To make up for my lack of updates, I present you with a long chapter! Huzzah! In this chapter, Trekky has fun with POVs. Be forewarned: There is a teensy bit of foul language.

Yup, it's February, and this chapter is set on Christmas Eve. Just go with it ;)

Chapter 6

"Lost and insecure, you found me.

You found me lyin' on the floor

surrounded, surrounded -

Why'd you have to wait?

Where were you? Where were you?

Just a little late."

- You Found Me, The Fray

The night is frigid, a blanket of fog hugging the town. The blood trail leads Ichabod and the Mills sisters down a path hidden from public view. It twists through alleyways, cuts through courtyards, and winds its way to the edge of town. There is not a streetlight to be seen, making necessary the use of a flashlight. Jenny shivers in the wind, hugging her coat closer to her body. It is after nearly an hour after they began that Ichabod stops suddenly.

"Crane?"

"There." He gestures to a large warehouse nestled between an open field and a small restaurant. "That is where I believe them to be."

"You believe?! Remy's been shot! We don't have the privilege of working on hunches right now," hisses Jenny.

"The trail stops midway through the road, and picks up ever so slightly later on. If it had continued in full, at its current angle, it would have guided us directly into the warehouse," states Ichabod sharply. "My statement was based on more than a 'hunch', Miss Mills. I would not risk the lives of your friends." The three stride quickly toward the grey building, prepared to use force in order to gain entry, only to find the door ajar.

"Jenny, I need you to stay out here and call the station."

"I'm coming in with you. I want to help."

"I know you do, and this is the best way to do so right now. Remy is going to need an ambulance, and we very well might need backup."

"Abbie," she pleads hoarsely. "I failed them once. Please."

Abbie puts her hands on the shoulders of her sister. "They'll be okay, I promise. But I need your help to make sure that happens."

Jenny gives a short nod. She whispers, "I'll go call it in." The elder Mills keeps her eyes on her sister as she walks off into the misty rain to make the call. Turning back to the task at hand, Abbie raises her gun.

- Abbie's POV -

The inside of the warehouse is absolutely massive. There are fourteen rows of shelves, extending up to the ceiling, and running out as far as the eye can see. Toward the back, it looks like the shelves run horizontally. Every shelf is filled with large boxes, making walls of the metal structures. Crane taps me on the shoulder, gesturing toward a thin metal staircase.

"I will go up," he mouths silently. "Get a better view." At my nod, he tentatively makes his way up. His ocean eyes gaze out upon the maze, searching. Heavy rain bangs against the metal roof in a solid downpour. It's maybe a minute after he began that Crane comes racing back down the stairs, somehow still remaining silent. "They are at the very back, on the left. There is a gap between two of the walls by which we could access them."

The walls creek whenever there is a gust of wind. My heart is pounding in my chest, though I've schooled my face to be neutral. Ichabod looks nervous enough for the both of us. We creep our way down an aisle way, inching closer and closer to the horizontal aisles. There are plastic curtains hung over the racks, perhaps meant to be be a crude form of soundproofing. Over the clashing rain, muffled voices are audible.

"Don't sass me, boy. You're in no position to talk." This man has a gruff, heavy southern accent. "Boss Man is gonna come and git'cha real soon. Just you wait."

Another man asks, "You really think he'll let you off?" Nic, I'd bet. "Moloch doesn't seem the kind to leave loose ends." There is a crack of flesh hitting flesh, and one of the men grunts, presumably Nic.

"Keep it up, boy, and it's your sister who pays."

Crane and I reach the wall. I slowly peak around the wall of boxes, and a bloody scene greets me. Both of the kids are bound to chairs. Nic is placed in front of the girl - Remy, I think her name is - so that he is unable to see her. She is slumped in her chair unconscious, undoubtedly from blood loss. His eyes are hazy, as though he is trying very hard to stay conscious. Probable concussion. A coating of blood makes his hair cling to his face. One eye is swelling and beginning to bruise. The perp's back is to me as he rains down punches on the boy. Nic cries out as blood pours from his nose. A dark chuckle escapes the perp's lips.

Nic looks up at his attacker, a spark in his eyes. "Fuck you," he hisses, spitting blood at the man. A vein in the man's neck bulges, a flush spreading down from the side of his face that I can see to his neck.

