[A/N]: Hey guys, I'm sorry for the lack of updates, with the end of the semester and the holidays things got a little crazy. But to make up for that I have a longer chapter. So enjoy and I hope you all had a happy holidays! :)
[DISCLAIMER]: I don't own Sleepy Hollow, and all credit goes to the producers. I'm just giving them the credit they deserve.
Laney had been sitting in a chair most of the night and the stiff, wooden seat was beginning to become uncomfortable. She had spent the majority of her time, over the last few days now, tied to a chair and she was really hoping the trend wouldn't continue. It was beginning to infuriate her, like an unobtainable sliver beneath the skin. All she wanted was to walk around for a few minutes; hell even taking a long winded run was looking appealing, any form of activity was something she wanted to do.
It had been hours since the Horseman had left her alone and she was starting to wonder what would happen if he didn't return. She was almost certain no one knew she was here, and that meant she would probably starve to death or die of dehydration. Laney tried not to think of the horrific possibilities that she could happen, instead she focused on things that would help the time pass.
The only blessing she had been gifted so far was a tiny window in the kitchen. She was granted a direct view of the outside world or at least the woods at the edge of the clearing. Through the ugly, wispy curtains she could see the light of dawn was just starting to reveal itself behind the trees like a silvery veil.
Through the trees Laney saw the faintest outline of a man riding a horse – specifically a man with a bulky outline and a horse with glowing red eyes. Laney knew it was Abraham and all night she had dreaded his return. His presence alone was equivalent to a torturous, unending plague.
Laney heard the faintest naying of a horse as Death approached the small house with haste. The sound of heavy boots unceremoniously hitting the porch resonated around the small farmhouse like a lion's roar. Biting her lip, she heard Abraham dramatically entered the house with a thunderous and unnecessary kicking of the door.
Laney watched as the hinges cried under the Horseman's boot and the door flew open on command. The look in Abraham's eyes was deranged and Laney could tell his cheeks were adrenaline flushed, as a rosy color contradicted his papery skin.
The Horseman's coat was covered in blood, or was it blood? It was a hard to tell in the very dim candle light, but there was a liquidy, dark color that had stained his once pristine red-coat. Laney saw there was definitely streaks of dark, peaty dirt and his ax was still tightly within his grasp. Unease claimed Laney in a few short seconds, her heart started to race and her eyes widened. Did Abraham know the truth now? Had he humored her before and finally come to the conclusion she wasn't Katrina?
To Laney's relief Abraham's stiff and uptight shoulders slowly relaxed, and he slide his hellish ax into a holster on his belt. She watched as the Horseman took a few cautious steps closer to her.
As Abraham came closer, it became more obvious it was blood that covered his jacket. Laney bit her lip again; she couldn't erase the thought that maybe he had killed Crane or Mills. She prayed Abraham hadn't, but there was always a chance he could. Everytime the Horseman left it was as if a lion was being released into a gladiator's arena. People usually died when the feral beast was released – innocent people, gladiators, it was inevitable – especially in this case where the lion was an indestructible force of death.
Laney finally peeled her gaze off his jacket to witness Abraham's eyes glance over her with condescension and a whispering hint of wistfulness. She fought down a shrill amount of shivers that barreled down her spine. She knew she had to keep up her fake façade as Katrina; and being cowardice was not a trait Laney had seen in the revolutionary, redheaded witch.
"Did you find what you were looking for?" Laney ventured with bold curiosity; she couldn't help but wonder what Death did in his free time. Did he claim souls or was his purpose to bring on this apocalypse that Crane had mentioned, she wondered.
"I already have what I seek," he paced around her and instantly she knew what he meant. He thought he had Katrina in his grasp, if only he knew the truth, but Abraham continued as arrogantly as ever. "My goal is larger than that, as I am still a humble servant of Moloch, but you knew that."
A humble servant of Moloch? She had never heard of this Moloch, and he didn't sound human. Could he be a monster aspiring to god-hood? Or just another demon that was trying to wreak havoc on the living?
