AN Should I be doing this? Probably not. Will I stop? Absolutely not.
BASICALLY THIS ENTIRE FIC IS ONE GREAT BIG JENNY-CENTRIC, SELF-INDULGENT, PLATONIC RELATIONSHIP ORIENTED HEAP, BUT I GENUINELY DO NOT CARE FIGHT ME SLEEPY HOLLOW CANON FIGHT ME FIGHT ME FIGHT ME.
Warning: Scenes of moderate body horror throughout, mild spoilers up through the middle of season two.
Jenny didn't get it, at first. She had always thought that family, friends, and a general moral compass were infinitely more important than power, or revenge, or whatever it was that made people go bad. To her, no matter what, good won out.
Then she had found herself bleeding out, staring at the stars. And all of that still mattered, just…not as much.
It had been a routine run. Abbie and Crane were off doing their typical insanity, while she covered them with a rifle on a nearby roof. Then a quiet sound had come from the dark, and she found herself with a hole in her back. She couldn't feel anything but the cold and the steady fear of death. And then a quiet whisper in her head—
you are going to die
She knew that, she knew her life was slipping out of her back and someone would find her body, and then Abbie would be left a little more alone.
your sister is going to die
No, no no no Abbie had to live, Jenny had sworn to herself, the moment she saw the tape of Ancitif prophesying Abbie's tragic death, she would make Abbie outlive this. Jenny would get Abbie through, even if she had to break every bone in her body to do it.
you can save her
Yes, she was going to save her
you can protect her from the end
because Abbie was her sister
if you want
and despite it all
you can have that power
Jenny loved her most in all the world
if you just agree
so she would do anything for her.
And that was all it took. Jenny suddenly got it, and Moloch had her soul. It was quiet, happening before she was consciously aware of what was being exchanged, and then she felt herself sit up. She still felt cold, and a little numb, but lighter. It was a nauseous lack of weight.
Jenny looked around, leaping to her feet the moment she saw the small cell of Hessians before her. She was reaching for her gun, already formulating a distraction and escape—
They saluted her, eyes averted.
"Horseman of Famine, take your staff and ride," one of them said, stepping back to several men coming forward. One man was carrying a long, wicked looking staff. It stood taller than a man, with a sturdy, cruel blade at the end. It felt like a welcome home in her hand.
She met with the other Horseman, and she felt no fear. This was a rare gift, indeed.
Death was just as imposing as before, tall and terrible with the air of just barely having acknowledged her as a creature equal to his attention. He had a head now, though, or at least Jenny could finally see the man wearing the robe of Death. Abraham van Brunt looked like a nobleman. He had all of the poise, the arrogance, the power. But he also looked right, standing in a war-torn and bloodstained uniform, like chaos simmered right under his skin.
War was a completely different matter. She had never actually seen Henry as the Horseman, only heard of the atrocities he so casually committed. The wicked, self-satisfied smirk on his face was as befitting as Death's uniform, his own sort of armor. He wore the same simple clothes, a knit sweater and bland slacks, had the same tortoise shell glasses. But the cunning, the wickedness pouring from his eyes made Jenny's stomach tighten. They were formidable, indeed.
"So," she began, casting a casual yet alert eye around the clearing (they would be just the type to do some sort of occult, frat boy hazing). "Guess I'm part of the team, now."
"Indeed. How is the newfound power suiting you?" Henry asked. She didn't like the way he smiled like he had a secret curled up in his pocket.
"Not sure, yet," she admitted, hefting the spear in her hand. The Hessians had taken her straight to the other Horsemen, 'as ordered'. "Can't really feel the evil coursing through my veins, but I've only been at it for less than an hour, so. We'll see."
Henry seemed vaguely amused at her glib attitude, while Abraham seemed content to amp up the cold condescension in his stare. Jenny had always been so good at making friends.
"When do I get my horse?" she found herself asking, the words tugged out of something she hadn't known existed. She didn't think they would require her to earn her mount, something to prove she was truly evil, but then again, she really didn't put anything past them.
"You select your steed on your own," Abraham said, his quiet tone and careful accent catching her off guard. She would have expected something rough and loud. "The horse you take is not merely an animal, but your aid in service to Lord Moloch."
Jenny gave a nod, not missing the lazy flick of the eyes Henry gave, as if scoffing at Abraham's philosophical view.
"Okay, awesome. What exactly..." she gestured around vaguely, as if she could encompass her general situation.
"Lord Moloch will come to you when he is ready. Until then, you will stand by."
"I become a Horseman, and then I'm expected to twiddle my thumbs?"
"You're expected to follow orders," Abraham snapped. Jenny shot him a look.
"Sorry if I'm hesitant to listen to the guy that tried to kill me. Remember that, shooting a shot gun point blank at my car?"
