Part Two: Rules of Engagement

Chapter Eleven:

Watching For Signs That I've Touched Your Heart

Fearful and scared, I keep on telling / Watching for signs that I've touched your heart / Thousands of sentences all spelling / Whether my life is worth my art

~ Like Scheherezade by: Gwen Knighton

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"We need a taxi, or it's going to be a long walk home.  Even longer for you," she said, staring down the street as if it made any difference.

With a shadow of a smile he stepped to the curb, held up a hand, and called, "Taxi."  He hadn't raised his voice.  For a moment she wondered what he would sound like shouting in rage or screaming in...A taxi came around the near corner, gliding to a stop right before them.  It just sat there.  And waited.

Wow.  I mean...wow!  She whistled low in appreciation.  Maybe Nottingham's not so bad, after all.  And maybe I really am losing my mind.  She had seen him do things, things that the front of her brain told her should not even be possible.  This was one of those things.

He opened the door, stepping back and waving his hand gracefully forward in invitation.  She walked past him and climbed in, sliding across the seat.  She had a very conscious moment of déjà vu as he pulled the door shut.  Settling into the seat, he gave the driver directions, then turned somewhat to her, his fingers laced together over his left knee.  It was a very casual gesture of attention.

"Now, this?  This is definitely punishable by the law."  But she made sure to smile slightly while she said it, letting him know that she meant only the expedient arrival of their 'coach'.  She had taught him a wealth of caution where she was concerned, and sometimes it got in the way more than helped.  Or maybe someone else had taught him.  Either way, she had reinforced it enough to know caution herself.

"I guess that makes you my accomplice?"

She grinned, "Gladly."

Then his attention on her seemed to sharpen, and she quickly looked away.  She hadn't meant to flirt.  How come she did so much that she didn't mean to do around him?  She picked at the hem of her skirt with more concentration then the action called for.

"Sara, I'm sorry the night you had planned was ruined."

Everything seemed to quiet as they came to a stoplight.  The hum of the engine became more pronounced without the rush of the wheels to distract.  The driver was ignoring them, his eyes patiently waiting for the light to change.  They were just two more people in his car, after all.  The light turned green and they were off again, crawling behind so many other, nameless passengers in just as nameless cars.  It was at once a comforting feeling, and humbling.

"I wouldn't necessarily say that."

There was silence again, but this one was less audio and more atmospheric.  She felt his curiosity at that statement.  Would he ask?  Did he want to know enough to make her explain herself?  Either way, she would.  It was too dangerous a comment to leave lying as it was.

"What do you mean?"

"It wasn't a complete failure.  I got something to eat, I had a little fun.  Sure, there were a lot of awkward moments, but when isn't there?  So, it wasn't bad," she ended in a whisper, then turned to him.  This was the truth, but there was more of it to get out.  "But don't take this as some sort of sign.  I don't want you doing anything like this ever again.  I mean it.  I don't regret tonight, but I could."  Now, time for some heavy eye contact.  "Don't make me regret tonight, Nottingham."

He lowered his head, like she knew he would.  "I will try not to give you any reason to feel regret, Sara."

"Good," she said, feeling better that they had come to an understanding.  He wouldn't do it again, and she would try to keep it in her memory as a generally pleasant evening.

"I have something to confess," he said.

She blinked; those were very strange and dangerous words coming from Ian Nottingham.  "If it's anything illegal, please don't tell me.  I don't really feel like battling my conscience right now."

He was warmed slightly by those words, that she would hesitate and not just happily drag him off to the nearest police station.

"Illegal, no.  Well...yes.  But harmless."  It wasn't actually that either, because it could prove harmful to him.  But he needed to come clean to her on this point, whatever the outcome.  "Really," he added at her narrowed look of suspicion.

"Go on."  The tone of her voice didn't seem too convinced with his sincerity.

"Your date truly was called away---but I was the reason for that.  I didn't hurt him though," too greatly, he added silently to himself.  But alas, he just couldn't work up enough guilt to feel too badly about that particular detail.

She sighed, leaning into the seat.  Her head fell back and she stared at the ceiling of the car.  "I guessed as much," she said.  "That's one of the things you can't be doing anymore, Ian."

