A/N: Hi guys, long time no see. :D Sorry about that.

Now, I know I promised you a sequel to my other Ichabbie fic, 'The Jargogling of Ichabod Crane'… but this isn't that. Basically I've had a few guests ask about the sequel… or the same guest more than once, not really sure, and of course, you can't pm back a guest question, which is frustrating of , but it is what it is.

So, to not appear rude and dismissive, I jotted down this story so I could answer the guest's question in the intro… as I am doing now. Like I said, it's not a sequel to The Jargogling, but it is an Ichabbie fic. Probably only going to be 3 chapters or so, at least, that's my hope. At this point I'm not seeing myself doing the sequel to Jargogling any time soon, but with the upcoming new season promising a fresh start, who's to say what the muse will want to do. With this story, I'm just picking up about six months later from where the show finale of S2 left off. It's just a bit of fluff and nonsense, and I must admit, it was great fun writing for these characters again.

Anyways, running late for work, seriously must dash. Here's the chapter, and hope the above have answered people's questions about the sequel. Thank you all so much for caring, that's awesome. :D

THE NEPHESH (neh'-fesh)

"With my last breath, I'll exhale my love for you.

I hope it's a cold day, so you can see what you meant to me. "
~Jarod Kintz~

This is the best book I've ever written, and it still sucks

CHAPTER ONE

Ichabod Crane let out a protracted and noisy sigh, full of annoyed resignation.

Abbie glanced up at him, arching an eyebrow at him in silent questioning.

"I find myself in another hole," Ichabod clarified, pointing out a situation Abby was fully aware of, and had been for the last two hours or so. He gave a small pout, and made a clucking noise with his tongue. "My adult life seems to consist of nothing but being in holes."

They were indeed in a hole, the two of them, wedged together in the tight confines of a completely vertical hole. Ichabod had uncharacteristically not seen the booby trap as they'd made their ways through the darkened woods, and now they were in a hole. Ichabod had stepped backwards to get his bearings, Abbie had moved forward, and the next thing either of them knew they were at the bottom of a very small, but long, hole. The opening was a good fifteen feet above their heads, too far to reach, even if they weren't pinned against each other, face to face in the small space.

"You're just saying that because you've been buried alive twice," said Abbie dismissively.

"Indeed, that would be my impetus for making such a statement, Lieutenant," he said wryly. "Whilst the understanding is that the third time is the charm, I am not finding this situation to be anywhere near a discernable level of charm, so allow me, if you will, to take more than a little umbrage at that piece of optimistic rhetoric."

"Yeah," sighed Abbie, "I'm pissed too. I hate this stupid hole."

Ichabod gave a small grunt. "Succinct as always."

"You should try it sometime," said Abbie flatly.

That earned her a vaguely disapproving look down that long nose of his.

Abbie wasn't backing down. "Hey, I'm stuck in this hole with you, okay? Don't be giving me that look."

"One could hardly forget such a thing," muttered Ichabod as he moved against her, grimacing as he tried to find a more comfortable position.

They were pressed up hard against one another, face to face. Or, rather, Abbie's face in Ichabod's chest. "Stop jiggling all about," she complained. "You're all pointy and sharp… oww!" One of those pointy and sharp things on his body connected with her ribs. "Crane!"

"I'm trying to give you more room," he said defensively.

"How, by caving in my ribcage?"

"A slight overstatement of the facts, don't you think, Lieutenant?" he sniped back. The mood in their dirt prison was taking a decided turn for the worst.

Ichabod moved his arm again, and this time Abbie felt herself gain a little more breathing room, not that she'd tell him that. Both of their patience's were being worn thin. She wasn't in the mood to be charitable.

"Is that better?"

"Yeah, just peachy," said Abbie flatly. "We should invite a few friends over, get this party really started."

