Intervention
Look at that, my first Sleepy Hollow fanfic! Yay!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Summary: "Why the hell am I here again?" she asked raising an eyebrow in exasperation and when no answer came from the other woman, she scoffed. "I see… You didn't bring me here to give me the pep talk about saving the world and stopping all Hell from breaking loose… You wanted to chat with me about your husband." Abbie/Ichabod
Before you get to reading, let's suppose that Abbie and Katrina had never met before. Now, enjoy!
So that was it, Abbie fleetingly wondered as she stared stupefied at the arrow that pierced her abdomen.
For a moment it seemed surreal as she couldn't feel the pain her brain told her that she should have… and for a second, she couldn't even comprehend what had just happened. But the moment it registered and searing pain shot through her, she looked up wide-eyed, her glance searching for her companion. She could see Ichabod running towards her and his panicked look short-circuited her brain. There was no surprise, shock or even pain… all she could feel was regret.
They say that before death, your life runs before your eyes but Abbie couldn't see any of it. Her mind was focused on one single moment – the moment she walked out on the very same man who was currently making a mad dash towards her. She could see his naked form as he was lying on their makeshift bed in the archives, covered only by a thin sheet and the only feeling she could feel was shame. Shame because in her selfish desire and need for the man, she had abandoned all common sense and let her feelings take over her actions. At that very moment – when Ichabod kissed her – it seemed so simple, but later she couldn't deny the fact that she'd slept with a married man. She'd used his momentary weakness – maybe he was feeling lonely, missing Katrina, because he wouldn't have let things go as far as they went otherwise. She used him. And in the process she did wrong by another woman, too.
Just what kind of a woman was she?
As she gently swayed, there was no pain just deeply rooted shame and regret, Ichabod's frame getting blurry, and, as she fell on her knees, only one word left her mouth – Sorry.
"Abigail," she could hear her name and she half-expected his face to come into focus when she opened her eyes. But except for that night, he had never called her by her given name and the voice that called for her belonged to a woman.
Her eyes shot open and, momentarily losing her balance, she swayed. She was sure that she shouldn't be standing but there she was, standing, in the middle of an eerie forest nonetheless. Her hand involuntarily went up to touch her abdomen where the arrow pierced her flesh but her fingers only met the familiar texture of her top. Strange, she thought before remembering the unfamiliar female voice that called her name.
She didn't have to look for long for the mysterious woman because her form moved on the edge of her vision which made Abbie turn.
She looked at the woman and instantly knew – she was Katrina. She stood for a moment in complete wonder. She never actually tried to envision how the wife of the man she loved could have looked like; she never really dared. And seeing her now reminded her of why. The woman in front of her was a perfect match for Ichabod Crane in every sense. She was taller than Abbie, with light skin. Her hair was a beautiful shade of red and her clear blue eyes held some infinite wisdom that somehow reminded her of the woman's husband.
She was everything Abbie was not.
She made Abbie uncharacteristically self-conscious.
"Abigail," Katrina repeated her name and strangely, it didn't surprise Abbie that the woman knew her. She didn't dare to guess, though, what else she might have known. "Forgive my forwardness but I would very much like to have a word with you."
"Oh, all right, I guess…" she shrugged, aiming for appearing nonchalant, "but I'm kind of busy right now. Dying and everything… Or am I already dead?"
"No, you are very much alive," Katrina gave her a friendly smile before her features turned serious. "And you have to stay like that."
"I appreciate your concern but there isn't much I can do."
"On the contrary, it all depends on you, Abigail. You have to fight."
"Fight," Abbie repeated the word, looking down at her boots as she poked the dirt with the tip of one of them. "Maybe this is for the better," she looked up at Katrina with a bitter shrug.
She had so royally screwed up everything in her life – her fragile relationship with her sister and the now strained one with Ichabod, not to mention that her work seemed more and more futile every day – that she seriously doubted that the life of the people around her would be any worse with her gone. Maybe Jenny would be able to let go of her anger… maybe Ichabod would lose the guilty look on his face she had put there and would get past the indiscretion she'd involved him in… maybe someone would step up to take her place and would actually be able to stop the damned apocalypse.
"You should have more faith in you, Abigail," Katrina admonished gently, and suddenly Abbie felt irked by the woman's all-knowing smile. "You are making a difference," she continued. "And you have to believe that you mean more to the people in your life."
"It's easy for you to say," she snapped. "Do you have any idea what's going on… down there?" she asked, making a vague motion with her hands because in all fairness she had no idea where 'down there' was, then, as a thought struck her, she took a step back in bewilderment. "Oh… You do," she felt positively mortified at the prospect of Katrina knowing what she and her husband had done. "Look…"
"You do not have to feel ashamed for sharing a bed with my husband."