Hearing his first name on her lips always made him go still, but he was already as still as he was going to get.  She had known this and not ripped him to shreds about it?  That lifted a great burden of guilt off his shoulders, though there was always more to be had.

"I am truly sorry, Sara."

"Just don't do it again, and I'll believe you."

"Okay," he said softly, his voice reminiscent of a reprimanded child.  But he could have gotten worse; she could have taken the gun he knew was in her purse and shot him with it.  He might even have let her.

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What is it about cars?  What is it about sitting in a car at night that makes the experience so personal, so singular?  It was a dangerous closeness, she knew that.  A feeling that whatever happened within would stay there, and they were really a part of another reality, one that couldn't follow them back when they left.  It made her want to kiss him again, just because she could.  Because she knew he wouldn't object.  Because she knew he was sitting there feeling that same wordless intimacy.  The driver didn't protest the fact that they were both just sitting there, listening to the loudness of the silence around them.  She supposed he saw this often, an end to something, a reluctance to say goodbye.  Or maybe he, like her, understood the silky grip of such spells.

She knew she should get out and go home, but she just sat there, fiddling with the edge of her skirt.  Ian looked out the window beside him, but not in a way of tension.  She wondered if he was sorry that it was all over now.  Never to be repeated.  He had promised her as much, but she almost felt apologetic that she had forced those words upon him.

"Walk me up?" she whispered.

He turned his head slowly, but nodded.  If he took the sentence to mean more than it did, he didn't show it.  He helped her out and sent the driver on his way.  His face remained that calm, pleasant mask, and she wondered if it stretched all the way in.

"How are you doing," she asked as they stood quietly out in front of her building.  It was one of those times her mouth seemed to have a will of its own.  And really, she didn't care.  She genuinely wanted to know.

He smiled very small, glancing down at the ground, then back up.  "Happy that I've made it through the night alive, but a little depressed, too.  What about you?"

"What about me what?"

"How are you feeling?"

She noticed the change in wording, but wasn't sure why.  "Ask me tomorrow, after the police get through with me.  They kind of frown on threatening people with swords."

"They won't bother you, Sara.  I'll make sure of it."

"Nottingham," she said in warning.

"Sara," he answered in the same tone, though lighter.

"Don't do anything illegal."

"Never," he said with that exaggerated sincerity.

"Yeah, right," she said, but was smiling anyway.

That made him smile.

"Let's go," she turned and walked across the sidewalk, stepping from the shadows directly into the bright circle of light falling from the streetlamp.  He didn't move, stared at her ankles, her calves, the back of her knees, his eyes climbing ever higher as the crimson of her dress seemed to glow against her skin.

"Quit 'watching my back' and get a move on it, Nottingham," she threw over her shoulder without looking back at him.

He shook his head slightly, coming to a final conclusion.  She had definitely put more sway to her walk then even her heels allowed for.  He wondered if she was aware.

The answer came quick as she stopped on the edge of the light, smoothing a hand down to rest on her hip.  The Witchblade glinted on her wrist, and he was mildly surprised to realize he hadn't noticed it until that very moment.  And it was a very short-lived moment.

"Coming?"

Definitely aware, he thought, hurrying to her side.

The walk up was silent; he didn't dare believe that this meant anything like he wanted it to.  He did not expect her to invite him in under the pretense of coffee or anything else so pleasant.  When she stopped before her door, he stopped too, waiting.  There were so many possibilities that it wasn't safe for him to speak yet.

"Well, here's my stop."

He nodded, unhelpfully.

"Please note my talent for stating the obvious."

That earned her a small, uncertain smile.  It was almost as if he wasn't quite sure the action was welcome.

God, what do you say at times like this?  Miss Manners never covered non-dates with emotionally disturbed stalkers!  He does have pretty eyes though.

She decided to say nothing.  She leaned upward onto the pointed toes of her heels and turned his face aside with one strong finger on his chin.  She then placed a small kiss on his cheek, chaste and pleasant and far too short.

It lacked much in the ways of passion, but in one second it became everything he ever wanted from her and thought for certain that he couldn't have.  Something well-versed and willing.

