The Great Escape
Chapter 4
Summary: Now that Headless finally has his prize, what is he going to do with Katrina? Will she find a chance to escape? Will the Horseman of Death's current decapitated state pose an obstacle to communication? (I'll give you a hint, the answer is yes.)
A/N: Yes, we're going with Katrina does know that Headless is actually her dead ex-finace. That seems to be the consensus and, upon re-watching the ending of the finale, she does indicate that she knows.
Also, not to worry, Katrina is not going to be assaulted or anything bad like that. This isn't that kind of story and I really don't think the show will be either. (Though if I were Ichabod and Abbie, I would have chopped him up into lots of little piece while I had the chance, just saying!)
On to the story! I hope you like it!
…
Katrina
Her surroundings swam fuzzily before her eyes. Katrina blinked slowly, letting her foggy eyes adjust. She waited a few moments to let the dizziness of waking from a deep sleep fade from her mind.
It was dark but there was torchlight nearby, throwing long shadows around.
She was sitting on the floor with her back against a wall. The wooden floor was very smooth, worn from age. There was something viscerally familiar about the place.
Looking up, she could just make out two rows of long wooden pews…
"No!" Katrina gasped, "It can't be!"
This was none other than the church the she had spent so many hours, which had become days, become years and decades, kneeling, pacing, hoping for a sign, lighting candles and praying for her lost son.
Jeremy. Her beloved, beautiful infant who she had abandoned so that he might live, so that he might be spared her fate.
But he wasn't spared. Not really.
The memory of what had happened to her the past few hours came back full force, jolting the last piece of sleep from her mind. The feeling of real earth between her fingers, the clear smell of the forest, Ichabod's joyful but short-lived embrace, straining to use her magic…the revelations by the four white trees.
Panic creeping into her heart, Katrina tried to push herself up to stand, only to find that her wrists were bound.
She held up her hands and looked closely. A strange thin black band looped once around her wrists.
This wasn't purgatory. The Horseman of Death had come for her. Abraham. He must have brought her here.
This was it, the original church where she had left her son on that desperate day. How had it survived all these years?
A sound came from near the front of the church. Straining her neck, Katrina saw the figure of a man without a head crouched on one knee, leaning over something before him.
She tried to be brave, as always, but the sight of him filled her with fear.
'Ichabod, help me!' she called in her mind.
Katrina shifted her legs beneath her. Good, her feet were not bound.
Focusing again on the black band around her wrists, she tried to pull on the loose end with her teeth but the band only clicked tighter, cutting into her wrists. Whatever unfamiliar binding this was, it was very strong.
She looked up again only to see the headless horseman striding towards her. Katrina managed to get her feet under her and stood up to face her captor.
"Abraham Van Brunt, your actions are completely unacceptable! What you're doing here is wrong!" she said defiantly.
Abraham was unfazed by her words. He had a strange looking rifle slung over his shoulder and several bandoliers draped across his chest. He reached out and closed a scarred hand around her forearm and forcefully led her to the center of the church.
"Please, if any part of you remembers what it is to be human, you must know this is wrong!" Katrina declared as the headless man all but dragged her down the aisle between the pews, "You must stop! Abraham! Stop this madness!"
They reached the front of the church by the low wooden altar. The horseman paused and turned towards Katrina.
She stood her ground, refusing to cower in fear. Katrina had dedicated her life to fight for independence and she was determined to speak out, even to the last.
"Whatever unfairness you may have been dealt in the past, that is no justification for what you have become! The coldness in your heart will doom us all!"
Katrina expected at least some kind of response, but as the seconds grew into a long pause, the horseman didn't appear at all provoked.
Katrina shook her hair out of her eyes and stared boldly at the headless horseman. Suddenly a new thought occurred to her.
"Can you even hear what I'm saying?" she asked uncertainly.
Finally Abraham let go of her arm. He leaned over to pick something up from inside a large black bag set on the floor.
Glancing quickly towards the rear of the church, Katrina entertained thoughts of running for it.
'No, not yet,' she told herself. There wasn't enough time. Abraham had already turned back to her holding something in his hands.
He raised up his hands and Katrina could see that he held a sparkling jeweled necklace. It was gold and covered in hundreds of diamonds that caught and spun the smallest ray of light. It was just like the style he used to favor when he was still mortal and engaged; gaudy and ridiculous and exceedingly expensive.
Abraham stepped closer to Katrina, holding the necklace up.
'My God, he intends for me to wear it!' she realized, shrinking away, but in her surprise she didn't move quickly enough.
The next thing she knew, she was standing uncomfortably close to the bloody stump where Abraham's head should have been and the horseman was clasping the necklace around her neck.
When he moved to fix her hair that had gotten stuck under the necklace, Katrina stepped backwards.
"No!" she said in disgust, knocking his hand away and taking another step back.