"Sharing a bed, well, that's certainly one way to put it."
"He has never been but faithful to me. But I had to let him go."
"No, you didn't," came the protest from Abbie's lips almost automatically. "We're still trying to find a way to get you out of here."
"Abigail," Katrina started with a small, grateful smile. "I am dead. Even if you succeed in your endeavour to free me from this horrible place, there is no way that I would come back to live. Ichabod finally realized this, too. That is when he was able to accept his feeling for you."
"His feelings for me?" Abbie asked incredulously. "He truly loves you, you know."
"And maybe it is not selfish of me to hope that he will continue loving me. But I am his past, Abigail; you are his present. He loves you… and, because of your actions, he is hurting."
That made Abbie stop as her heart ached for the pain she'd caused. She was so stupid… selfish and stupid.
"I didn't want him to feel embarrassed about that whole situation," she found herself explaining. "He is such a wonderful man and I thought it was for the best to forget that it ever happened. It was a mistake," she stated bitterly. "After all, he is clearly devoted to you. "
"And he is devoted to you," Katrina pressed, making Abbie wonder whether this was her personal hell. "But now he is confused about the nature of your feelings. You must understand that what you shared, for him, it was the ultimate expression of his devotion to you."
"Or more like the perfect expression of my complete lack of any moral standing of whatsoever."
"Why are you rejecting the mere possibility of him sharing your feelings?"
"Okay," Abbie drawled finally understanding something. "Let's stop here. Why the hell am I here again?" she asked raising an eyebrow in exasperation and when no answer came from the other woman just another knowing smile, she scoffed. "I see… You didn't bring me here to give me the pep talk about saving the world and stopping all Hell from breaking loose… You wanted to chat with me about your husband."
"If you mean that my intention was to talk with you about your relationship with Ichabod, you are correct."
Abbie opened her mouth to react to this confession but the whole situation was so absurd that she had no idea what to say. She hoped to God… or whatever that if this was indeed her own version of hell, the man in charge would soon find something else to torment her with because she couldn't bear all eternity chatting with the wife of the man she had feelings for.
Finally she felt the need to clarify some things. "I don't have any kind of relationship with Ichabod," she said. "At least not the kind you're referring to."
"That is why I wished to see you," Katrina explained. "Abigail, I want you to know that what you feel about Ichabod, it is returned by him. I like you, Abigail, and I love my hu… Ichabod. Knowing what I know and after conversing with him, I felt the need to tell you that you should stop avoiding your feelings. Ichabod had already done so; he is just waiting for you."
That was so not funny, Abbie thought as she ran her eyes over the forest annoyed. The guys down there - because now she was certain she wasn't 'up there' - certainly knew how to stab someone in the heart – it was just plain cruel to taunt someone with the possibility of something that so obviously would never happen.
She wanted to cry. But all she did was to take a deep breath then looked the other woman in the eyes. She half-expected her eyes to begin glowing red or something but the look Katrina was giving her was open and sincere.
There was no way that the woman was a demon.
Maybe everything she said was true…
Maybe...
"So," she finally began, still not fully convinced about her hell-theory being false, "basically, what you're telling me is that you won't turn me into a toad or something like that if, say, I talk with Ichabod about… some… feelings… I might have towards him?"
Man, this was an awkward conversation, she thought as she wiped her palms into her jeans.
"I will not do such thing," Katrina reassured her, and Abbie could have sworn that the woman looked bemused. Great.
"Good. And Ichabod is ready to move on?"
"I am quite certain of it."
"And you're okay with it?" she asked again, just to make sure. As an answer, Katrina nodded. "I see," Abbie acknowledged the answer with a contemplative look then looked back at Katrina with determination in her eyes. To hell with her hell-theory; if there was a chance of Katrina's words being true, she sure as hell would take it. "So, how do I go back?"
"It was a pleasure to meet you, Abigail," Katrina said instead of an answer and as Abbie was thinking about what to say to that, the woman began to fade and finally disappeared from her eyes.
"That certainly was," she breathed to no one in particular and as a smile formed on her lips, her vision faded to black.
Ichabod's motionless form stood by the hospital window, hands clasped behind his back, as he was watching the sleeping woman. A troubled frowned had settled on his face in the last couple of days that first was caused by the worry that took over his very soul as Abbie collapsed in his arms but that later turned into the physical manifestation of his whirling thoughts about his partner.
He was genuinely confused by the woman.
The conduct of modern society puzzled him in general but the way Abbie acted and reacted in particular situations straight out baffled him. Put the two together and he was at a complete loss as to how to interpret the woman's actions or how to act himself.
And the worst part was that he constantly felt as if he had failed not only in upholding his moral norms but in complying with the modern ones, too.
