I don't own Sleepy Hollow or any of its characters. Yes, I ship Ichabbie. I tried to be all adult about it and NOT hope that the two leads would eventually go all romantic, but I gave up two episodes into the season. That being said, I'm all in even if Abbie and Ichabod only remain best buds. I expect this story to only be a few chapters long and it's intended to simply capture a brief moment vs. chronicling a longer span of time. I envision it taking place several years after Abbie and Ichabod first met and Katrina is out of the picture. Not going to attempt to address the circumstances that would allow them the freedom to pursue a relationship in this fic. Regardless of the 'why' behind a separation between Ichabod and Katrina (amicable, acrimonious, or tragic) I think it would still take time for Ichabbie to happen. In my head, the separation is an honorable one from Ichabod's standpoint. Otherwise it would be hard for me not to regard him as a jerk and I want him to retain his status as a "good guy."
"Stop draggin' your feet, Crane," Abbie berated.
Under normal circumstances, Ichabod would have queried her word choice, but these circumstances were far from normal. The unrelenting sounds that emanated from virtually every direction in the amusement park made it difficult for him to concentrate. Ichabod wondered to himself at what point society had grown so averse to peace and quiet. He was perpetually confounded by the present generation's demand for incessant stimulation.
"I'm sorry, Lieutenant, where did you say we were taking me?" he inquired as he lagged several steps behind her.
"To the Bungee Rocket," she answered with a glint in her eye that was a bit too maniacal to mitigate his growing anxiety.
"Ah! Two more entries to add to the growing list of words that completely baffle me." Ichabod prodded for clarification by asking, "The 'what, what,' now?"
"It's called a Bungee Rocket. And rather than waste time explaining what it is—if you just keep it moving –you will see for yourself soon enough."
The words had barely left Abbie's mouth when Ichabod was stunned into immobility by the sight of a large, circular object shooting, as it seemed, from the tops of the trees. However, this jolting vision was not to be outdone by the murderous cries of the unfortunate occupants strapped within the hollow, metal orb. He marveled as it ascended to the sky at an unimaginable rate of speed and watched in horror as it rapidly shot back towards the earth.
Abbie twirled to face her companion and quietly scrutinized the myriad expressions on Ichabod's face. His cerulean eyes grew wide as saucers and his lips struggled to form words. She fought to suppress a burst of laughter as a look of sheer confusion instantly overtook his visage when the object reappeared in the sky.
"See? Bungee Rocket," Abbie playfully offered.
"Lieutenant, would I be correct in assuming you intend to lure me into…THAT!" he exclaimed, pointing his slender finger at the empty patch of sky from which the orb had once again disappeared.
"Well, I wouldn't use the term lure, but yes, that's the idea."
It may have been called a Bungee Rocket—whatever that meant—but Ichabod likened it to a huge catapult which employed humans as ammunition in exchange of massive, fortress-penetrating boulders. Although it appeared, thankfully, that these occupants were spared the fatal indignity of actually being hurled from the device.
In a tone dripping with exasperation, Ichabod asked, "And what, pray tell, is the purpose of such a contraption, Miss Mills?"
"To blow off steam. To have fun. It's exciting!"
"Oh, well, I see. I have erroneously mistaken it for an instrument of torture," he sardonically countered.
Shaking his head in derision, he continued, "Exciting, indeed! Do you mean to tell me that our lives don't already hold enough excitement?"
"Not today. C'mon…let's goooooo."
Abbie closed the gap between them and, fighting against Ichabod's reluctance, violently tugged at the crook of his arm in an effort to set his lean frame in motion. His body did budge, but not entirely due to Abbie's power. She was too diminutive to mobilize him with physical force alone, but when his curiosity was piqued, that was an altogether different story. And even though he would never admit it to her, especially after his rant, he was curious. Besides, how could he be completely unwilling to attempt something that his comrade in arms was wholeheartedly anxious to undertake?
Abbie locked her arm around Ichabod's and the two walked side by side. She looked up at his face as he stared forward and couldn't help but notice his knitted brow.
