A/N: Okay, here is my take on Sleepy Hollow fan fiction. I will warn you now, I am an Ichabbie so if you do not like that, do not read any further.

Disclaimer: I do not own or work for Sleepy Hollow. This fan fic is mine, but the characters are not.


He sat down slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. A bottle of Jameson Irish Whiskey sat in front of him. He poured a glass, mesmerized by the color of the liquid. It poured slowly. After nearly reaching the brim of the glass, he put the bottle down and screwed the top back on. He stared at the amber-colored liquid for a few moments before bringing the glass to his lips. He inhaled deeply, letting the scent set his nose on fire. He allowed the burn as it made its way down his throat.

I deserve this.

He felt he deserved the burn that now encased his entire body from the inside. He had been such an ass to her. All she wanted to do was help and he didn't want to accept that help. He was stubborn; always had been. Things were so new to him, having awakened 250 years after he had died. This was not his country anymore; not even his home. While he was intrigued with how different life was now, he was also saddened that everything was different. The freedom he had fought so hard for was still present, but it came at a price. A heavy one.

He was also confused. Confused about his feelings. He loved Katrina; always would. But recently, he acknowledged he had developed feelings for someone else. As he took another sip of the whiskey, he closed his eyes. There, he saw a pair of chocolate-brown eyes staring back at him. Those eyes were conflicted. She was trying to hide her feelings as well. He rubbed his closed eyes to eliminate the image before him. It was useless. Her beautiful eyes stared back at him and he was frozen.

Abbie.

He had no idea where she was now. After quarreling, she had stormed out of the cabin. He called her several times, but only got her voicemail. He hated himself for how he left things. All he wanted was a night off from the craziness; a night off from the Hessian. And instead, he may have severed his friendship with her.

He also felt guilty. He realized his feelings for Abbie awhile ago, but had only recently admitted it to himself. Jealousy played a role in their quarrel as well, as Abbie was going to meet an ex-boyfriend for drinks. It was that jealousy that made him admit that Abbie meant more to him than just a friend and companion. And instantly, he felt guilty for betraying Katrina.

But had he? Katrina was dead, as much as he hated to admit that fact. He had actually died first and then she did. She had planned it that he would return someday, but without her. Even after 250 years, he still loved Katrina. But now he had been given a second chance and he felt himself caring for another woman.

Is it possible to love more than one person at a time?

He didn't know. All he knew was that his feelings for Abbie were real. And they were strong. Could he love again? Could it even work? They were opposites in every way. He was over 250 years old, she was thirty, tops. He was from a different time; she was from the modern times. He was a soldier, she was a police officer. They both clashed in their personalities a lot as well. She drove him crazy and he tested her patience every day.

The color of her skin did not matter to him; he fought for emancipation. He was thrilled when she told him they had been free for 150 years, although that was later than he had hoped. He had noticed that color did not matter in modern times, as he saw plenty of interracial couples in and around Sleepy Hollow. He smiled at that. In his day, they would both be burned at the stake.

Yet, there were bastard children running around.

He shook his head at some of the hypocrisy of his time. They fought for freedom, but only for some people. Women were not considered "people," though he thought of Katrina as one. Those of different skin tones were kept as slaves and although some were treated well, others were not.

I can't imagine Abbie in that time. She fits here, in the modern world. She is perfect here.

He slowly opened his eyes and stared in front of him, not seeing anything but her. She had consumed him without either of them knowing it. He had given his heart to Katrina, but now found that Abbie possessed it. He couldn't believe what had happened.

Ichabod recalled the times that they had touched, innocent though they were. He once held her hand and stroked the top of her knuckles and later that same night, hugged her tightly. His skin had been on fire, a sure sign that he was in love, but he denied that. There were nights in the police station and nights at the cabin when they would place a hand on a shoulder or another hand, or even just accidentally brush skin against skin. Every time that happened, Ichabod's body burned for more.

He also knew he wanted her…intimately. Even though he had lived in a time where that was not discussed and one would not see another person undressed until the wedding night, the modern era of promiscuity was beginning to rub off on him. He was experiencing things that he had never experienced before, not even with Katrina.