"If I had wanted to kill you, you would have been dead," Abraham spat, looking at her with all the condescension in the world. Before Jenny could sling out another snappy comeback, he continued.
"I was merely stopping you from hindering our plans. Even at that point, I had you marked out as the potential future Horseman of Famine."
"'Stopping me from—' by shooting buck shot through my windshield? Gee, you really know how to wine 'em and dine 'em, don't you? And what do you mean, 'had me marked out'? What's been happening since then, have I just been pending Moloch's approval?"
"You were not quite ready," Henry explained. "We had to be certain everything was in order, and—"
"You couldn't risk me turning you away," Jenny said, rocking back on her feet. Henry's smile turned a little more appreciative.
"Lord Moloch is very persuasive, but no, it would not have been wise to leave that risk."
She chewed over her next comment, then switched tracks.
"So, where am I supposed to stay, now? I was—I can't just wander back into my old life as the Horseman of Famine." Surely the change would show in her face, hollowing her cheeks, carving out her shoulder blades as the new curse took hold of her flesh. Abbie would notice after a few days, she would become worried and search for any sort of cure once she realized it wasn't natural, the over-productive sister thing shoved into overdrive, end of the world and police work be damned. She would find out.
"Arrangements have been made," Henry said, waving a hand like a king. Hessians fabricated from the woods, silent and ready for service. "But, it would be unwise to give up your standing with the Witnesses, just yet."
Jenny reared back at the suggestion. Famine weighed how beneficial staying undercover would be, then nodded.
"Jenny, the hell are you?"
"Gee, hi to you too, sis." Her voice was calm, unruffled. How easily she hid the truth from Abbie. "Some Hessians showed up and looked like they had their hands on some serious bad news. I followed them, and things kinda got out of hand."
"So what happened? Why didn't you call? You could have—"
"Gotten myself grossly injured, yeah, I know. Anyway, turned out it was all a trick, but I got a little banged up. Hessians wrecked my phone by the way, so that's why I haven't called. I decided to lay low, draw away fire from you and Ichabod. Not sure if these guys play on grudge matches."
"The Horseman certainly does," Abbie said, more as an aside than anything. Jenny's stomach panged. "Okay, okay…are you really hurt? I mean, didn't hear of anyone being admitted to the hospital with gunshot wounds…you didn't resort to field surgery, using dental floss and whiskey, right?" Abbie laughed, trying to cover up her anxiety.
"You laugh, but do not doubt the power of dental floss."
"I would have believed you if you'd said whiskey."
"That is the truth."
Abbie I'm sorry I've been caught Moloch got me I'm the Horseman of Famine I don't know what they're planning but it is bad Abbie I'm scared.
Jenny screamed until her throat bled. But she was finding that Hell had a bit of a tighter grip on her soul than she had ever expected.
Her last hours as Jenny needed to be spent well. In all honesty, there wasn't a whole lot for her to spy on. Abbie and Ichabod didn't have elaborate plans, they were reactionary forces. Other than the Kindred running around free, they had nothing. No, those last few moments were for her and her alone.
And yet, Jenny couldn't bring herself to frolic around Sleepy Hollow with them. She would have loved to introduce Ichabod to a U-Pick orchard, or have dragged them to a theater that only played classic movies, or just go out and buy pretentious expensive coffee with them. She would have loved being able to just enjoy her time with them. But there was that little seed of decency inside of her that wouldn't stand for it, couldn't stand having such a wonderful time, only to stain it with a betrayal she wasn't sure she could have prevented. So she kept things simple. In and out of the archives, a hello and good bye and an I love you that they probably would never understand.
Ichabod was alone in the archives when Jenny showed up, staring intently at Abbie's laptop screen.
"Hey, Crane," Jenny called, making him look up. He greeted her, but his eyes were drawn back to the screen. "Whatcha got there, some new research?"
"Hm? Oh, no, nothing of interest to us. Things have been rather quiet, since we took care of the witch."
Jenny's smile was pasted on as she remembered laying on the rooftop, rifle in hand as she tracked the two of them to the cemetery. They had been going to stop a witch that had apparently been trying to raise the Whore of Babylon. Then the Hessians found Jenny and—
"So, what're you looking at, then? I hope it's not something gross while Abbie's gone. I don't feel like walking you through how to erase your history."
Ichabod managed to tear himself away from the computer long enough to give her a thoroughly unamused look.
"No, Miss Mills, I am not doing anything 'gross', as you put it. I like to imagine that I have a little more self-respect than to indulge in such base—"
"What're you doing, Crane."
"I was simply exploring this website, apparently it's supposed to be an online television, however—"
"Oh, YouTube. Be careful with that, it's a double edged blade."
"Yes, I'm sensing that. I began a simple enough search on mythical lore not centered in European culture, and then I find myself transfixed on videos of cats doing heaven knows what—what are you doing?"