Of course, that didn't stop him from turning his head just that fraction and pressing his lips into hers.  He didn't mean to, honest.  It was just the scent of her hair, the feel of her so close...He wasn't aware of what he was doing until it was too late to stop.  Her lips were soft, yielding with shock, and tasting faintly of strawberries and alcohol.

The surprise knocked her off the delicate balance she had on her heels, and left her hanging onto him for support.  At least, that's how she chose to explain why her hands were suddenly knotted in the fabric of his collar, dragging him closer.

It, however, didn't explain why she was kissing him back.

Sara abruptly let go, taking two very important steps back away from him.  It wasn't as if she was doing this on purpose.  It was like...it was happening when she wasn't paying attention.  It's like a car wreck---when you take your eyes off the road for only two seconds, but those two seconds are enough.  That was a confusing thought all on its own.

Gotta get out of here.  She was aware of her voice saying, "Goodnight, Nottingham."  And was happy that it sounded so cool and collected.  All that was left was the actual leaving.

With her head down, she twisted the knob and stepped into her door.  Literally.  She stood there a moment, leaning against the wood, taking deep, deep breaths.  Finally, she very slowly retrieved her keys from her purse and turned the lock.  She didn't look at him as she did so.  It was enough that she was embarrassed; she didn't have to see him to drive the fact home.

Off-balance my ass, we are now officially moving into dizzy territory.

She closed the door behind her softly, not bothering with the lights.  She walked absently across her apartment and flopped onto the couch, her knees hooked over the armrest.

Her little dress definitely wasn't made for such an odd incline, the thin red cloth started discreetly inching up her thighs in a way that could be called indecent, if given a few more minutes.  One of her pumps had already fallen with a thump to the floor, while the other precariously held on by her toes alone.  She didn't care; she stared at the shadowed ceiling with her purse clutched loosely to her breast.

I think I've got it.  He's an irresistible force and I'm an immovable object.  And that's why there can't ever be anything.

But he is irresistible, whispered that little voice buried so far back in her head.  The one that she just wanted to find and strangle.

I'm immovable, she snapped back, didn't you catch that part of the phrase?

But you could...move, it offered hesitantly.

Hello?  Immovable means NO MOVING!

Too late.

Wha...?

You might have convinced him you weren't interested, but that kiss in the hall?  That's moving, hon.

"Oh," she groaned, throwing her arm over her eyes in pseudo-despair.

With the sudden movement, her skirt just fell in one swift red wave of cloth to her waist.  She shot up, catching it and holding it modestly in place.  Her eyes swung around the dark room to make sure she was indeed alone.  That's what he did to her.  She wasn't sure what, but he sure did it.

Internal confusion aside, it was time to get up and strip away the garnish, unmake the monster she had made.  If she were lucky, she reasoned, she might even get some sleep tonight.  Without any dreams.

Walking slowly home, so that he could feel and remember every step, Ian Nottingham was thinking the exact opposite.  Though he didn't know how in the world he was supposed to get any sleep now.

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Sing you to sleep like Scheherezade / Wake your curiosity / Trap you with tales like Scheherezade / You'll never want to leave me

~Like Scheherezade by: Gwen Knighton

.End of Part Two.

I'm not sure when I'll be getting the third part out, but I do plan on it being the final part.  I've already started it, but have paused in favour of trying to clean up some of my older stories.  I think I've neglected a few of them for far too long...

Coming Soon:

So Happy Together

Part Three:

You'll Accompany Me

The crazy Sara/Ian hijinks continue, with a few familiar faces tossed in.  Ian will get a clue, Jake will get a little break, and Lazar will sweep the floor.  Poor Sara will finally begin dragging herself out of the angsty depths of De'Nile.  The obligatory Sara-dream will make an appearance, and be just as obscure as ever.  Is it evil of me to make all these vague hints?  Probably. ;-D

I will say this though---positive feedback is great inspiration.  That's a hint, incidentally. ^_~

Special Thanks go to all the wonderful people who have reviewed this part and the previous one.  Thank You so much! ^_^

~ Loki