The Horseman paused for a second, before placing his hands against the back of her chair and leaning against it slightly. "Though, my path did cross with Ichabod's today."
"Really?" Laney said indifferently, pretending to be disinterested in the topic. In all honesty, she was desperate to hear about Mills, Crane and hell anyone else who lived in Sleepy Hollow. This farm house was like a secluded circle of hell, designed specifically to test her sanity.
Laney's thoughts were disputed when she saw Abraham walk in front of her, his piercing green eyes digging into her. The ill-trained witch's stature was tense and she could almost see waves of visible anger coursing through Death.
"He lives, for now. But the man you love never existed. Ichabod Crane is a deception," the look in Abraham's eyes were zealous to say the least. "Ichabod is alive. And free. And what did he choose to do with his freedom?"
"Did he search the ends of the earth to find his beloved wife?" He spat the words out like the poison.
Laney gripped onto the chair she was tied to for her own safety. Abraham looked at his most dangerous as he was failing to even control his rage. "No." Death hissed through his white, perfect teeth.
"Instead he chooses to run around Sleepy Hollow with another woman."
The room felt as if it was closing in on her; shrinking as the intensity of the argument elevated. Laney looked down at her lap solely to avoid the scorching contact that Abraham's eyes were inflicting. It was as if the Horseman's words and vehement gaze were burning away every layer of her skin, and trying to tear at her very soul.
"Abigail Mills. He can't stand to see her in peril for more than a mere minute. And yet, how long did he leave you to rot in Purgatory? It's a miracle you're here at all," Abraham continued. Laney's face became rigid; the reality that Katrina was still trapped in Purgatory stung like a slap in the face. Everything Abraham was saying was true, yet twisted to fit his sick argument perfectly.
Katrina understood that Ichabod had a duty as a witness, and yet she had to be damned to Purgatory. Abraham seemed to gloat about it, rubbing in the fact that Katrina had made sacrifices for the man she loved, and her sacrifices had yet to bore any results – other than Ichabod's freedom from death.
"Ichabod once claimed to care about me too. But he moved on. And now he's moved on again. I've seen it Katrina. He doesn't love you anymore." His words were like a virus, they were infectious and weakening, causing her stomach to churn and make her feel violently ill. Laney was happy that she was taking the abuse herself, rather than letting Katrina hear these words. She could only imagine how Katrina would have taken the Horseman's volatile rational.
"Do you take pleasure in trying to emotionally abuse the women you fancy?" Laney said, her voice sounding far less confident than she would have liked. "It must be a sport that demon's partake in," she retorted.
Abraham let out a frustrated sigh, "I'm trying to get you to see the truth, Katrina you must see it. After my proclamation, are still going to ignore the plain and obvious truth? Ichabod does not love you."
There was a subtle pause, as Abraham straightened himself. "I love you, Katrina. I always have. I have been working this whole time in Moloch's service, solely to free you from his grasp. Can you simply ignore my true dedication?" Abraham said, his tone on the very fringes of anger.
"You are a dead man, how can you speak of devotion and love?" Laney wished she knew more about this Abraham. There had to be a legitimate reason Katrina had tossed Abraham away, and she yearned to know what it was. Maybe it was his temperamental attitude and his impatience that had driven Katrina to disapprove of him. But so far, over two hundred years of servitude to this Moloch-guy for Katrina's freedom seemed like real, yet twisted devotion.
Laney looked up from her lap finally to see that Abraham was a few inches from her face; his gaze was like venom, stringing her on the surface while burning her inside. "Demons take you… You were always stubborn Katrina," he growled. "You have always believed what you wanted to believe. Convincing yourself that Crane was worth your love and that I was some monster. You closed yourself off from the truth and never opened up to see the real gravity of my feelings. I have loved you for over two hundred years–" his voice trailed off, as did his eyes.
She watched as the Horseman scanned her face with the same harsh facial expression and stare he usually possessed. Boldly, Abraham reached out his hand to brush her cheek, but Laney instinctively recoiled. Out of the corner of her vision, she saw the Horseman's hand limply caress the air with an odd tenderness, before retracting his arm back to his side.
