So sorry for the even longer than usual wait, the next chapter should be up faster. Also, I used a song from The Labyrinth here. I know that movie came out in 86, but I couldn't help myself.
"Ow! Jesus old man!" Abbie says, snatching her head away from the comb.
"I told you to hold still, I was a barber in the army, I know what I'm doing kid," Corbin argues, continuing to run the comb through his foster daughter's unruly hair.
"And you're sure you can make it look like Whitney Houston's?" Abbie asks seriously, settling back down.
"When I'm done Whitney Houston will wish she had your hair," Corbin reassures her.
"I just really want to look perfect tonight," she says. "I know it's stupid, but I'm going for bell of the ball status here.
"That ain't stupid," Corbin says. "That's being a teenaged girl, or hell, a woman in general for that matter. My wife never looked happier than when she was all dolled up."
Corbin never really talked about his wife. All Abbie really knew about her was that her name was Vanessa and they had been married 12 years when she died. She also knows Vanessa was the only family he really had, and when it happened he saw no reason not to reenlist. Even though the war took a decent number of his marbles, Abbie can't help but think every now and again that losing Vanessa certainly didn't help. More than twenty years later he's still never remarried, choosing to commit to his conspiracy theories instead, she cherishes times like this, when Corbin is a part of the world, a part of her world, he's the closest thing she's ever really had to a dad after all.
"Corbin, how did you know..." she starts hesitantly. "That she was the one? The one you wanted to marry?"
"Heh, that's quite a question," Corbin says a bit sadly. "I guess I knew I wanted to marry her the day I got mugged."
"You got mugged?"
"Back in '51, the night of her birthday, some thug stole my wallet, my jacket, even my shoes, but none of that was as bad as him taking the gold necklace I bought for Vanessa, I'd saved for it for months, I was trying to make up for all the other times I screwed up. I'd forget our anniversary or valentine's day, her birthday twice, and I always had the worst excuses, and I mean bad. And she'd never believe me, she'd know I was lying right off the bat and wouldn't talk to me for days. She'd always be just as sweet as can be when she started up again, but she knew when I had to be punished.
"What did you do?" Abbie asks, thinking of what excuse Ichabod would use if he didn't want to go with her to the movies. She always convinced him, and he always ended up having a good time but she'd have to listen to some whoppers in the process, her favorite was the time he told her he had to study for a history exam, somehow forgetting they were in the same history class.
"I had no choice but to tell the truth," Corbin continues. "But I just knew after all the times I made up stories she'd never buy something as farfetched as me getting mugged, it was like the boy who cried wolf."
"Did she stop talking to you again?"
"That's the thing, she believed me right off the bat," Corbin says.
"Really? What made her believe you that time?"
"It was the truth," Corbin says simply, shrugging.
"She must have known you really well," Abbie says, smiling warmly.
"Yeah, I guess she did," Corbin says. "Anyway, I saved up again for the necklace, even though she insisted I didn't have to, but when I went to the jewelry store that time, I ended up with a ring instead."
"Wow," Abbie says wistfully. "You still miss her don't you?"
"Every minute kid."
"Hey, check it out," Jenny says, prancing in, striking a pose in her black strapless dress, cut above the knees and full at the bottom, paired with red high top basketball sneakers.
"What happened to your shoes?" Abbie says amusedly.
"Sold 'em, I'm saving to buy a taser," she explains casually.
"You look great," Abbie says truthfully, while Corbin nods in agreement.
"So, do you think maybe...Frankie'll like it?" she says hesitantly, trying to sound casual and not quite succeeding.
"God Jenny you're such a girl," Abbie teases, making Jenny glare daggers at her.
"So, when's Mr. British picking you up?" Jenny asks.
"7:30," Abbie says, trying not to let her excitement at the prospect show, excitement and utter dread. This is the night, she's decided, the night she tells him how she feels, because she just can't deny it anymore. Jenny was right, of course Jenny was right, but she'll never give her the satisfaction of admitting it, at least not this very second.
