Sorry this took so long, it is not my intention to abandon either of these fics, i will finish both. Once summer comes i will have more time to write.

Enjoy

''O, pardon me, in that my boast is true:
The accident which brought me to her eye
Upon the moment did her force subdue,
And now she would the caged cloister fly:
Religious love put out Religion's eye:
Not to be tempted, would she be immured,
And now, to tempt, all liberty procured.

-W. Shakespeare

The stench of fetid age filled her nostrils as the witch pulled her closer. Katrina brought her closer to the fire and leaned over the pot that bubbled over it. "I have seen many things, Miss Mills. I have forced many marriages, births deaths just to get this right."

"I don't understand." Abbie insisted again suddenly wishing she had told Jenny to come in,

Katrina threw back her nearly bald head and face twisted into a mass of wrinkles that seemed to be going in the wrong directions. The laugh she let out was akin to the sound a drawer full of knives makes when jangled. "Miss Mills. Have you not figured it out? You, the once prophesized Witness of the Apocalypse?"

Abbie managed to free her arm from the old woman's strong grasp and halted in her step. She folded her arms and shook her head. "No, Katrina." She began. "You and I were never besties, so I am gonna assume that whatever this is, whatever this is about, isn't for my best interest." She turned on one hell and moved toward the entrance of the large room she had entered in. Katrina stepped in front of her before she could take a step.

"I have worked too hard for this." Katrina hissed, her sunken wrinkled eyes blazed red and bulged. "You have no idea what I have been through, sacrificed, for this."

Abbie drew her gun and aimed at the woman. Katrina folded into herself and drew away from her. "You don't…you cannot kill me until I have finished." Katrina insisted.

"Finished what?" Abbie said through clenched teeth.

"You little fool." Katrina said with another cackle. "I am trying to help you."

Abbie studied the woman in front of her. Katrina had changed for sure, at least physically. Her once unnaturally red hair had faded into a dull gray and sparsely covered the mottled scalp it sprouted from. Katrina's long frame was now hunched and bent; angled into a fragile looking gremlin. But, contratry to what the witch accused; Abigail was no fool. She knew that the woman in front of her was powerful, angry, and possibly more than a touch insane after having lived so long both in Purgatory and here. "Katrina, you and I have nothing further to—"

"We could compare notes. On Ichabod, that is." The old woman cackled. "You have, as I am aware, had relations with him. Have you not? Though, I fear that even after 200 years, you have been more familiar with his male parts than I have been." Katrina spat on the floor. "We could discuss the merits of loving a man like him. We could talk about the weather." Katrina went on. "Or, I can return Ichabod to you. Which one shall I perform, Miss Mills?"

Abbie lowered her weapon but did not holster it. "Return him?" she asked with all the incredibility of when Crane had first ended up in her jail cell. "He's dead, Katrina. No offence, but I have seen your work, I don't think you could pull that one off."

Katrina's icy fingers surprisingly strong, wound their way around the young woman's wrist that still held the weapon. "If I wanted you dead, Miss Mills, I could have done that the days you ran past here with your sister. Or, I could have visited your bedroom in one of the many foster homes that no one guards." Katrina gave a withering look to Abbie before speaking again. "I could have murdered you in your cradle and no one would have thought it was anything more than cradle death." She said. "I brought you here to fix what has been undone improperly. By me."

Abbie put her gun away and turned toward the witch again. "How are you going to bring him back?" she asked in a small voice.

Katrina smiled a toothless grin and zipped across the room, returning with an ancient looking book in her gnarled hands. "What did you think of Frederick?"

"Katrina—" Abbie warned.

Katrina whipped her hand out in a waving fashion with the hand closed into a shush. "He looks remarkably like our Ichabod, do you not think?"

Abbie wasn't sure how she felt about Katrina referring to Crane in the shared pronoun. In fact, she was starting to feel as if she should really duck out. Katrina had been fragile when Abbie first met her, but now? Now the woman was a few eggs short of an omelet brought on no doubt from all that time alone hiding in this house.

But she needed to know, that hope had coiled up in the pit of her stomach and was settling in for the long season. She wanted to believe that whatever level of crazy Katrina had up her sleeves was a payoff, even if it was just one last chance at goodbye. "Look, Katrina," she said finally

Katrina waved her away again and continued. "I made sure all those years that the right line would carry through."

"I'm sorry?" Abbie asked.

Katrina's smile was a shadow of the woman who had once dangled her feet into the lake by the cabin. She tipped her head and for an instant Abbie could see what Crane had loved about her. "I have worked so hard Miss Mills so you can have him back.

The white hand of hope gripped itself around her throat and Abbie had to choke the next words out. "Are you implying that you influenced the family line so that Frederick would look like Crane?" she asked.

Katrina slyly slid her thin arm around Abbie's waist. "Oh," she beamed through ancient eyes and a hoarse whisper of age. "I've done so much more than that. I have made a door that Ichabod need only step through. Well, and you must do the work as well. "

"….Abbie!" Jenny's voice came through again.