"You thought I was kidding? You gon' regret that, boy," he spits back. He walks out of my line of sight for a split second before returning. He is slightly turned in my direction, though not enough to where he could see me. My stomach drops as the perp levels a gun at Remy. "What's one more bullet in your pretty little sister? Boss Man won't mind if I rough her up a bit more." Nic struggles against his bindings in protest, making the chair rattle a bit. The perp laughs darkly. "Why'd you ever think you could hide from 'im? He's everywhere. You can't run from 'im. No one can run from 'im." There's something in his voice… Something like fear… "Now," he says, a sickening grin twisting on his lips. "To make good on my promise." He cocks his gun.

Taking aim, I fire. The perp whirls around, firing in my direction. Taking care not to shoot in the direction of the kids, I fire back. Shot after shot is fired when a clicking sound stops us both for a minute. He stares at the barrel of his gun. "Shit…" Realizing his disadvantage, he looks up at me, neither of us moving, before he bolts out the second entrance to his plastic 'room'. I turn to Crane, telling him quickly, "Help the kids," before rushing off after the kidnapper.

~ Ichabod's POV ~

I am at war with my conscious, which beckons me to aid my companion. However, I have faith in her abilities with a gun, and these children are in dire need of my attention. I move quickly to the girl's side, unbinding her hands and feet before gently laying her on the ground. "My sister. Is my sister okay?" asks the delirious young man.

"She is unconscious, but she is alive. You both are in need of a doctor, I'd say," I answer, attempting to lighten the mood even a little as I unbind his hands. I am successful. The boy huffs a quiet laugh.

"Gee, you think?" A groan escapes his lips. Taking a knee beside the boy, I am quick to untie his ankles. His wrists are chafed and slightly bloody, but his ankles have fared better during his captivity.

"What are your names?"

Through the caked blood on his face, I can see a slight grin form on his lips. "You don't need to test my coherency, man. I'm alright."

I offer him a grin in return. "Humor me."

"I'm Nic. That's my sister Remy. Are you a-" Gunshots ring out, startling us both.

"Stay here," I command. Without looking back, I race out of the plastic room in search of my partner. I race down the hall, searching for them in one of the vertical aisles. It is in the final aisle that I find my partner kneeling amongst a pile of fallen boxes, hands raised defensively. Through means unknown to me, the man has managed to obtain her pistol, which he points in Abbie's direction. Tears stream down his reddened face, hands shaking violently. Either he does not see me - which is unlikely - or he does not care that I have arrived.

"Don't you get it, lady?" he trembles. "Ain't no use. He's gonna get what he wants. Ain't no hope left. No hope…"

"There's always hope," says Abbie.

"Not for me," he replies, defeated.

"Sir, I'm a cop. I will do everything I can to make sure you're protected, but only if you give me the gun." I ease my way forward, not wishing to provoke the distressed man.

"Don't you get it?" he shrieks, flinching back slightly. "There is nothing you can do! He ain't human! He can find anyone! He'll find my kids if I don't do this." His voice drops to a whisper with his last statement. "I'm real sorry." He raises the gun, taking aim.

I lurch forward. "No!"

The world halts on its axis for the briefest of seconds. Air neither comes nor goes from my lungs as the man turns still as stone. He drops the gun as though he has been burned. It fires into a nearby box, but both mine and Abbie's eyes are too fixed on him to notice. His eyes have rolled back in his head, glowing a bright gold. He is lifted from the ground, hovering mere inches from the floor, before crumpling to the ground. The gold light seeps out of his eyes, twirling in the air as it flies up and past me.

I turn to see the bloody boy standing there, albeit shakily, with one palm extended. The light enters his palm and dissipates. "I couldn't let him hurt you," he whispers, seeming very small in this moment. Loud sirens from outside the metal building surprise us all.

"About time," mutters Abbie sarcastically. She stands, meeting my eyes in silent thanks before turning to the boy. He is swaying on the spot. "Let's get out of here, alright? My partner will get your sister."

"Okay," he nods. At this assurance of safety, he promptly vomits.

