Passion chokes the flower
Till she cries no more
Possessing all the beauty
Hungry still for more

Silence - Delerium

Alright, I'm actually slightly bored.

Not to say that aimlessly wandering through the manor hallways is not a spine-tingling experience or anything, but, admittedly, after three full hours it does get old. Then there was Ichabod and his rather interesting research, but he's currently avoiding me like the plague, evidently deeming his experimentations with explosive chemicals safer than being around me. And no matter how entertaining and awesome my company can be, I guess my tousled hair, the fabulous nightgown I'm sporting and my overall dopey, out of it, just-got-out-bed look can only keep a thirteen year old boy like young Masbath amused for so long.

Meh. Men.

I stare out the parlor window, and watch the colors wake along with the rising sun. The late morning is my favorite time of the day, when the frail light of Sleepy Hollow shines its brightest, giving the false impression of a warm day. Thankful for the roaring flames of the hearth, I settle in one of the worn armchairs, sinking into its soft cushions. It's faded and shaped with years of use, but it's warm and comfortable and I tuck my feet underneath me, relishing in this rare moment of stillness and calm. I observe the space around me, quietly watch the chestnuts and coppers and hazels that warm up the room, the grains of dust that twirl mindlessly in the bleached sunrays that filter in through the thin curtains. I like it because it reminds me of home, although I would never tell anyone. Too precious a secret to share, I guess. There are things I want to keep close to my heart. Not that I'm unbearably that homesick anymore, but I get the occasional nostalgic bite, especially when I think of the dark turn things have taken around the town.

I scrub off the thought, before it begins to form into something dangerously saddening. No good in moping like a loser, as a certain stunning, anger management needing German I know would say. Maybe I need to find a job or something. Maybe go back to babysitting for Mrs. Brown, keep my mind from running amuck, as it's prone to do.

Of course, there are a few trivial details, like my inability to get out of the house or the fact that the whole village wishes to see me hanged…

Boy, am I loved.

At least I'm not alone in this. Tough times are not so tough when you're not alone. And I have Ichabod and Katrina and Jonathan who do all they can to help and shield me. I mean, they're practically what keeps me sane. That's a major plus, right? And Erhard…

Yeah, he's what keeps me hot and heavy. Heh.

The shy smile spreads across my face anew at the thought of him, a lustful jolt kicking through my stomach as my memory insists on replaying all our heated moments. I can still remember what he tastes like. For some reason I always thought that it would be something fierce and rough, but he tastes warm and male and so very real. God, is this really happening between us?

My lips still burn with the stinging bite of his teeth, answering my own question. I touch my mouth lightly as I grin again, feeling extremely nervous and extremely wonderful at the same time.

Eventually, I make the decision to take a bath and slip into something that hasn't been rumpled beyond hope from sleep. When that's done, I spend half an hour trying to cook some breakfast, because Katrina will probably have Erhard chop my head off if she finds out I didn't eat again. So I go for an omelet. Worse than ever, because I can't focus on a damn thing. I don't care, though. Ha! Not at all. Then I give dusting a good shot, but I end up breaking two bibelots and knocking over a cup of tea, because I'm clumsy as hell and today my mind is one big, buzzy ball of desirous glow.

Does he feel like this, too? I wonder what he's thinking of right now. Probably how he hates it in that Tree. Yeah, that would make sense. He's probably with Daredevil. Or maybe he's just lying in bed. Shirtless perhaps…? Yeah, that's an image I could stand to picture a little more often. Is he thinking of me? Is he glad to have me? Do I mean anything to him? Does he regret kissing me? Was it an accident? Will it happen again? Did I make the whole thing up in my head?

Seriously, I need to switch off my brain somehow. It's not normal to go all mushy when there's so much trouble seething in the village. I just hate so much the fact that he makes me feel like this. Alright, that's not true, at all, I actually love it. And, man, I really have to shut up.

I eventually manage something quite close to getting hold of myself and decide to tidy my closet, because there is absolutely nothing else to do other than die of boredom.

Is it still early? I abandon my currently half empty wardrobe and scurry back to the parlor to check the clock. Damn it! How is it only midday? Who slowed time down again?

