. I don't think I could just leave it like that. I can't leave my family..." Danny said. “You don’t have anyone to worry about. I do.”

"Come on Danny, there's something you're not telling me here," Sara approached him her hand on his shoulder, the other was on his cheek.

They stood like that for a moment. From Ian's point of view they looked like lovers. But the moment didn't last, Danny moved away from her like her touch burned. "Jen is threatening to get a divorce," he blurted out. Sara stood there petrified unable to know how to react. Jennifer Woo was one of the coldest people she knew at least the woman was cold to her. ‘What was her bit?’ Sara often wondered. As if to answer her question Danny continued, "She hired a private detective to follow me around. He must have had some hell of picture collection. Jen thinks that we are-" he couldn't finish. He helplessly gestured to the air.

"What? That's crazy!" Sara roared when she finally was able to speak. A knot twisted in her stomach and it wove its way to her throat. "I can't just fly all the freaking way to Europe and do this on my own, maybe if I talked to her-"

"No, Sara...no," Danny said firmly. "You'll only make it worse."

"Danny what are you talking about?" Sara asked approaching him, her voice strangled with salty tears.

War of the Roses update on Digitablum Magae...

Ugh...School starts tomorrow for me.....

WAAAHHHH!!!!!