Ichabod's hands shake as he buttons his salmon pink shirt, he feels he definitely made the right decision with the suit, white and crisp, very Miami Vice indeed, his hair is doing what he wants it to, his complexion is mercifully free of spots, and the spicy sweet smell of his cologne is nice and subtle, which is why he can't fathom why he's such a pile of nerves.
"My son," Mr. Crane says, entering his son's room. "In a pink shirt."
"It's salmon father," Ichabod clarifies.
"Yes and what color is a salmon?" Mr. Crane inquires.
And he can't help but roll his eyes and sigh a little. "Pink," he admits under his breath.
"I must say, it's not quite the travesty I feared," Crane says, coming in behind his son, adjusting his collar. "It's very Miami Vice."
"You? Watch Miami Vice?" Ichabod says amusedly.
"Once or twice, I'm not completely out of touch my lad," He admits. "So, I suppose you'll be heading off to collect your lady fair any moment."
Mere weeks ago he would have corrected him, insisted once again that they were only friends, but somehow he can't bring himself to now, if anything his father's description of Abbie seems almost fitting.
"I suppose so," Ichabod says, noticing the slight way his father's face falls. He understands his concern, he truly does, but it doesn't change the fact that Abbie is everything that he never knew he always wanted, that when he dances with her tonight, his eyes will be on no one else, of course whether she feels the same is still a question he asks himself over and over. She kisses him with affection, even passion, and smiles at him with such warmth every time she looks at him, but the fact remains that Abbie is still thoroughly convinced that he loves Katrina, chances are the thought of being with Ichabod never once crossed her mind, still, he must tell her tonight, tell her how he feels, because he simply can't deny it. If only he could figure out how.
"Well, if that's the way it is, that's the way it shall be," The elder Crane says with a weak smile. "She is a fine girl son."
"She is," he agrees. "And I fear I may love her more than my heart can fully contain." And suddenly it dawns on him why he was so nervous, why he is still so nervous. He just hopes he can make it through this night alive.
"If this is the case, surely she deserves better than to have to walk to her own homecoming dance."
"I will learn to drive dad, it's just harder for some than others," he says defensively.
"No son, nothing like that," he says. "Just... go outside."
Ichabod knits his brow in confusion a little before following his father's direction, leaving the room with the elder crane following closely behind, and upon opening the front door, an immediate smile reaches his face.
"Father, you've rented me a limousine?" Ichabod says excitedly at the sight of the sleek black automobile out front, a sharply dressed chauffer standing in front of it.
"It should accommodate you and your friends just fine I'd say," Mr. Crane says.
"Tonight..." Ichabod says, pausing for dramatic affect as he puts on his mirrored aviator shades. "We ride in style."
Admiring her look in the mirror, Abbie can't help but think if the whole shell shocked hermit thing doesn't work out, Corbin can really make a living as a hairdresser. Her usually poufy hair is now separated into defined ringlets, piled atop her head and framed by a jeweled white headband to match her flowing white dress, while Jenny's curls have been expertly blown out and her bangs delicately feathered, even with the likes of Katrina and her cheerleader friends attending, Abbie can't bring herself to feel even a shred of self consciousness, well, at least not about her looks, when it comes to Ichabod Crane however, she's anxiety personified, so much so that her heart jumps a little at the sound of the doorbell.
"This is it, time to go party with the white kids," Jenny says coolly. "No offense Corbin."
"None taken," He says as he starts toward the door.
She can't control the smile that reaches her lips at the sight of her date, tall, handsome, cloaked in his perfect white suit that matches her dress but not in that corny, trying too hard way. And the way he slowly removes his sunglasses, as if in a trance, his jaw going slack at the sight of her, she can feel that look all the way down to the tips of her toes.
"Great Scott," he whispers, almost inaudible. "You look heavenly."
"Thank you," Abbie says bashfully, walking up to him, taking his arm, her heart beating a little faster at the contact. "So do you, you look great. Actually, you look more than great, you look... cool."
"Holy, crap!" Jenny says, tactlessly marching right through her sister and her date, effectively ruining any moment that may have arisen. "Is that a friggin' Limo?"