"I don't believe your acerbity adds anything to the situation," said Ichabod snippily. He moved the arm he had stretched out above their heads, resting his palm against the dirt wall. Ichabod's other arm was down by Abbie's side from where he'd instinctively gone to grab her as they fell. How'd they'd fallen was pretty much how they'd stayed, because there was barely enough room for one person in the reduced diameter of the trap, let alone two. One of Abbie's hands was caught behind Ichabod's back, and she was unable to free it without him moving forward, but if he did that, she'd be crushed. Her other hand was caught between their bodies, suffering the same fate. It was just fortunate that Abbie was as small as she was otherwise breathing might be more of an issue than it already was, although she wasn't feeling very fortunate right then. Her phone starting ringing… again. It had fallen out of her jacket when they'd fallen and was currently at their feet. The thing may as well have been on the other side of the planet because there was just as much a chance of either of them being able to answer it in their current predicament.

Ichabod let out another annoyed breath. "At what point do you think your friend will come to the realization that you are not answering him, and consider that we may be in need of assistance?"

"Hawley is my friend just as much as he is yours," she shot back.

A small snort from Ichabod. "I do not believe that to be the case, Lieutenant, and I certainly know that Mr. Hawley hopes it is indeed not the case."

A frown marred Abbie's brow. "What?"

Ichabod looked away. "Nothing."

"It wasn't nothing. You used up our limited oxygen supply saying all those words, now put them in some order I can understand."

"We do not have a limited oxygen supply," pointed out Ichabod with a long suffering tone to his voice.

"Guess that's just wishful thinking on my behalf then," she grumbled. Unconsciousness seemed like a better way to go with how things were turning out that night.

They stared each other down, Abbie with her head craned right back to hold his gaze defiantly.

"You do realize that, I too, am unhappy about our current predicament," said Ichabod at last, his look full of disapproval.

"I know, you keep clucking."

Ichabod sucked in an offended breath. "I do not cluck."

"Cluck, tutting, sighing… it's like I'm stuck down here with a dolphin." Abbie knew she wasn't making this situation any easier, but she was tired, and hungry and they'd been stuck there for what felt like forever. She was in no mood to play nice. Her phone stopped ringing.

Ichabod glared at her. "It seems our mutual friend has left you yet another message."

"You don't know it's Hawley," said Abbie defensively, and not knowing why she was being defensive at all, which annoyed her further.

"It is Hawley," said Ichabod with the confidence that only a man who thought he was in the right when he was really being an idiot, could demonstrate.

"What do you have against Hawley all of a sudden?" she asked in exasperation.

"I have the same reservations I've had about him since our first acquaintance. Reservations you seem to no longer share since his recent return to town, it would seem."

"I feel like there is an accusation in there, but I don't know what it is."

Ichabod shrugged, the action causing his chest to graze against her chin. "You are mistaken, there is no accusation."

"Implication, inference, some kind of passive aggressive thing you're so good at."

"I am being neither passive nor aggressive," sniffed Ichabod.

"You're being annoying," she threw back at him. "Just tell me what your issue with Hawley is. You were never this huffy with him before, but ever since he got back, the guy can't do anything right by you."

"And everything right by you, it seems," he shot back. Ichabod grunted. "Although investigating our disappearance and rendering assistance doesn't seem top of the man's priorities, which frankly I find surprising."

"Isn't your beef about Hawley always looking out for himself? Now you're throwing shade his way because you thought he'd be running to help us?" Abbie was getting fed up at all of Ichabod's back and forth. "Which one is it, Crane?"

"Rest assured, any running that man would be doing would be to helping you, not me."

Abbie blinked. "Excuse me?"

Ichabod expelled a short breath of impatience. "You are an intelligent woman, Lieutenant. It cannot failed to have escape your attention that Hawley has a fondness for you beyond that of simple friendship."

"You're crazy."

Ichabod arched one long eyebrow. "Oh, am I indeed?"

"Look, okay, yes, maybe, in the beginning, when we first met, he may have given me a second look, but then he and Jenny started hanging out more, and his attention was back on her."

"And then he left, and since his return, has found a renewed interest in you."

Abbie pursed her lips, eyeing him in vague annoyance. It was true Hawley and Jenny hadn't seemed to be going anywhere since his return, but that had nothing to do with her. "Even if that was true—"

"Which it is," returned Ichabod roundly.

"If it was true, what's that to do with me, and even more to the point, what's it to do with you?"

"We are the Witnesses."

"Thanks for the recap, I remember. It's how we ended up in the hole. Out in the woods, at night, looking for some old crazy guy who lives in a cabin who has a book that can help us vanquishing spells," she said acerbically. "So yeah, I know we're the Witnesses."

