Holocene

by QuietLittleLives

Ichabod and Abbie attempting to mend their wounds, set just after the mid-season finale.

1. Chapter 1

And at once I knew I was not magnificent, hulled far from the highway aisle, jagged vacance thick with ice, I could see for miles, miles, miles—Bon Iver, Holocene

When she was younger, she never liked to be alone. Though no one would have known it to look at her, because Abbie would sit by herself laughing and playing for hours. Or at least it appeared that way.

"Who're you talking to baby?" Her mama called from the doorway, a barely one year old Jenny hiked up on her hip drooling all over a purple teether. Abbie peered across the board at the pretty woman in a cream gown. Her shiny dark curls were neatly tucked into a sheer bonnet. She smiled at Abbie and raised a pointer finger to her lips.

"Shhh."

Abbie nodded gently, and turned her upward gaze to her mother. "Nobody Mama."

"Ya sure about that?" Her mother asked, stepping a few feet into the room. "I thought I heard you talking to someone."

"No mama, it's just me." Abbie insisted. Lori spun around in her daughter's room, giving everything a second glance. "Okay sweet pea, five minutes til' dinner."

As soon as her mother left Abbie turned to the woman seated across the checker board, mouth curled into a cheerful grin.

"Okay Miss Ma'am, it's your turn now." She chimed. Back then she was always around, everywhere Abbie went she followed. But just a few short months later she came to her and told her that she would be going away.

"But I don't understand, did I do something wrong?" Abbie questioned.

"No sweetie," She said lifting Abbie's chin up to meet her eyes. "You haven't done anything wrong, and I'm not really leaving. It's kind of like when it's stormy outside and you can't see the sun, but it's there, just hidden behind the clouds."

"I don't understand." Abbie complained.

The woman pulled a blanket from the foot of Abbie's bed and held it over her body.

"Can you see me?" She asked from beneath the sheet.

"No."

"Am I still here?"

"Yes." Abbie's eyes swelled with tears. "But I want to see you Miss Ma'am."

"And you will, I promise. You and I, we're connected precious. I'll never leave you, not really." She promised. "But I need you to do something for me."

"Yes?" Abbie nodded.

"I need you to be strong." She said holding on to Abbie's tiny hand. "Look out for your little sister, take care of one another always."

Abbie's bottom lip bulged forward as her little fists raised up to dry her eyes.

"Okay." She promised.

That was the first time she'd learned what it was like to lose someone. She was a child then, soft in the bones, resilient, as children often are, able to bend, change, and grow. It's so much easier to move on from things when we're young, before our bones become too hard and brittle, before we only know how to bend them in certain ways. She forgot all of it, her face, her voice, everything. It was almost as if someone had taken an eraser to her memory and wiped the whole of their interaction clear. It wasn't until she saw her in Fredrick's Manor that a vague sense of recognition washed over her. Not visually of-course, more that she found familiarity in her presence, her aura. The curtain ruffled, a soft breeze came wading through the moonlight, and there she was. Miss Ma'am, or

"Grace," she said to herself the next day when she and Ichabod flipped through the records sent over from Lena Gilbert.

It was a preamble of sorts, something that prepared her gentle heart for the coming times. Her family, everyone she loved, she would lose them all.

---

Corbin sat his newspaper down on the booth in front of them. "What do you believe in?" He probed taking a sip from a fresh cup of coffee. Abbie finished chewing the fry she'd just thieved from his plate.

"Sir?" Abbie said, brows sinking down and in.

There was a reason she was so good at her job. There wasn't a better profiler around, and everyone knew it. Nothing helped to solidify that more than the 3am phone calls she received when she was supposed to be off duty. Some of the other officers would ask her from time to time what her secret was, she halfway thought they didn't believe when she told them she didn't have one.

"Just details. Everything is in the details", she'd always say. Some people found it easy to overlook them, details, with Abbie it was the other way around, it was like she couldn't not notice them. The unfortunate thing was her ability also bled into her personal life. Like clockwork she found flaws, and unfavorable tendencies with potential romantic partners before a relationship ever had a chance to begin. Or in other words, long before she cared enough about a person to overlook there less promising attributes. Like some high strung life insurance actuary, Abbie saw potential for injury everywhere, and she became more adept at avoiding it as the years rolled on. Her cardinal rule to avoid getting hurt was to stay away from other people. No one was invited in, not ever, and as time passed the loneliness that once frightened her became her greatest comfort.

Now she thought back on Corbin's words that day she'd told him she didn't believe in love.

"What do you believe in?" He'd asked.

"Not that. Not for me anyway." She'd responded at the time. He leaned forward eyes sparkling through the sunlight, as if they hadn't just seen their way through the midnight shift.

"You gotta believe in something kid." He winked.

Now all of these years later the things she believed in had flushed themselves out, only it was too late to share it with him. She believed in angels and demons, gods and monsters, and war and peace. The only problem was she recognized all too well the tiny inlets and bridges between them, everything looked the same. She wondered what it was like to be that way, situated in between a thing, that little strip of land between the ocean and the sand that was neither saturated nor dry. She'd tried to be that once—a casual observer—just a figure in the crowd along the sideline, capable of blending in and out, and going about life unnoticed. It didn't work, instead she was called out into the darkness by horned demon and was still fighting to find her way back to the light. She was warrior, and that was her lot. Sometimes hunted, at others the hunter, but always in the hunt. There was a time in the beginning of all of this when she believed that they would win this war, establish peace, and live semi-normal ever afters. She'd return to the sideline lift up her hood, and get lost in the crowd. But that's not the way it happened. Moloch was dead, the end of times averted, and still here they were, right back in the heart of battle. There's a special cruelty in believing you've moved beyond something when you haven't, in becoming rooted in the idea that something had moved beyond you. She saw it all the time in her line of work. These amazing stories where people walked away from these horrific accidents, unscathed. They'd all look at each other and say "Wow, how in the hell did they ever get out of that wreck alive," Only to hear the person fell dead weeks later from some overlooked, or undetected injury. She thought it was over, all of it, even went so far as attempting to get a life…and then her old one came back. He came back. The night the Ripper pierced his flesh, she sat on the asphalt watching as the sideline faded further and further into the distance.

---

As of late he had come to disfavor playing chess with her. Her moves and decisions were brazen, too audacious to recognize as viable options, thereby making them nearly impossible to defend against. She wasn't herself. He alone carried the blame for what happened, he should have known something was off with her. She'd been moving in unfamiliar patterns for some time. She said that he was off of his game, but both of them knew it wasn't him, he'd remained the same while she'd become…impulsive. The lieutenant did not do impulsive. Thoughtful, purposeful, calculating, those were all traits he'd used to describe Abigail Mills. When she acted she had already considered the possible repercussions and outcomes from her actions. So when he watched her walk into her death, he knew she'd already weighed her options. She merely forgot to notify him.

Ichabod finished unloading the dishwasher, looked at the timer upon the oven and started setting the table. He stepped up the stairs, entered the sun streaked hall, and stood in front of her door a moment before gently rapping his knuckles on it.

"Lieutenant, supper will be served in ten minutes time."

There was silence on the other side of the door, but just as he started to turn the knob her voice called out.

"Okay. Thank you."

"You are most welcome." He replied not quite loudly enough for her to catch every word.

"How are you feeling?" He asked, cringing from his inability to stop inquiring as to her wellbeing. He'd just knocked upon her door asking that question a half an hour ago.

"I'm fine Crane." She called back. "Much better thanks." She reaffirmed.

"I am quite pleased to hear it." He returned, letting go of the knob. He hung his head against the door for a moment, just to feel closer to her. It felt so good to have her home again, sure she'd slept through the morning and all of the afternoon, but she was well, and she was here. He frowned at her closed door, if he had his way there would never be another impediment between them. He didn't trust her as he did before, and she undoubtedly closed her door in retaliation of him coming to her doorway every quarter hour to make certain she was still there…creeping to her bedside to check her breath. Images of the days before, flashed through his mind on his trek back to the kitchen.

It wasn't long after Abbie had entered the tree that they'd discovered it was possible that she'd survived. After a few days they realized it was most probable that she'd been transported, and became trapped inside of an otherworldly realm. Jenny and Joe had been working alongside him for months in search of a way to rescue her, but no viable solution presented itself. The day before the dawn of the New Year they finally discovered a method of opening a portal they were all but certain would lead them to Abbie's location. Having found the way in, the plan had been to resume study in the morrow in search of a way to safely return from the Otherworld. That was the plan, yet Ichabod knew from the moment they discovered the way to her that he would not spare a second in journeying to her side. It was Master Corbin who woke to find him leaving that night, he somehow managed to come upon him as he was slipping into his boots.

"Crane." He spoke quietly, glancing at the handcrafted letters resting upon the dining room table. He ran his fingers across the candle wax seals as Ichabod rose to his feet.

"Master Corbin." He could tell from the look upon Joe's face that he'd realized he was leaving. Joe wanted to ask him to stay, to seek out a surer way, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. The Ichabod he once knew may as well have walked inside of the tree with Abbie, the man before him now was the epitome of misery, a shell of who he was before. He looked across the room into his eyes and saw the answer to his unspoken objection. If it were Jenny, you would do the same. There was no sense in reasoning with him, he was going, and both of them knew it.

He and Jenny had been there since Christmas, as Crane had a particularly rough time of it. Jenny had blamed herself, not for hoping, and wishing for a Christmas miracle, but for getting Crane drunk enough that he started to believe as well. She missed her sister terribly, but Joe was there helping her through it. She just wanted Crane to have a little bit of peace for one night, but it didn't work out that way. They could see the devastation on his face when the clock struck 12:00am on December 26th. By 12:05 he'd pulled all of the ornaments from the tree and thrown it outside. That night he brewed coffee, and got back to work.