That morning when he woke up alone he felt the most worthless man on Earth. After all, what reason could a woman have to leave the bed she'd shared with a man? He could only come up with one answer – she was ashamed of their conduct. That, of course, meant that he forced Abbie into a relation she hadn't desired.
Just what kind of a man was he?
He felt disgusted with himself.
In the following days, he tried to talk to her but, after her repeated rejection, he finally understood that there was no way to mend their broken friendship. He hadn't dared to hope for anything more by then.
He was pulled out of his thoughts by a small movement in the bed.
"Crane," Abbie croaked his name and her small smile, however weak, made hope flutter in his chest. He thought he'd lost that smile.
"Miss Mills, I am delighted to see you awake. How are you feeling?"
"Like I'd just been to Hell and back," she said. "Oh, wait… I just was." They shared a small chuckle at that, remembering that hell hole of a basement where Abbie got shot, but then Ichabod's face sobered.
"They said that there was some serious internal bleeding but they managed to control it," he informed her then added in a lower voice. "They also said that you fought fairly hard." When Abbie only grimaced as an answered, he felt compelled to continue. "Anyway… the kind doctor informed me that 'you'll be up and running in no time', I believe these were his exact words. However, I do not consider it wise to be running so soon after your injury."
"Don't worry," she groaned while trying to sit up. Ichabod made a move as if to go to assist her but he stopped and remained standing by the window. "No running for me for a while."
"I was worried," he stated simply, sincerely when the silence stretched too long in the room, and, as he quickly averted his gaze, he missed the affectionate smile that crossed Abbie's lips.
"I…" she started and when she failed to continue, Ichabod turned his gaze on her in anticipation. "I wasn't worried," she admitted at once. "I mean I was so sure that I was about to die… and I was okay with it. I would have been okay with it if it hadn't been for one thing."
"What was that?" Ichabod inquired.
"I didn't want to leave with having only regrets… one regret, in particular." At Abbie's confession a dark expression settled on Ichabod's face as he bowed his head, tensing up. "I am so sorry, Ichabod," Abbie continued and the man's head shot up in surprise. "I acted like a bitch with you."
"You have no reason to be so harsh with yourself, Miss Mills. I take full responsibility for what happened that night. Your conduct was nothing but that of a lady. I, on the other hand, lost my wits in the haze of desire and failed to take into consideration your wishes on the matter. And for that I am deeply ashamed and I can only hope that one day you will find in your heart to forgive me."
"Oh," Abbie blinked at him first baffled but then amusement crept on her face. "Now that was quite a mouthful… and it was really sweet but I didn't mean it like that," she clarified and this time it was Ichabod's turn to let out a confused 'oh'. "I was referring to the way I treated you. I assumed that you didn't want it to happen… that I somehow forced you into it. I knew how strong your feelings for your wife was and I guess I wanted to spare you from having to explain all this to me. That, and I was wallowing in self-pity. Well," she took a deep breath, gingerly putting a hand on her wound, "what I want to say is that I'm sorry for not talking to you. I know you tried."
"Apology accepted," Ichabod smiled gently, finally understanding what moved Abbie to act the way she did. "I am quite certain that it would have saved both of us a great deal of confusion… and hurt. Would you have been willing to listen to me, I could have told you that your assumptions were false. However unworthy I still find my conduct, I wanted us to share that night. And while I do not think that there would be a time I won't have feelings for Katrina, I do have feelings for you, Miss Mills, feelings of love."
"Wow," she breathed.
"I do hope, Miss Mills, that word expresses your overflowing joy over my most heart-felt confession," Ichabod said with a cheeky smile, encouraged by Abbie's reaction.
"Are you being smug there?" Abbie narrowed her eyes.
"I suspect that your use of the word 'smug' does contain some disapproval which can be brought into relation with the confidence you discerned in my tone of voice, regarding your reaction to my sincere confession," Ichabod teased. "In case I am correct in my assessment of your strange use of the word 'smug', the reply to your inquiry depends on your answer being one of affirmation."
"Oh, you are so full of shit," Abbie chuckled then winced in pain as she laid her head back on her pillow and closed her eyes. That made Ichabod sober up, too, and he looked at her tiny form with concern. She looked so pale. He gave her a couple of minutes to rest but he didn't want their conversation to end. They were finally going somewhere and he was loathed to let their issues remain unsolved.
"Miss Mills, if you allow me a question…"
"Go ahead," she answered without opening her eyes.
"What made you talk to me so openly about your feelings that so far you guarded so fiercely?"
"Your wife," was Abbie's simple answer.
"Katrina? You conversed with Katrina?" He was sincerely surprised at that.
"Yeah," she confirmed, lifting her head to look at him, "we had a little girl talk."
