SEQ CHAPTER \h \r 1A Shadow No More
Summary: What happens when a certain someone decides to step aside and move on?
Disclaimer: I don't own Witchblade ...etc...etc. The song 'My Immortal' belongs to Evanescence.
A/N: This is the outcome when I start listening to the Evanescence CD. The muses starts kicking and I'm stuck writing in the wee early morning hours. Let me know what you think. Enjoy! =)
~*~
The cold December winds whipped across his face, yet not once did he move. He continues to stand there apart from her world, resting his weary face on top of his arms, sadly watching. How long will it before he moves? How long will he continue to watch over her? How long will he continue to lie to himself? To give himself some false hope that things will change. How long, indeed.
He stands there hurt, confused, and jealous. Watching as the man that she let into her life bask in the warmth of her presence, her care, her love. While he stands outside, apart, and alone in the cold. What would it have taken to be the other man? What could have been done or said to be accepted by her?
A puff of white smoke escapes his lips as he sighs. Wondering what was said that made the beautiful angel laugh so wholeheartedly. Wondering what sweet words were spoken to gain that beaming smile, that look of love, that kiss. He turns his head away, not wanting to witness the intimate gesture exchanged between the warrior goddess and her Irish pugilist.
He turns away, and slumps down onto the floor. Defeated. What must be done to be given one iota of compassion from her? Not the animosity she emits every time he's near. To hear one sweet word escape her lips, and not the incisive remarks she is so ready to lash out.
"What will it take?" He looks hopefully up into the gloomy sky. Of course, there is no sign. The clouds do not part, a ray of light does not shine down upon him, and no great revelation is given. He is left in the cold. Always left in the cold.
Yet, as he sits there tired and cold, a soft melody manages to reach his ears. The melancholy sounds of the song soothes his aching soul. Closing his eyes he listens. Finding the lyrics intriguing and painstakingly true.
I'm so tired of being here
Suppressed by all my childish fears
And if you have to leave
I wish that you would just leave
'Cause you're presence still lingers here
And it won't leave me alone
In the distance he can hear her laughter this time. So pure and so full of...happiness. Something he was unable to give her. No, that's not true. An offer she refuses to accept, a heart she does not want to keep, and a love she just does not want. 'Why does it have to hurt so much?' he thought.
These wounds won't seem to heal
This pain is just too real
There's just too much that time cannot erase
"Why does she not see? Why is she refusing? Why is she so fucking stubborn," he yells aloud, frustrated, angry, sadden.
When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears
I held your hands through all of these years
But you still
All of me
He sits up a bit higher, looking over his shoulder. There she was, standing near the window, watching as the other leaves. She bids her lover good-bye, waving at him, blowing him a kiss. That smile still lingering on her lips. He sighs again, "There is nothing that can be done, nothing." Again, she is lost to him.
He studies her, forever capturing her beautiful face into his memory. She steps away from the window and disappears somewhere into the loft. He stands up and once again looks up into the darkening sky, still hoping for an answer.
You use to captivate me
By your resonating light
Now I'm bound by the life you left behind
Your face it haunts
My once pleasant dreams
Your voice it chased away
All the sanity in me
These wounds won't seem to heal
This pain is just too real
There's just too much that time cannot erase
He stands there a little longer, listening as the song slowly fades away. The lyrics still running through his mind. He may have not gotten his answer from the powers up above but the song was enough of an answer. Finally deciding what needed to be done, he makes his way towards her apartment. For one last chance.
He stands there nervously, unsure if he had enough courage and will to merely raise his hand and knock on her door. Expect the unexpected. He snorted at the thought. He knew what to expect. Harsh words and disdain. Basically, the ususal when it came to her attitude towards him.
Taking a deep breath and exhaling he raised his hand and knocked on her door. "Yeah I'm coming," he heard her say. He stood in anticipation as the sounds of the locks being turned echoed in the empty hallway. Then the door slowly started to open. For a split second he had the urge to run. To flee from an unforeseen danger that stood just behind the door. But he stayed nonetheless.
She sighed, "What do you want?" Her voice was unsavory and there was no hiding the irritation from her welcoming greeting. Perhaps facing an unforeseen danger would have been better then being greeted by her. Yet, he stayed. Glutton for punishment.
"I have something for you," he said.
"Look, what ever it is I don't want it. So, can you please leave?"
"It will only take a moment I promise," His brown eyes pleading with hers.
She contemplated for a few minutes then decided why delay him any longer. The sooner this was done, the sooner he'd leave. Stepping aside, she gestured to enter. "Thank you," he whispered as he stepped over the threshold. "Just make it quick," she replied while closing the door behind them.
