a/n: I wanted to write a one-shot conversation about Katrina's inevitable and permanent (in my opinion) return to Abraham after the Baby Moloch incident. I'm not sure how that turned into the following, but it did. I claim no rights to Sleepy Hollow or its magnificent characters, just to any mistakes forth coming.
Duplicity
"Katrina," Crane pleads softly. "I cannot allow this. I will not allow this." Katrina places her hand over Crane's, stilling the nervous tap of his fingers on the chair's wooden arm.
"Please, my love, do not argue. You know this must be." He looks away, gently shaking his head as though his refusal to face the thoughts will simply see them banished. "It has been four days since my escape from Henry. Abraham is certainly searching for me." She shifts on the chair, moving closer to the front edge. "Ichabod, this is the second time I have been taken from Abraham. He has spared your life once, but if he finds me in your presence yet again…"
"You are my wife," he reminds her. "In my presence is where you belong." He steadily meets her gaze.
"One day this war will end," she says, repeating his words as she lifts her hand to his cheek. "And we shall have the life we deserve." He smiles sadly, leaning into her touch. "Until that time, we have so much to accomplish. Abraham and Henry…they work towards the same cause but there is so little trust between them. We must use that to our advantage."
"It is not an advantage when your life is in danger."
"Abraham will protect me." Crane pulls away from her hand and abruptly stands.
"Protect you?" he laughs with a shake of his head. He walks to the far end of the table, wrapping a knuckle along the short length of metal as he moves. "As he protected you from Mary's spirit?" He turns to look at her, the anger brilliant in his eyes. "As he protected you from the demon spawn placed inside your body?" He moves towards her, the volume of his voice rising as he speaks. "Abbie and I discovered the Weeping Lady's true identity. Abbie and I drew the conclusion you were the next target." His fist roughly finds the top of the table. "Abbie and I freed you from Purgatory; saved you from Mary; found the prism that saved your life; defeated Moloch before he could be born into the world." His shouting ends, but his words remain sharp. "Abbie and I, not Abraham."
"And you and Abagail must be allowed to continue this battle, Ichabod. I am of the most service to you as I stand by Abraham's side; learn of his and Henry's plans." He laughs again, quiet and incredulous, and turns away.
"You speak as though you are a soldier under my command."
"We are at war, Ichabod. A war in which you are a Witness. Essentially, I am your soldier." This angers him further, his tell the sudden stiffening of his shoulders. He turns to her.
"What assurance do I have that Henry and Moloch will not attempt another take on your life?" Katrina rises and moves to stand in front of her husband.
"There is no assurance," she answers honestly.
"You and I have finally found each other," he sighs as he takes her hands. "Now I must let you go? Into the hands of the Horseman of Death, no less."
"The Witnesses must be protected at all cost. You must find your peace with that. If you fail, there shall be no world in which to live, in which to plan the future." She searches his eyes, watching his intellect war with his heart. He understands her return to Abraham is a necessary and correct course of action; the information they chance to learn is too valuable to be lacking. Yet her decision means losing the woman he loves. Katrina knows Crane is no fool. Though he chooses not to verbally acknowledge the truth, he knows this moment in the darkened Archives will be their last good-bye. He takes a deep breath and releases her. His hands clench at his sides and his gaze wanders to the ceiling as he attempts to stay a swelling of tears.
"I must tell her." This proposal does not affect Crane and Katrina alone.
"You cannot."
"I must," he insists. His eyes meet hers and again she sees him at war with himself. "She is my partner in this, Katrina. I cannot keep this from her."
"If you tell her, she will try to stop me, Ichabod."
"It is wholly unfair to use her in such a manner and not give her warning." Katrina places a hand on his arm.
"This is not who you are and I know this is a lot to ask of you."
"A lot," he scoffs. "As though deceiving Miss Mills was not a very terrible idea with which to start, you would have me do so in the most inappropriate of ways."
"Abraham must be convinced that what he sees is real."
"Do you not understand the rift this will open between the lieutenant and myself?"
"In short time, Abagail will come to understand your intentions."
"Can you hear your words? She will come, in time, to understand," he mocks. "I'm afraid your stay in Purgatory has sickened your sense of humor, Katrina."
"Ichabod, her anger will pass. This rift of which you speak will not open. You may be tested but your bond shall grow only stronger," she continues quietly.