"Girl talk? You mean you talked about the matters of the heart?"
"As weird as it sounds, yes. She actually promised me that she won't curse me if I make a move on you."
"Make a move," Ichabod tasted to word then understanding downed on him. "You mean expressing your feelings toward me?"
"This is one way to put it," Abbie nodded.
"Wonderful," Ichabod's features lit up. "And do you want to… make a move on me?" he asked with careful optimism, fully aware of the fact that Abbie had avoided his previous inquiry into the matter.
"Why does it sound so dirty when you say it?" Abbie wrinkled her nose playfully.
"It is somewhat forward," Ichabod pointed out matter-of-factly.
"It is, isn't it?" Abbie agreed. "But I think that after everything, we can be forward with each other."
"All right then," Ichabod nodded in acknowledgement. "So, this is me being forward with you... Miss Mills, from now on, will you accept my courting?"
"Your courting?" Ichabod watched as Abbie raised an amused eyebrow then let her head fall back into her pillow. "I'm too tired for this," he heard her mutter. "I think we can skip that part," she finally said in a light tone but it made Ichabod's heart sunk nonetheless.
"You do not wish me to court you?"
"Oh I do," she reassured the man. "But I think that you and I have completely different ideas about courting."
"Oh." That made Ichabod stop for a moment… then understanding downed. "Oh… you wish me to fulfill my marital duties even if we are not bound in matrimony."
"Definitely too tired for this. Let's not jump the gun just yet. But I wouldn't be against some making out, maybe?"
"Making out?"
"Kissing," Abbie explained. "That reminds me – why are you standing there like a statue? Get you skinny ass here."
With a sheepish look, Ichabod did as he was told and took his seat next to Abbie's bed. Silence stretched between them, and while shifting awkwardly on his seat, Ichabod couldn't help but notice the amused smile tugging at Abbie's lips. She was quite positively enjoying his discomfort.
"Hm… Miss Mill?" he spoke up finally, reminding himself that they'd just agreed that it was all right to be forward with each other. "Do you wish me to kiss you now?"
"Not until you stop calling me Miss Mills," Abbie gave him a stern look.
"Abigail," he tried.
"And that," she added. "You're not my grandfather."
"No, I am obviously too old for that."
"Do you want that kiss, Crane?"
"Abbie, you would honour me if you granted me a kiss."
"Now, that I can't refuse," she smiled finally and tilted her head in waiting. Ichabod only hesitated for a second before his lips met Abbie's in a sweet kiss.
"I have to admit," he started when they pulled apart and Abbie settled down back on her pillow, "that however outrageous the modern courting customs seem at times, I became quite fond of them," he declared but seeing Abbie's bemused look, with the clearing of his throat, he was quick to add, "Of course, only within reasonable boundaries. No matter how freely a man can behave with his beloved, I would never mean to offend you."
"Believe me, you'll know when you offend me."
"Am I assuming correctly, then, that you would not be against us sharing a kiss again?"
"Damn right," Abbie agreed. "But only after a drink, my throat is killing me. And a good brushing of my teeth would be healthy, too. My breath stinks."
"You seem to forget that I came from an era where the hygienic conditions were far removed from the expectations of modern society. I can assure you that your foul breath won't deter me from my desire to kiss you."
"Then, by all means, kiss away," Abbie chuckled and almost instantly found Ichabod's lips devouring hers as the man, foregoing every ethical code, placed himself next to her on the bed and wound his arms around her, mindful of her injury. Their kiss was rudely interrupted when a coughing fit attacked Abbie.
"My apologies," Ichabod looked at her with concern, already reaching for a plastic cup to pour some water to Abbie. "The temptation was too great."
"'S all right," Abbie told him, still trying to clear her throat and accepted the offered plastic cup. "Thanks."
Ichabod watched as she drank and, after taking the empty cup, he took her hands into his.
"You should rest, Abbie."
"Yeah, I'm quite tired," she admitted and let Ichabod help her settle into a lying position. "Will you be here?"
"Of course, my dear Abbie. Nobody could convince me of leaving… not even that stern looking matron who had already so kindly informed me on several occasions that she would not have me taking up lodgings in your room. She mentioned something about visiting hours?"
"You should use your winning personality to won her over," Abbie advised, already half asleep.
"I'm afraid my charming manners leave her unaffected," he lamented with a half-smile and chuckled when Abbie scoffed. "Sweet dreams, Abbie," he finally whispered as he pressed a kiss on her forehead.
He remained seated on her bed, holding onto her hand and as he watched the sleeping woman, he had only one thought – next time he was talking with Katrina, he had to thank her for the intervention.
The End
Thanks for reading! And sorry for the mistakes!