"Enough with the cranky face," she demanded, extending her tiny fingers to massage his forehead. "You won't regret this. It will be good for you."
She was teasing him now. He didn't mind.
Ichabod shot her one of his signature sideways glances and mumbled, "I highly doubt it."
The pair walked along in silence and Abbie was thankful for the closeness between them. Not only because of the comfort that his body heat provided on the unseasonably chilly late summer afternoon, but mainly because they could walk along arm-in-arm without giving it a second thought. They no longer instinctively recoiled when one would invade the other's personal space, whether unintentionally or, more often than not, intentionally. They were best friends and Abbie never truly had one before.
They reached the end of the short queue of people patiently awaiting their turn on the thrill ride. They untangled their arms and Ichabod clasped his hands behind his back and, as always, stood straight and tall. Ichabod pivoted slightly in Abbie's direction and broke the silence.
"You know, when I said I was looking forward to you expanding my horizons, I was not anticipating that it would be vertically."
Abbie let out a guffaw that brought an impish grin to Ichabod's lips. He relished in his ability to genuinely amuse his partner because he understood that too much of her life had been devoid of laughter. Just as quickly as the moment of levity arose between them, it came to a sudden halt with Abbie grimacing in pain and covering her ear.
"Ow!" she cried.
Ichabod placed his palm lightly on Abbie's back and with no small amount of concern in his voice, he asked, "Lieutenant? What is the matter?"
"It's nothing, just a little pain. Probably the start of an earache. I had a ton of them as a kid."
"Is it wise to continue here? We should get you to a physician so you may be properly examined."
"No, no, no," she retorted, wagging her index finger. "You're not getting out of this so easily. I'll be ok."
Ichabod took the back of his hand and pressed it firmly against Abbie's forehead. "Just as I suspected."
"Oh, stop it," she said, swatting his hand away like a meddlesome fly.
"You unmistakably have a fever. Albeit, a slight one, but a fever nonetheless."
"I feel just fine."
"It should not be ignored," he commanded with all the authority his rank as captain afforded.
"It's a low-grade fever, at best! It's not like I'm at death's door."
Like so many times before when the two of them had gone head-to-head in disagreements, Ichabod recognized when it was time to hold his tongue. They didn't have the luxury of privacy that the cabin or her apartment provided and he thought better of engaging her in a quarrel in a public setting. He also knew too well that there was no amount of cajoling that would steer Abigail Mills off her course when her mind was set like flint. He raised his hands in submission but gave her a glare that let her know he was not satisfied with her decision to ignore the signals her body was giving her.
The two stood in silence for a few moments until Abbie blithely nudged her shoulder into his arm. He gazed down upon her Lilliputian form and although the pink hued lips that peeked through his facial hair refused to form a smile, she could see that his eyes had considerably softened.
"Promise me you won't be grumpy for the rest of the day," she sweetly intoned; her voice at a slightly higher register in an effort to extend an olive branch.
"I promise not to be a grump, if you promise to see a doctor in the morning if your fever has not broken."
"You've got yourself a deal."
"And, Lieutenant, I will be checking to see if your temperature is back to normal."
Abbie saw that they were now at the front of the line and could make their way onto the ride. She grabbed Ichabod by the hand and pulled him in the direction of the awaiting Bungee Rocket.
Looking back at him, she offered, "I'm counting on it, Crane," before tenderly biting her bottom lip.
Ichabod did not know if her action was intentionally suggestive, but he read it as nothing less than flirtation. He couldn't ignore the flutter of butterflies that were making their circuit around his stomach and knew (at that very moment at least) that it had very little to do with the ride he was about to endure. On the contrary, having a go at the Bungee Rocket was quickly becoming a worthwhile escapade.
000
Even before surviving the traumatic experience of untimely interment—twice, nonetheless—Ichabod had a healthy distaste for being constrained. A distaste that was as epic and monumental as the era from which he was so unceremoniously spewed. However, given his current circumstance, he was thankful for every weighty buckle and tightly woven strap that fixed his body in place and would ensure his safe return to terra firma.