"What can I do?" Joe asked.

"Look after her." Ichabod stated. He slipped into his coat and met Joe in the center of the floor offering a firm handshake that ended in a hug.

"At least let me give you a lift." Joe offered, grabbing his coat and keys.

"But Miss Jenny." Ichabod said.

"She'll be out for hours."

The men pulled up just down the block from Pandora's hideout and killed the headlights.

"I will not return without her." Ichabod solemnly swore. "I cannot."

"I'll wait as long as I can." Joe promised, dropping his hands from the steering wheel. Ichabod glanced down at the clock, it was nearly 4am.

"If we've not returned by sunrise, wait no more. Hear me, do not follow, and keep watch over Miss Jenny to ensure that she does not as well. In our absence the two of you shall be the only thing standing between all of humanity and the end of days. God's speed, Master Corbin."

"God's speed." Joe returned. "Hey Crane." He called out just as Ichabod stepped out of the car. "Bring her back."

Ichabod offered a regretful smile before stepping out into the howling wind and snow. The time he'd wasted nibbled away at him as he stalked towards Pandora's lair. All of his feelings made clearer by the fact he was most probably marching toward his doom, but couldn't help but feel excited simply from the hope that he might see her again. Pandora and the Hidden One hadn't been seen since Abbie disappeared, but the ever looming threat of their return remained. Ichabod hastily hiked through the lair, and made his way up to the tree. He only thought of Abbie as he read the incantation that forced the portal open.

It seemed almost unbelievable how quickly he'd found her, just paces from the tree he travelled through to get there. He spotted her sitting in the cradle of a smaller tree with illuminated leaves, something vaguely familiar about it. Her clothing, face, all of her was covered from head to toe in soot like matter. He'd read of it, the soot holes that populated this place, the effects it could have on humans.

"Lieutenant!" He'd belted out, at the top of his lungs as soon as he saw her.

"Abbie. Come down." He called standing beneath her with his arms outstretched. It was only then that he realized that she wasn't holding on to the tree, rather it was holding on to her.

He looked up through the glare of the branches and saw the shimmering vines and leaves hammocked beneath her body. There were noises in the distance, cries and howls none of which sounded like anything he'd heard before, they needed to leave. Ichabod kneeled down and removed the small dagger he'd brought along from his boot before taking cautious steps toward the tree. He stood in amazement as the tree stretched down branches in the arrangement of a staircase. Though he was hesitant, and wary, she was there, so he climbed them.

"Lieutenant." He said as soon as he was close to her. His voice drew no reaction. His hands locked around hers in attempt to lift her to him, but he was met with her earsplitting screams.

"Abbie. It's me, Ichabod…Abbie!" He shook her, heartbroken as she refused to even look at him. "We must find a way out!" He pleaded. "Please."

Her head turned to the side, and she leaned forward squinting her eyes. His heart lifted at the recognition in her eyes. She shook her head from side to side.

"Go back." She said barely hanging on to lucidity. "Too dark. Stay in" Her teeth chattered as a shiver shook her frame, "th, the light." She mumbled. She reached up with what seemed like all of her strength and ripped a branch from the tree, and pushed it into his hand. The branch grew even brighter once broken, the brilliance of it shone through his fingers, bright fluorescence stippling throughout the shadowy darkness around them.

"It's further than it looks." She said weakly.…don't fall in the poison." She said holding up her arm to show the soot that covered it. She collapsed then, falling unconscious and he quickly gathered her limp body into his arms.

"Lieutenant!" He screamed, locking his arms around her. He carried them down the tree, and quickly tore a few more branches from it. He spent a moment positioning them anywhere he could fasten them. Belt-loops, sleeves, and a few he simply wedged between their bodies after he picked her up. He took careful steps through the land, looking out for ground that looked as though it might give way. It wasn't long before he began to take her meaning, the tree was further away than it appeared. It reached a point when every step he took seemed to add two more to the journey. After a while, the branches had burned out and they were still a great distance from their destination. He moved slower then, holding her close as he recalled something he'd read during his study of this place. Freedom rests within one that knoweth whither thou cometh or goest. Suddenly the research he'd done clicked, as he recalled the infinity circle he'd seen next to the quote while studying.

Am I coming or going, he thought, shuffling his weight from foot to foot. He surveyed all around them and came to the realization that they were standing in the center of an enormous infinity symbol, and had been for some time. He closed his eyes remembering the way he came, and then followed that path back to the illuminated tree. He reached up, tearing free a few fresh branches and circled around the backside of the tree. Now when he stepped forward the distance between the trees diminished. He walked along, keeping vigilant to avoid the poisoned sinkholes. The slow rise and fall of her chest gave him every ounce of strength he needed to continue. The adrenaline rushed through him so furiously he could barely feel her weight suspended in his arms. He felt as though he could have walked forever with her this way, whatever it took to see her to safety. When they finally reached the tree Ichabod urged Abbie to hang in there as he recited the incantation to reopen the portal. Within moments he had trotted down the steps of Pandora's lair, and was back on the street where he'd parted with Joe. He spun around in search of him, but quickly realized he was nowhere to be found. He walked nearly a mile before he felt he was at a safe enough distance to call for help.

"Master Corbin"

"Crane?!" Joe exclaimed. Ichabod could hear Jenny screaming in the background. He quickly informed them that Abbie was with him and they were in need of aid.

Fifteen minutes later Joe and Jenny pulled up alongside of him on the road. They tried explaining to him that he'd been gone nearly a week, but it simply sounded bizarre. Besides he had more pressing concerns. The jubilation and happiness was short lived once they discovered how poorly Abbie was faring. Ichabod refused to release her, placing his ear to her mouth, and holding his breath so that he could better hear hers. The only thing providing him with some semblance of calm was the feel of her lungs expanding and retracting beneath his fingertips. Jenny sat next to him holding onto her sister's legs, begging her to stay with them, as Joe drove like a man with no future.

Once home, Ichabod ran through the yard, and leapt up the steps sending Abbie's body bouncing about in his arms. He made his way to the bathroom, immediately sitting them upon the toilet as he started pulling her out of her jacket, and shoes.

"Her trousers!" He yelled to Jenny, as he reached over to start the shower. As soon as Jenny drug her pants off of her body. He jumped into the shower, fully clothed holding her under the stream, watching as the cascading water cleared the dirt and soot away from her skin. Jenny stood in front of the shower, reaching to pull her sisters limbs free of her water logged shirt. She and Ichabod furiously rubbed the dirt away from her body, calling to her in the hope that she'd respond. Only she didn't. She stopped breathing. Ichabod quickly pulled her from the tub in search of a pulse.

"Don't go." Jenny cried, stepping back, watching in horror.

Her linked palms pressed down against the top of her head as she started to imagine the worst. She rocked from side to side as streams of tears washed down her face, blurring the image before her. Jenny looked down upon the hazy outline of the woman who had looked after her for so many years. If these past months showed her anything it was that she didn't want to face the world without her. She would never get over this, losing the person that tried to protect her from everything. Memories of their life poured through her mind all at once. Her little feet traipsing across the cold winter floor, Abbie waking and lifting her blanket so Jenny could crawl into bed with her.

"I had a bad dream."

"It's okay Jenny, I'm right here."

Abbie's warm hand linked with hers, every breath held while the doctor administered her shot. "See Jenny. It's okay, I told you I'll never let anything hurt you." Abbie lisped through a gappy smile. Tiny hands wiping away tears over ice cream cones dropped to the ground.

"It's okay Jenny, you can have mine." Abbie said holding her cone out to her little sister. She put her first, at all times, and in all things. The thought of never getting a chance to say thank you, of never acknowledging the pains her sister suffered through so her life could be a little better, killed her. She wanted to run, to take off and never look back. How could she just stand there watching her sister die, but then it came to her, how could she go…whatever happened she would be here, she would stand through it even if she didn't think she was strong enough.

She fell to her knees sobbing, reaching a shaky hand forward.

"I'm here." She cried.

Ichabod started to unravel, face flush with terror when he was unable to find a pulse. He didn't understand, already they had cleared a majority of the soot from her body.

"Abbie, please!" Ichabod called pulling her up into his arms, burying his face in the crook of her neck. "Wake up!" The words muffled against her skin.

"Oh God no, ABBIE PLEASE!" He screamed just as it seemed she was slipping away. That's when he remembered. The sink hole, she'd fallen in.

He lay her flat to her back and began CPR. Jenny sprung up and called for Joe, knowing he was best equipped to resuscitate her. Joe was just entering the house with armloads of medical supplies when Jenny's call sent him running through the living room. When he came to the bathroom Ichabod was hunched over Abbie's unresponsive body administering chest compressions.

"Crane I can try."

Ichabod kept at task as if he hadn't heard a thing. He placed his mouth to hers and began forcing air inside.

The coughs were first, deep lung clearing hawks that brought darkened liquid from her mouth. Never in all of his years had Ichabod been more ecstatic to witness someone spewing up phlegm.

He couldn't speak. He rubbed his hands across her back as she turned sideways, and placed a cool palm to the floor as she spit up. It was only when he heard her first real breath that he allowed himself one.

Jenny and Joe looked on, still shaking as sighs of relief echoed through the room. Abbie raised her head in the direction of Jenny and Joe, as a tearful Ichabod sagged back against the tub.

Jenny fell to the floor, closing her eyes as she spooled her arms around her sister.

"I love you so much, I thought you were gone." She cried.