"We have a sacred duty. One that we must put above all others."

"I don't remember turning in my Team Witnesses sash," said Abbie sarcastically. "I'm here aren't I? Wedged down in a dirty, wet hole with you, doing the Witness thing. What does Hawley's alleged interest in me have to do with any of that?"

"This old man we were coming out to see was a contact of Hawley's, and you at no point questioned the man's validity, seeing as he came so highly recommended. Now we find the area surrounding his abode to be booby-trapped."

Abbie scowled fiercely. "Excuse me? First of all, I viewed this old man contact with the same wariness I view anyone who is meant to be helping us, because we've had not a fantastic record on that front. And second of all, I know you're not mute, I've just spent two hours in a hole with you huffing and puffing," she said hotly. "At any time before we came out to the middle of nowhere, you could have spoken up about any reservations you had, but you didn't… and now we're in a hole."

"I didn't want you think I didn't have confidence in your judgment," said Ichabod stiffly.

"Really, because you seem fine with that right now," she snapped back.

Ichabod pressed his lips together tightly. "It's just that sometimes entanglements of a romantic nature can cloud ones judgement in what we both agree is a higher calling."

Abbie's eyes went wide. "Seriously? I mean seriously? You of all people are going to use that line with me… with everything that went down with and because of Katrina."

Ichabod tensed against her. Standing this close it was impossible to hide their reactions from one another. Abby hadn't meant to bring up Katrina in that way, but Ichabod was just pushing her too hard.

His face was set in stone as he looked down at her. "What happened with Katrina is done. There is nothing else to speak about concerning the matter."

"Really, because some people might argue that being forced to kill your wife to save the world is something normal people might want to talk about… you know, at least once," she said flatly. It had been nearly six months since Katrina's untimely death, and during that time she and Ichabod hadn't discussed it at all. Every time Abbie had tried to broach the subject, to see how he was really handling the loss of Katrina, Ichabod would cut her off, with talk of what's done is done. Abbie was worried about him repressing so much, but right then she was mostly annoyed that he was seriously lecturing her on the dangers of emotional entanglements clouding judgment after his backing and forthing over Katrina in the months leading up to her death.

"Talking does not change the fact that she is no longer part of our lives," said Ichabod simply, but there was a small note of pain to his words, no matter how dismissive he tried to sound. "The person currently a part of our lives with the potential to cause discord between us is."

"You don't need an outside party to cause discord between us," sniped Abbie. "You seem to be doing just great on your own."

"Your knee jerk defense of Hawley only serves to further my point," he sniffed.

"If I wasn't immobilized right now, I'd show you what my knee jerk can really do," she snapped up at him.

"Mm," grunted Ichabod, "it is clear that we are unable to have a rational discussion on the subject because of your emotional ties to your lover. I understand. I shall speak no further on the subject."

"Don't do me any favors, and excuse me, my lover?" Abbie didn't know where all this was coming from. "Now Hawley's my lover?"

Ichabod evaded her gaze, looking straight ahead. "You do not need to share the details of your romantic encounters with me, Lieutenant. I have no interest in them."

"You don't? Because this interrogation you're handing out makes it sound like you're interested," said Abbie hotly.

"Only so far as in the clouding of your judgment in being able to recognize impending danger," said Ichabod stoically. He met her angry gaze again. "Otherwise it is none of my business."

"I have no idea what you're talking about. There is nothing going on between Hawley and me," said Abbie in frustration.

Ichabod managed to combine both hurt and anger in his response as he seemed intent on believing she was lying to him. "Is that so? Then I must have imagined the events of two weeks ago."

Abbie looked at him blankly. "What events?"

"The events whereby I was to present myself at your apartment first thing in the morning two Tuesday's previously, so that we could discuss the wilting of surrounding crops, and its link to the conjuring of evil spirits."

"Um, okay, yeah, I remember that. You were late."

"I was perfectly on time," said Ichabod sharply. "It was you who were struggling to be in a fit state to be ready to receive me at our prearranged time." He inclined his head. "But it was understandable, I suppose, seeing as you were particularly distracted that morning."

