This will have four parts to it. I wrote it as a one-shot, but it kept getting longer and longer, so I decided to break it down. Enjoy...or, well, it's angsty, so I'm not sure if that's the word I need to use. Anyway... ;)

Part 1

Self-doubt.

It was a, for the most part, foreign feeling to her. As a young girl and woman, she'd always been so sure of herself and her surroundings. Everything had had its place, its purpose. But now, in this century, she had found everything to be turned upside down. The world had changed drastically since her banishment to Purgatory two centuries earlier. No longer was she sure of her purpose.

It wasn't just her surroundings that had changed, she had learned to deal with that fairly quickly, but the people as well. What was considered appropriate now was a far cry from what was accepted in her own time. The way people spoke to one another, even the language they used, was completely different. Transportation, clothing, and even the food was a foreign concept to her.

But all of this paled in comparison to the changes she had found in her husband. Before, in their time, they'd shared something special, a bond that went well beyond the physical. They'd had the ability to practically read each other's minds, speak on any matter knowing full well what the other thought of it. They're connection had been unique, their love going so deep that no word could be found to properly describe it.

No more though. It wasn't just the fact that they barely spoke, but that he so rarely even looked at her, much less touched her. It was a major adjustment for her. He'd always admired her, his stare constantly on her, his hands not far behind. Now, though, as they lay in bed at night, he'd adjust himself at the very edge of the bed, as far from her as he could manage. That was, when he even came to bed at all. Many nights had passed where he simply pretended to fall asleep on the sofa in front of the hearth.

When he bothered to come home and actually share a meal with her, they ate in silence, only the occasional inquiry into the other's day passing between them.

At first, when all had calmed after their subsequent escapes from peril, she had thought things would be alright, that after they talked, they could begin anew. That, however, had not happened. No talk. No new beginning. Only silence and avoidance greeted her new life. She was unsure what had caused such a rift between them. Of course, she had known that they would have things to work out. In the time between his awakening and her deliverance from Purgatory, all had seemed as if it would be alright between them. He'd loved her still, despite everything. He had wanted to rescue her and be with her. He'd sworn it.

But after his escape from the grave, he'd changed toward her, become indifferent. He acted as though he could barely stand to be in her presence.

In the archives, as they investigated different leads with Miss Mills, she often found herself watching them, their easy manner with one another. It was a comfort that he and she no longer shared. Abbie was his confidant now, his sole shoulder to lean on. It bothered her in a most profound way, the intimacy they shared. At first, she had seen it as friendship, very close friendship. There had been no jealousy on her part other than the fact that Miss Mills had been there for him for months where she could not. Then, ever so slowly, she felt the sting of envy begin to creep upon her. She's thought it ridiculous the first time she realized what it was she was feeling. They were the Witnesses. They're bond was supposed to be strong. Eventually, though, it became worse, only fueled by Ichabod's indifference and absence. She would lie awake at night, imagining the absolute worst possible scenarios.

The idea that Ichabod would ever betray her physically only ever entered her mind for a moment as she would quickly banish it as soon as it appeared. No. He would never do that. It was the emotional betrayal that haunted her. At times, she almost wished it was the former. Ichabod laying with another for purely physical reasons was much more preferable to her than him being emotionally entangled with another. However, the longer she dwelled, the more she worried.

His lack of communication with her was tearing her apart inside. Of course, on the outside, she kept up the façade of the perfectly in tune witch. She aided them in many a mission, saved their lives numerous times. Miss Mills was forever grateful, offering her thanks and gratitude that they had her on their side. She found that she actually liked Abigail Mills and could see why Ichabod adored her so. Her husband, on the other hand, never uttered the first thank you. All the healing spells she'd cast over him in the last couple of months had went unappreciated. It was fine really. She had never been the type of person that required one to fall to their knees in praise. Lately, however, a little acknowledgement from him, even the smallest of smiles, would lift her up in the greatest way.

Tonight, though, she planned to be rid of the self-doubt clinging to her. It was past time for her and Ichabod to talk. She knew he was angry and he had every right to be. She'd kept so much from him. There were things he still didn't know and she wasn't entirely sure she'd ever share. Things that would devastate him to learn. The knowledge of her he did have, though, was something she could work through. She did have legitimate reasons for her secrets. It wasn't just her fear of burning or rejection from him that had always stayed her words, but fear for his own life.

She and her coven had decided from the beginning, even before she knew him, that it was best to keep him in the dark. It wasn't that he was untrustworthy, but that it was simply easier to protect him that way. After she'd grown to know and, more importantly, love him, she'd realized they'd made the right decision. Ichabod's overwhelming curiosity and thirst for knowledge would have led him down too many dangerous paths. None of this was even to mention the fact of what would have been his complete and utter refusal to ever allow her out of his sight again had he known the danger she constantly faced. He'd always had such a burning desire to protect her. For someone to even speak of her in the slightest, less than kind, way would set his temper loose, especially when it concerned her.