"That it is Miss Jenny," Ichabod confirms proudly. "That it is."
"Okay, we have to get Frankie, he's going to totally flip."
As Jennie prances outside happily to get a closer look, Ichabod takes Abbie's arm once again, smiling warmly at her.
"Shall we, Miss mills?"
The lights are dimmed in the gym, a disco ball illuminating the walls and floor, there are streamers and banners hung about everywhere, celebrating Sleepy Hollow High's win in the homecoming game. It was Frankie who scored the Winning touchdown, and as the four of them enter the gym, everyone is all smiles when they see him. Abbie couldn't care less about football, that was always Jenny's sport of choice, while Abbie is more of a baseball girl, still, she's excited for Frankie, as is Jenny who is never really openly excited about anything, even if Frankie himself, always so aloof about being liked and appreciated, can't totally mimic the sentiment.
"Of course they play this song," Ichabod says, rolling his eyes and smirking at the song selection, making Abbie elbow him playfully. He really does look cool, sleeves rolled up, glasses sitting atop his head, so different still from all the other boring black and grey suits, but Ichabod, even when trying to be cool, can't help but stand out.
Wake me up before you go go, don't leave me spinning round like a yoyo, wake me up before you go go... take me dancing tonight.
"Shall we dance?" Abbie says, mimicking Ichabod's proper phrasing. "Don't pretend like you don't know how."
"I don't."
"Yeah, you still suck," Abbie admits. "But not nearly as much now."
"Can we please wait until a slow song Abigail? I'm trying very hard to maintain my swagger right now."
She giggles a little at that. "Okay, sure, let's get some punch."
"We'll save you guys a seat alright," Jenny says, taking Frankie's hand and starting toward the tables.
He takes a moment to stare at her as they stand by the punch bowl, the lights from the disco ball illuminating her face and pretty rhinestone head band. And how did he not realize it before? How much just the sight of her makes him feel warm inside? And she truly does look beautiful in that dress, with its fluttery sleeves and long skirt falling so elegantly over her curves, it was almost princesslike, surely a departure from the colorful, poufy taffeta dresses adorning the other girls. All except maybe Katrina, also opting for a long dress, an off the shoulder one, burgundy to match her hair. He realized when he saw her that she had never worn it down before, and he'd be lying if he said she didn't look every bit as lovely as expected, but Abbie, Abbie could have worn a paper bag tonight and he knows without a doubt that he'd still feel that warm feeling, and he wants to dance with her, to a slow song so he can hold her close and whisper in her ear.
"I'll be right back Abigail," he says softly, and she simply nods, but her face is full of questions, ones that he will be happy to answer in due time. He recognizes Mr. Parrish from homeroom, not exactly who he thought the school would have had in mind when selecting a DJ, but he appears to have young taste, or perhaps a list of set songs, because first it was Wham!, now Madonna blares from the speakers.
Something in the way you love me won't let me be... I don't want to be a prisoner so baby come and set me free...
"Mr. Parrish, may I possibly make a song request?"
"No song requests, M-mr. Crane. S-sorry, those are the rules," Mr. Parrish stammers.
"Please Mr. Parrish, it's for love," Ichabod says pleadingly.
"Well... I-if it's for love," Mr. Parrish starts... ponderously. "No!"
He mulls it over a second before speaking again. "I'll give you 12 dollars."
"Sold," Mr. Parrish agrees, taking the money from Ichabod.
"Can you play As The World Falls Down, by David Bowie?"
"Is that the one from that puppet movie?" Mr. Parrish says and he notices how the more irritated Mr. Parrish is the more confidently he speaks.
"Yes, yes it is."
"Well, it's better than Wham!" Mr. Parrish says with a shrug. And Ichabod shoots him a grateful smile before returning to Abbie.
"What was that all about?" Abbie says pointing over to DJ Parrish.
"You'll see," Ichabod says slyly. It takes a few moments for the Madonna song to end and Ichabod's to begin, but once it does she instantly lights up.