"On my way, Jenny. Be there in five."

"You'll not leave yet." Karina spoke.

"Yeah, you're not giving me a lot to stick around for, other than taking credit for building the perfect Crane."

Katrina's eyes flashed yellow. "You do not believe? I should not be surprised. He often spoke of having to convince you. But, when he died an old man, I made him a promise." Katrina tipped her head in remembrance of a time that could only have been centuries ago. "When I held his hand and promised him I would get him back to you, it was the first time he had even touched me in twenty years. "

Abbie flexed her hands in front of her as in apology. She could not imagine what Katrina had endured.

Katrina waved away the pity. "Oh, we had not lived together for some time. After Jeremy p—" she stopped then, and the frailty crept over her features. "After my son…we barely spoke to each other. Let alone resided in the same house. At times we didn't even reside in the same country."

Abbie looked around and sighed. "Katrina I am sorry for all the misery you have been through in this life. I don't know how you endured it. But, I need to get back now. Its late and my sister is waiting for me."

"You'll come again." She said over her shoulder.

Abbie doubted the veracity of those words. Hell, she even doubted if what she had just experienced was real. She followed her same path in and made for the sanity of her car.

XxXxX

The sound of the car door opening was as welcome as the crack of the bat in the bottom of a losing ninth inning. Jenny scooted her body closer to her sister's as Abbie dove into the front seat. "What the hell?

Abbie placed her gun on the dashboard and rubbed her face. "She is bat shit crazy."

Jenny started the engine and pulled out of the trench the Jeep had settled into. "This is new information?"

Abbie shook her head. "I had hope, Jenny." She said finally.

Jenny nodded but said nothing. She wanted to ask a million questions but knew her sister enough to know when to wait until Abbie was ready to talk.

Abbie sat in the passenger seat as her sister navigated through sleepy town streets dusted with fine morning haze. The witch had offered her a story, such a strange proposition that she was unsure if it was all a dream. "Jen," she began killing the silence that the drive had made. "Do you believe in reincarnation?"

Jenny chanced a look at her sister to gauge her level of seriousness before answering. "I'm assuming this has something to do with your talk with Katrina the Undead Witch?"

A small smile broke across Abbie's face and she nodded. "She, uhh." Abbie tried as they pulled into the parking for her place. Jenny and Abbie made their way into the house without another word. Jenny grabbed two beers out of the fridge as Abbie changed into her pajamas.

"So what's the deal?" she asked as Abbie plopped into the seat next to her.

Abbie thumbed the cap off of her Fat Tyre and took a pull long enough to make Jenny nervous. "First off?" she began then wiped her mouth. "Katrina did not keep well."

Jenny nodded. "Her stint in Purgatory kept her from aging. I can only imagine what two hundred and fifty years without saran wrap would do. "

Abbie smiled and took a long pull off of her beer. "I think she was hinting at reincarnation."

"Of Crane?" Jenny spurted.

Abbie nodded. And went on. "She didn't leave a lot of information, just scooted around things like she was trying to keep me interested without giving too much to go on."

Jenny shook her head and popped open her second beer. "So, what do you wanna do?"

Abbie let her head fall back and shook it. "I want this to all be over." She said. "Crane's been gone for six months. I found out about his life in the past. He lived, he fought, had a son…" she stopped then as if something caught in her throat. "Although, I get the impression something went down with Jeremy Crane. Katrina said in her note that he had become her greatest disappointment. Then, she hinted at something tonight."

"You think it's important?" Jenny asked.

"I think all of this dredging of the past is just gonna leave me where I was yesterday before Frederick Crane dropped in. I think at some point I have to let all of this go and move on."

"To what?" Jenny asked. "The Apocalypse has been avoided; there are no demons or ghouls hanging around town,"

"Other than the witch in Fredrick's Manor and the ghosts lingering in this apartment."

"I'm going to bed, Jenny." Abbie rose and moved toward her room with the half empty bed. "See you in the morning."

XxXxXxXxX

At two o'clock in the afternoon a tall and familiar figure stood just inside of the Westchester Police Department. He slid a hand along the wood moldings and started down the long hallway that lead back into the police bull pin.

A diminutive woman slipped from her office and nearly collided with the still man. "Crane?" the buxom woman in police uniform and dark curly hair beamed. "How dare you come back to town and not tell me?" Her demeanor quieted quickly and she leaned in. "Or, are you trying to surprise someone?" Wendy stepped back and appraised the tall man in front of her. "Must be a surprise cause you sure cleaned up different. "

Frederick Crane warred with a sense of confusion and an edging feeling of familiarity. He regarded the woman and could not fight the desire to call her Wendy. "I'm sorry? Have we met?" he asked both to her and himself.

She laughed heartily and slapped his arm. "Good one, Crane. She's at her desk, I can't wait to see her face when she sees you."