"Linda?"

I almost jump a mile, unable to hold back a squeal of alarm. Christ, I'm feeling like Ichabod on a sugar high.

It's just Katrina, though, returning from the grocer's, her cheeks still rosy from the cold winter breeze. She smiles amiably at me as she takes off her jacket and gloves. "How are you today?", she cheerfully asks, going to rest on the settee.

I give her a goofy, unsure smile. "Oh, I'm… I'm fine. Crow blood's been doing wonders."

Her light giggle manages to help me relax and I take a seat next to her. Honestly, she's the only person whose mere presence is enough to make me loosen up.

"I'm glad to see you healthful", she says, her smile never vanishing. "It is miraculous, how swiftly you recovered,"

"I wouldn't have if it weren't for you, guys. I owe you big time."

She gestures for me to shush. "Nonsense. Isn't that what friends are for?"

That alone makes me go all hot and cold. It's true, friends look out for each other and, recently, I have been so caught up in my own problems that I haven't even considered how all of this is affecting the only people I can call friends.

The prickly hints of unease I pushed to the back of my mind begin to deepen. I shift uncomfortably in my seat. "Listen, I… I spoke with Ichabod yesterday and…I know I should have said this earlier, but I'm really sorry I put you through all this. I really want to do something to-"

"You need not do anything.", she interrupts me, with utter conviction. "Your position is quite difficult as it is."

"But Ichabod said-"

"Ichabod is too squeamish for his own good. He will compose himself over time. Still, I am of the same mind with him that you should not draw any attention under the given circumstances."

"Yes. Which is why he thinks Erhard shouldn't-"

"If Erhard is the man you chose to be with, it is not Ichabod's job to judge that decision."

Right, my thoughts exactly. "But he's just so upset that he comes here every night…"

"And how is that your fault? Or does he mistake the Horseman for a man keen on doing as he's told?" She tries to remain serious, but her voice gives her away. "Because if that is truly the case, I would love to see Ichabod attempt to convince him to stay away!"

"Ha!", Okay, so that has me snorting in laughter. Arguing with Erhard is pretty much as efficient as arguing with a wall. Trust me. I've been there more times than my nervous system could probably handle.

She gives me what passes as a mischievous look, content that her point has come across and the iron band of guilt around my chest begins to unclasp. It's not completely gone, but it's manageable. Lax. And I kind of like that. It feels okay, I decide. So I sit back and stretch my legs. "I don't think he would manage to stay vertical long enough to get to the convincing part."

She giggles lightheartedly, sharing with me a look of slight guilt at making fun of him.

"You look happy.", I note, staring at her quizzically.

She fights to keep her lips from stretching into a full grin again, fixing her gaze on the white gloves she has placed in her lap. "I do?"

"Yeah…" I cross my arms, aiming to get at bottom of the mystery. "Almost glowing actually. Does it have to do with what you were so excited to tell me last night?"

"Last night?" Her head snaps up immediately and no matter how hard she tries to disguise it, we both know she's busted.

"You know, when you burst in my room. Or do you seriously expect me to believe you just wanted to check on me?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

Nope. Feigning innocence is not really her forte.

"I don't know… Perhaps 'cause you always knock and you never come when Erhard's around…"

"Oh…" She shuffles her feet a little bit, trying to hide the embarrassment. "I'm terribly sorry about that, I should have-"

"Whatever." I lurch forward, resting my chin on my hands. "I'm listening."

"Persistent, aren't you?" The warm smile lights up her face anew. "Well… I was planning to tell you at dinner. More than anything so that I could apprehend it first. But seeing as you insist…" She takes my hands into hers and looks at me radiantly. "Ichabod proposed to me."

What?!

It takes me a moment to grasp it and when I finally do I can't help the hysterical squeal that squeezes its way out of the back of my throat. "Oh my God! Oh my God I can't believe this! It's… it's…" Great. Amazing. Humongous. Prodigious! You name it, 'cause I can't! All I find myself able to do is smother Katrina in a massive hug while drunkenly repeating "I'm so happy, I'm so happy" like a broken record on crack. Which doesn't even make sense, but, hell, this is the best news I've heard in a long time so who gives a shit about coherent thoughts and all.

