Never Again
By dee_ayy
Dec. 31, 2014
It wasn't until the third Thursday evening that she even realized something was up. Some investigator she was.
The first time she'd proposed dinner at Sorrento's, suggesting they order some of the linguini with clam sauce that he'd recently discovered.
"That is a most tempting offer, Lieutenant," he'd told her, "but I believe I am going to decline. It has already been a long week, and it is not over yet. I am rather fatigued, and I think I shall go straight home tonight if you do not mind."
"Of course I don't mind," she'd said. It had been a grueling week, and Crane had taken his share of hits. "Get some rest, I'll see you tomorrow."
He'd grabbed his coat and rushed off.
O++++O
The second week she'd suggested he come home with her for takeout and a movie. "The last Hobbit movie is opening in a month or so, and you have to see at least one on the big screen. That means we only have a couple of weeks to get you up to speed on the earlier films."
"Ahh, Mr. Tolkien," Crane had said without even looking up from his book.
"Yeah," Abbie had said, but then she realized. "Wait a minute, how do you know J.R.R. Tolkien? I know I didn't put him on my reading lists-a pretty serious oversight on my part, by the way."
Ichabod looked up at her. "Miss Bliss suggested his volumes to me, and she was quite correct. Rousing tales, they are."
Abbie could feel her eyebrows arch up in surprise. "Who is 'Miss Bliss'?"
"At the lending library," Crane answered simply. "Do you not know your town librarian, Miss Mills?"
"Her name is Bliss?" She knew the woman on sight; had spoken to her many times, but only now realized she had never bothered to get the woman's name. Of course Crane would learn it first thing.
"Indeed it is; a most charming lady she is, too. She has suggested many interesting titles in the fantasy genre. I have read all of Mr. Tolkien's writings, and many others as well."
"Huh." She didn't know what else to say.
"So I am quite familiar with the story of The Hobbit, thank you lieutenant, and while I am sure I would enjoy watching the films all the same, I am afraid I am otherwise engaged this evening."
"Oh yeah? What are you doing?"
"I have an engagement with my comrades from our reenactments, to decide on our next battle. I will make a strong case for the Battle of White Plains."
Abbie laughed. "You do that, Crane. Have fun."
If she'd thought of it, she'd have realized that they'd done the Battle of White Plains four months prior. But she really never paid as close attention when he talked about that stuff as she should.
O++++O
And on the third Thursday, he claimed to be feeling under the weather when she again suggested grabbing a quick dinner before going their separate ways for the night. He'd seemed fine all day, so it had been odd, but she let him go without questioning him.
But as she sat alone at the diner, munching on the french fries she'd decided to splurge on, she couldn't get it out of her mind. Something was off, she was certain, but she couldn't put her finger on what it might be.
"Sally?" she asked, calling the waitress over. "Can you put together some chicken and rice soup to go? Crane isn't feeling well; thought I'd bring it out to him."
"Oh, poor thing," Sally cooed. "Of course. I'll make sure there's extra rice in there; I know how much he likes it."
Abbie grinned. He had half the woman in this town tied around his little finger without even trying.
When she pulled up to the cabin, however, it was completely dark. She found it hard to believe that he'd be asleep already, and even if he was, there should be some glow from the fireplace embers, but a peek through the window showed only darkness.
He wasn't home. She knocked all the same, calling his name out as well.
"Miss Mills?" Ichabod's voice coming behind her startled her, and she spun around to face her partner.
"You scared me!"
"Apologies, lieutenant, but may I ask what you are doing here?"
"Me? May I ask what you're doing out here? I thought you said you didn't feel well!"
It was dark outside, and the cabin had no outdoor lighting, but it didn't matter. Abbie could still see the entire internal conversation Crane was having with himself as it played across the features of his face. He arched his eyebrows, pursed his lips, started to speak then stopped, and finally closed his eyes for just a moment too long before he actually did say something.
"My head ached, lieutenant. I thought perhaps a stroll in the quiet and fresh air of evening would prove an ample remedy, and indeed it has. I am feeling much better, thank you."
Abbie wasn't entirely sure she bought it, but she didn't really have any reason to doubt him, or so she thought at the time, so she didn't question him. Instead the raised the paper bag in her hand.
"I brought you some soup."
Crane climbed the four steps to the cabin door in two, and relieved her of the bag. "That is most thoughtful of you, lieutenant, but wholly unnecessary. I assure you I am fine."
"Yeah, well, when Sally at the diner heard you weren't feeling well, she didn't really give me any choice." Why she lied about whose idea the soup delivery was, she had no idea. But there it was, done.
"I will have to remember to offer her my thanks when next we dine there. Would you like to come inside?"
"No, that's okay. I'll just head home. See you tomorrow."
It was on the brief drive to her apartment that Abbie put it together. Every Thursday for weeks now, he was begging off and disappearing. Always Thursdays.
O++++O
On the fourth Thursday Abbie didn't suggest they do anything together in the evening. In fact, she was the one who ducked out early. She was hunkered down in her car, parked inconspicuously, she hoped, in the parking lot across from the Archives, when Crane left. She waited a couple of beats before following him.
She was tailing her own partner, it was true, but she'd be damned if she wasn't going to find out what the hell he was doing.
He didn't go far, just two blocks then he turned left and walked not two more blocks before he disappeared into one of Sleepy Hollow's fire houses. What the hell?
Abbie settled herself on a bench across the street, and she waited. But when ten minutes became 15, and then 15 became 30, she got impatient, and went inside.
What she saw actually shocked her. Crane had his back to her, and was on his knees in front of a resuscitation dummy, deep in conversation with one of the paramedics who had attended to her weeks earlier, after her run-in with the Weeping Lady.
She retreated before anyone could see her, and returned to her spot on the bench.