"Not yet." Abbie said through a weak, hoarse voice. "It's okay Jenny." She stated. The familiar reassurance only served to make Jenny close her eyes and cry even harder. When she finally reopened them her heart broke at the sight of Crane sitting behind Abbie with a thousand teardrops brimming in his eyes. She pulled back, and watched as her sister slowly twisted around to face him.

Abbie sees him there, clear as ever, even though it's apparent that he hadn't bothered with trimming his hair nor his beard since she'd gone. Her brows grew defined, top lip all but disappearing beneath her bottom one as she tried to keep it together. She glanced down a second, and watched as bathroom tiles grew fuzzy. Her elbow, feebler than she remembered, shook from holding her weight. There's so much she needs to say to him but when she looked into the watery eyes of her dearest friend, everything she sees there makes it hard to speak. He's relieved, he's hurt, he was afraid, this much she can tell by looking at him. She doesn't trust her voice, so she lets her eyes speak for her. After years of companionship, their unspoken communication could rival any language. He slid forward, flattened his bent knees and pulled her half clothed body to his lap. She felt so good that it hurt to hold her. His battle to maintain composure is lost in seconds as months of unshed tears are purged from his eyes.

He hadn't let them fall since she'd gone, he couldn't. Someway he had to keep faith that she was coming back, and work toward her eventual return. Every time he felt like crying, he worked, and so it went that he never stopped. He would fall asleep in the archives, and wake to resume his efforts. He ate whatever tasteless entree was put in front of him, but only after the time he'd almost passed out from hunger and an exhaustion that he just couldn't feel. The time he'd lost from weakness was inexcusable, and he couldn't have another episode where he lost time due to dizziness, so he ate. He showered, every other day at least, but in honesty he spent more time sniffing her body wash than bathing. But now, he didn't have to hold it in, she was here, alive, warm, breathing, and he promised himself then and there that he would die before he ever allowed that to change.

A deep and miserable sob broke from him as he clung to her body. There was so much he wanted to say. He wanted to thank her for coming back, to yell at her for ever leaving, but the only letters he could manage to piece together were the ones which comprised her name.

"Abbie." He wept, squeezing her in his arms, every time he thought to release her his arms locked, and held her even closer. They sat there that way, enraptured in bone touching hugs, crying over everything they thought was lost, and everything they realized they still had. Jenny's hand covered her mouth in attempt to quiet her cries, but the emotion of Abbie pulling through, coupled with the noise Crane made as he tried to subdue pitiful, rib shaking, sobs was overwhelming. She and Joe quietly left the room to give them a moment. Even through the close door they could hear as every suffering Crane attempted to bury, came free and sprung from his soul. Abbie held to him, telling him she was okay over and over again. Ichabod had lost count of how many nights he'd sat bartering with God, offering forfeiture of any blissful moment from his past, and every single moment from his future for this one thing, this one woman, and she was here. So he held her close, and wept until his tears ran out.

---

The next day.

Abbie always found it funny how people seem to notice when you look different. Different hairstyles, weight fluctuations, skin darkening and lightening from season to season. All superficial changes, things that don't really change who we are. At the same time, she wondered if people really notice when we actually are different but show no outside indication. How do we treat and bandage the wounds that don't bleed. She felt a bit odd around him now, surprisingly not because of what had occurred between them the evening before. There were explanations for that, people often did things they normally wouldn't do when emotions ran high. But the way he looked at her was disquieting, she knew he had sensed the subtle changes in her before she'd left, but he never said anything. Now she worried he would.

Abbie entered the kitchen, and he left the dishes he was arranging to offer her a spirited greeting.

"Ah, good evening Lieutenant."

"Good evening Crane. She said as she ambled toward the refrigerator. Ichabod looked on as she for some reason changed path mid step, and gracefully jumped onto the countertop. Her movements were fluid, seamless, almost as if they were a scripted dance, but he knew they weren't. He stared at her, raised eyebrow, while he followed her eyes to the small spider creeping across the floor. It had been clear to him that spiders were not her favorite creatures, but she never sought to evade them. He holds a heavy glare to her in search of answers, but she offers none. The bug went into hiding inside of a tiny crack along the baseboard.

"I will catch it as soon as it resurfaces." He spoke after a moment. The question on the tip of his tongue stayed there as he returned his eyes to her. She would speak to him about all that transpired when she was ready, he merely hopes it will not be long. He moved toward her to offer his hand, but finds himself momentarily disrupted by the spread of her plump thighs across the countertop. He had a two second rule he tried his best to follow, generally allowing only two ticks of the clock to view her body before forcing himself to look away. But after yesterday when he learned what it felt like to settle between those thighs it was inherently more difficult. His eyes lingered about her until his greediness got him noticed. She looks down at her thighs, confused as to what caught his attention, and quickly brings them back to him in search of an explanation.

"I thought you may have toppled the water bottle behind you by accident." He lied, silently reproving himself. He quickly reached behind her grabbing the water bottle and holding it up as evidence.

"Oh." She says seeming satisfied.

He stepped forward waiting for her to take the hand he offered. She did so gingerly, eyes warily darting about in search of more eight legged creatures as she slid her bare feet to the floor. She could feel his eyes on her, knew he was watching, but she wasn't quite sure how to explain that in the place she'd just returned from spiders weren't only spiders. They sensed things about you, knew about things they shouldn't have, and they didn't die when you stepped on them. He pulled out her chair, and she looked at him as if he didn't need to but sat. She'd styled her hair, nothing out of the ordinary, but freshly done. Her clothing was simple, soft denim jeans, soft cotton shirt, all of it tight and flattering to a figure that needed no such flattery. And how was it that her body wash smelled so much more intoxicating upon her skin than it did within the bottle. All of these things serve to help him forget how angry he is with her, how hurt he was that she had offered herself up to die. There would be time to speak with her about it, he would be patient.

"Thank you, this looks great." Abbe complimented, as Ichabod placed a plate of warm beef and colorful garden vegetables in front of her."

When he returns a formal, dry "You're welcome," she wonders how long they're going to behave this way. Tip-toeing around one another like they didn't really know each other, like they weren't as close as two people could possibly be, at least while keeping their clothes on. Earlier in the day, he had come into her room to look in on her every fifteen minutes. But he never said a word beyond,

"How are you feeling?" He asked right on time from across the table.

"Good." She responded.

Ichabod sat across from Abbie struggling with himself, endeavoring to tell her everything that was on his mind. Tell her. He thought. This is your second chance to begin anew, do not squander another moment. A brave voice says. But what if she doesn't feel the same, have you forgotten her words from the prior evening. The blow to our friendship could prove catastrophic, I can't risk losing her altogether, already she's further away than she's ever been.

Apprehension filled his stomach as he sat watching her bow her head in prayer. He lowered his as well, piggybacking off of her blessing, while asking for a little courage.

Abbie severed a carrot, stabbed it to her fork with a small piece of beef and plopped it into her mouth. The orgasmic sound that came out of her left Ichabod giggling and blushing like a schoolgirl, and just like that they fell out of the day's silence.

"I suppose the meal finds your favor." He spoke, a pleasing smile curling his lips. Abbie grinned finishing her bite. "I had but scant time, and little ingredients on hand, but I suppose it came together in a somewhat acceptable fashion." He announced, pushing vegetables around his plate, awaiting praise.

"It's very good, thank you." Abbie smiled shaking her head. He already knows he can roast the hell out of some beef.

"Oh, I am quite pleased that it is satisfactory." He said in a mopey tone, that let her know satisfactory was not enough.

"Do I have to say it?" She chuckles, leaning toward him. Delighted that this too hadn't changed. Comforted that he still spoke of every meal he prepared in a deprecating fashion until she told him how fabulous it was.

"Say what?" He pouted. Bighead, she thinks.

"This is the best roast that I've ever had. Every time you make a roast I think it can't get any better, and then you make another one and voila, it's scrumptious, and flavorful…"

Abbie watches the smile develop from his eyes...This man is a mess…She leans back in her chair as he holds his chin high with pride.

"What else?" He asked in a tone so snobbish, they both fell into laughter.

"It's perfect." She responds at the tail end of their amusement. "Now can I enjoy my food?" She teased.

"By all means, so long as you remember to kiss the cock, the COOK!" He screams mortified. OH. DEAR. GOD! He screamed internally. This is precisely what I deserve. He reasons, wanting to slit his throat with his own butter knife. Knowing had he reined in his thoughts and not allowed himself to imagine her lips wrapping around his cock the way they just had her fork he never would have said that. Penance for my indulgence in such lascivious, prurient, thoughts. You must apologize at once. Or, A voice says, you might simply hold steady. Perhaps she did not hear you.

The room goes silent. No forks or knives scraping against plates, no clattering of glasses.

She heard you. Sweet death be kind and come for me now, I swear I shan't resist.

Abbie attempts to shove her eyes back into their sockets, hearing Ichabod swallow even though there hadn't been any food in his mouth. They do this, joke, kid, all of the time, but they don't quite take it there, in fact they don't take it anywhere near there. His face is showing signs of humiliation and just as she starts to try to ease the discomfort the oven timer mercifully goes off sending loud, repetitious, beeps through the room. Ichabod leapt from his seat flustered as he quickly pulled the bread from the oven. He had forgotten all about it after she came in. He's seconds away from excusing himself from the room when Abbie uses the interruption to distance them from the awkward situation, and do a little digging.

"Wow, you baked bread too." She crooned. "A man of many talents, Zoe better keep an eye on you."

"Who?" He asked, setting the rolls on top of the stove.

"Zoe." She said, dipping her chin toward her chest.