"I fail to see how this trickery will grow anything other than hatred. I shall fancy myself a lucky man should Miss Mills not impale my head and parade it around town following this."
"Ichabod—"
"Say no more." He clasps his hands behind his back and walks away. He cares for Abbie, deeply; there are feelings that dwell below the surface that he has yet to identify. In good conscious he cannot betray those feelings, her trust, take action that could possibly turn each against the other. They are a team, in every sense of the word, seen and unseen. He will indulge Katrina in part; he will not foil her return to Abraham. However, he will not keep the lieutenant in the dark. When the time arrives, he will tell her of Katrina's design, allow Abbie to choose her own path. "I will do as you ask. Though make no mistake," he says, facing Katrina for the final time. "I do so with the heaviest of hears and against all I hold dear."
"I understand." An awkward moment of silence passes, neither knowing how to express what weighs on their hearts.
"Miss Mills will be here shortly," he states.
"Go to her, before she enters the Archives." Crane nods numbly and Katrina looks to the floor, unable to watch the heart of her love break before her eyes. "I shall make my way shortly after you leave this place."
SH
"Hey," Abbie smiles as she approaches Crane. "I was headed down to get you. It's quittin' time." She tilts her head to the side, eyes scanning the empty hallway behind him. "Where's Katrina?"
"She has remained in the Archives." He gently takes her elbow, speaking quietly as he pulls her close. "Lieutenant, I wish to return to the cabin. Promptly."
"Had enough for one day?" she teases.
"Quite," he answers.
"Okay. Let's get Katrina and we can head out."
"No," he says quickly, blocking her attempt to round his position. "She is…she wanted to look at Sheriff Corbin's journals, to…fill in some of the missing pieces if able." Abbie nods slowly.
"And you're just going to leave her down there? By herself?"
"That is Katrina's wish. No distractions as she studies." The lieutenant opens her mouth to argue but Crane stops her, holding his finger in the air between them. "I can retrieve her in a few hours' time."
"She's not safe here alone, Crane," she argues. "Henry and the horseman know we utilize that space. They've both been through those tunnels. Hell, Henry's actually been in the Archives."
"Katrina will be all right. She is stronger now than in previous days. Her magic will keep intruders at bay." She purses her lips, clearly not happy. "And I have given her my cellular phone," he lies. "Taught her how to contact your phone." Abbie concedes carefully.
"When she's finished with the journals, I'm coming back here with you to get her. Just in case. Got it?"
"Agreed."
"Are you hungry?"
"No. I simply wish to…"
"To go home." She playfully punches his arm. "Let's go."
SH
"You're quiet," Abbie observes as she navigates the last turn of the road. "That bothers me. Immensely." She looks in Crane's direction, unable to control the smile that pulls at her lips. He frowns slightly, glancing at her from the corner of his eyes.
"Why does my silence concern you?"
"Because you are a man of many words, Crane. Many, many words." She rolls her eyes as her attention returns to the road. "And, you like to share those words." She slows the jeep and shifts the gear into park. "So when you're quiet…" Pulling the key from the ignition, she looks at him and shrugs.
"Yes, well…" Abbie chuckles and reaches for the door handle. "Lieutenant?" he calls, placing a hand on her arm. "Do you trust me?" She laughs again.
"What kind of question is that?" As she turns to face him, her smile falls. Etched across his brow is a seriousness she has never seen on him. "Crane?" Shifting her arm, she brings their hands together, wrapping her slender fingers around his. "Of course I trust you. What is this about? What's going on?"
SH
"Katrina!" Abraham shakes his head, removing the last remnants of his reverie and rushes across the dirt yard to Katrina's side. She wraps her arms around his shoulders as he lovingly holds her. "I didn't think I would see you again." He pulls back and places his hands along her cheeks. "Where have you been? What has Henry done to you?" The glaze of tears appears in Abraham's eyes, surprising Katrina. "Are you well?" he whispers.
"I am," she answers. "We have much to discuss, Abraham."
"Henry?" She nods.
SH
"Whoa, back up the turnip truck, Crane. Back it way the hell up." Abbie shifts in the driver's seat, leaning an elbow on the steering wheel as she stares at Crane. "Let me get this straight. Katrina willing went back to the Horseman of Death and you let her?" He refuses to answer, simply staring through the windshield. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"If you would have known, you would have prevented Katrina's departure."
