Subject: [glass_onion] Witchblade FIC: "Transference" (1/1) PG-13 Date: Wednesday, July 24, 2002 9:39 PM
FEEDBACK: can be sent to Viridian5@aol.com SPOILERS: "Diplopia."
RATING: PG-13; Gabriel/Ian. If m/m interaction bothers you, walk on by.
SUMMARY: Gabriel gets an uninvited visitor and a pop quiz.
ARCHIVAL/DISTRIBUTION: Glass Onion. Anywhere else too, as long as you ask me first.
DISCLAIMERS: All things Witchblade belong to Top Cow Productions, Inc. and Halsted Pictures in association with Warner Bros. Television. No infringement intended.
NOTE: Because Kass asked for it. Repeatedly. Thanks to Cassandra for the read-through.
An avalanche of black hit Gabriel and spun him around. Once his brain caught up with things, he realized that a very solid arm rested heavy and tight against his neck, holding him in a headlock and pressing him back against a solid body. His hands scrabbled against that arm but his fingers kept slipping off stiff black cloth. When he struggled harder, trying to slide free, that arm shook him hard in return, scrambling his brains and graying his vision. Even his hearing seemed to be going weird from the pressure... oh, wait, that was Jimi's "Little Wing" playing. Never mind.
"Hi," he finally said to the guy whose arm it was. "Is there something I can do for you?"
"You don't take warnings very well." That voice had the quiet certainty of the grave in it.
Ah, damn. Sara's stalker, who could breeze through the office's locks and alarms like they didn't exist. He should have expected Tall, Dark, and Freaky to show up again, but it had been weeks since the attempted pay-off and threat, both conditional on him never saying anything to Sara about the Witchblade ever again.
"If your boss wants the francs back, he can have them," Gabriel said. "I didn't deposit or spend them. I didn't even take them out of the pouch."
"Again, I say that you don't take warnings very well."
Show no fear. Hounds could scent fear. "I choose my own friends."
"And Sara is your friend?"
"Hmmm." The freak breathed against Gabriel's scalp and... stroked Gabriel's right eyebrow?
The physical threats, pay-off, and headlock placed Gabriel firmly in territory he already knew, but this threw him badly off balance.
"How much would you do for Sara?" the freak asked suddenly, while still slowly stroking Gabriel's eyebrow.
And was that a small thrust Gabriel felt against his back? "Anything she needs."
"Can she rely on you?"
"Yeah." Truth was best if the guy hung around stalking Sara all the time, since if Gabriel lied it would only gain him a little more life before the freak noticed and came back for him. "I proved that by telling her about your offer and threat, didn't I?"
Another small thrust. Gabriel crazily thought that if he got through this alive, he could tell Sara that the guy was so hung up on her that he'd molested Gabriel just asking about her. She'd be thrilled to hear that, her husky voice dripping with sarcasm as she responded.
He wouldn't say anything about his response to those thrusts, the hot breath on his scalp, the erection pressing into him, and the arm around his neck cutting off his air. Not that she should be able to blame him even if he did tell. He was human, after all, and the freak was an attractive freak.
"Do you love her?" That question, while still spoken in that frighteningly quiet voice, had more of an edge in it, and the arm tightened. The freak--Ian Nottingham, Sara had said?--stopped stroking Gabriel's eyebrow and instead gripped his right wrist just below the silver band he had on it.
How could he answer that and not get killed? "What kind of love?" When that question got him another shake for his trouble, he shouted, going on his instincts, "Yes!"
"Would you die for her?" Ian Nottingham didn't believe in the easy questions, did he?
From out of nowhere, the pure weird alchemy of his brain or whatever, Gabriel said, "I'd rather live for her," and prepared for another shake.
"But you would die for her. Maybe you will."
Oh, shit. But.... "I'd be more useful to her alive."
The pressure loosened, and Gabriel got that glow of achievement that came from figuring out exactly what had to be done to tease open up a box of antiquities that had remained locked for centuries. A key was fastest and easiest, but sometimes you had to find other ways, and that always felt so much more satisfying when you got it.
Then Ian ruined it by saying, "That could change at any time."
"Isn't that the way the Witchblade always works? Why should this be any different?"
Another avalanche threw him down toward the nearby table, and a skull and several ancient bracelets scattered as his hands flew out to stop his head from hitting anything. When Gabriel spun around, Ian had disappeared.
"Was it good for you?" Gabriel asked the empty air.
Hey, if he'd wanted to play it safe, he would have stayed in school instead of dropping out, opening a business, and getting involved with objects of power and the strange people who wielded them and became their groupies. If he had to do it all over again, would he do it differently?
That was a no-brainer. But he found himself softly singing, "It's alright, she says, it's alright / Take anything you want from me /Anything...." as he put the skull and bracelets back where they belonged, even though "If 6 Was 9" was playing.
NOTE: "If 6 Was 9" has this last stanza: "I'm the one who has to die when it's time for me to die, So let me live my life the way I want to. Sing on, brother,
Play on, drummer."
More Viridian5 stories can be found in The Green Room version 2.0 at http://www.mrks.org/~viridian/
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Fandoms represented: due South, Hard Core Logo, Twitch City, Andromeda, X-Files, Once a Thief, the Buffy the Vampire Slayer movie, Angel, Two Guys and a Girl (was Two Guys, a Girl and a Pizza Place), X-Men, Smallville, Doctor Who, Fight Club, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
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