"When did it happen?", I finally manage to ask, still staring in open-mouthed shock.

"Yesterday, after we returned from the funeral. Oh, Linda, I'm so happy…"

"Of course you are!" I shrug, bringing my hands on my waist, unsure of what to say. I knew there was something going on between them, but I didn't suspect it was that serious. "So what… what did he tell you?"

She bites her lower lip and stares into space as if reliving it. "Well, I was sitting here at the parlor, trying to dismiss the whole funeral from my mind. He entered the room in that unsure, discreet way of his. Normally, it would not have befuddled me, but he remained awfully quiet for a long while. I was beginning to think that the events of the day were truly starting to flurry him when he looked up and said without a pause: 'Ms. Van Tassel, as you very well know my social status is not one to envy. I am neither the bravest nor the most capable man and I hardly have a penny to my name. However, I should like to say that nothing would make me happier than returning to my bleak duties with you by my side.'"

I can't help it. I begin to laugh. "And…?"

Katrina seems to be enjoying it as much as I do. "'Why', I said, 'Mr. Constable, that sounds considerably close to a proposal.' 'Indeed, it does', he firmly answered. "I was thinking that perhaps now that the case is solved and the murders have stopped… perhaps I should gather the courage to ask you to be my wife."

"And you said yes!"

"How could I not? I love him." Her voice wavers, full of emotion. I can actually see tears of joy brimming in her eyes. "He loves me, too, I know that. And now I'm going to be Mrs. Crane! Can you believe it?"

"Honestly? No!" I'd actually never think Crane could be capable of falling in love, let alone propose to a woman! "Does young Masbath know?"

"I'm almost certain that he was the one who talked him into asking me in marriage."

Yeah, that would make sense.

"So when will the wedding be held?"

"We have not considered a date yet." She gives me a shrug of her shoulders, probably going for careless, even though it's plain as day that she's head over heels excited. "I suppose shortly after we settle in."

"Settle in... where?"

"Ah… That was one more reason why I wanted to discuss it with you over dinner." She turns her face to the window, her fingers coming up to tangle nervously with a golden lock of her hair. "We decided that moving to New York would be our best option. Ichabod already owns a house that his pay allows him to sustain without difficulty, although I hope I will be able to contribute by selling my remedies. He also thinks the city will greatly benefit young Masbath's education and offer him the opportunity to become more than a simple farmer. He really has made him his apprentice – isn't it wonderful, how he cares for the poor boy? And you Linda…" She briefly pauses to look at me, her forehead puckering in an expression of concern. "You can hardly stay here for long and I would love to have you close to me. And I'm certain young Masbath feels the same way, as well."

I…. okay, so that's somewhat... weird. And it just came out of the blue, which makes it even weirder. They've already decided they're going to live in New York? And Katrina wants me to tag along?

Okay, judging by the hopeful look in her eyes she's actually expecting me to move with them. Which makes this even more uncomfortable for me.

And it only gets worse the moment she asks me "You would you like to come to the city, wouldn't you?"

I suddenly feel like lead is filling my stomach. "I… I…" No, not really. I don't want to lose what I found. Not now. Not when I've only just found it.

Then again, I know that there is no way I can stay in this house by myself. I know I cannot possibly stay in this goddamned village by myself. And I can only hide behind the four peeling walls of my room and expect others to look after me for so long.

Crap, it was always meant to come down to this. I should have seen it coming miles away.

A month ago I wouldn't have given it a second thought. But now…?

"Is this about Erhard?" Katrina's voice slices through the medley of my panic filled thoughts, light and clear. "You do not wish to leave him?" it is more of a statement than a question, but it's far from judgmental.

Dejection, embarrassment, uncertainty; they wash over me in heated waves, a lump forming in my throat as I nod softly. "I think I'm in love with him. I know it, actually."

She doesn't try to hide her discontent. She still looks kind, but sort of sad. "I understand. I do not mean to coerce you about anything."

"Staying here alone is too precarious, though, you're right about that."