Omniscient POV

In the wee hours of the morn, the hospital waiting room is all but deserted. Abbie Mills sits on a bench, leaning against the wall with her eyes shut. Jenny is curled up next to her, head resting in her sister's lap. Ichabod, ever the soldier, keeps watch, sitting beside his partner. Jenny whimpers as she wakes, stretching her limbs. "Are they okay?"

"We have not yet been notified, Miss Jenny," whispers Ichabod. She hums, letting her eyes fall shut once more. To anyone else, Jenny Mills might look peaceful. To Ichabod Crane, a man who has come to know her well, he can see her tells. Her jaw is set, her muscles tense. He purses his lips, wanting to provide some kind of comfort, but not knowing exactly what to say.

A short, plump young nurse walks up to the trio. Jenny jerks up into a sitting position, jostling Abbie into consciousness. "Are you with the kids who came in a few hours ago? The boy and girl?"

"Yes," Jenny jumps to her feet. "We're with them."

"Alright, I need to fill out their paperwork. If you could tell me their full names, please, that would be great."

"Sarah Meredith Annabelle Greenwood and Nicholas Elijah Greenwood. She goes by Remy, though, if it matters."

"Date of birth?"

"Not sure exactly. Some time in March 1995, I think."

"Are there next of kin we can contact?"

"No. Their father is out of the picture, and their mother is dead."

"I'm sorry to hear that," says the nurse. "Thank you for the help."

"Of course." Jenny exhales shakily and begins pacing back and forth. Ichabod and Abbie both stand.

The soldier asks, "Miss Mills, how is it that you know these children?"

"Met them in one of my foster homes ten years ago. They must have been about 8 years old at the time. Their mom had just died a few years ago, and without a dad, they got put into the system. I never got the full story, but apparently when they first got put into the system, they told some wild story about their mom. Whatever it was got them sent to an institution for a few months... Anyway, they sort of clung to me at the house. The foster parents at this one house were awful. Treated us like garbage. I looked out for them; took them under my wing. I told them that if they ever needed anything to give me a call. I got moved to a new house the next year. I haven't seen them in almost 9 years." She wrings her hands as she tells the tale.

"Do you know where they've been? They look like they've been through hell."

"And as though they could use a good meal," adds Ichabod.

"I would presume they've continued to be shipped around. I do know that they've been off the radar for the past year after a demon attack in their last house."

"Is that why you feel as though you've failed them?" asks Ichabod, remembering her earlier words. "Because you were not there to prevent the attack?" Jenny nods, suddenly very interested in the beige floor tiles.

"But why would Moloch want them though?" thinks Abbie aloud.

The nurse returns. "Pardon me, but Miss Greenwood is out of surgery. You can see them both now. Room 108, down the hall."

"Thank you," says Abbie. The three of them set off down the hall. Ichabod is the first to enter, followed by Jenny and finally Abbie. Jenny takes a clipboard from the door.

"Nicholas Greenwood: broken nose, ten stitches in his hairline, various cuts and scrapes, and a major blow to the back of the head," she summarizes as she scans the document. "Condition unknown. Put into a medically-induced coma for safety's safe until further analysis can be done…

"And Remy?"

"Major blood loss, but received transfusions and is now stable. Removed a bullet from her shoulder and repaired the wound in her leg caused by the second bullet. She was given sleep meds for the time being." Abbie takes careful steps over to her sister before wrapping both arms around the trembling woman.

She says softly, "They're gonna be okay, Jen. They're safe now." Jenny again simply nods, unsure if her voice would betray her raging emotions. Meanwhile, Ichabod stands ramrod straight in the center of the room, gazing at the sleeping faces of the two patients. The face of the young boy to his left- Nicholas, he reminds himself once more - has been washed, hair brushed out of his face. For the first time, Ichabod can truly see him, and seeing this face comes as a shock. There is a thin layer of stubble on the boy's jaw - a jaw that is not unlike his own. A pair of thin lips also match those of the soldier, as well as eyes set somewhat close together.

Ichabod's mind is racing at an alarming rate, and only increases as he sets his eyes on the sleeping girl to his right. Her russet hair is all too familiar to dear Mr. Crane, as is her pale skin and full lower lip.

"Impossible," he breathes.

Seeing his distress, Abbie steps toward her partner. "Crane?"