About 20 minutes later, Crane emerged from the station. Abbie stood, and was about to call out to him when he spied her and stopped suddenly. He almost looked as if he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't.
"Miss Mills?" He greeted her with a question.
"Crane."
"What are you doing here, lieutenant?" He looked back at the station, and then back to her. "Did you follow me here?"
Well, yes, she had, but Abbie failed to see a reason to feel guilty about that. "Well, yeah. Every Thursday for a month you've been disappearing on me. Was wondering what you've been up to."
"I see," Ichabod said. He looked from side to side. The sidewalk was not crowded, but they were by no means alone. "Perhaps we should not have this conversation here."
She didn't get it. "What's the big deal, Crane? I think it's great that you're learning first aid. At least, I think that's what you were doing in there? Why couldn't you tell me that?"
"Please, Miss Mills. I will explain myself, but not here." He definitely seemed flustered. "If you will?" He gestured with his open hand, motioning her toward her car.
Abbie climbed behind the wheel, and as soon as Crane joined her, she started. "Okay, spill."
"I beg your pardon?" She knew he knew what "spill" meant by now. He was just stalling.
"Come on, Crane, talk to me. What's going on?"
He cocked his head, as if deciding whether to speak or not. "Might I impose on you for a ride home? Once there we can talk."
She couldn't help it, she grunted in annoyance. But she put the car in gear, and drove.
O++++O
Crane was maddeningly quiet on the entire brief drive, and when they arrived at his cabin, he entered and went straight to making tea before saying anything. Abbie wanted to throttle him.
"Please, Miss Mills, sit," he finally said, gesturing to the table while carrying two mugs of tea. She took the proffered cup, wrapping her hands around its warmth, but not taking a sip.
"Okay," she said when he had finally taken a seat opposite her. "Start talking."
"I thought it wise that I should become versed in your modern 'first aid,' and when I encountered Samuel at the farmer's market one day," he noticed the look of confusion on her face.
"Samuel. One of Sleepy Hollow's emergency medical personnel. You have actually met him."
Abbie nodded. "Yeah, I recognized him. 'Mobile doctor.'"
Crane nodded. "Precisely. I came upon him shortly after the . . . incident . . . at the library, and we set to speaking. He offered to teach me, and I thought it wise to learn."
The lieutenant nodded. "And I agree, Crane, it's a very good idea. Good for you for taking the initiative."
Ichabod grinned slightly into his tea, but there was no pleasure in his face.
"What I don't get, though, is why you kept it a secret from me. And why you actually lied about what you were doing on Thursday nights."
Crane sighed, and took a long draught on his tea. She could never understand how he could take such large drinks from scalding hot beverages. At long last he spoke again, but without meeting her eyes.
"No," he started. "I suppose you would not understand. And it is difficult for me to articulate, which is why I endeavored to never have to."
"We don't keep secrets from each other, Crane." She watched him nod, still staring down at his hands around the mug.
"Tell me."
It seemed like forever before he found his voice. "That day," he started, "in the library." He stopped again, and swallowed hard. Abbie found herself very uncomfortable in her chair, waiting for him to speak.
He looked up at her, and the pain and anguish in his eyes took her breath away.
"You died Abbie, in my arms. You were quite literally dead, and as far as I knew, there was nothing anyone could do for you."
Abbie sucked in a sharp breath. She'd almost drowned, yeah, she got that. But she'd actually never thought of herself as dead. She knew it was only a minute or two before Hawley had gotten her breathing again.
But she'd never even considered what Ichabod must have been thinking in those moments. And now it suddenly started to make sense.
"Oh, Crane," she murmured.
This was met by Ichabod shooting one finger up as he always tended to do when he had a point to make. "No," he stated forcefully. "No, Miss Mills, I tell you this not to elicit your sympathy. My ignorance of what to do in that situation was an egregious deficiency on my part. I shudder when I think of what would have happened had Mr. Hawley not been there."
He stood and walked to the window. He was looking out into the blackness when he spoke again.
"I have, quite honestly, never felt so helpless in all my life." He spoke the words so quietly that if not for the silence inside that cabin, Abbie never would have heard. He turned again to face her. "You almost died that day because of my insufficiency. I cannot, I WILL NOT be caught so woefully unprepared again."
Abbie stood herself. "Wait a minute, Crane, this is not your fault. If it's anyone's, it's mine!" He shook his head in disagreement, but she continued. "How should you know anything about CPR? Why would you? I should have thought of it. I should have arranged for you to learn. Here I was, making sure you learned how to surf the net, drive a car and shoot a modern gun, and I dropped the ball on something as basic and important as CPR—something all people should know, not just Witnesses!"
"No, lieutenant, you cannot be responsible for everything I do and do not know of this time. Not at this late stage."
Abbie chuckled. "No, I think this one is definitely on me. It's not something that comes up in day-to-day life, so you couldn't be expected to come across it on your own. And given the danger we're constantly in, I don't even understand myself why I'd never thought of it."
"Perhaps because it is difficult to think of oneself in such a vulnerable situation, and requiring such assistance?"
"If you mean because no one likes to think about their own mortality, then yeah, you're probably on to something. But I'm still not sure I understand why you didn't want to tell me."
Ichabod paced away from the window. "Quite honestly, I did not want to discuss the great shame I felt at almost letting you die unnecessarily."
She bridged the gap between them, and put her hand on his arm for emphasis. "Not your fault, Crane, as established. But it doesn't matter now. You're learning, and that's all that matters."
"I have learned, actually. Samuel bestowed me with my certification this very evening."
"Congratulations." Abbie smiled, and Crane reciprocated with a small bashful, yet proud grin of his own.
"Never again, lieutenant. It will never happen again."
THE END