His shoulders drooped down as he pulled his fingers from the oven mitts. He had almost forgotten about her. Zoe. The one thing that now reminded him how foolish he was. How silly could he be to think that Abbie entertained any interest in him whatsoever. Women do not make a habit of setting up men they hold romantic affection for with other women, and that is exactly what she had done.

"Oh yes, yes of course. Miss Corinth." He grabbed a couple of rolls and placed them to their plates before rejoining the table.

"Yeah, how's that going?" Quite truthfully that wasn't a that anymore. He wasn't sure that it ever really was. Nonetheless a month after Abbie left, she came by the house, somehow managing to catch him in the small hours he was home. She knew what was going on, that Abbie had disappeared and the police were searching for her, that he was searching for her.

"Come on, Ichabod you've been at this for weeks. It'll do you some good to get out and take a break." She tried for the third time to convince him to come to a lecture at a local museum.

"I'm afraid I cannot. Miss Mills' whereabouts remain unknown, I must continue my search to find her." Ichabod said pouring over his papers.

"You know the police, and FBI have an entire task force devoted to finding for her. I seen a bulletin about her on the news, they even stopped by my apartment because of the loose connection I have with her through you." Zoe informed him, noticing he hadn't looked up from his books and papers.

"I've offered to help and…"

"—I am aware, and I thank you for that," Ichabod said cutting her off. "However this is something that I must contend with on my own." He said flipping a page.

"Why?" She asked throwing her hands up. For the first time since she'd come in he looked up at her.

"I beg your pardon?" He questions.

"I mean why do you feel that this is something you personally need to do alone, when the entire police department is already searching for her. I know she means a lot to you, but"

"—Everything to me." He corrected.

"Excuse me?" She asked stringing her brows together.

"She means everything to me." He repeated in a tone so definitive it left little to question. He held his eyes firm to hers so that she understood his meaning. So this conversation would never need to take place again, so she could see him as he was and stop wasting her time, so there would be no further interruption in his. There was more said, questions, regrets, apologies, and well wishes. But nothing that made any difference in the long run. He would have liked to have said that he sent her a card, perhaps some flowers thanking her for her friendship and the time she spent with him. In truth he hadn't thought of her since that day, he hadn't thought of anything that wasn't concerning Abbie since the day she'd disappeared.

"Crane." Abbie called, trying to gain his attention.

"Yes." Ichabod said coming out of his daze.

"How are things going with Zoe?" She asked taking a sip of water.

"Oh yes. We decided that we are better suited as friends." Ichabod responds.

"Oh. I'm sorry to hear that Crane. She seemed like a nice girl." Abbie says.

"She was, and don't be. It was for the best."

Abbie wanted to ask if this decision had anything to do with her disappearance, but she already knew it did. He was her best friend, if it were him who'd disappeared she would have done everything in her power to find him. That leaves little time for a social life. Her eyes widened as she watched the spider that had gone into hiding make his triumphant return and scuttle across the floor. She pulled her feet into her seat and stood up in terror.

"Lieutenant?!" He stated, standing to his feet. He turned to see what she was looking at and saw the spider on the prowl. He stepped on it, secured it in a paper towel coffin and tossed it into the waste basket.

Abbie slowly lowered herself back into her seat. She knew she had some things she needed to work out, this ultra-hyper fear of spiders had to go. She was never particularly fond of them, but damn, this was out of control.

Ichabod returned to his seat and stared at her. Feelings of inadequacy bubbled up inside of her for a moment. She hated feeling this way, like she was weak, like she somehow wasn't living up to the level of what others expected her to be. What he expected her to be. She sat up a little straighter, feeling somewhat affronted as she met his glare. He was different too, and if he thought she didn't notice he was mistaken. She thought back to the evening before. It wasn't the crying, she'd cried a little as well, but everything that followed after showed how jarred he'd been by all of this.

After they had picked themselves up off the floor, he'd cleaned out the tub and ran her a bath while she sat on the toilet shivering beneath his bathrobe. He excused himself so that she could remove her bra and underwear, sending Jenny in to assist her, but he never left from outside of the door.

"Abbie?" Jenny spoke through a tearful gaze.

"Don't." Abbie said as Jenny helped her into the water. "You're my little sister, I'd do anything for you. I've said it before, but I need you to know…I'm sorry about what happened, I should have protected you." Abbie cried.

"I'm sorry I didn't listen." Jenny cried. "I know that you were just trying to keep us safe…to keep us together."

"Unh-uh, you did the right thing." Abbie said lifting her hand to her sister's cheek. "I am so proud of you, Mama would have been so proud of you." She stated.

The pair sat silently for a while before Jenny spread conditioner throughout Abbie's hair and began going through it with a wide tooth comb. A stubborn tangle, and a half-hearted yelp later, and Ichabod was in the doorway.

"Lieutenant." Abbie looked up, as Jenny leaned in front of her sister's naked form.

"She's okay Crane." She reassured him.

But he didn't move he just stood there, not wanting to leave her side.

"Crane. I got this." Jenny smirked in disbelief.

"Yes I understand, only…" He hesitated. "Only what?" Jenny asked.

"You're hurting her." He said quietly.

Jenny sighed. "I'm not trying to Crane, her hair has a few more tangles than normal." She stated.

"Start at the tips." He advised her.

Jenny's eyes flare as she stares up at him. The balls on this motherfucker, is he really trying to tell me how to comb curly hair? She thinks.

"I appreciate your help, but"

"—As I appreciate yours," He interrupts. He glanced down noticing she wasn't using the proper conditioner. "It's simply…" He twiddled his thumbs, "Already you've done so much, perhaps you should like to rest for a spell, and I will take over." He offered.

"Uhhhh." Jenny turned a wide eyed gaze to Abbie. He'd helped her before. A year or so ago when a battle with a demon left her unable to lift her arm for a few days. But that was different, he'd detangled her hair using a spray bottle at the kitchen table, not in the bathroom while she was stark naked.

A weary Abbie looked at her sister, and gave a subtle nod towards the door. "It's cool." She said. "Really, it's not a big deal."

Jenny's mouth hung open. "Ohhhh-kay." She smiled handing the comb to Ichabod. "Weird, witness, bond thing again. I get it." She said, even though she really didn't. Jenny leaned forward and pressed her lips to her sister's cheek.

"I'm going to see if there's anything in the kitchen we can pass off as dinner." She said raising to her feet. "Take care of my sister." She ordered patting Crane on the shoulder.

"I will indeed." He replied just as she left the bathroom.

Ichabod purposefully avoided looking down into the tub, even though Abbie was hidden beneath a thick layer of foamy bubbles. He walked over to the cabinet and removed the conditioner she'd once stated provided the best slip, grabbing her preferred detangling brush on the way.

"I can do it you know." Abbie stated weakly, knowing full well she couldn't. The poison from the soot would fatigue her muscles for hours yet to come.

He took a seat on the stoop beside the tub, and took the ends of her hair in hand. "I know."

After her bath Ichabod closed his eyes, and stood in front of the tub with a fresh bathrobe. He felt her arms slipping into the sleeves but waited until she gave the okay to open his eyes. Abbie couldn't understand what was going on with her body, the exhaustion she felt was literally staggering. Ichabod overlooked the first wobble of her knee, but when she nearly toppled over again he grabbed her and scooped her up unto his arms. Abbie offered up weak resistance.

"Just give me one second, I just need a minute to get my feet under me." She pled, but the dour expression across Ichabod face told her he was having none of it. He pulled her closer to his chest.

"You cannot chance a fall. You could hurt yourself, your noggin. I've not seen you return from all impossibility to risk losing you to unsteady footing." He asserted. She stared at him silently for a moment, his face still displaying the turmoil of the day. She worried over them while she was gone, and it was apparent he'd taken things even harder than she thought he would. As much as she wanted to try to walk, she could appreciate how frightening all of this was for him, so she didn't press it. Her head nuzzled against his chest let him know he had won the battle. He carried her up the stairs to her bedroom, and gently nudged the door shut with his elbow before lowering her to her bed.

"According to all that I have learned, the soot that covered your body will wreak havoc upon your joints," He stated walking over to her dresser, and pulling open a drawer. "But it is quite temporary. In the morrow, you shall be good as new, though I caution you do not attempt walking before then."

"Alright." She agreed, eyeing him as he stepped around the room, going from drawer to drawer gathering her clothes. Sweats, T-shirt, socks, She mentally listed, Wait a minute! How the hell does he know exactly where my bra and panty sets are? Ichabod turned around and could immediately discern what she was thinking. Bits of scarlet appeared across his cheeks as he slightly bowed his head.

"I took the liberty of putting your things away whilst you were gone." He offered quietly. Abbie smiled through a slight nod.

"Thanks." She held up the bra he'd given her and directed him toward the cotton ones she preferred at night. It was a struggle, but thankfully she was able to put everything on by herself. Abbie looked down at her sloppily worn attire, and laughed to herself. Hell, at least it's on.

"All clear you can turn around—Whoa! She shrieked, having tried to take a step without thinking. The room went sideways as she instantly found herself falling forward.

"Abbie." Ichabod yelled, sliding across the floor barely catching her before she fell. He sat her back upon the bed and stood in front of her.

"Did you not hear me?!" He spoke a little more bitterly, and a lot more loudly than she was used to him speaking to her.

"I said don't." He scowled glaring down at her.

He was upset, but she knew that his reaction had much more to do with her sacrificing herself than the steps she'd just attempted. His wording, the way he said don't made that much clear. She couldn't help but to recall that 'don't' was the same thing he'd said to her before she carried the shard into the tree. The look on his face still seared into a space in her memory that she couldn't let go. It was difficult to reconcile the fact that the best thing she had ever done for Jenny, was the worst thing she'd ever done to him. She kept her head high and held her gaze to his, even though it pained her to look at him. Even though she had no excuses or explanations. How could she say sorry for something she would do all over again? How could she say anything with him standing over her bed looking like he wanted to hug and kill her at the same time.