"Was I?" Abbie still couldn't work out what had Ichabod so worked up. That morning didn't stand out to her at all. "Why?"

"Perhaps it was the naked man standing in your kitchen?" offered up Ichabod flatly.

Abby just stared at him. "A naked man… in my kitchen?" Suddenly that morning came back to her. "Oh, you mean Hawley?"

"Unless you have a plethora of unclad gentleman callers to recount from, then yes, that would be him." There was no way to miss the censure in Ichabod's tone.

"He wasn't naked, and there was a perfectly reasonable explanation as to why he was there," said Abby, miffed at having to explain herself. "Not that it's any of your business, particularly with the attitude you're throwing my way right now. It's not like I get all up in your personal life."

He gave a bark of laughter. "Oh come now, Lieutenant," said Ichabod sharply, "there is no way you can believe that to be true."

"Hey, I held my tongue with you and Katrina," said Abbie forcefully. Ichabod's openly skeptical facial expression had her recanting slightly. "Okay, I mostly held my tongue. I could have said a whole lot more than I did."

"Just as I have held my tongue on your choice of romantic partners," he returned a little harshly.

"Hawley isn't my choice of romantic partner, and this isn't you holding your tongue!" Abby wanted to stalk off then, but she couldn't, because they were still stuck in the damn hole, forced to argue this out without any way of taking a moment and getting emotions back under control. Ichabod had been acting a little strangely around her for weeks, and now she knew why. For some reason he was hell bent on believing she was lying to him about Hawley. It made her want to slap him, but her hands were immobilized… almost.

"Oww!" squawked Ichabod, looking down at her in shock. "Did you just pinch me?"

"If you can't tell, I must be doing it wrong," she sassed him. Abbie went in for another pinch of Ichabod's stomach, the only place her trapped hand could reach.

"OWWW!" This time his complaint was even louder. "Lieutenant, keep your hands and your pinching little fingers to yourself!"

"I can't keep anything to myself in this hole," she threw back at him. "And you're getting off lightly. What I really want to do is slap you."

Ichabod scowled. "There is no need to resort to physical violence in defense of your lover," he said bitterly.

"Ohhh! Why are you being this stubbornly annoying about this whole thing? I told you nothing is going on, just believe me, okay?" Abbie shook her head. "This is so stupid. We're fighting over nothing."

"We're not fighting, we're having a robust exchange of views," he countered.

"Oh, so what, now we're fighting about whether we're fighting?" asked Abbie in disbelief. "Give me a break, Crane!" She couldn't do this anymore. "Scratch that, just give me the flask in my top coat pocket."

"But that flask was meant to lubricate the wheels of discussion in our procuring of the spell book," Ichabod reminded her. "Hawley said the old man would happily trade the book for the flask."

"My need is greater right now," said Abbie flatly. "We'll trade something else with the old guy if we ever get out of this hole. Right now I'm cold and annoyed, and need something to take the edge off both."

"So you really believe either situation requires alcohol?" he asked disapprovingly.

"I guess I could do other things to keep my mind off both." Abbie pinched Ichabod's stomach again.

"Argh!" he grunted, grimacing down at her. "Very well, you and your pincer-like fingers have me at a disadvantage."

"You'll have to get the flask," she pushed him. "I can't move my hands."

"The flesh of my stomach could only wish that were true," he grumbled, but nonetheless lowered the hand which had been resting above her head, and fished out the flask, holding it up to her.

Abbie rolled her eyes at him. "I'm not swallowing it whole. Take off the cap." That sounded rude, even to her. "Please."

Ichabod deftly unscrewed the flask top one handed with those long fingers of his, all the while sending her a silent look of judgment. Once unscrewed he just looked at her.

"I can't just suck it out from here," she said in exasperation. Why was this man intent on being excruciatingly painful all of a sudden?

Ichabod made another cluck of disapproval.

"I don't want to hear it, Flipper, just give me the hooch."

He lifted the flask to her lips and Abbie drank. The liquid was both sharp and smooth at the same time, and an instant warmth flooded her entire body. She blinked a couple of times. "Not bad. Hit me again."

Ichabod placed the flask opening against her lips and portioned her another drink. "It's so nice to know you now require inebriation to be in my presence," he muttered dourly.