The first time he realized this was at a baseball game.

She loved baseball and he accompanied her a few times for his amusement. She really got into it and it was fun to sit in the sun and relax a bit.

That day, Abbie was wearing a shirt described as a gray tee-shirt which was tight around her bosom. It was not that low cut, but enough cleavage showed to produce the desired effect. In the eighteenth century, plenty of women showed some of their busts due to the fashion of the time, but this was different. He noticed how they bounced when she walked, how the sun glinted off them and how beautiful they were…so perfect for her.

He also noticed the tightening in his trousers.

Trying to calm himself, he commented about her yelling at the umpire and was given a lesson in baseball etiquette. The test worked and he felt the urge to yell at the umpire himself.

"Nice job. Next time, wait until there is a play," she said with a laugh.

He turned to face her and caught the glint of the sun on her breasts again. Immediately, he sat back down.

I am SO screwed, to use a modern term.

As though fate did not torture him enough, he saw the fight that he had just had with Abbie. He began wondering what he could have done differently, what he could have done to have made her stay.

"Abbie, you can't meet up with an ex-boyfriend unchaperoned," he said plainly.

She raised an eyebrow at him, as though in challenge. "Can't? Why not, Ichabod?"

"It's indecent."

This time, she rolled her eyes. "Hello! Welcome to the twenty-first century, old man. Things are a bit different than when you were here before."

He nodded. "I gathered that."

They had commented like that for awhile, before his jealousy had gotten the better of him. The inside was screaming to tell her how he felt, but the calm, reserved outside overruled any emotion.

"If you are going to be insolent, then just go!" he shouted, turning away from her.

"Insolent? You call ME insolent?" she fired back. "Look at you. You refuse to accept anything modern and don't follow modern ways. YOU'RE the one who is insolent, Ichabod. And I can't be around you right now. Good bye."

She made it to the door before he called for her, back still turned from her.

"Abbie."

His answer was a door slam.

Ichabod shook his head and stared down at his glass. Somehow, he had managed to drain the glass without even realizing it. His head started spinning and he knew he needed to lie down.

Picking up his phone again, he dialed Abbie one more time.

Voicemail.

Damn!

He sighed. "Abbie, it's Ichabod. Look, I know you are upset with me and you have every right to be, but I want to apologize to you. I would prefer to not do it over the telephone, but I will if I must. Please call me when you get this, if for no other reason than to let me know that you are okay."

He ended the call after pushing the wrong button several times and muttering under this breath. Then he walked slowly to the bedroom. Too tired and drunk to change out of his clothes, he simply removed his boots and laid back on the bed. He grabbed the afghan and pulled it over him for warmth. As soon as his head hit the pillow, he was out.

His dreams were filled with her, with the adventures that they had been on together. He remembered in his sleep about the first time he realized he loved her. He had arrived at the station and was walking over to her. She was on the phone, but glanced up through her eyelashes at him. The movement was so sweet and innocent and welcoming, he felt his heart surge.

And then he knew.

But he didn't want to admit it, for fear of hurting Katrina. She was still in purgatory; he could still get to her. He couldn't be involved with another woman when that possibility was still out there.

His dreams shifted. He saw Abbie slowly floating away from him. He reached for her, called out her name in an echo. She did not reply, only continued to float away. He began running after her, determined to catch her, but he never did. Soon, she completely faded from him.

He stopped running and stood aghast, breathing heavily. She was gone. He couldn't believe it. And the pain he felt was more intense than anything before. He knew he had to apologize, had to tell her how he felt. Although it might not be reciprocated, he needed her to know.

He turned around to head back to the cabin when a figure appeared before him. He jumped at the sight because he was not expecting anyone to be there. He jumped again when he saw who it was, fear creeping into every pore of his body.

Katrina.


A/N: Any thoughts on how the relationship will play out on TV, if it does? I think they'll go by way of The X-Files; just give the fans a bit at a time to keep us coming back and then after a few seasons have a relationship start. But of course, it won't be easy as Katrina will be there, or at least in purgatory.

Thanks for reading! I would love to hear your thoughts on this so far. Not sure how many chapters it will be yet.