"I'm sorry I hurt you." She breathed, teary eyed as he stared down at her. The consternation strung across his face grew soft at the sound of her voice. Strong fingers brushed across her cheek and gently cupped her face as he sunk to his knees, eyes fatigued with regret.

"I always hurt you." She continued.

"No, no, no, forgive me." He whispered bringing his head to rest upon hers. "Forgive me." He sighed, coiling his arms around her middle. He couldn't believe the way he'd just screamed at her after all she'd been through. He pulled back alarmed as his fingers followed his eyes to a dark bruise along the top side of her arm. Abbie could feel the concern and intensity in his gaze, her fingers flittered to cover the bruise of which she offered an explanation as his eyes returned to hers.

"It's nothing. The tree."

"What tree?"

"The one you found me in. The tree of life. It wasn't trying to hurt me. It saved me." She confided. "It picked me up, and pulled me to safety."

"The tree of life…as in…" Ichabod's mouth crept open.

"As in the Garden of Eden. I have so much to share with you." She whispered. Pandora…that tree she's planted…it's not any tree, its"

"—The Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil." He answered somehow unsure of how he knew. Abbie nodded her head.

"Ichabod." She whispered, startling him with the use of his first name. If there was ever an occasion where a person had spoken his name in a more desirable manner, he couldn't recall it.

"I think we did something bad." She continued. "I think we destroyed the garden." He hated the anguish he saw spread across her face. The back side of his hand smoothed across her cheek as if he could wipe it away.

"How do you mean?" He asked

"When I was there I saw all of these flashes of moments across time. Choices. I still haven't straightened things out for myself, but as soon as I do, I'll share it with you."

He was confused and curious, but he knew that she would tell him everything he needed to know in due time. For now he pulled her into his arms, holding her in his embrace. Her stomach jumped and flipped as his hands wrapped around her waist.

"I was so worried that you would be hurt." He whispered lowering his head until his lips set beside her cheek. She bowed her head and she rubbed her hands up his chest, quickly finding herself short of breath from the feel of his heart thumping beneath her fingertips.

"I feared I would not make it in time." He confessed, as Abbie pulled her chin up, rubbing her cheek against his un-groomed beard.

"You did." She said. "You always do." Abbie smiled as she lay her lips against the height of his cheekbone, and left the softest kiss he'd ever received.

"Thank you." She said quietly, before pulling back to look him in the eyes. "For coming for me." She breathed. "Thank you." She repeated with unmistakable sincerity. Her fingers slipped through the mountain of hair covering his face, gently toggling it between her grip. She couldn't help but smirk at the overgrowth which quickly drew a smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes.

"There was no time for vanity." He attested.

"I see that." She laughed, letting her hands fall from his face.

"Lieutenant."

"Hmm."

"I shall always come to where you are." He vowed. Abbie feels the weight in the room shift. He was constantly saying things like that, but being as they were, knowing a little more of them, him centered between her open legs, hands for some reason still loosely drawn around her waist, it felt different. Her pulse rolled together in a continuous lull, as she tried to pull her thoughts together. Just when she thought she'd gathered them, that she might speak, she felt the side of his face press against hers, causing an instant fever to blister through her body. Ichabod slowly lowered his head, brushing the tip of his nose up the side of her neck, before he drug it beneath her chin and softly nudged it upward.

Dear God in Heaven, in inward voice screams through Abbie. How in the hell did we get here, she wonders as she drops her head back, surrendering fully to his subtle maneuver. His hands fall to her sides against the mattress, the weight of him causing the round of her bottom to slip to the edge. His deep breaths caress her neck, and suddenly a hint of his voice mingles with it sending an illicit rush careening through her. His hands lock around her thick hips, and the next thing she knows her bosom arches up against his chest. If that wasn't bad enough her shady ass legs widened like they suddenly had strength. Oh you can't support your body weight, but you'll open wide to let the dick close. She silently shamed herself. So there she was, in his embrace, legs spread almost begging him to push forward. So he did—firmly, with a soft grunt. It would have seemed the temperature in the room was thirty below zero from the way her body shook and shivered. Ichabod was rendered useless by the sound of the,

"Ooph," that slipped from her throat telling him that she felt him. He mumbled her name just as he pressed his lips to her throat and the spark that he felt in it was blinding. He can't function, but he somehow finds the strength to drag his mouth from her throat and run it along the supple skin covering her jawline. He looks into her eyes then, awaiting invitation, and finding it in the way her eyes alternate glances between his lips and his eyes. And then the beautiful mahogany eyes he had come to adore, disappeared along with his hesitation. In that moment the man who remember everything forgot. He forgot his manners, he forgot that they aren't the only people in the world, let alone the house. Perhaps had they not been so entranced they would have heard Jenny's footsteps down the hall, or at least heard her sharp knock seconds before she entered. Seconds before they almost kissed.

Ichabod sprang up while Abbie quickly jumped back.

"Heeeeeyyyyyyyy!" Jenny said bug eyed. She hadn't really seen anything, just a lot of quick movement and now the two of them sitting side by side looking guilty as sin.

"Yeah." Abbie said picking one of her legs up and lifting it over the other one. Jenny's eyes bounced between the two of them suspiciously. If it were any other day but today, she would have so much fun with this situation.

"Dinner." She smiled, lifting her eyebrows at Abbie.

"Okay thanks." Abbie replied winded, as Ichabod chimed in. "Thank you Miss Jenny."

"Anytime." Jenny smirked, before retreating from the room, and pulling the door shut behind her.

As soon as Ichabod heard her down the hall he stood and immediately went into apology mode.

"Miss Mills I am unspeakably horrified as to my treatment of"

"—Crane." She said, raising a hand to silence him. She couldn't do it. It was awkward already, with him apologizing but not being quite able to look at her while he did it.

"Let's just…look, it has been a long, and I mean long, emotional day…we should just." She sighs, and tries to find her words. "We're friends you and I."

"Yes." He agrees.

"Close, close friends, who just went through a very harrowing experience. Our emotions are everywhere right now. What just happened, could've happened to anyone going through a similar experience so….I think we should keep it in perspective and try not to be too hard on ourselves, and honestly just forget about it. I mean clearly we are not, you know…that."

Ichabod is stunned silent for a moment. The pendulum swings and his heart squeezes under the weight of gravity. Because a minute ago it felt like they were exactly that. But as she said the day had been long, perhaps she had merely been too fatigued to ward off his advances. He considered, feeling terrible.

"Of-course. We are as you said, close friends. I would never want anything to jeopardize our bond. I apologize if my actions this evening have done anything to bring that about."

"What actions." She asked, eyes straining upward. "See how I did that? Forgotten, we're good." She said offering him a fist bump. He looked down at her, and reluctantly pressed his fist to hers.

"Yes. I do indeed." Ichabod responded, brooding. "Thank you for your understanding." He spoke.

"No big deal." Abbie said. But it was a big deal, it was a problem. Her faith in Ichabod was a problem. Letting him get too close to her again was a problem. One that she had tried her absolute hardest to gain control over, and somehow still managed to come up short. For a girl who operated as she did, by maintaining composure, by retaining control, nothing could have been more terrifying. She'd lived her entire life not trusting others, but she didn't know how to live like this, not trusting herself. But here he was again, closer to her than any other soul had ever been….and she couldn't trust him, she couldn't trust herself with him.

Jenny had added rice, meat, and veggies to some bone broth Abbie had prepared and frozen months ago. Everyone gathered and ate in the living room as it was where Abbie could sit most comfortably. She filled them in a little on her experiences, spending a little time speculating about what Pandora and The Hidden One might be up to.

"I mean I guess I don't understand how you know all of this stuff if you were trapped the whole time." Jenny stated.

"Just trust me, it's true." Abbie stated, with a deep yawn. "Excuse me." She yawned again. It was clear that Jenny wanted to press her for more information, but Abbie's second yawn sent Ichabod's eyes falling upon the clock, giving her the not so subtle hint that perhaps they had overstayed their welcome.

"It is quite late, we shall take the night and reconvene in a few days. Your sister needs rest." He dictated. "Of course you're both welcome to stay." He invited, but Jenny knew he was just being polite. It was fine by her though, she knew she never needed to worry about Abbie when he was around. Hugs and kisses ensued and she and Joe were out the door. She smiled resting her head against him, as he took her hand on the way to the car. She shook her head.

"Just yesterday, I was wondering how I would ever begin to clear this place out. To get rid of all of their things. To say goodbye."

Joe glanced over at her smiling.

"And now they're back." Jenny continued, unable to keep the grin off of her face.

"Well, looks like maybe I'm not the stupidest person you ever met after all." He joked, remembering how furious she was with him when Crane left.

"Can I be like, I don't know maybe the second stupidest person you ever met now, or am I still number one on the list." He asked. Jenny stopped and draped her arms around his neck.

"Oh you're number one alright…much different list." She said sweetly before nipping at his lips in a teasing fashion.

"Ohhhh, so is this like the good list, because I legitimately thought you were going to blow my head off when I was on your bad list?" He asked dropping his hands to her waist.

"Better than the good list." She said before placing her lips in front of his ear. "Different head, much different blow."

Joe stood motionless with his mouth gaped wide open. When she released him and finished the journey to the car it took him a moment to get his wits about him and chase after her.