"You're damned right I would have!" she yells. "How could you, Crane? After everything we've done, everything we went through to get her back… How could you just let her walk away?" Her voice breaks and the end of her question is finished in a whisper. Crane knows that Abbie is not only referring to the 'close calls' they have experienced, but also to her stay in Purgatory, his in the pine box.
Not a day passes that he does not wish he could take that time from her, purge her heart and her mind of that darkness.
"As you have pointed out, Katrina is very much her own person. I did not 'let' her walk away," he says quietly.
"You promised me, Crane…we promised each other…We can't have secrets."
"Indeed." His fingers entwine nervously above his knees and he stares at them. "So, in the interest of full disclosure," he starts.
SH
"I did not know," Abraham whispers. He stares at the wall below the window, uncertain if he fully understands all Katrina has shared. "I swear. If I would have known what Henry had planned, those events would not have occurred."
"I know." She reaches for his hand, her touch startling him slightly. "I know you were no part of this." His fingers dotingly tighten around hers and he shifts his gaze to her eyes.
"I will protect you, Katrina. Whatever the cost. You shall be safe." She offers a gentle smile of gratitude but he catches a flicker of sadness cross her eyes. "There is more," he states. "Something else that burdens you." He is quiet for a moment. "Why did you return to this place? To me?"
"Is this not where I am supposed to be?" she counters carefully.
"This is where I want you," he nods. "Though I am…unconvinced that is what you desire."
SH
"Okay…well…oh man." Abbie closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose. So many questions float through her mind, a flurry of words she cannot form into an intelligible sentence. "I need…Yeah, I need a minute." She pulls the handle on the door and quickly exits the vehicle. She paces in the beams of the headlights, hoping for a moment of clarity because she wants to yell, to scream at Crane, but she is unsure of where to start. She vaguely hears the door close as Crane joins her in the night air, keeping a careful distance. It takes a few minutes more before Abbie has calmed her breathing and chooses to acknowledge his presence. She stops her pacing, crossing her arms in front of her chest and leaning all of her weight into one hip.
"It does not need to happen," he says.
"Is that the part you think bothers me?" she questions.
"I can…understand why it may." He frowns, curious of her remark.
"The happening part of it, Crane…that is the farthest thing from my mind right now." She slowly walks towards him, arms now stiff at her sides. "What bothers me is that you conspired with Katrina about all of this and didn't clue me in! I would think a man with your level of chivalry would have thought twice about that."
"I was not meant to tell you any of this," he reminds her. "Katrina's actions were inevitable. This…" He shook his head. "I lied to Katrina when I agreed to keep this part from you."
"More lies," she whispered. "Why can't we fight this war, just this war, and not one among the people who are supposed to be our allies?" She instantly regrets the manner in which the thought leaves her mouth. She is not the only one affected. During the year and a half she has known Crane, he has told her one half-truth, and when confronted, produced all of the details without hesitation. Her momentary falter of trust, born simply from her own fear, was nothing compared to the daily torment he suffers because of Katrina's lies and omissions. "I'm sorry," she says, dropping her gaze to the dried yellow leaves beneath her feet. "I didn't mean…" The headlights turn off, leaving the pair bathed in the dim, orange glow of the cabin's porch light.
"Lieutenant, you must know I would never withhold anything from you without prudence." His words mean to state fact, but his inflection implies a hint of uncertainty in her belief.
"I know," she nods. "'What matters now is that you and I stay true'." She repeats his words in honesty. Her trust is implicit. "Katrina and Abraham will see it?"
"Indeed."
"How?"
"Katrina…has her ways." It is all he can offer.
"It's like a supernatural candid camera," she mutters. She closes her eyes then hears the crunch of leaves as he approaches.
"Abbie." His voice is soft as is his touch when he places his hand on her cheek. She opens her eyes and looks up at him. "The choice is yours and yours alone. Whatever your decision, there will be no harm, no foul between us. I will not allow it." She entertains a fleeting thought, wondering how the incredible blue appearance of his eyes is maintained in the near darkness.
"It has to be convincing," she says. "If Abraham doesn't buy it…"
"He will not accept that Katrina has severed her connection with me."
