Part 1

"Steve! Holy crap, Steve, get out here!" Angela yelled as she kneeled down next to the prostrate man.

Steve came running out the front door, dressed camouflage shorts and a black t shirt.

"What?" he asked, looking around nervously. His eyes settled at the black mass lying on the ground in front of him.

"I came out to water the plants and found him right here on the porch!" ,Angela exclaimed. She reached down and touched the man's neck, feeling for a pulse.

"He's still alive... I think he's just unconscious. What should we do?"

Steven looked the man over. He was a small man, smaller than Steve, and his clothing looked rather dated.

"I guess... bring him inside. We can't just leave him out here. I'll clear off the sofa, then I'll help you bring him in."

Angela nodded in agreement, then turned her attention back to the poor human lying before her. His raven black hair had spilled into his pale face, and she gently wiped some of the strands away.

A few moments later, she and her husband had managed to get the man inside and lying down in what looked like a comfortable position.

"His clothes look so old... eighteenth century style," Angela noted, "Very strange..."

"Yes. Do you think he's a drunk? Maybe he got lost over here?"

Angela shrugged, "I don't smell any alcohol on him. But that doesn't mean anything. Help me get him into the recovery position just in case."

Steve did as he was told, pulling Ichabod onto his side. "I guess we just wait it out from here, monitor him in case he gets worse" he said, after they'd finished. "He doesn't have any weapons on him... so I doubt he is much of a threat."

Angela shook her head, "No. I don't think he is either. Besides, you've got the .38 upstairs if need be."

Part 2

It was another two hours before the man finally cracked his eyes open. The first thing he noticed was that his vision was very blurry. But when everything came into focus, he saw that a woman was sitting next to him, holding a cold compress on his forehead. She had shoulder length black wavy

hair, and a heart shaped face... and was wearing... trousers?

"Wh-Where am I?" Ichabod choked out, starting to feel extremely nervous. His surroundings seemed completely unfamiliar.

"You're in Queens. We found you passed out on our porch."

Ichabod took a deep breath, "B-but.. but I was in Sleepy Hollow! How am I here? Who are you?" he demanded. Ichabod then realized that his hands were shaking, and he hoped the woman wouldn't notice it.

"Shh, shh. Relax. We're not going to hurt you," the woman said, completely ignoring his question. Ichabod mentally sighed when he saw that she was focused on his hands.

Suddenly, another person, a man, with long brown hair, glasses, and a beard came into view. The woman gently placed a hand on Ichabod's chest, "I don't know how you got here, as I said, we just found you outside, unconscious. My name is Angela, and that is my husband, Steven We just wanted to make sure you were okay."

Ichabod didn't answer. He felt increasingly overwhelmed by all of this.

Steven walked over and kneeled next to the sofa, "You're okay. Don't panic," he said, when he noticed Ichabod was starting to hyperventilate, "We really mean you no harm. What's your name, anyway?"

"Ich-Ichabod Cr-Crane," Ichabod whispered, his whole body now shaking uncontrollably.

"Alright, well, you really need to calm down. We can take you to the hospital if you're hurt..." Angela replied. She began running her hand soothingly through his hair. It'd been an instinctive, reaction.

The action reminded Ichabod of his mother; she used to do the same thing when he was upset as a child. It made him calm a bit, and at least his legs stopped shaking.

"Hurt?" Ichabod asked, somewhat confused, "My head only hurts..."

Angela turned to Steven, "Can you get him some Tylenol and water?" she asked.

"Sure," the man answered, walking away.

"I'm going to give you some Tylenol to make your head feel better, okay? You probably hit it when you fell."

"T-Tylenol?" Ichabod questioned, once again giving a confused look.

Angela raised an eyebrow, "Yeah, you know, the medication. Makes headaches feel better, brings down fevers?"

Ichabod shook his head, the action making him slightly dizzy, "I dont understand."

"I.. err," Angela struggled for words, "Okay, well, just trust me, it will make you feel better."

Steven returned with two Tylenol and a glass of water and handed them to

Angela, who placed the pills in Ichabod's hand. "Put these on your tongue," she instructed, "Then drink some water to swallow them down." She helped him sit up a bit, so he would have an easier time swallowing.

Ichabod slowly did as he was told, having a bit of difficulty has he tried to keep t he glass of water steady. Angela said nothing, but helped him hold it up to his lips as he swallowed most of it down.

"Good job," Angela said, "Now, why don't you just relax a bit. When your head feels better in a few minutes, we can talk about everything rationally and figure out what's going on, alright?" she flashed Ichabod a soft, reassuring smile.

The word 'rational' stuck out to Ichabod - it was a word he liked very much - and it made him feel better.

"Alright," he agreed.

Part 3

True to Angela's word, the Tylenol did take Ichabod's headache away within a few moments. He was rather amazed by it, and made a mental note to study it, but knew that there were more pressing issues to deal with right now.

"You ready to talk?" Angela asked, seeing Ichabod start to sit up.

"Yes," Ichabod replied.

Angela and Steven made their way over to the sofa and sat on the love seat across from Ichabod.

"Okay, so, what is the last thing you remember?" Steven started.

"I was in Sleepy Hollow... in the Western Woods... with Young Masbeth. We'd just gone into a cave to see the witch when the world started to spin, and I guess I fainted then," Ichabod said, blushing at the last line.

"Hmm. A witch?" Angela asked, curiously.

Ichabod nodded, "Yes, the witch in the Western Woods."

Angela raised an eyebrow.

"Alright," Steven said, mustering all of his strength to keep a straight face.

Before he could ask another question, Ichabod noted that Steven was wearing clothes much different from his own.

"Why are you dressed that way?" Ichabod asked, before realizing how rude it sounded. "I-I apologize- I just meant, what you are wearing is not the current style, so I am just curious..." he trailed off, his face turning red.

"We were actually about to ask you the same thing," Angela replied, "Your clothes look rather old. Are you a re-enactor of some type?"

"Re-enactor?" Ichabod repeated, "These are the clothes I wear every day..."

Suddenly an idea struck Angela. Perhaps this man was a bit off his rocker,

and thought he was living in a different time period.

"What year is it?" she asked.

"1799, of course," Ichabod replied.

"And who is president of the United States?"

"John Adams."

"Who commanded the the Contintental Army during the war?"

"George Washington - Why are you asking me these questions?" Ichabod said, sounding a bit annoyed.

"I just wanted to see what time you thought- what time you lived in," Angela replied.

Now it was Ichabod's turn to raise an eyebrow.

"And I suppose that we are now in another year?"

Angela nodded, "The year is 2012."

It was then that Ichabod truly took notice of his surroundings. In front of the sofa was a large box with moving images on it. In the other room, where Steven had been, was another box, that he had spent time looking at. Different images had appeared there too. The rooms were lit... but not by candles or sunlight!

It was all too much. Ichabod simply sighed as his eyes rolled back and he fainted again.