"There's no need to fret." She leans forwards, smiling encouragingly. "We still have ample time ahead of us to concern ourselves with such issues. And I'm sure we will come up with a better solution to your problem, eventually. Perhaps, I shouldn't have unsettled you like this."

Something streams through me, warm and bright. Hope. Or at least something close to it.

"Okay.", I mumble, getting up and wriggling the life back to my toes. "Um, I'd better go upstairs. The entire content of my closet is hurled all over the room."

Katrina nods assertively. "Then I'll leave you to it."

I'm halfway out of the room when I hear her call my name again. I turn around and she silently regards me for a small moment. "I understand how you feel, which is why I will not insist on this, even if I believe it is the safest option. I know how it feels to think love is lost."

I smile coyly, dipping my head in acknowledgment. "I really appreciate that."

And at least for now, I decide to shove the matter in the back of my head.

Dinner is quiet for the most part, save for the occasional question that gets thrown around. Everyone seems uncomfortable and reserved and the tense silence gets interrupted only by the sounds of clanking utensils.

I try to pretend I don't notice that Ichabod avoids making eye contact with me, focusing on my plate instead. Roast beef, baked potatoes and lettuce salad, and I eat with great appetite, rejoicing in my first all-inclusive meal in many days.

To her credit, Katrina does make a few passable attempts at raising the spirits, by talking about safe, generic matters. The weather, the food, Ichabod accidentally setting the sleeves of young Masbath's coat on fire.

It doesn't really work.

The first to leave the table is Ichabod, his plate still piled up with his food. He chucks his napkin on the table, mutters a flimsy excuse and takes off, hauling his chair backwards as he quickly stands up.

And it all goes downhill from there. We finish our meal in sullen quietness, none of us verbally acknowledging the discomfort of the situation. I quietly help Katrina gather the dishes and even offer to do the washing, sending her to her bedroom and assuring her that I feel just fine.

No matter how much I try to busy myself, though, my thoughts keep flickering back at yesterday's argument. The shouting. The accusations. I tried to listen to Erhard, decided not to make much of it, but it's still there and it still stings. I know Ichabod and I never had much in common, There was always some awkward distance between us and we frequently squabbled about all the trivial things. But… shit, it was never like that. It never lasted. Deep down, I was always aware of the fact that I could count on him as a friend. I still am, seeing all the precautions he's trying to take to ensure my safety.

The thought wrests at me, far stronger than I thought it could. Glumness twined with regret. My keenness to assume the worst of his intensions. That he tried to reason with me, even after I called him a coward to his face.

But would a coward protect a fugitive? Would he fend for an outcast?

I think I'd better talk to him.

I grit my teeth, lips pressing into a flat line as I head by instinct to the one place I know I'll surely find him. The study.

It's already dark by the time I exit the kitchen, the shadows in the empty hallways, accenting my uneasy feeling in my gut. To be honest, I'm not entirely sure about how this is going to go down or what I'm supposed to say, but I still feel like it's the right thing to do.

I reach up a hand and knock on the door.

"It's open.", calls Ichabod's thin voice.

I take a deep breath and quietly step inside, throwing an unsure 'hey' his way. He looks up from his desk, his expression suggesting that I'm probably the last person he expected would come bother him at this time. He puts down his pen. "Linda…" His voice gives away his surprise. "Have… have a seat."

Right. Ichabod; always the gentleman.

I soundlessly settle on a chair opposite him, the air of calm in the room managing to soothe my nerves. My eyes briefly fall on the window, painted dark and misty with the promise of evening rain. There are a couple of candles on the desk around his book, glimmering off their glass cabinets and providing the room with light and coziness and as I sit back, I start to wonder what the hell it is I was so nervous about.

"What are you studying?", I lightly ask, noticing the open book in front of him.

He seems slightly thrown off by the scanty question. "Ah… Mathematics."

I nod in concede. "So, no more combustions for today?"

His hollow cheeks burn with a tinge of color at my comment. He looks down at his book, frowning in mortification. "It was… it was an accident."

Dude, relax. It was just a joke!

I sigh in defeat, deciding to attempt a different approach. "I heard about the proposal..."

