Chapter 2: Parapraxis (n): a slip of the tongue or pen, forgetfulness, misplacement of objects or other error thought to reveal unconscious wishes or attitudes

Pairing: Abbie/Ichabod

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It was gone…just gone - and Abbie was perplexed and a little frantic. Her favorite black long sleeved shirt – the one with the thumb holes - was missing. It was hard to think back that far, a year for her if only weeks for everyone else, but she was sure she'd worn it a few days before walking into that tree.

Upon her return Crane had sheepishly admitted to doing all of her laundry – unmentionables included – and indeed her laundry hamper was empty and everything he'd washed put away in their proper place. But the shirt was not hanging in its usual spot in the closet, or in any of her drawers, or even in the hamper in her closet and a thorough check of the laundry room didn't turn up the missing shirt either.

Standing in the kitchen she frowned deeply, the missing shirt was bothering her far more than it probably should have but it was yet another reminder that she had been gone and life had happened even without her. It was irrational and trivial and yet she was nearly brought to tears over a missing shirt.

"Lieutenant?" His voice cut through her distress and Abbie snapped her head up to find him standing by the breakfast bar, staring at her with a concerned expression. "Is everything all right?"

Schooling her expression back to something more neutral she shrugged. "I seem to be missing my favorite black long-sleeved shirt."

And he blanched.

"Crane?"

"I…I had forgotten all about it," he mumbled at the books he was holding.

"No biggie Crane, I can wash it."

"No…it's…" The books dropped onto the counter and he turned, heading upstairs.

She followed, unsure exactly what was going on. But when he opened his own closet doors and pulled out the missing shirt it became crystal clear what had happened.

"I…I found it at the bottom of your hamper after I had already completed the laundry." He looked at the shirt with an intense expression of sadness, then up at her. "I missed you so very much, Abbie. More than I was capable of admitting to myself. More than I thought physically possible. I never meant to…" Then finally…forlornly, "It still smelled like you. I did not have the heart to wash it."

"Oh, Crane," she sighed and sat at the edge of the bed.

"It was inappropriate and a violation of-"

"It's ok."

He frowned and set the shirt down on the bed. "It is most certainly not ok. And in the excitement of your coming back to me I had forgotten to return it."

"Crane…I spent hours on end talking to you while I was over there. Hours. If I'd had something tangible to hold onto to keep the connection more real I would have." She reached out and wrapped her fingers around his wrist, pulling him down to sit next to her. "I'm not going to get upset over a shirt you held onto. And don't pull any of that seventeen hundreds propriety crap on me."

"At first my intent was to simply give it to Miss Jenny to wash with her similar items – you will be happy to know your laundry lessons were not wasted. But I seemed to forget it every time I knew we would cross paths and it did not seem worth the effort to drive it over to her home. Eventually I simply hung it up in my closet, with my things. It made me feel…closer to you."

As he had been talking, Crane's hand had rotated palm up and now Abbie's fingers moved and laced with his so they were gripping onto each other.

"I get it Crane," she laughed a little. "And it is ok."

Suddenly he looked nervous and his hand gripped hers a little harder. "During your absence I was…lost, confused; a shell of myself really. I was desperate to bring you back to me, ignoring everything but what was strictly necessary; because for me time became much like it was for you, it had no real end or beginning, and had no meaning because you were not here to share it with me."

Abbie stared at him a moment, unsure what to say to that, so instead she raised her other hand and ran her fingertips along his jawline, his beard tickling at her fingers. After tracing to his chin, she pressed her palm against his cheek, eyes locked on his.

"You are something else Crane," she mumbled and leaned forward just slightly, telegraphing her intent in order to give him time to back away.

He remained steadfast and she kissed him delicately on the lips, it was slightly more than a brush but had him sucking in a deep, surprised breath.

"Oh," he whispered when she pulled back and looked up at him. "That was…nice."

One eyebrow rose at him in amusement. "Nice?"

"I mean…" he started but instead of finishing the sentence leaned down and kissed her back, this time longer and with more intensity. She responded in kind, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding him resolutely in place.

After several minutes of breathless kisses, Abbie pulled away and smiled. "I love you, too, Crane."

"Now what?" he asked, face flushed.

"Now...breakfast," she replied and stood, pulling him with her. "You buy. The early burr special."

"It would be my pleasure."

END