A brisk sprint through the stands, a right, a left, down two flights of stairs, and Crane and Mills are running over the grass of the outfield toward the dugouts.

A sprinkling of families and reporters dots in the infield, and Crane and Mills weave their way through the crowd. Both the players and the guests are ecstatic, and the sound of happy chatter fills their ears.

Abbie bobs and weaves, her head darting back and forth between the empty spaces in the crowd, until she finds the object of her search. She turns, gives Crane a smile, and gestures for him to follow her.

Abby and Crane come to a clearing in the sea of people, and they see the homerun hitter, Ellerby, giving an interview to the press.

Abby rakes her gaze over Ellerby's strong, fit figure, and smiles appreciatively. She tosses up the game-winning ball, and catches it.

Crane catches up with her. "Ms. Mills? I wonder what is the objective of our reconnaissance of the playing field this afternoon?"

Abby nods toward the player. "A game-winning ball signed by the game-winning hitter." She turns to Crane. "When we get you a computer, and you learn about eBay, you will thank me later."

"Indeed," Crane responds.

Abby waits as Ellerby wraps up his interview with the reporter. He gives the reporter a quick handshake and a bright flash of toothy smile. Ellerby then gestures for the families to line up for autographs.

Crane and Abby quickly fall into line, and in front of them, families with children chat excitedly. Abby and Crane make their way to Ellerby and hand him the ball. "Hi, could you please

"This mine?" Ellerby turns the ball over in his hands and tosses it in the air. He looks at Abby appreciatively.

Abby feels a crackle of electricity pass from Ellerby to herself, and she hides her smile. "You could say that. But you'll need to talk to this guy here. He's the one that caught it."

Crane steps forward and proffers his hand. "Ichabod Crane."

Ellerby looks at Crane with interest and sizes him up. "Jacob Ellerby. Nice to meet you."

"And I am pleased to meet you, sir. That was quite a hit you gave a few moments ago. What a thrill is must have been," compliments Crane.

"Well, was just lucky," Ellerby demurs.

"I'm sure not. While I have no experience in playing baseball, there was a game I have played, base, which involves similar running and tagging. The best and most athletic of us were quite good at it, but truly the best players were those that demonstrated dedication in their practice of it." Ichabod looks at Abby and nods his head. "It is quite similar to the game of cricket in that respect."

"Cricket, eh? You from England?" Ellerby asks.

Ichabod opens his mouth to reply, but Abby cuts him off. "Yes, he's just arrived. Thought I'd take him to a baseball game."

"Well I'm glad you got to see the game then." Ellerby looks at Abby and Crane with interest and tilts his head. "Well, then whom shall I make this out to? Mr. and Mrs. . . .?"

"Just—Ichabod Crane. I'm Abby. We're partners—work partners, that's all," explains Abby. "Sleepy hollow PD."

"I know the place—my family's got a farm there." Ellerby gives a broad grin. "Great. To Ichabod . . . " he signs the baseball with a flourish. He gives the ball one more toss and hands it to Ichabod. "Well, there you go, Mr. Crane. One autographed game-winning ball."

"I give you my most hearty thanks," Ichabod says appreciatively. He reaches out and shakes Ellerby's hand.

Abby too reaches out and shakes his hand. "Thank you, Mr. Ellerby. We appreciate the gesture. Great game."

"Nice to meet you, Abby?"

"Mills, Abby Mills. " Abby and Crane turn to go.

"Wait a sec." Jacob turns and whistles at a ball boy. "Mark, throw one over this way, will you please?" Jacob nods and catches a ball with his bare hands, and turns back to Abby and Crane. "Can't let one of New York's finest go home empty handed . . ." Ellerby signs the ball and hands it to Abby with a wink. "There you go."

Abby looks at the ball with amused disbelief. "And this is . . ."

"My number. Give me a call sometime. If you ever got the hankering to see some sheep, my grandmother's farm near Westchester's the place to go."

Abby gives a small laugh, and Ichabod looks on, his eyebrows raised in mortification. "I'll keep it in mind, Mr. Ellerby."

"Jacob. And it was nice to meet you, Abby." Jacob smiles and waves at both of them. "Nice to meet you both!"

Abby and Ichabod walk away from the crowd, each holding their ball. Though Abby is staring with amused disbelief at the digits inscribed on her ball, Ichabod merely pockets his and whispers to Abby with alarm. "That man, did he just—"

"Yup," replies Abby.

"And did you just—"

"Yup." Abby smiles and tucks the baseball under her arm.

"And all of this . . . is accepted now as courtship?" he sputters.

"It's one date, Crane, maybe. We'll see," says Abby. Abby's phone rings. "Mills."

"Detective. How's that sick day going?" asks Captain Irving over the telephone.

Abby cringes. "Oh, you know. Tissue, chicken soup. Magazines. What can I do for you, Captain?"

Ichabod's face contorts into an expression of supreme surprise, but Abby holds a finger to her lips, asking for his silence.

"Well, if you were sick, I could ask you to read me my horoscope from one of those magazines. But since we both know you're not, why don't you try telling me what my best detective and her British consultant are doing catching home run balls at a Yankees game in the middle of a work day?"

Damn. "You want us in, sir?"

"As soon as you can, please. We've got another murder on our hands, and I think that this one has your name on it."

"Well be in right away," Abby agrees. She hangs up the phone.

"That was the Captain, then?" asks Ichabod.

"Yup. We got a case, Crane," she says. "Come on."

As she begins to walk down the field in earnest, Crane sees a subtle shift in her persona. The square of her jaw, the hardness of her stride, and the learned vigilance of a person accustomed to being in harm's way come upon her countenance. In a second, she has gone from being a courted woman to an officer of the law, and the transformation is startling.

Crane stops walking and stares at her.

Abby notices that Ichabod is no longer walking with her and turns. "Crane. You coming?"

Ichabod knows that Abby is his fellow Witness, that they are bound together by fate and choice to prevent the end of days. In their fight against the darkness, he has admired and knows intimately her strength, her determination, her resolve, and her willingness to sacrifice her happiness for good of the entire world. But today, after a day in the sunshine, a day of laughter and camaraderie and friendship, he can't help but feel poorer for not knowing this other side of her too.

Ichabod feels the contour of their baseball in through the material of his coat. "In a moment."

Detective Mills breaks character, and graces him with an Abby smile. "Sure, whenever you're ready, Crane."

As he watches her walk away, he works hard to convince himself that what he has of her, what she is willing to share, is enough.