At that, he perks up, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

"I was really excited to hear the news", I continue, hoping that will help him chill out, at last. "I'm very happy about you, guys."

He looks at me for a moment, the wrinkle between his brows slowly smoothing out. "Thank you."

My lips quirk upwards, in a polite smile. That's better.

Even though I do a pretty good job at keeping my cool, the next words roll out of my tongue with some difficulty, "Katrina also suggested that I come with you to New York. She said you talked about it?"

"We did." He nods in confirmation, still grave, but calmer than before. "What was your answer?", he adds, staring at me almost expectantly.

I hesitate. Although I'm not sure why. Maybe because it is my last chance to move back to a safer subject. "…I told her I'd think about it." Okay, not entirely true, but I'd better not push it right now.

He's quiet for a second, his jaw working as a slight expression crosses his face. "I see."

He doesn't say anything else and I don't know how to read that. "I assume it was not the answer you expected?"

He clears his throat. "If I'm honest, I had hoped you would concur."

"It's a little complicated."

"Of course.", he murmurs, dragging his gaze back to his book. "Is it complicated because of the Hessian?", he asks a second later, his tone somewhat tetchy.

I arch my eyebrows, giving him an awkward, pleading look. He remains quiet, though.

Stubbornly so.

Fine, then. Out with it, it is. "Yes, the truth is that I don't want to lose Erhard.", I tentatively answer, silently praying that it won't push him over the edge.

He shakes his head. "I still cannot believe you-"

"Ichabod, come on…", I implore him, head tilting to the side. "I did not come here to have another face-off with you."

"But-"

"Please? Can't we just leave that aside?"

He sucks his cheeks, trying to stop himself. "As you wish."

"Good. 'Cause I actually wanted to patch things up."

A perplexed, suspicious look is thrown my way. "Patch… up?"

"Yes." I shrug. "Look, I'm sorry about yesterday. It's just... You said things and I said things. Things I didn't mean…" He doesn't say anything, so I decide to go on. "I know that right now I'm just trouble and I know that you're not comfortable with Erhard being here. I really appreciate all your help and I'm not going to try and change your mind, okay? I just don't want this to come between us."

He sighs, looking away thoughtfully. Then, eventually "I do not see you as trouble, Linda. What vexes me is your reluctance to see about your safety. You need to understand. You are not Katrina Van Tassel. You might be friends, but your position bears little resemblance to hers. Those people are not going to be generous with you . They are not going to be accepting. She fails to see that."

I lean forwards, casting a rueful frown. "If you're worried about Katrina's safety, I promise you I do not intend to put anyone in danger. I can leave the house if you want. I will-"

His hand grabs my wrist. "I am not worried about Katrina", he cuts in, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. I stare at it, startled by the rare show of closeness on his part. "I am worried about you. As your friend."

I'm not sure what to say to that. It's not like him to be so open, which makes this even more valuable to me. I just smile kindly, showing him I understand. And I really appreciate this.

I guess it means we're okay?

A sudden, abrupt knock on the front door snaps me out of my thoughts. My heart rate instantly goes up, tension pulsing through every part of me. There is only one person I know that would knock like this,

I blast off my seat. "I'll get it!"

"Linda, wait! This might be dangerous!"

But I'm already darting through the hallway, excitement knotting in my stomach as the knocks gradually turn into forceful pounds. Yep, no doubt about who it is, whatsoever.

I can sense Ichabod lope right behind me as I bounce the door open to greet a very brusque looking Hessian, complete with crazy hair and ominous scowl. Hear him shout "Linda, are you completely insane?" milliseconds before I get shoved in the nearest wall by said Hessian, who apparently deems this the right moment to knock my breath away in a fervent kiss.

Damn, but it's good.

And completely inappropriate, judging by Ichabod's appalled, wide-eyed expression?

…This is shaping up to be extremely awkward.

"So, um…", I begin, casting a nervous glance at Ichabod, whose face seems to have frozen in an expression of slight shock, and taking a step forward so that I'm standing between them. "I trust the two of you have met each other before?" Yeah, I was never one for tact.