"Recording you. I am documenting proof of your progress. You are a modern man, Ichabod Crane."
Jenny smirked as he launched into yet another tirade about something or other. When he seemed to be wearing down, she interrupted him with a question as to where Abbie was.
"Oh. Oh," he said, sounding like she had literally taken the wind out of his sails. "The Leftenant went to Starbucks for 'provisions', as she so mockingly called them. She's probably on her way back, but if you call, she would most certainly get something for you."
"Get who what now?" Abbie asked, bustling through the door with an armful of drinks and pastries. As Ichabod hurried to help her, Jenny casually pocketed her phone.
"Oh, nothing. I just popped by to see how you guys were, prove I wasn't actually missing a leg or something."
Just a soul. But they couldn't see that.
Abbie nodded, silently telling Jenny she appreciated the gesture, then caught sight of her computer screen.
"Crane…mind explaining something here?"
Jenny laughed as Ichabod began his harried explanation, and headed to the door.
"See ya later, Ichabod," she said, snagging a cinnamon bun on her way out. She touched Abbie's arm, making her sister look around.
"What, you're leaving?"
"Yep. Just checking in, remember? Anyway…stay safe, you two." Jenny gave him a smile, and hoped that they could feel all of the sincerity she had left, squeezed into that moment.
Famine needed a horse. The little bit of power Jenny had left was used to make things easy for Abbie and Ichabod. She wanted them to find out on her terms, covert work be damned.
One night, she went to a stable and looked at the horses. A stable hand came out to stop her, but a quick blow to the chest from the blunt end of her staff forced him down. She thought she heard his ribs crack.
She wandered down the stalls, taking her time. There were plenty of horses, each one shying back from her as she passed. Jenny knew from her own study that Famine rode a black horse (not to mention that the persistent whisper in her head made it very clear what kind of horse she needed to get), but that didn't keep her from admiring the other horses. Even though they pranced nervously in their stalls whenever she came near, Jenny admired each one, whether they were black or palomino.
And then, at the very end, as if it were a neat little period to her last sentence, stood her horse. It didn't move away when she came near, just watched her with a big, dark eye.
"Hello, there," she whispered, smiling at it. The horse pulled its head back, as if resigning itself to its fate.
"Hey, now, I'm not gonna make you do this," Jenny said, frowning as she reached out to stroke its neck. "Trust me, that sucks. If you'll work with me, though, if you'll be there for me…I promise I'll do everything I can for you. Please. Don't make me do this alone." Jenny grimaced at how pathetic she sounded just there, but she waited, staring into the horse's face and hoping for the best.
Then, she felt a soft huff against her skin, and the creature brushed its nose against her forehead.
Jenny smiled again, and she almost wished she wasn't quite so relieved. Signing one's soul away was terrible, no matter what it was for.
Wish I had remembered that a little while ago, she thought darkly, holding the horse's face in her hands.
Jenny took her time to finding tack and saddling up the horse. She could hear the time drifting away in her chest, filling up the place where her soul should have been, hollow tick tick ticks echoing around her insides. Just a little more to go, just enough until they were there…
She led her horse (she now knew it was a boy) out of the stable, brushing the other horses' horror and relief off her shoulders. The grounds were dark, but then headlights were flashing up from the road. Her stomach sank, even as she heard herself give a soft sigh. At least she could stop waiting.
Jenny pulled herself up into the saddle, spear held expertly at her side. It had been a while since she had ridden a horse (Three years, to be exact. She had been tracking down a skittish info broker in the Andes. The locals had told her the horse was better, and had cackled when she showed up three hours later, pissed, muddy, and with her car stuck in some mud hole on the side of the ass crack they so generously called a road), but holding the reins in one hand now felt so natural, like the information had been breathed into her bones. Almost as natural as staring down the Witnesses with a fundamental emptiness in her eyes.
She could see them through the windshield, both of them staring at her in utter shock. Abbie was stumbling out of the car, horror on her face as she tried to understand, tried to make herself believe, and yet tried to scrub the knowledge from her brain. Ichabod was only a beat behind her physically, but his eyes were miles ahead of Abbie, preparing himself for the hell Jenny could now loose. He was horrified, of course, but not devastated like her sister. He kept glancing at Abbie, as if wanting to spare her, knowing better than any person what a blow this was.
"Jenny?" Abbie breathed, like she was choking on it, choking on a nightmare she hadn't even been able to concoct. "Jenny, no no no, Jenny this can't—what're you—Jenny, please."
She didn't say anything, didn't respond to the nauseous tone in her sister's voice, to the way she had gone weak kneed, to the way she had brace herself against the car. Jenny just held the reins a little tighter, and kicked her horse forward. She heard the little gasp in her sister's voice when she saw the staff held tight in her hand, humming with all the evil of the other Horsemen's weapons.
It was all so natural to her, like this was really what she had been made for.