"She needs his trust." He nods. The irony of Abbie's statement is not lost on either. She returns the nod and kindly pulls away from his touch. She moves towards the cabin, ascending the single step to the porch, and paces its short row of creaky boards. Following the plan puts her in an awkward situation. Regardless of Crane's assurances, things will change. They cannot carry out this stunt with a sole manipulation. This is a charade they must maintain around some, hide from others. However, not playing the part potentially puts Katrina's life in more danger. Despite past grievances, Abbie believes Katrina's intentions are good and heartfelt. And maybe, someday, when this is all over and the end of the world is not on the horizon, she can reunite the Cranes once and for all. The choice may be hers, but she sees only one option. "All right," she says, stopping at the step. Crane walks towards her tentatively, hands clasped regally behind his back. "Let's do this." She takes a deep breath. "Kiss me."
"Are you certain?" He stops in front of her, remaining on the dirt path. Her position on the porch negates almost all of their height difference.
"I've done stranger things." Crane quirks an eyebrow and she feels a warm flush race across her cheeks. "As in Purgatory," she quickly explains. "I've walked through Purgatory. I've shot at demons. Stranger things."
"Ah." His smile tells her he is simply jesting, hoping to dispel some of the strangeness resting between them. He settles his hand behind her head, his fingers gently tangling in her hair. "Abbie," he whispers.
"It's all right, Crane," she whispers in return. "The Horseman of Death will see what he wants to see, Katrina will have his trust. And you and I will live another day to fight another demon." She places her hands on his shoulders and playfully shakes him, a small but reassuring smile gracing her lips. "But don't think this means I'm not still incredibly pissed at you." With the end of her declaration, he presses a lingering kiss to her forehead. An apology, she muses as her eyes close, for the seemingly intemperate actions his is about to take. He pulls back slightly and his lips trace the arch of her eyebrow, drift along her temple. He places a second kiss on her cheek. A promise, I will not hurt you.
When he moves to her mouth, her lips part slightly, a subconscious reaction to his proximity. She senses in this moment that the significance of the changes that lay before them is far greater than she can fathom. His hesitation does not last as long as she expects. If this event were to occur under almost any other circumstance, she would believe him to be teasing her. When his ambivalence finally passes, he covers her mouth completely. He isn't clumsy; he isn't peckish. He kisses her with a genuine tenderness. Crane's fingers, still woven in her hair, tighten ever so slowly along the back of her neck as he circles his arm around her waist. Gently, he transfers her weight to his frame and deepens the kiss. Abbie realizes that he, too, now perceives the unknown implications.
SH
"Katrina," Abraham sighs. "I wish you could have settled over this conclusion before having witnessed it in such a manner." Katrina lets her shoulders drop as she stares at the mirror. The image of her husband kissing the lieutenant wave through its surface.
"You warned me, Abraham, beseeched me to see what was before my very eyes," she says quietly. "I should have listened." Though her heart seizes, she reminds herself that she must be thankful for the last few days with her love, days they were not destined to possess.
"You escaped Henry and found yourself with Ichabod." Abraham turns from the mirror and studies Katrina's profile, void of any emotion. "You could have stayed with him, changed all of this."
SH
Crane relinquishes Abbie's mouth with a slow, almost torturous release. He rests his forehead against hers as both of his hands come to rest along her sides. He had concocted a myriad of approaches to execute this part of Katrina's plot, yet in all of his time pondering the event, he had not given thought to how they will keep this manner of deception believable. Nor had he let himself consider it on a personal level. The rhythm of Abbie's breathing is uneven, as is his own, and for the first time he reflects over Katrina's words. You may be tested but your bond shall grow only stronger. He wonders if he and Abbie are fated to travel this path.
"You should stay here tonight." His hands remain at her sides, his fingers tightening around her jacket to keep her from pulling away. "If only to prolong this scheme of impropriety." She releases a short, breathy chuckle and gently squeezes his shoulders.
"All right."
SH
Katrina tears her eyes from the mirror and regards Abraham. The brilliance of General Washington once allowed her to believe their fates could change. Yet as the blood of the first Witness mingled with that of the Horseman of Death, their hopes proved false. She knows her place in the war, knows the evil around them will encompass her being. She silently renews her vow to fight on the side of good, to see Ichabod and Abigail through their calling until her transformation is complete and her will is no longer her own. She waves her hand and the image on the mirror's surface disappears. Squaring her body with Abraham, she smiles softly. It is time for her to walk her destined path. She lifts her hand, wordlessly inviting him to take hold.
"It matters no longer."