"Several times.", Ichabod utters, the color draining completely from his face as he locks eyes with Erhard. To his credit, however, he does approach him and hesitantly offers him his hand. "Constable Ichabod Crane…"

To my complete and utter horror, Erhard remains absolutely untouched by Ichabod's attempt at amity. He just glares down at him, like a panther sizing up his prey. And I'd probably consider it really bad-ass if it weren't for the fact that poor Ichabod seems to be on the verge of passing out.

Oh God, this is painful to watch.

"Okay, so maybe we should just go upstairs…", I chime in, tugging at Erhard's arm. Thankfully, he seems willing to come with me. "Goodnight, Ichabod."

"Goodnight, Linda.", he replies, casting a deep frown, before turning away.

Erhard tags along as I clamber the staircase in silence, making a mental note to kill him once we make it to my room. Which, okay, shouldn't really be possible. Killing him, not getting to my room. And it's a shame, really, because I'm so annoyed at what he did, I could just-

Okay. We're there.

I make sure to shoot him the best 'I'm-so-mad-at-you' look I can pull off as I shut the door closed behind me. Cross my arms in front of my chest for better effect, too, as I lean back against the wooden surface.

Getting the hint, he pauses in his stride to turn around and look at me.

"What the hell was that about?"

He just raises an eyebrow, throwing his gloves on the chair. "I don't like him."

"That doesn't mean you have to be rude!" I shake my head. "You scared him stiff!"

"He doesn't seem like a man hard to frighten." He narrows his eyes at me. "Need I go and apologize?"

I push myself away from the door. "Maybe, before you leave in the morning..."

The corners of his mouth quirk a little at my words. Despite my hardest efforts, that half-smile tromps all over my annoyance and sends a gush of heat all over my body, my stomach knotting with all the possible scenarios of what could happen between now and then.

He looks at me for a long time, his eyes piercing through my stomach. I like it, I realize, even though it makes me feel extremely self-conscious. Then, his spurs ring as as he approaches me, coming to stand so close that I nearly forget how to breathe. "You seem to have recovered.", he observes, casting a small frown.

I tuck a strand of hair nervously behind my ear, fixing my gaze at my feet. "I have."

"Do you eat well?"

"Yeah."

"Your side… Does it hurt?"

"No."

"Your shoulder?"

"Nope."

"And what about the headaches?"

"They've stopped."

Okay, maybe not one of the most intellectual conversations, but my usually hyperactive brain has the tendency to shut down when he's within kissing distance. Plus, the way his eyes are devouring me doesn't really put speaking to the forefront of my thoughts.

I look up at him through my lashes, chewing at my bottom lip as he runs two fingers through my hair, my stomach flipping as they accidentally brush over my neck.

I don't think I'll get used to the feeling his touch incites anytime soon.

"What's wrong?", he whispers, noticing my stillness.

"I missed you." The words blurt out of me, before I even think about them and I instantly regret my openness, almost expecting him to shun me.

Instead, his hand moves to the back of my head, tangling in my hair, anchoring my face towards his and he leans closer until his thin lips graze over mine and thinking no longer seems important. Or possible.

His hand trails down my back, pulling me closer till I'm firmly pressed against his solid body. I stand on my tiptoes, locking my arms around his neck, deepening it, tasting his tongue. But then he presses on and, with a muffled grunt, I feel him shift against me, lust building through him like he can't stop it. His body goes from gripping me to warm and impatient, chest rising and falling ardently as it all gets more intense. Hands exploring as he pushes me backwards; feet stumbling until I hit the desk and he fits me up against it, his mouth claiming mine, hard and fast and God I want more.

I can barely breathe, but I don't care. A hand reaches under my skirts, caressing its way up, gripping my thigh and wrapping it around his hip. My hair gets tousled as his fingers snarl in it, holding it tight, mouth kissing my face, trailing down my throat, craving and out of control. His hands move frantically, shoving the shoulders of my gown downwards, his lips and teeth and tongue running over the skin beneath as he pulls me towards him, fumbling for the laces of the dress on my back.

It's only then that I realize he wants to… he actually wants to…

"Erhard…s-stop", I moan, trying in vain to push him. "Stop."