"Her?" he asked pushing his glasses up on his nose, a habit he had maintained since childhood. "I am here to see Lieutenant Abigail Mills. She's not expecting me but if you could direct me to her offices I would be most appreciative."

Wendy laughed again, chucked a thumb in the direction of the bullpen and walked away laughing. "You are an odd egg, Crane." She chuckled. "She's at her desk, same as always now."

'Thank you." He said to her retreating form.

"Don't thank me," Wendy announced over her shoulder. "You showed up on Thursday, you know what that means around here. First rounds on you."

He studied the stranger as she walked away and set off in the direction she pointed. The large room opened up at the end of the hallway, filled with officers both in uniform and plain clothes. All seemed in various states of work. He passed an office with a name that seemed familiar to him. Irving, Irving, where have I seen that before? He asked himself as he made his way through the room.

He spotted her right away as he entered the large room, her head was bowed over a computer screen and one hand held a telephone receiver. Some officers waved to him or nodded as if they knew him. Frederick Crane was no constable, but he was smart enough to know that civilians weren't allowed into this part of the station without some identity check. The greetings her received were nonchalant enough and familiar enough to confuse him

Had he been here before?

There wasn't a name for the deja vu he was having, usually when you experience it's a personal experience and the rest of the world around you has no idea your sense of familiarity with a place. This, this was something entirely different. The inhabitants of the area kept waving and nodding as if they knew him. One even shushed everyone else as if there was some huge surprise in the works. The room suddenly fell silent and all eyes turned to the tall man as he advanced upon Lieutenant Mills.

It was the silence in the room that made her look up. Meeting his gaze, she ended her call abruptly and Frederick read the curse that fell from her full lips.

"I have been having the most awkward experience." He said as he stood in front of her desk.

"You don't say?" Abbie returned. "All right, people. Back to work. Nothing to see here." She grabbed her leather jacket and motioned for him to follow her outside.

"Have I been here before?" he asked in earnest. "Because I get the distinct impression that all of those people... " He waved behind them as he stumbled to keep up with her pace. "Know me."

"They don't know you. They think they know you but, it's not you they know."

"Oh," Frederick answered "Well, that clears it all up then." A beat. "Wait, no it doesn't." He reached for her arm as they flew down the stairs. Abbie jerked at his touch and spun on him.

"What are you doing here?" she asked more accusing than inquisitive.

"That is precisely the question I had for you just now, only different pronouns." He watched the woman in front of him stare him down and understood how someone so tall would be an officer. With I sigh he spoke again. "I came to…Yesterday I wasn't very nice." He finally finished wondering why this woman left his usual verbosity lacking.

"Okay," she said with a nod but said nothing more.

Silence in interrogations was a little used but effective way of garnering information. He had read that somewhere in his studies, and mentally kicked himself for not only falling for it, but being unable to fall out of it. "I thought, since I kept you from your lunch yesterday, perhaps I could…" he motioned to the diner across the street in an attempt at definition.

"Lunch?" she asked arms still folded.

"Well, all right, since you insist." He tried with a smile. He watched something flash behind her eyes and then a seemingly unwanted smile dance at the corners of her mouth.

"It's a little late for that, don't you think?"

He suddenly felt exposed, naked, as in those dreams when you are taking an exam but realize you forgot to put anything on and somehow made it through the trip to the school and half the examination without anyone realizing you were as naked as vegan smoothie. "I just, its…..i thought…" He threw his hands into the air and blew a harsh sigh. "I didn't see a ring, or anything and I assumed…."

"You assumed," Abbie retorted before turning and fast walking in the opposite direction of the station. He skipped a few times but eventually caught up to her.

"Is it a proper assumption? " he wheedled hoping for just one more word with her.

Abbie didn't answer as they turned another corner. He didn't think she knew hwere she was going, but he knew it was irritation fueling her pace.

"Every nickel makes a knuckle." He said with a broad smile.

Abbie stopped in her tracks and turned to face him. Cars passed by but in that instant, when she looked upon him with a familiarity that made his breath hitch, he felt the blood in his body run backwards. "What did you day?"

"Every nickel makes—"

Abbie held up a hand to stop him. "I heard you the first time. " she insisted.

"Then why did you ask me to repeat it?" he pressed.

Abbie shook her head and began walking again. "Nothing."

"No," he said grabbing her arm again, this time she allowed his hand to rest where it was. "No, something I said, I can see it in your eyes. Why is that familiar to you?" he stopped following her and stood in the bright cool afternoon. It was there again, only different this time. He rooted through hhis memory and came to an odd phrase that was spoken by an American baseball player once. It's deja vu all over again. That was the only way to explain it. He turned circles and took in the town around him. There was never a time in his 30 years that he had ever stepped foot in New York, let alone Sleepy Hollow. Hell, he had to GPS the place to even get from the airport in his rental

And yet.

Standing there, in the sunlight, running after this tiny woman, something about it was…

Déjà vu all over again.

"Why is that familiar to me?"