They stood in the living room, facing each other. It was her that spoke first, "All right what is this all about?"
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black box. "Here," he offered.
She stared between the box and him. He motioned for her to take it, "Please take it."
Hesitantly she reached for the box and took it from him. "What is it?" She asked, eyeing the small box as if it was a bomb. Inwardly he sighed, 'Will she ever trust me?'
"Open it," he requested.
For once she took his advice and slowly lifted the cover. Her brows furrowed in confusion. Laying on the velvet cushion was an old silver ring, a man's ring, his ring. As if finally getting the picture, she started to shake her head and tried to hand the box back to him. "Look, thanks but I don't want anything from...you." Making sure she said it clear enough where he'd get the point.
Her point was definitely taken, and it was piercing through his heart. He refused to take it back from her. "Please I want you to have it."
"I don't want it all right. I have no use for it." She began to protest.
"You don't seem to understand..." He started but was quickly cut off.
"I think it's you that doesn't understand. For the last time leave me alone. I don't need this and I don't need...you."
Her words were the finally blow that sent the stake through his heart. Yet, he did not let on that he was hurt. His face remained passive and calm. She was about to continue her objections when he reached out and lightly pressed his bare fingers against her lips. The contact of skin shocked them both. She pursed her lips, and he quickly pulled back.
"As I was going to say, you don't seem to understand the importance of the ring. That," he pointed at the box, "Is the companion to the Witchblade." Her brows furrowed deeper into confusion. "Companion? What are you talking about? And try to make some sense this time."
"Excalibur, which is one of the names the ring is know as, is like the Witchblade. It's an object of power so few are aware of."
"This is a man's ring. What am I suppose to do with it?"
"You are to give it to your chosen protector. The one you will be spending your life with. The man who you chose to be by your side, to fight along with. Someone who will help carry the burden you have on your shoulders because you are the wielder." He lowered his head this time. Not wanting to show the pain that was running through his mind. "Someone who you will love, and will love you in return."
"Protecting you now is a matter of honor ...for me" She shook her head, remembering what he had said that day.
"What are you saying?" Though she pretty much had a good idea.
"What I'm saying is that unlike the Witchblade choosing its wielder, it is the wielder that must now choose."
"Who the hell am I suppose to pick as my ...protector?"
"You've already made you're choice." He whispered dishearten.
While she stood there absorbing everything he was say, he found the courage, and stepped closer to her, invading her personal space. Surprisingly she stayed rooted in place. He reached down and grabbed her hand, the one that wore the Witchblade. Slowly, he brought it to his lips. Their eyes locked with each other. Without breaking eye contact he planted a light kiss on the back of her hand. "I'm saying good-bye now Sara," he let her hand go and headed towards the door.
"Wa...wait a minute. You haven't answered my questions. Where you going?" The blade on her wrist was blaring, and the emotions inside of her were making her dizzy. What the hell was happening to her?
"Far...far away. But not as far as you." He said and without another word, left. He stood there for a few moments. Letting what he had just down settle in. He was letting her go. Giving up. Though the heavy weight had been lifted off of his shoulders, it was only to be placed over his heart. He closed his eyes, words of the song running through his mind.
I've tried to tell myself that you're gone
And though you're still with me
I've been along all along
"Wait!" By the time she reached for the door he was already gone. Quickly she rushed towards the window. There on the sidewalk she spotted the black clad figure walking away.
Conchobar was walking back, returning from his trip to the store. Whether it was accidental or intentional both men bumped into each other. "Hey, watch where you're going." Conchobar warned. "Watch her well," was the only response from the dark figure. He stole a glance up towards the apartment, where Sara was watching from the fire escape window. "What?" Conchobar said, slightly confused. When he turned around he was gone.
Sara wildly searched the street for him. Disbelieving that within the blink of an eye he had just disappeared. She sat on the windowsill, carrying the heavy ring in her hand. 'What did he mean that she had already chosen?'
"Hey, sorry I took so long," Conchobar apologized, arriving with bags of food. "Some asshole bumped into me on my way back...." he started explaining but Sara was no longer listening. Her mind were on other things.
Had she already chosen. Was it Conchobar? Could the Irish street fighter be her protector? She actually smiled at the idea. Yet, why did her heart feel so heavy? Her smile soon faded as she stared down at the ring. His ring. Ian's ring. She looked out the window again, consciously searching for a speck of black among the snow covered street. Nothing. He was gone. Perhaps for good this time.
~*~
End?