Fear struck her hard when a frustrated sigh was released from the Horseman; irritation sparked in Abraham's gaze, and he took a few furious steps back. An awkward and suppressive silence fell over them, as she averted her eyes away from the Horseman. Laney could still feel the intensity of his glares, but she wasn't willing herself to look at him.
It was almost by divine intervention that her stomach cried out in hunger, thankfully filling the empty void of conservation.
"I presume you're hungry?" Abraham inquired; he sounded much more calm than she had expected.
"A fatal flaw of being human and out of Purgatory," she muttered. "It's been over a day since I've eaten or had anything to drink." Laney confessed, remembering her German captors hadn't returned after their mission.
"I remember, those fools were incompetent and unable to finish Moloch's bidding. Yet, how they found you, I am still uncertain of." There was a small pause as the Horseman pulled a paring knife and a piece of bread from his pocket.
"The leader of that group claimed you were posing as someone else all along, Katrina - an accountant named Laney Fischer, if I remember correctly." His tone was dangerously low and hostility dripped from his words. Laney was terrified; he refused to look at her as his lips were contorted into a vicious scowl. "The rumor, is there truth to it?" The Horseman asked, as he sliced the loaf of bread into manageable pieces.
"Yes," she mumbled weakly. "I had to hide under a false identity. It is easy, when you have spells." It wasn't until then did she realize the depth of her deception. Everything she had told the Horseman thus far was nearly a complete and utter lie. She told herself it was for her survival, that lying was the most necessary thing, but this monster, Abraham – he was so genuine.
Here he was confessing his feelings for a woman who wasn't even who he believed. A woman that had slighted his heart and feelings to marry someone else. But Katrina was a woman he had laid two hundred years of servitude for. A woman he believed was worth a lifetime of sacrifice. And here Laney was, pretending to be this woman; it felt so unjust.
She wanted to just sink into the floor and disappear, to escape from her lies and sins for just a few moments. She was creating a foggy illusion for this Horseman, a veil of pure lies, and she knew that it would soon be lifted, as all illusions eventually were. And in the end the only ones standing there would be Abraham and her – Laney Fischer not Katrina Crane – that was her greatest fear.
She was truly toying with Death's heart and that may prove to be more deadly than anything she had encountered before. It was a nightmare to think of and she didn't wish to engage herself in the mere thought.
Instead she watched as Abraham poured her a cup of water from one of the glasses he had found while rummaging through the previous owner's cabinets. Listlessly, he grabbed a plate and tossed the bread slices onto it. He carefully placed the food and glass of water on the small mahogany table in front of her. Abraham was certainly careful to dodge the giant gaping hole his fist had left in the table during their first interrogation, and his fit of rage.
Laney stared at him blankly, wondering how he expected her to eat and drink while her hands were presently tied to the chair. It wasn't until a few seconds later that she realized the Horseman of Death was debating whether he trusted her enough to untie her.
"I hope you realize by now I cannot reach the food," the Katrina look-alike whined. Her stomach was crying in hunger and her mouth was desperately begging for even a few drops of water.
"I've noticed," his response was curt and frustrated. "I can't tell whether I trust you not to escape." He said, though it almost seemed like he never meant to say it aloud.
She had to fight down a rude chuckle at his irrational thought. Like she could honestly outrun the Horseman of Death, especially if she were in the middle of unfamiliar territory. The only thing that even made his concern seem appropriate was the possibility that Abraham believed she truly was a skilled witch, in which his caution seemed warranted.
"I won't harm you, Abraham. I have no where to go or hide." Laney tried her best to sound honest, but she couldn't tell if he bought it. The Horseman leaned closer to the table and slowly reached for the paring knife once again. The instability in his gaze was haunting and for a brief moment she thought maybe she had annoying him one too many times.