Inside, Abbie was finally starting to find some peace of mind. It was a slip up, a minor one at that, she told herself. She focused all of her energy into doing just what she'd instructed him to do. Forget. It wasn't easy, especially with the timorous manner in which he was treating her. She was used to being the solid one, the one who took care of them. She provided the shelter, she kept them fed, scheduled their medical and dental appointments and saw to it that they were kept, because she took care of them.

And now that it was his turn, she didn't know how to react to it.

"Are you hurt…Are you chilled, I can retrieve another blanket...Would you like a cool drink…I can spoon you up another serving of soup if you wish for more to eat." He asked and offered a bit after Jenny and Joe had gone. She shook her head from side to side after each query not quite having the energy or the courage to tell him that the only thing she wanted was him. Just his company, the companionship the shared as friends and witnesses. She was content there by his side, curled up on the couch in front of the space-heater he'd slid in front of her. She shuddered recalling her time away, trying to understand how a place with so much fire could be so damned cold. It was warm here with him, she feels a safety in their togetherness that she loved but at the same time wished she didn't feel.

"I've no wish to be a bother, but…if there is anything, anything at all that you might need. I am here." He pledged. Abbie pulled her eyes to his and strung a thoughtful gaze across the living room. She felt her teeth gently tugging at the flesh from the backside of her bottom lip.

"I know." She replied letting her head fall back against the sofa. For how long, she wondered.

Hours later after the candles were half burned, and tiny shimmers of moonlight danced across the living room floor, she woke as long sturdy arms lifted her body from the couch. Ichabod looked down as lengthy lashes fluttered open before eyes that held more confusion then he'd ever seen in them. She stared at him a moment, between small blinks, and he watched as the confusion disappeared.

Her hand slipped up against his chest and rested a moment before her wee fingers curled around his shirt. His heart seized at her small gesture, only to beat uncontrollably when she rested her head against his chest and promptly returned to sleep. He carried her to her bed feeling smaller than he ever had before, the bliss of her homecoming overshadowed by the full recognition of all that she was to him. She came back this time, but somewhere in the back of his mind loomed the fear that she might go again. The fear that the next time he might not be so lucky.

"Welcome home Lieutenant." He whispered as he pulled her blankets over her. He stood over her bed, not quite able to bring himself to leave the room. It was hours later before he allowed himself a seat at the foot of her bed, and another hour after that before he stopped arguing with himself and laid down.

Abbie pulled her napkin to her lips and dabbed the corners of her mouth. "Thank you again." She said looking down at her mostly cleared plate of beef and veggies.

"It was my honor, truly. I am infinitely grateful that you are once again where you belong." He replied behind a pained smile.

"It was…" Dreadful, horrible, insufferable "Difficult being here without your presence." He stated. Her lips closed as she tried to offer a small smile, unfortunately the lack of truth behind it forced it into becoming this sort of half smile, and half awkward smug look. She looked away a little embarrassed by it, and her eyes expanded as they fell upon the cantaloupe sized hole in her kitchen wall. She quickly turned her eyes to his, honestly more curious than upset, but he started right in offering apologies.

"Lieutenant I, I can explain." He stuttered raising his pointer finger. "Rather, there is quite a reasonable explanation as to what transpired. I apologize for the destruction of your property—wall, I want to assure you that I have every intention upon repairing the damage, I merely have not gotten around to it because…you see there has been no time." He confessed reaching his hand around his glass of water.

"What happened?" She asked squinting at the wall before quickly returning her eyes to his. It was only then the she noticed his knuckles, swollen and bruised. Her mouth opened as he quickly slipped his hand from the table and rested it upon his lap. Now he was the one with the evasive eyes, head hanging forward from embarrassment.

He watched her sit her fork down, and, placed his to the table as well wondering if he'd upset her. Abbie stares across the table at him, eyes falling to his long lissome fingers flaring in and out uncontrollably against the table top. His reaction to stressful situations was the same. His facial hair, now shaved and back to its normal length was the same, and his sky colored eyes were still the kindest that she had ever seen, but he was different. Because the Crane of old wouldn't have curled up at the foot of her bed clutching her ankles in the dead of the night. He wouldn't have punched a hole in her wall, and he for damn sure wouldn't have touched her the way he had yesterday evening. But he did. The last few years she'd spent more time talking to him than anyone else in the world, so how is it that they'd left so much unsaid?

"Miss Mills," He started tentatively…

There was a sudden rap against the door interrupting him, and their eyes collided as if to ask if the other was expecting someone. Ichabod sat back annoyed as he pulled the dinner napkin from his lap and tossed it to the table.

Ichabod peered out of the front window and immediately recognized the erratically parked truck in the driveway.

"Mr. Reynolds." Ichabod said, opening the door.

"Where is she?" Danny asked stepping through the screen, and entering the living room.

Ichabod rolled his eyes as he closed the door. "Won't you be so kind as to come in?"

"Abs, Abs, you here?!" Danny called through the house.

Abbie's petite frame appeared at the edge of the room.

"Abs." He said relieved. Too excited to move for fear that everything he felt for her would come falling out.

"Alive and well, not having suffered some unfortunate demise at the cause of my hand as you have so ridiculously suggested this past month." Ichabod snaps standing behind him. He was still heated about being hauled in for questioning, the day he spent being interrogated could have been used searching for a way to free Abbie. He'd promised hell and woe if Abbie were harmed do to the frivolous distraction.

Danny frowned up and turned to face him. "I don't know what kind of nonsense you've gotten her involved in, but it ends today." He argued pointing at the floor.

"I do not know." Ichabod repeated. "I believe those are the most veridical words that I have ever had the pleasure of hearing you speak. Perhaps you should say them more often instead of making wholly unfounded accusations for which you can offer NO justification."

"Hey, take it down." Abbie interjected.

"Yeah you might want to listen to your roomy, her sister isn't here to save your ass today." Danny threatened stepping closer to his adversary. Ichabod laughed, dismissively, leaning in until he was just inches from Danny's face.

"The notion that I shall be the one in need of salvation is hillarity, as I stated before sir, and I use that term loosely, I believe you piss more than you drink." Ichabod snapped sharply. Abbie jumped between them just as their fists were clenching.

"Enough. Stop it, both of you!" She yelled.

She turned to Danny. "This is not why I called you." She stated. Ichabod's eyes nearly ballooned out of his head.

"You, called him?" He asked, as a smug smile touched Danny's lips.

"You heard her, she called me." He boasted puffing his chest out. "The question is, with as many times as I've been around here to check on her, why didn't you? Roomy." He added. Ichabod fingers flexed and bent at his side, as he felt his confidence draining from his body. She'd slept late, and remained in her room most of the day, surely a sign that she was avoiding him. Still a part of him hoped that she was merely pampering herself a bit after her ordeal, especially when she came out with her hair styled as it was. But this, conversing with Mr. Reynolds he did not suspect. Did she want him? He wondered. She hadn't even been home a full day, and in that time they had barely spoken, but she'd called upon Mr. Reynolds. He was the one she'd chosen to speak with, to confide in. His heart tightened.

Abbie started to remind Ichabod that Danny was her boss, that is if she still had a job, but she didn't get a chance to say anything because Danny smothered her with a hug that lifted her from the ground.

"I'm so happy you're okay, I was going crazy…" Danny looked up to find Ichabod still standing there glaring at him. "Look can we go someplace and talk? I really need to talk to you—alone." He pleaded through a sorrowful gaze.

Abbie took a deep breath, she could tell from his tone the issues he wished to discuss had nothing to do with work, and even though it wasn't the best time, they needed this. His fingers clutched her elbows as he awaited her answer.

"Yes." She replied. "Just let me grab my things." She said motioning to a pair of boots by the door.

"Lieutenant." Ichabod started in a cautious tone.

"—Crane." She gave a slight turn of her head, letting him know that she'd made a decision. He hadn't let her out of his sight since she returned but he knew he couldn't keep watch over her forever. He should have said something. Asked her not to leave, perhaps demanded that Mr. Reynolds did, but as the saying goes old habits die hard, and he had a long history of holding his tongue with her. So he said nothing, he stood there, gutted, and heartbroken as he watched another man usher her out of their home. He watched as he opened the door to his truck, take her hand, and help her inside…and then he watched him drive off with the love of his life. He stood there a long while, motionless peering across the room through the half curtained window, images of them together taunting him, long after they'd gone.

---

Nearly six hours later Abbie pushed her key through the doorknob, and entered the dark house. Her first instinct was to turn on the light but she fought through it. She needed to regain her strength, to get back to being herself, she isn't in the Fallen Garden anymore, and she doesn't need the light on. She sat her house keys down gently, and bent her ear towards Ed Sheeran playing in the background. He must have fallen asleep listening, she thought half smiling. He never took much interest in her music, she wondered what other things of hers he found use for during the months she was away. The acoustic version of One drifted through the house and stopped her breath. She'd long ago added this to the list of songs that she couldn't bear listening to. She'd even started a playlist entitled Stop Doing This Shit to Yourself, where she kept all of the songs that made her think of him while he was away. This one in particular, severed her. There was something about it that felt too personal…too close to home. Even now she could feel the words settling over her, slipping into the spaces that hid the bulk of her hurt.

Just stay with me

Oooh All my senses come to life

When I'm stumbling home as drunk as I

Have every been and I'll never leave again

'Cause you are the only one

And all my friends have come to find

Another place to let their hearts collide

Just promise me you'll never leave again

'Cause you are the only one.

A familiar pain stabbed her heart as she entered the dark living room. She'd assumed he'd fallen asleep on the couch or in his chair, in fact she could almost see him there sleeping, so she's genuinely surprised to find both of them empty. He must have gotten distracted and forgot he left the stereo on, she reasons. She's four feet into the dark living room when the music stops and his voice calls out from behind her.

