Twenty minutes. Jake glanced at his watch again. He had spent the last twenty minutes on the phone with Sara discussing the Charles case. According to Sara, Frankie Franchetti was a dead end, and unless forensics came up with anything, she implied that the case would get cold fast. He didn’t like it and said as much, preparing to argue his case with Sara.

“We can’t solve them all, Jake,” she had said in a surprisingly sympathetic tone. “Sometimes we just have to let go, even if we don’t want to.”

Jake knew that, but he wasn’t ready to let go just yet. He knew he should let it go and concentrate on his real purpose. But he hadn’t done all he could, and so now he was back in the neighborhood where Margaret Charles was shot, going door-to-door on his own time, hoping to find her last residence. The uniforms had already canvassed the area, mainly asking supers and apartment managers about her, but had found nothing. For Jake, that didn’t mean much; if she was on the run, she would have found a way to hide from such cursory questioning. He had called Jarod and left a message on his voicemail. Jake wasn’t optimistic that forensics would give them a new lead or that finding Margaret Charles’ last residence would be easy, but he had to try. Only then could he let the case go.

~*~*~*~*~

Sam watched as Miss P consoled Jarod. If Jarod’s mother was dead, that changed everything, and Sam’s instructions were clear. He waited quietly until Jarod pulled away from Miss P.

Jarod looked at her for a long moment with gratitude and tenderness. “Thank you.”

She gave him a little smile. “I wish I had brought that tea with me.”

He grinned briefly in return. “I could use it.”

Over the years, Sam had watched the two of them exchange barbs and taunts, but he had never witnessed their friendship and was not prepared for the apparent depth of it. Sam suddenly felt like an interloper, and it was obvious whose side Miss P was on. Sam knew that didn’t make his job any easier.

Sam cleared his throat. Quietly, he said, “I’m sorry for your loss, Jarod. Margaret was a nice lady.”

Jarod and Miss P’s heads turned sharply towards him. They didn’t have to say anything – Miss P’s questioning eyebrow said it all. Sam continued, “Actually, I knew both your mothers. I was one of the children that Catherine Parker rescued.”

~*~*~*~*~

Ian settled in to watch Sara from his usual perch on her fire escape. Earlier that afternoon, he had felt that prickling sensation at the back of his neck which told him Sara was seeing visions. As if in answer, Ian himself had then experienced a series of brief visions…

Ian as a Roman Centurion, fighting alongside his lover who had the same green eyes as her great grandmother, Cathain.

Ian in armor, in the midst of the assault on Jargeau, hearing Jeanne’s imploring words, “Go back from this place, or that canon in the city will kill you!”

Ian removing his white mantle with the red cross then handing it and his brother’s over to the Commander…

…then turning to his brother who with the long hair and beard was barely recognizable as Jarod in this lifetime and was saying, “Come, we will return home to Aragón and my Mirabella…”

But now, the Witchblade was quiet for which Ian was somewhat grateful. He could concentrate on trying to figure out what to do next. The Witchblade had drawn Jarod and Parker into Sara’s life and despite Ian’s outward calm, that had thrown Ian into a momentary tailspin. Ian wasn’t sure what the Witchblade planned or what his father might have set into motion, but he was worried that either would lead to the one thing he didn’t want – Sara out of his life. Had the Witchblade decided he was somehow not worthy of serving the Wielder? Or, worse, had it decided to reject Sara?

Ian immediately rejected those thoughts. He knew Sara was a true Wielder…but so was Parker. He was as sure of that as he was that the Sun would rise in the East. So did that mean that he had failed? Or was this a test?

He watched as Sara stood and walked out of his field of view. She returned shortly after with another beer and sat again at her sofa. He was sure that she was unaware of his presence. He knew that if he concentrated on the Witchblade, it would make his presence known to her, but he did not want to upset her. Instead, Ian found himself placing a gloved hand on the window, wishing for her to return the gesture on the other side of the glass...for her to acknowledge him...

Ian wasn't sure exactly what Sara had learned from Gabriel, but he did know that she now knew something of their bond or at least suspected it. Ian had not told Sara of his bond to the Witchblade and to her. He told himself that he had not done so for her sake - to let her learn on her own, to allow her time to adjust to being the Wielder as his father had suggested, but in truth, he had been afraid of her rejection. And she would reject him, if nothing else, because of her distrust of his father. Ian knew of his father's tumultuous history with the Blade, and Sara was correct to distrust him.

Sara had another choice before her, though neither she nor Jarod knew of it. Jarod and Ian's bloodlines were intertwined, so much so that if Ian was honest with himself, he would admit that he had hinted about Jarod's connection to the Witchblade so that Sara would pursue it and discover Ian's own connection to her. In fact, it was this same bond that had compelled him to trust Parker when they were children, to train with her in Japan years later and just today to arrange for Parker's release from custody despite knowing it would upset Sara. He wasn't surprised to see that same bond assert itself between Jarod and Sara as they learned to trust each other.

Ian focused his attention back on Sara for a moment. After two sips of her beer, she looked up towards the window, but her expression remained thoughtful. Ian closed his eyes and concentrated. He could faintly feel her sadness, her loneliness, and he was once again overwhelmed by the compassion he felt for her.

Ian opened his eyes, coming to a decision. He wasn't giving her up without a fight. Before Sara could accept Ian, she had to trust him, and Ian had to give her something on which to build that trust. He knew his father would disapprove - he would see it for what it was: an act of rebellion against his authority, a rejection of his love, the choice of Sara over him, and, what would gall him the most, a machination of the Witchblade which allowed the Wielder to again choose someone other than him. Ian felt a comforting warmth as he remembered the twinkle in Sara's eyes when she smiled, and for the first time in his life, his father's disapproval didn't matter.

~*~*~*~*~

To be continued...