He reluctantly pulls away, breathing as hard as I do. I throw my head against the wall, still delirious with sensation, struggling to catch my breath. "We… we can't."

Surprise registers in the furious sea of his eyes. "I'd say we most definitely can.", he growls between ragged pants, leaning in for another kiss.

"No, wait!", I exclaim, running a hand through my tousled hair. "I don't think we should…"

He narrows his eyes, scrutinizing me. "You haven't done this before?"

Well, okay, I haven't, but I think that's kind of paling into insignificance right now. Or at least it was before he mentioned it.

Is that a big deal, too?

He runs a thumb over my lips. "I'm not going to hurt you."

Oh Christ, I'm blushing in embarrassment so furiously I think I might permanently turn pink.

"It's not that, it's just…" I glance at the wall for moral support. "…I don't think we should do this in here."

He frowns. "In here?"

"Yeah, I mean…you know… Ichabod and Katrina and my nephew are in the house…"

"Your nephew?"

Okay, that was an inadequate choice of words. "Well, we're not really related, that's just what we told everyone when I settled here, y' know, back before… He's more like my kid brother actually, not so much-"

He frowns at me. "Linda…"

Right. "Off track, gotcha."

God, I'm so jittery.

His hand strokes my cheek as he lets his eyes bore into mine, never backing away. He doesn't say anything, though. He doesn't even move, even though he's so tense that I can see the veins loom on the side of his neck in the weak light. He just breathes, his face lingering so very close to mine. Just breathes and watches me, waiting for a sign.

I'm suddenly painfully aware of the awkwardness of our positions. I'm still wrapped around him like a… like… and the hand that's not cupping my cheek is still gripping my leg, his fingers digging into my skin, so hard that I think there will be bruises in the morning.

I sigh lightly. "We're not alone. It's too dangerous."

His nostrils flair at my answer. For a while, he looks like he's struggling to regain control, giving me that look that makes my stomach turn into mush, the only sound being the fast tap of the rain on the window. When he lets his hand trail down my neck, though, his touch is gentle.

"Is that alright?", I press, hesitantly.

He backs off a pace. Lets me slide my feet back to the floor. "Ja."

"I… Really?", I ask, throwing him a disbelieving look.

He lets out an impatient sigh. "I'm not going to rape you, Linda."

Uhh, alright, is it wrong that this brings a whole heap of lustful images at the forefront of my mind?

I stare tentatively at my feet, trying to reign the bombardment of emotions in my chest. Fishing inside my head for something irrelevant and sensible to say.

"So, uh…" my hands move to my rumpled skirts, nervously smoothing them out. "Would you like to lie down or something?"

He raises an eyebrow.

"To bed, I mean…" Right, much better now. Well done, brain.

"With you?", he asks, intrigued.

The embarrassing implication of what I just suggested dawns on me like a bucket of icy water. I rest my hands on my hips, awkwardly. "Well yeah… I mean… Lie only. As in rest."

He smiles coldly, clearly amused by my unease. The bastard.

I irefully turn away and open the closet, dragging out a random nightgown. "That is, unless you prefer the chair."

"Can't say that I do." It comes out sounding almost teasing. "Although it would surely be less torture than having to keep my hands off you tonight.", he adds, meaningfully.

Oh, damn.

For a long moment, I stare at him, lost in a daze. It's only when his eyes drop to the nightgown in my hands that I manage to snap out of it.

"Uh… can you turn around for a sec?"

He gives me a look. "Why?"

"'Cause I'd like to change…"

His shoulders rise and fall in a casual shrug. "Change, then."

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. "I can't do that when you stand here, staring!"

"Shame…" He regards me with that cruel, slightly smug look, like he's enjoying making me uncomfortable. Still not turning around.

"Fine, then." I turn on my heel. "I'm changing in the bathroom."

He huffs a quiet laugh to himself as I storm off, kicking the door closed behind me. I soon get out of my linen gown, moving curtly and fast, and slip into the much lighter, much more alluring nightdress. I nearly yelp, actually, catching a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror. I've never worn this particular nightgown before, but seeing it now? I'll say it's a little too skimpy for my taste what with its extremely low, lacy neckline and all.