"Oh my god, how did you know?" Abbie says sweetly.
"It's you," he says simply. "Would you dance with me?"
"Of course," she says, taking his hand.
There's such a sad love, deep in your eyes a kind of pale jewel, open and closed within your eyes, I'll place the sky, within your eyes.
As they sway to the music, and he holds her in his arms and she looks up at him with so much affection, he can feel his courage building, the anxiety somehow melts away when she's this close and he feels home, like he can pull her closer and kiss her without a second thought, that's easy, they've done this so many times before, and while he kisses her and her mouth moves against his slowly, it's like nobody else is in the room, he can't even hear Bobby Moloch laughing at him obnoxiously from the punch bowl. Their laughter doesn't seem to matter now.
As the pain sweeps through, makes no sense for you, every thrill has gone, wasn't too much fun at all, but I'll be there for you, as the world falls down.
"I'm really happy to be here with you Ichabod," Abbie says softly as their lips part. "I hope you know that."
"As am I Abbie," he says back, his voice a bit strangled for reasons he cannot fathom.
"And there's, there's something I have to tell you."
And all of a sudden, with those few unassuming words, it's back, the sweaty palms, the dry mouth, the racing heartbeat, because he just kissed Abigail, and called her Abbie, and now there is something she has to tell him, and he knows it can be only one of two things. I love you, which would be bad, because while he prides himself on carrying a certain poetry in his speaking, the very idea of having this conversation now terrifies him. But not nearly as much as hearing I don't love you.
"Ah- I," Ichabod starts, stammering, nervous, and where is this coming from? He was the picture of calm a second ago. But of course a second ago Abbie didn't have something to tell him, a potentially devastating something.
As the world falls down, falling... falling.
"I have to go," Ichabod blurts. "To the toilets... I mean the restroom. But I'll return most expeditiously Abigail, excuse me."
And before she can say another word he has stumbled out the double doors, needing to catch his breath. Just take a moment to collect himself, breath, not be a total spaz. He'll go back in, he doesn't want her to worry, and he'll try to carry himself with more dignity than he just showed a moment ago, no matter what potentially devastating thing she has to say.
And as he starts back toward the gym, that's when he sees her. Red hair, red dress, tall, beautiful, alone by the lockers... tears in her eyes.
Katrina.
Falling... falling
She doesn't know what happened, one minute they were dancing, kissing, the next he's running out of there like the floor was on fire. She wanted to go after him, she's not sure why she didn't, maybe she didn't want to know why he ran out, maybe she couldn't know that. So she sits, waiting as Jenny and Frankie dance, as everyone dances, hoping he comes back. But two whole songs have passed already, surely that's ample time to pee.
"Where's Mr. British?" Jenny says as Come on Eileen comes to an end and Love is a Battlefield starts.
"Yeah, where is he, you guys looked like you were awful cozy a second ago," Frankie adds.
"I could say the same for you," Abbie replies, making Jenny blush, and moreso when Frankie squeezes her hand, a rare smile on his face.
"Seriously, where is he Abbie?" Jenny repeats. "I want him to dance to a fast song so I can make fun of him."
"I don't know, but I should probably go find him," Abbie says, getting up from her seat. She shuffles thorough the crowd of teens, her anxiety mounting. The hallway is empty, she can hear her heels clacking on the pavement and nothing else, until a familiar voice breaks the silence.
"I'm so sorry. I was wrong Ichabod," she says, tears in her throat. "I was wrong about you. I was wrong about everything." She follows the voice, afraid of what she might find, but not able to stop herself. And as she turns the corner she sees it.
Katrina
Ichabod
Katrina kissing Ichabod
Ichabod... kissing Katrina
And she can't stop her feet from running out of there as fast as they can.
Yes, I know I'm an evil bitch for this chapter, especially after making you wait forever for it, but try to trust me a little guys. Also, I'm aware that Mr. Crane isn't quite this sympathetic on the show (at least not judging by the short time we've gotten to know him), but I just wanted Ichabod to have one positive presence in his life besides Abbie. Stay tuned folks!