"Miss Jenny, what did you say the names of these children were?"

"Nic and Remy Greenwood. Why?"

Ichabod takes very hesitant steps back to the Nic's bed. As his mind continues to whirr, a metallic glimmer catches his eye. Hidden just under the top of the sheet, resting on the boy's chest, is a gold medallion. One of the nurses had noted its condition and had assumed his attachment to it. She made sure to replace it around the boy's neck after he had been properly treated. Carefully lifting it, Ichabod turns it in his hand. "Strange…" As he goes to set it back down, a muted click is heard. Curious, Ichabod brings the medallion back up for examination. Seeing nothing different, he turns it over. He gasps.

"Crane, what is it?"

"It…"

"Crane?"

"It is...myself. And Katrina."

Jenny cocks her head to the side a bit. "What?"

"This boy… Nicholas… has a drawing of my wife and I." Crossing the room, Ichabod reaches into a bin set next to the girl's bed and pulls out a matching medallion. Brushing his fingers over the back, a familiar click is heard.

"Another picture?" asks Jenny.

"Yes, but this... I believe it is of our young friends when they themselves were very small."

"May I?" asks Jenny, stepping forward. Ichabod carefully hands her the necklace. Jenny looks at the photo, and after a moment says, "This was probably drawn right when they joined the foster system. They were only a bit older when I met them."

A heavy silence envelops the room as these curious events are contemplated by the Revolutionary. Abbie bites her lip, arms encircling herself. This movement catches Crane's eye. "Leftenant? Are you well?"

"I-I think I may know who they are," she exhales. "I wasn't completely honest before."

Ichabod stiffens unconsciously. "About what?"

There is a pregnant pause. "Back at Fredricks Manor, I said I saw Katrina giving birth."

"To a son, yes. You told me," he states, hands clenching at his side. His heart pounds in his chest. "What did you leave out?"

"I didn't want you to be in more pain than you were already in. That's why I didn't tell you-"

"What are you keeping from me?" he barks. The room goes dead quiet, the only noise being those of the machines attached to the children.

"There was another child," she says softly. "Born after your son."

"Twins," says Jenny, realization coming over her. "Katrina had twins."

"Yes," confirms Abbie.

Ichabod is visibly shaking, his eyes glistening. "What-" He exhales. "What was it?"

"A girl. It was a little girl."

Ichabod lets out a sharp exhale, as though he's been kicked in the gut. "Two children…and she didn't tell me…" He looks Abbie in the eye. He whispers, broken, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Wasn't-" coughs a meek voice. The three of them turn toward the moonlit bed below the window. "Wasn't safe," murmurs Remy, eyes open just ever so slightly. "Bad stuff wanted us. Had to-" Another cough bursts forth from her lungs. "Hide us. No one could know."

"Miss Sarah," says a trembling Ichabod Crane. "You are my daughter?"

"Yes," she smiles weakly. Her speech is slurred from the cocktail of medication running through her bloodstream. "You're our dad."

Tears fall from the soldier's eyes, a smile on his lips. "Well then," he says shakily, but clearly overjoyed. "I am very pleased to meet you."

She laughs softly. "Me you, Papa. Me-" She yawns, eyes fluttering shut. Ichabod waits a moment, checking to see if his daughter is truly asleep before breaking down and falling to his knees. Both of the Mills sisters are at his side in an instant. He weeps, letting his heavy head rest on Abbie's shoulder.

"Crane?" she whispers.

"My children- My children are alive," he chokes. He smiles through the onslaught of tears, overjoyed. "My children are alive, and they are here. They are here with me." Abbie wraps one arm around her partner and gives him a gentle squeeze.

"Hey Crane," whispers Jenny.

"Yes?"

She smiles warmly, clasping one calloused hand. "Merry Christmas."

"Silent night, holy night.

All is calm, all is bright.

Round yon virgin mother and child -

holy infant, so tender and mild.

Sleep in heavenly peace,

Sleep in heavenly peace."

A/N: Happy February, all! Sorry this took a while. I'm in the middle of College Audition Month (aka I'm going insane reciting Shakespeare every three seconds). On the plus side, I just got my first acceptance! Yay!

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xoxo,

Trekky