"Good evening." He states.

A startled Abbie whirls around to find Ichabod sitting on the floor against the wall by the entryway. She breathes a sigh of relief, palm meeting her chest.

"Crane." A quizzical smile touches her lips. "You scared me." She gasped, still trying to settle her nerves. He sees she's safe now, he could simply head to his room and retire for the evening. A part of him wants to, he's exhausted. The other part of him realizes that the precise reason for that exhaustion is standing directly in front of him, and though there may be solace in his head meeting the pillow, there will be no rest. Because he's sat here asking himself the same question from the moment she walked out of the door, and he doesn't think he can survive another minute without learning the answer.

"Are you in love with him?"

Abbie's shoulders immediately hunched up a bit as her head dipped down a smidgen. A crease appears between her brows as she tried to gain his meaning. She had come to recognize that flat, orotund tone he used when he sought to avoid mincing words and wanted to get straight to the matter. She would close her mouth or at least place a palm in front of it if she realized how widely it hung open. Suddenly the room feels bigger, or perhaps it's her that's become smaller she reasons unable to decide. Whichever it is by her count she's at least ten thousand steps from the place she entered the room, and another ten thousand from the nearest exit. She heard what he asked, clearly, so why is it that she says,

"Excuse me?" Instead of answering his question. Month's ago after she had told him to mind his business he had done just that. Her love life, or lack thereof was one of the growing lists of things that they didn't speak about. She squints through the darkness in an attempt to catch a better glimpse of his face, and hears the floor creak slightly as he eases up off of it. His presence grows as he rises to his feet, her eyes once bent toward the floor now bend upward to follow his barely visible figure. Beams of moonlight shine across his torso, but his face remains obscured by the darkness, so how is it that something inside of her knows his exact expression. The way he always looks at her when he knows well she's heard the question he'd asked. She's sharp as anyone he'd ever met, nothing got by her, and he knows her excuse mes and what nows are just devices that assisted in stalling.

"Are you in love with him?" He repeats, as earnestly as he had the first time.

She's stunned silent and remains quiet for nearly a full minute.

"No." She says finally, just as he's calling her name in want of an answer. She hears his breath hit the air, and his next question comes out in a quick urgent huff, but softer this time.

"Do you want him?" He asks.

"What now?"

"Do. You. Want him Abbie?" He repeats, "Do you want him?!"

Even though she can't quite see his eyes, she feels them raking through her. The veil lifts, and it's obvious what he means now but she doesn't know how to answer him. He's asking her if she wants Danny, but the fluctuation in his voice makes plain what he is really trying to say. Do you want me? Months of buried emotion and hurt feelings find their way to the surface.

"You left." She says barely above a whisper.

He doesn't speak, but she hears him shuffling about, and sees his figure moving toward the light-switch. The light that fills the room is soft and low, but still manages to feel like an intrusion. It was easier to speak freely under the cover of darkness, to give voice to the things that ailed her without being made to look into his eyes.

The moment he sees her, he notes her change in wardrobe, and grows positively ill. He glowers at her, only to have her look away, eyes pulled into a thousand yard stare upon the flooring across the room. He watches her arms fall into a loose fold across her lower abdomen before he blinks, and looks off. She's wearing a shirt multiple sizes too big for her, and he knows instantly that it isn't hers, nor is it the article of clothing she'd left home wearing. To make matters worse, her hair hangs wild and free fully displaced from the neat style she'd had it in when she left. She's bedded him, and though he makes an attempt to appear unaffected, he isn't, and it quickly shows. His face and ears burn, but the feeling is nothing compared to the misery rising through his chest. By the time her eyes return to him, his features have grown hard with outrage and indignation. Abbie looks beyond his scathing glare, and catches view of his fingers repetitively flexing in and out against his side. The windows and doors are shut, but there's been an unmistakable change in the air between them.

Ichabod knows in his bones what he wants, he blames himself for not going after it sooner, for not going after her sooner. He looked at her knowing that she had no idea of all that she was to him, or how greatly he cared for her. If she did she wouldn't be here this way. After last night he'd begun to wonder, if perhaps she did know and had simply chosen to ignore it to spare his feelings. On countless occasions he's had to turn his head in haste after she'd noticed him gazing at her with his heart stitched about his sleeve. He'd been certain long ago that she would come to realize his regard for her when he continuously found himself at odds with her male admirers. Detective Morales, her fallen comrade Andrew Brooks, and how could he forget the privateer Nicholas Hawley. There was something different about her, an ingenuity that seemed to lure suitors in by the throng. He was thankful in that prior to now, she had made no allowance for them, but he was foolish to think this wouldn't happen eventually. He, himself found her to be the most fascinating and perplexing woman that he had ever known, of course other men wanted her…she was perfect. He'd spent countless hours trying to comprehend how she harbored such an untamable spirit yet carried herself with such reserve. It was the tightest of ropes he walked being the man in her life, while not technically being the man in her life, and he doesn't know how in God's heaven he's managed it this long. He knows he has no right to feel slighted, she's free as is he…only his heart doesn't feel that way, and because of this, he doesn't fully understand how hers does. He makes an effort to rein in his emotions but every time he looks at her they're set free. Because someone's had her, and he wants her. Because there is a possibility that he could have had her, and he wasted it. Because he never envisioned her moving on in the way that she has. Because he's asked her a question that she has yet to answer, and he worries what that might mean. Abbie sighs, raising her arms up higher in front of her chest, wondering how long he's going to stand there staring at her like she'd just killed his dog.

"You left me alone." She repeats slowly. Ichabod sighs trying to ward off images of her and Danny together, not fully able to appreciate what she's saying at the moment.

"I did." He admits, remorsefully bobbing his head in a nod. "You found company." He adds snidely.

An intense scowl overtakes her features, and her gaze finds his eyes.

He feels terrible, and knows he's being petty but he can't help it. He couldn't even look at another woman when he was gone, and it wasn't because he was without offer or encouragement, he simply wanted her. He imagines the worst. His jaw twitches at the thought of his recently sworn enemy kissing the lips he had so long wanted to taste. Fondling the wondrous backside that kept him habitually adjusting his cock every time she wore something snug fitting. Worst of all he imagines that she'd shared the inner most parts of herself, stories and secrets he'd hoped only he'd be so privileged to hear. In truth, though it makes him feel terrible, he can't be angry about her relationship with Mr. Reynolds while he was away. But after yesterday, after he'd brought her back from the Fallen Garden, and wept like a newborn child in her embrace…after everything that had happened, happened, he couldn't help but hope that things would begin to be different between them. He knew what she said, that they should just forget it, write it off as some sort of emotional lassitude, but he couldn't. And something in the way that she touched him, in the way that she whimpered when their bodies drew together led him to believe that she couldn't either. He is shaking mad, and has not lost sight of the fact that she never answered his question.

"Does my query not warrant an answer?" He asked, tone sharp and rigid.

"No." Abbie growls.

"No it is not worthy of an answer, or no you do not want him?" He snaps quickly.

"The first."

"So you do want him?" He derives.

Abbie shakes her head in dismay, cutting her eyes at Ichabod.

"Have you been with him?" He inquired, realizing he should stop, knowing he was completely unable. Abbie tilted her head to the side.

"You saw me leave right." She responds annoyed.

"Are you not going to answer?" He asked, just as Abbie realizes what he's asking.

"What are you talking about?"

"—You know exactly what I am talking about, did you fuck him?" He barks angrily.

Her palm whacks across his cheek as soon as the words leave his mouth. She's threatened to do it a few times before in jest, slap the shit out of him, as she so eloquently phrased, but now he realizes it was no exaggeration. The most recent time occurred when he'd been playing his video game and was traitorously murdered by a member of his own team. It was at that point that the lieutenant came passing through the living room.

"Crane you know where the recyclables go? I need you to handle that." She'd stated in response to the half weeks' worth of emptied bottles of iced tea he'd left stationed amongst the coffee table. He'd looked up from the game, eyes following her frame until it disappeared into the kitchen. The moment it did, he swiped his arm sidelong across the table sending the bottles scattering to the floor. He'd slowly leaned back in his chair a proud smirk cast across his lips, as he double tapped two fingers in the symbol of peace against his chest.

"The name is C-Dog." He stated when her head quickly reappeared in the doorway. "Lest you forgot I've done hard time."

She laughed until tears strung from her eyes. "Okay C-Dog, you gon' make me slap the shit outta you." She'd giggled, and just like that his mood was lifted. Because the only thing he needed to do when he fell into a mood was hear her laugh. He felt euphoric that day, knowing he had the power to make her happy that way. To make her laugh until she cried. Now he stood before her starting to gain appreciation of the fact he had the power to push her emotions in the other direction. His jaw throbbed in furious fashion as he tried to comprehend how she'd managed to put so much power into such a swift blow. He eats it though, stands taller even as his eyes meet hers in a unified glare. Embarrassment fills his, while venom fills hers. He's horribly ashamed, wanting to apologize, but not even certain where to begin. He's never spoken to a woman in such a disrespectful manner a day in his life, but then again, this is all new to him, he's never felt this way before. He hasn't quite figured out how to say I am hurt, and angry, and jealous that you have left with him and remained away half the night. So he says nothing. Ichabod breaks the stillness bringing his hand up to push back the hairs her smack has displaced.

"You have no right." She said finally. Ichabod runs his tongue against the inside of the afflicted cheek. When he speaks again the hostility in his voice has been replaced with sobriety.

"That I concede," He acknowledges moistening his lips. "Yet here I stand, without the pretense of such entitlement asking….are you to continue on with him." He adjusts. It isn't his question that's offended her this time, it's the audacity of him to even ask it. The audacity he has to ask her anything after the way he left, after he broke her heart.