Abbie licked her lips. "Only when you're being like this."

"How am I being?" he asked indignantly.

"Overly sensitive, judgmental, relentless, judgmental—"

"You have already listed judgmental amongst my faults, Lieutenant," said Ichabod stiffly.

"You've been working that one extra hard tonight. It was worth a second mention." The pit of her stomach was feeling nice and warm now, so that statement wasn't said with any real vehemence.

"It is a source of wonder that we are able to find room to draw breath with all of my faults crowding us so," he said tightly.

Abbie sighed heavily. "Crane, I don't want to fight with you. I don't even know why we're fighting." She gave an abrupt shudder.

"Lieutenant?" queried Ichabod, instantly concerned.

"I'm okay, just a delayed kick from the alcohol." She blinked rapidly, feeling parts of her body begin to tingle.

"What is it, whiskey?" Ichabod sniffed the flask.

"I think so, only not quite like any whiskey I've tasted before. It's probably because it's top shelf stuff if Hawley was using it to barter with." Abbie sighed, feeling suddenly tired. "I can't afford the expensive stuff, not on my salary." She half-smiled. "And me supporting a dependent as well." Abbie looked up, inviting Ichabod to join in on her teasing, but he was looking at her very seriously instead. "Oh come on, I'm just playing with you, Crane. You know that doesn't bother me."

Ichabod just continued to stare at her, expression pensive as his hand holding the flask now rested on her shoulder.

"Crane, stop looking at me like that. You know I don't think of you as a dependent. It's just how the circumstances worked out, that's all."

"Only it's true," he said quietly, "and it is a truth I am just coming to fully understand."

"What truth?" she asked, bemused. That feeling of warmth was back again. It was nice. Abbie felt… nice.

"I am your dependent it would seem, Lieutenant Mills."

"Crane, come on, money is no big deal—"

"This is not about the financial understanding between us."

"Then what is this about?" Abbie really wanted to know. Had wanted to know what was going on with him for weeks. "Crane, talk to me. I need to know what is going on with you. I don't want any kind of distance between us." She glanced down at their pressed together bodies. "Although being able to take a step back wouldn't be the worst thing in the world right now," she said wryly.

"You are invariably correct in that matter, but I find myself unable to do that," whispered Ichabod, eyes not leaving hers.

"I know, Crane," she said in vague amusement. "I'm in the hole too."

He gave a small, sad smile. "I do not believe that to be the case, Lieutenant, and I am taken aback as to how difficult that fact is to reconcile to me."

"What are we talking about?" asked Abbie slowly. She didn't know if it was the alcohol in her system, or her generalized tiredness, but she was having trouble keeping up with their conversation.

"Since the loss of my family—" he faltered only slightly over the words, "I have found this life being not unlike being banished to a deep, dark hole, with no light above me."

"Crane," said Abbie in concern.

Ichabod's tone was very somber as he continued on. "The single comfort I have taken from those feelings is the knowledge that I am not alone in that hole, that I have a companion by my side, displacing the darkness by virtue of her presence."

Abbie bit her bottom lip, a little overwhelmed to hear Ichabod talk of the sober outlook he had on life these days. She'd suspected all was not well with him after Katrina and Henry's death, of course, but to have it confirmed like this was hard to hear.

"And now I find myself arriving at the unhappy realization that I begrudge her any kind of attempt to leave that hole, and feel sunshine on her face once more," said Ichabod unhappily.

"Are you telling me you think Hawley is my sunshine?" asked Abbie in horror.

"What I am saying is that I have given everything to the calling of being a Witness," said Ichabod quietly. "I have nothing left but the task which lies ahead of us."

Abbie was taken aback by the sadness she heard in his voice. "Crane, you're not alone. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere." She tried to make him smile. "Literally, I seriously can't move. You're my rock and my hard place."

"I do not wish to be your prison, Lieutenant," he said painfully.

"Fate imprisoned both of us," she countered. "And you know what, we could walk away, if we wanted to, but we don't. I stay because—"

"Because?" he asked her, expression intent.

Abbie attempted to give a shrug, but it was limited. "Because this is where I'm meant to be, with you, in a hole. It's the only thing which makes sense of my life… our calling… you."