Instead, he released her from her bondage and cut the ropes loose, leaving Laney free to move her arms. Instantly, she began rubbing her sore and rope-burned wrists. The red imprints left on her skin looked so angry and tortured that she believed no amount of soothing could heal them.
Laney nearly jumped when she felt icy hands grab hold of her arm. The Horseman was examining the damage inflicted on her skin for himself; he kept his prodding and concern for her wrists tender and clinical.
"Your wrist is injured," he murmured quietly. "Let me see if I can find some type of salve for you in this house."
"No, you need not worry," she replied, hastily pulling her wrist away. "I just want to eat, drink and get some sleep," remembering that she hadn't slept properly in days made her feel even more unstable.
"I see," Abraham narrowed his eyes. "You wish to sleep?"
Laney nodded cautiously, hoping that he would allow her rest. She watched as Abraham slowly backed away from her, all the while keeping his gaze glued to her, as if she were a jewel someone were about to steal. The Horseman opened and disappeared behind a door; the sound of boots hitting wooden steps resonated in Laney's ears. Floor boards creaked above her head as she ravenously scarfed down the bread and took gulps of lukewarm water; ignoring what was going on around her was the best option, focusing on food instead was quite pleasing.
She stuffed food in her mouth to the point where her face resembled something like a chipmunk – cheeks fat and brimming with food. It was then when Abraham came back downstairs to see her with round cheeks filled with bread – the look of bewilderment on the Horseman's face was humorous and Laney had to refrain herself from laughing.
"You surely were hungry," Abraham commented dryly. "I will remember to bring you more food next time." Laney nodded in agreement before setting down her empty glass of water. "As for sleeping arrangements, there is a bed upstairs."
Laney nodded, she couldn't express her relief to sleep in an actual bed, it definitely beat sleeping while tied to a chair. "Will you untie me so I can sleep?" She couldn't help but ask. Sleeping with ropes around her limbs didn't seem like the most pleasant way to drift off.
"Yes, but only while I'm there," the Horseman said sternly. He was definitely trying to lay down his authority over what he thought was Katrina.
Still, she felt herself stiffen slightly at the response, it was uncomfortable to think that Abraham was acting like a warden, specifically her warden. "What do you mean by 'only when I'm there,'" she challenged.
The Horseman's expression became frigid, but the look in his eyes were biting – he stared angrily at Laney, trying to silence her into submission. "It means you will remain untied so long as I am here to watch you."
"You mean you will be watching me sleep?" Laney did not feel comfortable about this, but she could see Abraham was losing his patience once again.
"What else am I supposed to do!" Death roared with pure frustration. "I'm no warlock, I can't cast some spell or ward to force you to remain here."
She might be pushing it, but she was curious about his obsessions with Katrina. It seemed he loved her, but to Laney it was as if something else was there, something more sensational. Maybe it was Katrina's power as a witch, or maybe the Horseman was just a person who was use to having what they wanted, but there was something more between them. And it intrigued Laney greatly.
"Then why keep me here if you know I wish to leave?" She asked charmlessly, but she regretted her crassness, for Death's expression shifted to a determined and indignant look.
"Because I want to fix this, Katrina. I want to fix what happened between us," there was a subtle pause before he continued. "And you are my one prize for my servitude to Moloch, I would be foolish to give you up."
She wasn't some prize to be won and Katrina would feel the same – she was sure of it, but pushing an argument didn't seem appropriate at the moment. Anyways, she was too exhausted to keep fighting her corner. Without sleep Laney knew she would slip up, and eventually make it obvious she wasn't Katrina. Instead, she yawned and leaned back in the chair.
Her eyelids were starting to feel as if cinder blocks had been placed upon them, constantly dragging them down and costing her exponential amounts of energy to keep them open. It was becoming a struggle to even blink and just the thought of sleeping in a bed was so enticing.
"Abraham," she called to him, weakly. "I might need to sleep. Can we continue this at another time?"
"I suppose," Abraham said reluctantly. She reached down to untie her ankles that were roped together, but her hands were stopped. The Horseman grabbed her sore wrists, electing a very tiny gasp of pain.
