Bridge

By Tiriel

NC-17, m/m, angst, violence, temporal weirdness

Set between my Illusion series and what is yet to come...

Technically not part of the Illusion series, but it's best if you have read that first.

Disclaimer: They are *so* not mine that it isn't even funny. I'm not making any money, here or elsewhere, so don't sue.

Thank-yous to C and D for the encouragement and support are pretty much redundant at this point. They're always encouraging and supportive when I write Witchblade. *grin* I'll even forgive them for calling me names as I wrote this, because, well, I deserved it. Also, happy birthday, D!

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Bridge

By Tiriel

Ian felt like he was floating. Drifting in the spiral of events, he watched the possibilities flip past like cards in a shuffling deck. Some were almost the same, hardly distinguishable from what had come before. Others were very different. There was a lingering question in his mind, and as time bent and reformed itself, he set about searching for the answer.

...

He and Jake fought at the soccer field. Ian drew back his fist to deliver the killing blow, and felt a hitch in his movement, as if he'd been expecting something to interrupt him. Nothing did. "I'm sorry," he said, and struck.

...

He lined up the blond in the sight of his rifle. There was something familiar about him, but Ian couldn't think of a time or place where he might have met a surfer-turned-cop like Jake McCartey. No matter. Sara's partner had endangered her life, and he had to die. A simple squeeze of the trigger, and it was done.

...

"You must prove your loyalty, Ian."

"If I do this, will you allow me to return?"

Irons' shark-smile was brilliant in the candlelight. "Of course."

"Then it will be done." Ian knelt and bowed his head. "McCartey will be dead within the hour."

...

There were so many paths that led to Jake's death at Ian's hands. But there had to be others.

...

Ian ran. He didn't know how far, but he was almost out of breath, and he couldn't remember the last time that had happened. He had to get there in time. The familiar grounds of the estate rose before him. He knew this property better than anyone. Cutting through the woods, he sprinted to the entrance where an outsider would be most likely to approach.

When he rounded the corner and saw that his successor already had Jake pinned, he feared he was too late.

"Stop," he called out.

His duplicate stood and turned to face him, leaving Jake choking on the ground. The other Ian's mouth opened into a wide smile that somehow seemed obscene. "You."

"I will not allow this."

That prompted a mocking half-bow from the grinning parody of himself. An invitation to fight that Ian was more than willing to accept. He spun into action, drawing on every moment of his training and experience. But the other Ian shared those things, and they were almost evenly matched. He hadn't had an opponent this worthy since the Black Dragons.

He was fighting his mirror image, but they weren't identical. They shared memories, but his experiences were real, and that put him at the advantage. Ian knocked down his opponent and turned toward Jake. Too easy. A tactic he might have used. He felt the movement from behind him and realized his mistake. When the blow came, he was braced for it, but at the same moment he heard gunshots. He turned and saw the other Ian, eyes wide and shocked, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. Gabriel Bowman stood a short distance away, holding a handgun. So it had not been a blow, then, that he'd felt, but rather a bullet in his back. Intended for him, or for the other, it didn't matter. Surprise, pain, and pleasure at the knowledge that he'd seen his replacement drop first were the last things Ian felt.

...

Ian drew down on Dante and his men. He fired one perfect shot that hit Dante right between the eyes, then stopped, letting the barrage of return fire from the crooked cops take him.

...

Ian saw a number of variations on his suicide-by-cop. Sometimes the shooter was Jake. Sometimes he apologized to Ian first, eyes wet with tears. Sometimes, his eyes were hard and the shell casing that fell to the ground afterward was emblazoned with a bull.

...

Jake hesitated. The gun shook in his hand.

"Do it, Jake. You know that it's me or you."

Ian's heart sank as the gun clattered to the floor. He moved in a blur, the quick snap of Jake's neck in his hands the closest thing to mercy he could grant.

...

Perhaps he was searching for a needle in the haystack of infinity. Perhaps there was no needle.

...

"I'm in love with her," Jake admitted.

"I know. So am I."

...

"I had a dream. You and I were lovers. We'd been together, off and on, ever since that night in San Diego."

Jake shook his head. "Sorry, man. I thought about you for a while, yeah, but you had your chance."

...

Of the times when they had met, it wasn't always San Diego. Once they really had met in Paris. Almost all of their meetings, whether in millennial New York or 1995 California, led to sex or death. Sometimes both.

...

"I know you want her. I also know that you can't have her. But you can have me." Jake bent his head to lick at Ian's shoulder.

Ian leaned back in his chair and let Jake ride him. The man straddling his lap was a poor substitute for Sara Pezzini, but he did offer a way for Ian to satisfy his newly awakened sexual cravings.

...

There were paths that didn't include Jake at all, or where Ian had been replaced by a duplicate long ago. He skipped past those quickly. Ian remembered something he'd heard once, he couldn't remember where, or whether or not it was exactly accurate. Scientists theorize that as you draw closer to the event horizon of a black hole, time dilates, passes slower for you than the rest of the universe. It felt like years had passed in strange, stretched-out minutes. Still he searched.

...

Irons was dead. Ian was free, an odd mixture of sorrow and relief coursing through his veins. He stood on Jake's doorstep.