For a second her memory flashed back to the day that Abraham had announced their engagement, dressing her in an imported dress, all frills and lace and pearls. She could name several homesteads that, in those harsh days, had been on the brink of starvation and the decadence of her arranged marriage repulsed her.
Not to mention Abraham's affinity for twirling a loose strand of her hair in his fingers, this had made her unaccountably uncomfortable even then.
The horseman stepped towards her again so, in desperation, Katrina said, "No, I'll do it."
Moving awkwardly on account of her bound wrists, Katrina pulled her long hair free and adjusted the heavy necklace to lie nicely centered.
"There," she said.
What was going on here?
Apparently satisfied, the horseman again grabbed her forearm and dragged her along until they were standing in position in the center of the church, shoulder to shoulder.
Everything was still and quiet for a long moment.
Abraham let go of her arm. His cold hand fell back to his side, near what appeared to be a pistol holster.
Katrina held still for three long seconds then she could take no more. She bolted, hoping to make for the door at the rear of the church.
She'd gotten a full two steps before the horseman turned and roughly grabbed her arm again.
"Let me go!" she cried, to no avail.
"Why am I here? Let me go! Please, just let me go!" she begged, not really thinking it would work, but too frustrated not to try anyway.
The horseman shoved her back into position so they were once again standing side by side, facing where the preacher would have stood to address his congregation, many years ago.
This time he did not remove his icy grip from her arm, so tight that she was sure it was starting to bruise.
'Be patient. Just wait,' Katrina repeated in her mind to calm herself, 'Wait for the right moment, as always. If he wants to stand here in an empty church for no reason, so be it.'
But there must be a reason. Nothing happened to her by chance these days.
Katrina risked a glance at her decapitated companion. If she tried to pull away, he only pulled her back into position. Otherwise, he didn't move a muscle.
The minutes passed slowly, dragging on until they'd been standing there in silence for at least an hour, Katrina judged.
She tried yelling, begging, coaxing, cursing, everything she could think of, but she got no response from Abraham. He continued to stand in place.
Eventually Katrina stood as still as she could, shutting out the ache in her arm and the stinging in her chaffed wrists, and calmed her mind. Centering her thoughts, she reached out with her powers, feeling the ebb and flow of the currents around her.
Her powers had diminished significantly from lack of use in this realm, but she could feel the old magic still inside her, in her very blood. With time, and focus, she knew that the full extent her control would return.
For the moment, however, she could think of nothing that would help in her present situation. From the horseman beside her, she sensed only a hollow emptiness, tinged with a deep, deep darkness.
Several hours passed in this manner. Katrina shifted from foot to foot. Was this to go on all night?
She stifled a yawn, despite herself.
If only she could get free, she could help Ichabod. He was surely in trouble, left to the devices of the Horseman of War.
'It's no use torturing yourself over what might be happening to Ichabod. You've done all you can,' Katrina reasoned with herself, 'Wait here in this moment and when the time is right, act.'
What that moment might look like, or what she might do, she couldn't tell.
Another hour passed and Katrina began to shiver.
Finally she broke the silence and addressed the headless horseman.
"There is something wrong with you."
As ever, no response.
"Why is the Horseman of Death standing like a statue? Are you thinking, planning? Are you talking to Moloch?" she paused, then added, "Are you sleeping?"
'No, he's clearly not sleeping,' she contemplated, 'It's almost as if he's staring into space, lost in memory. Is he remembering something from the past?'
Then it dawned on her. Abraham was thinking about the past, specifically about the wedding that he'd never had. He was stuck in his own fantasy world, playing out some obsession that he'd clung to all these years, some dream of Katrina standing beside him, wearing sparkling jewels, in a church.
Katrina turned to look at the horseman, saying slowly, "Abraham Van Brunt, you have lost your mind!"
He shifted a little bit so that, if his head were attached to his shoulders, he would have been looking at her sideways, eyes narrowed in an angry glare.
Katrina's eyes widened as she belatedly realized what she'd said. As if he needed to be told what he'd lost.
"Sorry," she said in a small voice.
Katrina didn't know how many hours later it was when the first glow of sunrise began to filter through the boards tacked up over the old, dirty windows.
Somewhere outside a horse neighed. The sound sent a cold shiver through Katrina.
Finally the horseman let go of her arm. He turned and strode quickly to the rear of the church, rifle still slung over his shoulder, pushed the doors open, and was gone.
Katrina collapsed to the ground in exhaustion, unable to do anything but watch Abrahams' sudden departure.
There was the sound of something heavy being pushed against the door, then the hooves of a horse galloping away through the woods.
…..
To Be Continued…
A/N: I got to be extra creative with this chapter, which was fun. For Katrina I was channeling some defiant Princess Leia energy! Even though Katrina is surely upset and traumatized by recent events, she's still determined to fight, even to the bitter end, like Leia on the Death Star.