"No," Abraham muttered with a strict tone. Instead, he leaned down and to her surprise he scooped her up.
Death pulled her tightly against his chest, making sure she couldn't fall from his arms; it was like a secure cocoon. The close proximity caused Abraham's scent to wander to her nose; she was greeted with the scent of rich, peaty dirt and the flickering smell of grass. It was soothing and nostalgic, making her feel as if she was curled up on her lawn as a cold summer breeze tickled her skin. Laney physically had to restrain herself from nuzzling her face into the red, worn coat Abraham was wearing.
The Horseman carried her down the hall and up the stairs hastily, as if he understood the urgency in which she needed rest. Quietly, he opened the door to a small and comfortably calm, blue bedroom filled with many scenic paintings of the woods and a beautifully carved four-poster bed. Laney was too tired to admire the craftsmanship of the bed or the detail of the bedroom itself.
As soon as the Horseman set her down on the comforter of the bed Laney felt her lids get heavier. She watched as Abraham untied the rope around her ankles, which he had promised to do. It was liberating to not be restrained for once in a few days, she finally moved her feet and legs and instantly crawled under the thick blankets. Laney found herself drifting off already, slowly entering the realm of the unconscious state.
She heard the distinct sound of wooden chair-legs grinding against the floor as she rolled over to see the Horseman pulling up a chair on the other side of the room.
"You were being very serious when you meant to supervise me?" Laney said annoyed, she was not feeling pleased that she couldn't even sleep without the Horseman invading her space.
"I was," Abraham replied. "I will not disturb you, so rest, Katrina." She watched as the blonde Horseman leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes slightly, not fully but slightly. Laney could almost guess an immortal being would never need to sleep, but it was comforting to know that Abraham was trying to make his overseeing less awkward and frightening.
For the first time in days Laney was allowed to sleep in a bed and didn't have to suffer sitting in an uncomfortable chair. For the first time in days she found herself fully feed and properly nourished, not on the verge of starvation. And for the first time in a week she felt safe and not in the direct path of danger, even if she was the Horseman of Death's new prisoner, she felt a very false sense of security.
In a couple of days, her life as she had known it had been turned into a disaster. She had outrun a headless murder who was currently her new roommate. She had discovered that demons and monsters were not a figment of her imagination, but rather very real entities that wanted to kill her. She had learned she was the split soul of a colonial witch, who was the ex-fiancé of Death itself. And she had been abducted by a crazy cult of German demon worshipers who were slyly integrated into Sleepy Hollow's everyday society.
To Laney, her world had been shaken to its very core. Nothing felt real, nothing she trusted to be real anymore. She second guessed everything she once believed, and frankly she wasn't even sure if her life was real, because after all she didn't even have her own soul, she was borrowing Katrina's. How could she value what she was doing if she felt her life was an illusion?
Her life before had been filled with its own tribulations, but to many it was normal. She had a job as an accountant, owned a house, paid her bills and hung out with friends on occasion - it had been a normal life. But the sad truth was: almost nothing of her previous life had mattered, almost none of it. It had all led to the idea that what she had been doing was a pointless lie, and she had been postponing her real destiny as a witch and The Witness's sidekick. Her job now was to aid Mills and Crane in stopping an apocalypse which she never knew existed until a week ago, and for her, it was too painful to accept. She had been living in a shroud of lies. Just as the Horseman was now.
Maybe what her and the Horseman both needed to believe was: illusions that brought short amounts of joy were worth living. That the sea of lies they lived in was not worth being seen and that the small, falsely constructed world around was the most beautiful, and should be cherished while it lasts.
Maybe what Laney needed now was a small amount of safety and stability in her life. And if the Horseman of Death offered her even a drop, she would snatch it up greedily.
[A/N]: Thank you so much for taking the time to read! I would love to hear what you guys thought of this chapter and where things are heading. Also, leave me your thoughts about the beginning of the mid season premiere. What do you guys think about this new angel, Orion? Anyways, thank you for reading! :)