"I make sense of your life?" he asked in wonder.

"As annoying as that fact is sometimes, yes," she said with a little smile. "Don't I make sense of yours?"

Ichabod regarded her with a renewed intensity that suddenly had Abbie struggling to draw breath. His expression was inscrutable, but those blue eyes of his told of some internal battle going on, only Abbie didn't know what he was feuding with himself about. Ichabod's finger unfurled from where it was holding the flask resting on her shoulder and touched the bottom of her jawline. It was the lightest of touches, so much so Abbie could have convinced herself she imagined the simple caress, only she hadn't.

"It is with great trepidation I concur that you do, Lieutenant, you make sense of my world," he said unevenly. "And I fear greatly what that means."

"It means we're a team, we're partners, we're the Witnesses and we're—"

Ichabod had been listening to her intently as she reaffirmed their connection, but then, out of the blue, he bent his head and pressed his lips against hers.

"—kissing," she mumbled into their gentle, tentative kiss, feeling an element of shock at that revelation.

Ichabod drew back slightly, looking down at her with eyes as full of surprise as she knew hers must be. "I-I am sorry," he said shakily. "Forgive me, Lieutenant, I overstepped the bounds of appropriate behavior between us. I should go."

They stared at each other, the inane nature of his declaration sinking in for both of them.

"I cannot leave," he declared hoarsely, eyes glued to hers.

"It's the hole," said Abbie weakly, wishing she had more command of this situation, but she felt like she was floating and sinking all at the same time. Damn whiskey.

"It is not the hole," said Ichabod soberly.

It is you.

Ichabod didn't say the words aloud, but it was almost as though he had, Abbie heard them so clearly in her head, read them in his expression. Given an option, Ichabod would rather remain in a hole with her then claw his way to freedom, towards the sunshine. It was an overwhelming tacit declaration for him to make into the silence between them. It was made all the more overwhelming to Abbie as she realized she felt the same way. However this war turned out, whatever the rest of her life held in store for her, she simply couldn't envisage the future without Ichabod in it. Perhaps Ichabod saw something of her own epiphany in her face because he was once again bending his head, his lips seeking out hers, and Abbie found her lifting her head, doing the same.

This time their kiss was longer, the tentativeness evaporating almost instantly as they settled into the kiss. Everything a first kiss should be, initially shy, full of wonder and then with a growing confidence. It had been so long since Abbie had experienced a good first kiss and she'd forgotten the sheer joy of it, and this was a good first kiss… in fact it was a great one. Ichabod's lips moved back and forth over hers, not too gently, but with just the right amount of pressure. Without even realizing she was doing it, Abbie went up on her tip toes, enforcing a deepening of the kiss. Ichabod didn't need a second invitation. His lips pressed a little harder against hers, and without thinking, Abbie parted hers, granting him entry to taste her more deeply. Ichabod's fingers were stroking her cheek as his tongue slipped past her lips, and Abbie felt a volley of shock rip through her body at the taste of Ichabod in her mouth for the first time. It was like lightening had suddenly found its way into her body, and every cell in her body was humming, making a song in her ears she could have sworn the whole world must be able to hear. Her hand at his back clutched at the material of his coat, clinging to him as her whole body erupted into some kind of chorus. This was crazy, the kiss was crazy. It was impossible something could be this good.

"Abbie," groaned Ichabod into their kiss.

Abbie could hear the same wonderment in his voice that she was experiencing. If this was impossible, then it seemed like they were both the victims of implausibility. Willing victims.

"Don't—"

"Don't?" rasped Ichabod, the whispered word still managing to convey his horror at such a concept.

"Stop," Abbie finished off, not letting herself think. Thinking was overrated. Thinking had never made her feel like this before. "Don't stop," she ordered him.

Relief flooded Ichabod's face, and then he was doing just as he was told, reclaiming her mouth in more of those toe-curling kisses, where it was just the two of them occupying the whole world.

Damn it, but she loved this stupid hole…

A/N: More to come… just not 100% sure when, guys. I guess more reviews will see this promoted to my list of things to do… she said, in a shameless act of manipulation. ;) Either way, hope you had fun with it. :D