"How fucking DARE YOU?!" She tries to speak calmly, but her emotions overcome her and she ends up shouting.

"—BECAUSE I LOVE YOU!" He screams in declaration, grabbing her up by the arms. "I am IN love with you. I always have been." He confesses, pulling her even closer.

Abbie's breath stops under his admission, and she feels herself go limp in his grasp. She staring at him wildly as she feels her heels softly return to the ground. She can't wrap her head around it, not only what he's said, but the way he's said it, as if it were something the entire world knew, as if it were something that she should have just known all along, and was somehow negligent for never realizing. She prays for the strength to pull herself free of his grip, hating herself because of how good his announcement makes her feel. It sinks into her, pulling her apart, and filtering every drop of gravity from her world. She feels almost like a dandelion seed head in his grasp, the ones she and Jenny used to wish on as kids, one quick puff, and she'd blow away. He's the only thing that has ever made her feel this way, but as still and warm, and beautiful as it is, it terrifies her, feeling so fantastically out of control. The sight of him changes the pattern of her heartbeat, the sound of voice blushes her cheeks, and the thrill of even his most innocent touch moistens her panties. He makes everything feel a little bit better, taste a little sweeter, but her trust in him weakens her, and his desertion took her to a place she never wishes to return to. She shrugs herself free of him and stepped back looking into the eyes that made her want to curse and bless the stars in the same breath.

"Love." A hollow laugh leaves her. "Why are you doing this?" She asked through a puzzled gaze. "Why now?"

Ichabod takes a half step forward staring into her glossy eyes. "I never said that timing was my strong suit."

"—You never said anything!" She charged, still getting her bearings.

"You speak as though I have not tried!" He countered. "I attempted to speak with you about all of this upon various occasions." He stated, his lowered palms facing the sky in frustration.

Abbie holds a palm to her chest. "I assume I'm supposed to believe that, neverminding the fact that I was actually there and know it never happened?"

"You assume a great deal. I've lost count of the times I've mentioned having things weighing upon my mind, or causing me distraction, only to have you so graciously supply your evaluation as to how to rectify the situation before actually allowing me leave to state what the situation was." Abbie thought back, perhaps she did have a tendency to over-talk him and finish his sentences, but that was only because she knew him so well.

"Further on every occasion that I have solicited your opinion or asked what you envisioned in regard to our future, you have made it abundantly clear that you had given it no thought."

"That's ridiculous." She argues. "One, I had no clue as to what vein you were relating to when you asked me those things. Two, how could I be expected to think about anything in the future while all hell was literally breaking loose."

Ichabod tries to interject, but Abbie waves him off, and continues.

"Three and most importantly, even if what you're saying is true…and you feel that you love me, your solution was to simply pack up and leave, and you don't call, and you don't contact me for nine months Crane." She reminds him. Tears roll from her large weepy eyes. Heartbroken, he reaches for her, but she shrugs away, and dries them.

"You are a good friend. My best friend, but I'm sorry what you did doesn't feel like love to me." She says in the most brittle voice he's ever heard. "I mean help me to understand, is this the way your love feels?"

"Abbie."

"Unh-uh," She stops him holding up a finger, until she can find her voice. "As I recall, I mentioned something about buying a house, about laying down roots, and the very next day… you tell me you need some time away." She pointed out.

"Christ Crane would you have even called if something didn't go wrong with Katrina's necklace?" She asked.

"I mean hell, you stayed in prison five days before picking up the phone. Me, if I go to prison, I'm calling everybody I know on the first day to get me out. So the only thing that makes sense in any of this, is that you didn't want to see me." He doesn't answer and she realizes the answer through his silence. He doesn't want to lie, and at the same time he doesn't want to hurt her with the truth. She nearly breaks at his silent admission. She starts to walk away but his hand closes around her wrist to hold her in place. She rips it away, feeling sick, but he pulls her to him once more, turning and trapping her between the wall and his body.

"You must understand," He starts, "I had a great many things that I needed to work through. Katrina. Jeremy." Abbie's head falls.

"Do you blame me, is that what this was about?" She cries quietly. "If you need to…as your friend…I understand that, and will carry that for you until the end of time. But tell me, talk to me."

"No." He answers astonished at the question. "Blame you." He states raising a palm to the side of her face. His voice sounds weighted as he tries to speak through his emotion.

"How could I ever blame you, for something which you were never at fault? Katrina, Jeremy, and I share the weight of all that transpired."

"You?" She said surprised, unable to watch him torture himself. "You're a witness Crane, and you did what you were called to do. You did nothing wrong." She stressed, slipping her palm up his chest until it covered his heart.

"—Yes, but I did little right." He responds, remorseful. "Had I shown Katrina more affection, worked harder to restore our marriage to the thing that it once was…attempted to love her."

"—Don't, you did love her."

"Yes. But not the way that I loved you." He responds. "The way that I love you still." His large hand covers hers, pressing it more firmly against his chest.

"That is entirely the reason why I did not return. I loathed the thought of being something that happened to you….that happened to your life. I could not live with that…I could not respect myself had I allowed you to live with that." He informed her, on the verge of tears.

"I wanted….no I needed, to be something that you chose. I wanted you to have a choice Abbie." Abbe rests her head against the wall behind them, feeling herself weakened by her feelings for him. Her eyes soften as he brings a gentle hand to her cheek and brushes away her tears. He can't take seeing her this way, still he is certain that the tears in her eyes are causing him twice as much pain as they are her.

"I made a promise to myself that after all that you have given to me, this much I could surely give you. The choice, you never had. I prayed, unstopping, that you would one day call upon me. That you would call me home." His voice wavers. "That you would call to tell me that I had a home, and when you did not call…"

"You told me that you needed time, I tried to give you that." She replied fighting back tears. "That's why I didn't call. That first week when I didn't hear from you I just assumed that you didn't want to talk. During the second week I tried to tell myself the same, but by the third week Jenny had gone behind my back to run a trace on you because I wasn't sleeping Crane. I couldn't sleep, I shed pounds, I was grieving." She sniffles, feeling his large hands drop down to her waist. He's so close that she feels cocooned by him, like nothing could get to her, nothing could cause her harm. Nothing except for him.

"I was grieving you, I thought I would never see you again." She admits, her breathless whimper slipping across his face as he centered his forehead over hers.

"I'm sorry." He breathes and Abbie's lost at the sound of the strain in his voice. She feels his tears falling against her, even though she can't see them. She lingers in agony desperate to ease his heartache, but at the same time remains wary of her own.

"I love you." He pledges. "You are the last person on earth that I should ever wish to cause pain, or see hurt. I am most overwhelmingly sorry for all of the pain you have suffered by me." He apologized.

"For the way I spoke earlier...I was outside of myself. I can offer no excuse for such deplorable behavior but know that I confess myself both weakened and strengthened by the tiniest hint of your smile. So the thought of any other being the one whom you allow to provide for it…for that soul shifting smile that means everything to me." He adds brushing a few fingers over her mouth, "It kills me Abbe." He whispers placing a soft kiss against her trembling lips.

"It kills me." He repeats, dipping his head lower using his tongue to create passage between her lips. He captures the soft flesh of her upper lip and sucks it gently between his, quivering from the feel of it. All at once Abbie comes alive and he feels the weight of her lips matching his ardor, as she slinks her body against his. He moans shamelessly at the thrilling sensation cascading through his body, hands, grabbing and tugging her firmly against him. Abbie pushes her hands against his chest, and turns her head. After a few heavy breaths she slides away. Ichabod's shoulders raised up and down as he spun around to look after her. His eye's drooped with lust have absolutely no ability to focus, but he gives it a go. He knew the moment his lips met hers, that he'd made a grave error, there would be no coming back from this. Humans, our bodies, all of them are designed to survive. To struggle against the inevitable circumstance of death, and persevere. Given the odds he'd done better than most, but there's something fatal in her lips, he can taste it…and her kiss had killed him a little. Still the moment she pulled away, effectively sparing his life, compulsion pushed him to offer it up again at the altar of the very lips that had nearly taken it before.

"Abbie." He gasps, awestruck.

She's quiet, reddened eyes and sunken brows, face dripping with hesitance. Perspiration dampens Ichabod's skin, as an incredible ache settles in his chest. Even the shallowest of breaths intensify the pain of her having left his arms.

A broken breath slips from her mouth. "I don't think I can do this." She admits. Panic rips through every part of his heart, he can't go back now. Not after having his suspicions so convincingly confirmed. They were made for each other.

"Abbie I know what you are thinking." He states advancing slowly so as not to scare her off. Abbie shook her head as she stepped backward crossing her arms in front of her.

"You have no idea what I'm thinking." She insisted, wishing that they could be together forever, while a part of her wished she'd never met him at all. Her heel collides with the wall and she has no choice but to face him.

"Listen to me Crane, listen to me, please leave me alone." She begged, joining her hands in prayer. "Please. I don't want to get hurt, let's just stay friends." She cried softly.

"I will never hurt you." He promised, steadily moving forward.

"You already have." She returned with an adamance that paused him.

"I did." He admitted tearfully. "I know I've hurt you, but that was then." He cast a hand behind him to show that it was in the past. "I left. Like others. Like your father. But I came back." He stressed, a doleful countenance covered his face. "I came home Abbie. Does that count for nothing?" He pleads, as she turns her head to the side too hurt to even look at him.

"I returned." He whispers wanting to touch her, but needing her to want him to. "Regardless of what circumstance perpetuated it, I am here. And if you allow me to stay I shall never leave again. Please look at me…tell me I am not too late."