It was a long time before Jake opened the door. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm free," Ian said, smiling, "I can be with you now."

Jake frowned. "I'm sorry, Ian. I got tired of waiting for your freedom a long time ago." He stepped back and shut the door.

...

Jake's thumb rubbed Ian's palm gently. "Can I kiss you?"

Ian stepped back, pulling his hand away from Jake's and resisting the urge to sprain the other man's wrist in the process. "What happened between us in San Diego will not happen again."

...

So many possibilities where they'd met. So few where they'd even attempted a relationship. So many tragedies, like the one he'd lived. But surely there was a path somewhere in which that attempt hadn't ended in failure or death. There had to be at least one.

...

"I can do as I please now."

"And?"

"And I want to be with you, Jake. I'm free."

Jake stepped back and let Ian walk into his apartment. They went straight to the bedroom and made love for hours. After, Ian felt different. He thought that maybe it was happiness, but then he heard the voice.

"How touching," Irons sneered. Ian knew that Irons was dead, couldn't possibly be in the room with them, but he looked around anyway.

Jake was asleep in bed next to him. They were alone.

"Kill him," Irons' voice commanded.

"No," Ian said, "I won't."

"Then I will."

Against his will, Ian's own hands moved to Jake's neck and began to squeeze. He couldn't stop it.

"You were a fool to think you could ever be free of me," Irons whispered in Ian's mind.

...

Ian was almost afraid to continue his search, but he sensed that time was growing short, and he'd already come this far.

...

"He's dead, Jake. We're free."

Jake stood in the doorway, disbelief in his eyes. He stepped back and let Ian enter the apartment. "Free?"

"It's true."

"What about Sara?"

"I still have to protect her."

Jake stepped closer and took Ian's hands in his. "We'll do it together, then. I won't let the Witchblade come between us again."

"Neither will I." Ian leaned forward and brushed a light kiss against Jake's lips. "Together."

Jake smiled. "Free. I was starting to think it would never happen."

"I know. We've waited a long time for this."

"Feels like we should be opening a bottle of champagne or something."

"I have a better idea." Ian tilted his head in the direction of the bedroom.

"You do? What's that?"

Ian leaned in close, his words coming out in a threatening tone that he knew would only excite Jake more. "Don't play the dumb blond with me. I'm going to take you into your bedroom, I'm going to take off your clothes, and I'm going to fuck you until you scream."

Jake shivered and pulled Ian closer. "Promise?"

Ian spoke softly, directly into Jake's ear. "Actually, no. I think I've changed my mind." He paused for effect. "I think I'm going to fuck you right here." He leaned back to watch Jake react.

Jake lunged forward, his mouth hitting Ian's with almost bruising force. They kissed deeply, devouring each other. Jake held Ian against him so tightly that it felt like a loss when Jake pulled back enough to start stripping off his clothing.

Ian bent and licked small circles on Jake's broad chest, tugging at each peaked nipple with his teeth as he unbuttoned Jake's jeans.

"God, you're incredible," Jake murmured as the last of their clothing fell to the floor, "I love you, Ian."

"And I love you, Jake," Ian said, the words sounding in his ears like notes from a bugle, clear and sweet. He felt himself smiling, happier than he'd ever believed he could be. "I love you."

They pressed themselves close again, tumbling together to the couch, Ian landing on top.

Jake reached under the edge of the couch and produced a bottle of lube. "There's one good thing about having a lover who appears out of nowhere."

"I won't have to do that any more," Ian said, kneeling between Jake's legs and rubbing a teasing finger along the cleft of his ass.

"Well, you still can, if you want. For old time's sake. You know I think you're hot when you lurk." He arched his back and pulled Ian down against him, rubbing their bodies together.

Ian licked the curve of Jake's ear. "Then I will. You'll never know where or when I'll turn up. It could be anywhere. I might decide I want to take you on your desk at the station."

"How about here? Now? On my couch?"

"How about in your bed? Every night." Ian worked a lubed finger into Jake's ass.

"God, yes. Every night. Now hurry," Jake panted, "I need you in me now."

"We have time," Ian replied, pulling back and adding a second finger.

"Yeah, we do. Let's use it."

Ian replied with his body. He slicked himself up quickly and then penetrated Jake deeply with one fluid motion.

Jake moaned and bit down on his own lip. Ian felt the pleasure of their joining travel through him like lightning, and they held their position for a moment before they both began to move.

Their bodies arched together. Ian let his thrusts speed up to an almost superhuman pace. Jake wrapped his legs around him and ran his hands over Ian's chest.

"I want to hear it." Ian shifted Jake's hips against him, searching for the perfect angle.

Jake cried out and reached for his own cock, stroking it twice, roughly, before his head fell back and his semen pumped out onto his skin.

The sight of his lover's ecstasy and the pull of his muscles took Ian's orgasm from him in a shuddering rush. He leaned forward and kissed Jake gently on the mouth, savoring the moment before pulling out gently.

They settled into each other's arms right there on the couch and drifted off to sleep, together.

...

His question answered, Ian closed his eyes, satisfied. The odds were stacked against it, but it could happen. There was a whole universe of possibilities, and it was up to the Witchblade to choose one.

...

The End, The Beginning.

Tiriel

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