The door to the cabin opening interrupted her thoughts.

As he walked in, she glanced to the clock on the wall. Three a.m.

When his eyes found her sitting at the table, he noticeably tensed.

"Katrina...what are you doing awake?"

She shrugged, her eyes finding her hands. "I couldn't sleep. I was worried about you."

His feet shuffled at the door and she glanced up to find him removing his coat, the same coat he wore every day. While she had adapted to the clothing this century had to offer, Ichabod still had not. He completely refused, something that often brought a smile to her face. He'd always been so stubborn.

"I was with the Lieutenant. We were going over some things." He turned toward her. "You could have called."

Her eyes fell again. "I didn't want to bother you."

Silence passed between them.

"Yes, well, it's late, I think I'll-"

"Do you no longer love me?"

She could no longer stand the question that plagued her thoughts. Months of self-doubt was long enough.

Glancing up to him, she found him staring at her, mouth slightly agape.

With a shaky breath, she continued. "I'm sorry to be so...I just need to know." She paused, trying to find the right words. "I won't blame you if you don't. It's understandable if...if you no longer..." She couldn't repeat it. "I can't live like this anymore, Ichabod. It's as if we're strangers forcing ourselves to live under the same roof."

After a moment, his eyes dropped to his boots. "I don't know."

Her breath hitched and she felt tears beginning to build, but she did her best to force them back.

"Oh."

She heard his sigh from across the room. "Must we have this conversation now? It's the middle of the night."

Shaking her head, she twisted her hands together painfully in her lap. "I'm not sure there's going to be a better time to have this discussion, nor do I believe I can go another day with this uncertainty hanging between us."

With a heavy breath, he dropped to sit across from her.

"What do you want me to say, Katrina?"

She caught his eyes. "The truth."

One of his eyebrows shot up. "The truth? That's a rather odd request coming from you."

His shot at her hit its mark causing her eyes to drop to his hands.

"You have every right to be angry-"

"I'm not angry," he cut in.

Confused, she looked to him once more. "I don't understand."

He shrugged, his hands fiddling with a glass on the table. "I honestly don't know how I feel. My life has been completely torn apart. Everything I thought I knew is a lie."

"That's not true."

His eyes came back to her. "You were a lie."

Untold hurt passed through her. "I didn't lie to you. I just...didn't tell you everything."

With a chuckle, he dropped his head to his hands causing her to frown. What he could possibly find to chuckle about was lost to her.

"I was recently informed that a half truth is still a whole lie." He glanced back up at her. "You lied to me. The entire time we knew each other, from the day we met, you were lying, manipulating me."

"No," she objected, desperately wishing he would understand. "I wasn't. Everything I did was to help you, to guide you."

He stood abruptly. "You should have just told me!"

It was clear things were getting out of hand. They weren't going to get anywhere by screaming at each other. "I couldn't tell you."

A look of sorrow passed over his features. "Why not, Katrina? I am your husband. You swore to me, you swore to love me."

She shook her head, imploring him to understand. "I do love you, Ichabod. I love you more than anything."

"You don't lie to the people you love."

"Do you think I wanted this? That I wanted to keep anything from you? You were, and are, everything to me. You are the only good thing that has ever happened to me, the only light I've ever had."

"That is not an excuse, Katrina!" He closed his eyes for a moment as he leaned against the counter. With a sigh, he whispered, "Were you ever going to tell me?"

Eyes falling to her hands, she felt her tears finally escaping. "I don't know."

"You don't know?" Glancing back up at him, she found him staring at her as though she were a stranger. "Tell me, my darling wife, would you have forced our son to lie to me as well? Had I not fallen that day and we continued our life together?"

"Ichabod...I-" She honestly didn't know what she would have done. It would have been nearly impossible to hide powers such as Jeremy had from him.

Allowing her eyes to fall closed, she shook her head, unable to answer.

"It's late and I'm tired. I'm going to bed."

As he moved passed her, she reached out for his hand, gently grasping it in her own. "Ichabod, please..."

He paused at her touch, but his eyes remained fixed on the bedroom door.

Desperation was beginning to cling to her. "I made a mistake and I've hurt you. I'll never be able to take that back, but...I love you. I love you so much."

"The Lieutenant will be here early. I need sleep."

Pulling his hand from her, he finished making his way to the other room. As the door closed behind him, she released the sob she'd been holding back, feeling her world crumble around her. She'd had everything so thought out, the explanation for her lies, the reasons behind her secrets. The moment he'd walked in the door, however, they'd all flown from her. As her head sank to her arms on the table, she allowed her tears to fall freely at the overwhelming distance between she and her beloved.

So, that was fun and it only gets cheerier. Hope it wasn't too terrible :)