Abbie, on the other hand, was beginning to question her chosen means of exposing Ichabod to something new. The Ferris Wheel, although a bit too pedestrian and outdated for her taste, may have been a better way to introduce Ichabod to the wonders of the modern amusement park. His fingers were twitching more than usual and she could tell that he continually cleared his throat in an attempt to obscure his nerve-riddled breathing. She slid her hand across the faux leather seat and placed it deftly under his, engaging his fingers until their digits were tightly interlaced.
"You ok?"
"I am…fine, Lieutenant. There is no need for you to be inordinately concerned with my mental well-being. Soon enough, this will all be just a memory."
Abbie tightened her grip on Ichabod's hand and a wide grin spread across her face. He knew that her smile was full of purpose and patiently waited for her to vocalize what was on her mind.
When he realized he would only be met with continued reticence, he asked, "What?"
"You really will follow me anywhere, won't you?"
"Well, after venturing into Ro'Kenhronteyes's realm and waltzing into Purgatory at will, this should be regarded as mere child's play."
Abbie reclined her head onto the padded backing of her seat and offered a wispy, "I love…," but caught herself before finishing her statement. With her mind in overdrive, she searched for words that wouldn't send the moment reeling into awkward territory. She was somewhat successful by uttering, "…your sense of humor."
Ichabod made note of the pause that rested in the midst of Abbie's statement, but tried valiantly to avoid reading too much into the slight refrain. After all, she would quite often pepper her speech with tiny lulls. However, it would typically occur when she was saying something more than a few words in length and, 'I love your sense of humor,' was nowhere near being a run-on sentence. Still, it was farfetched to think that the Lieutenant would ever reveal amorous intentions towards him—particularly whilst they were only seconds away from being catapulted into the sky. Although it wouldn't be the first time a stressful situation coaxed one into revealing the veracity of their affections.
For his over analysis, he inwardly chided, Don't be daft, Crane. You're the one who is anxious, not Abbie.
"Think of it as part of my mission to interject a bit of levity into our undertaking," he kindly replied.
"Mission accomplished, Crane."
Abbie was thankful that Ichabod either hadn't noticed or was simply gracious enough not to draw attention to the near revelation of what had been budding in her heart as of late. Undoubtedly there was a firmly rooted love that Abbie and Ichabod shared for one another and it had even grown with the passage of time. But it was a love that one would hold for a dear friend or a family member. He was a big brother in almost every way imaginable—physically, emotionally, chronologically. Abbie was increasingly grateful that their intertwining fates did not also include a genetic connection.
The affectionate glance between the two lingered a few beats longer than usual and both instinctively gripped the other's hand a little tighter. Neither regarded the ride attendant when he roared, "Fire in the hole!"
In an instant, the pair was flying through the firmament. It took a moment for Ichabod to catch his breath, but when he did, he emitted a guttural howl that sounded strange even to his own ears. The sensation generated by the device was like none other he had ever experienced. After the first few seconds of horror had subsided, he allowed himself to give in to the release of knowing that the Bungee Rocket would not bring about his personal end of days. There was an inexplicable feeling of liberation gliding through the air. He never dreamt the exhilaration of riding his father's prized Arabian Stallion at top speed across the heath of his family's estate—bereft of the senior Crane's knowledge or approval, of course—could ever be matched, let alone surpassed.
The ride decelerated and was soon to reach its satisfying conclusion when Ichabod was finally able to speak.
"Abbie, that was fantastic!"
There was no response and Ichabod noticed the small hand encircled by his own had gone limp. In fact, he hadn't recalled hearing a peep out of Abbie through the lively venture. He looked over to see she was slumped in her seat and her eyes were sickeningly rolling back into her head.
Ichabod exclaimed, "Dear God!"
Intellectually he knew that only the laws of gravity would bring the ride to a complete halt, affording the opportunity for Abbie to receive assistance. That still did not prevent him from angrily demanding a cessation of the metal object's movement.
"Can no one stop this infernal contrivance? We need help, at once!"
To be continued...