Oh boy, I'm starting to feel nervous again.

I should probably play it cool right now. I should be doing sensible things, like not nervously combing my hair with my fingers, even though the hairbrush lies less than a foot away from me. I should be laid back and seductive. So what if I engaged in a hot make out session with Erhard on top of my desk? I'm cool with that…

Heh! Yeah right.

I try to hide my plastered grin as I take a last look in the mirror, then slowly open the door and walk outsi-

Oh Lord.

I nearly choke on my own breath as my eyes land on Erhard, who is evidently ready for bed, judging by his delightful… shirtlessness. No, seriously. The man is pure muscle and built like a wall, wide and hard and generally delicious.

I silently watch as he stashes his boots and sword belt under the desk. Then he turns towards me and the look he gives me only managed to increase the tension in my gut. It's the same look he gave me when he held me up against the desk. The same look he gave me the night after my rescue before kissing the blood off my shoulder. In the Tree when my hand was on his belt. The terrifying one. The predator one. The one that makes my heart skip a bit.

Especially now that I know what can come after it.

"So", I hesitantly approach him, pretending not to notice that his eyes are glued to my bosom. "I don't know about you, but I'm definitely ready for bed."

He all but grunts, his eyes narrowing as he watches me sit down, shuffling myself to one side of the bed. "You comin'?"

A sigh sinks its way through his broad chest as he pulls the covers back to join me. Slow and tense. He runs a hand through his dark hair, lying on his back and I get the impression that, for some reason, he avoids looking at me.

Minutes pass in silence, my stomach tense from anticipation. I'm acutely aware of every move he makes. I'm actually acutely aware of every move I make, too, every breath I take. I might try to act like I'm comfortable, but this is entirely new for me. Is he going to kiss me again? Is he going to try to do more than that? Or nothing at all? Why is he so quiet? Am I supposed to be doing something?

Eventually I turn to my side to look at him. "Are you alright?"

"Yes. Why?"

"I don't know…" I brush my tongue over my lips, giving in to my impulse and touching his chest, drawing abstract patterns with my fingers. "You really never sleep?"

"Yes."

My fingers move slowly, trailing down his stomach. "So… you never feel tired?"

To my surprise, he actually grabs my wrist and removes my hand from his abdomen. "No."

What the...? I blink, faintly confused. I know he's never exactly predictable, but that's weird even by his standards.

I decide to push it a little bit.

"And when you got shot the other day... Did it hurt?", I ask, my fingers reaching up again, fondling his arm.

"A little.", he grunts, pushing my hand away once more.

Okay, that's it.

"What's up?"

He opens his eyes to glower at me. "Didn't you ask me not to touch you?"

Ugh, seriously? "So, what, you're not even going to look at me now? Listen, if I'm making you uncomfortable…"

He rolls over to my side, pinning me down with his body. "You're not making me uncomfortable", he growls, his eyes drifting down to my lips. "You're making me want to go back on my word."

Oh.

"Shame…" I mirror his tone from before, smiling mockingly.

His gaze meets mine, his hand coming to touch me, running up and down my side, gentle and warm and searching, sending tremors through me. "Don't play with fire, Schatz.", he whispers, breathing the words in my ear. "You will regret it."

I can hear the light tremble in his husky voice; feel the heaviness of his breath as his body presses against mine. And it floors me, the effect I have on him; the inner battle he's fighting as he has me trapped beneath him. It wakes some sort of sick fascination inside me; the impulse to take him to his breaking point. So I reach out to caress the side of his face. And when he closes his eyes, leaning in to my touch, I forget about every bit of sense inside me and I kiss him.

He tenses slightly, but he doesn't pull back. He can't. And as I slip my tongue in his mouth, he lets me do that, too. Teeth nipping lightly at my lips; His breath hot in my cheek as he exhales sharply through his nose; His left elbow propping his body as his free hand reaches for my legs, starting to pull my nightgown upwards and I suddenly pull away, coming to my senses.

The baffled look he gives me has me smiling lightly. A wrinkle forms between his dark brows as the cogs in his head start turning and I let myself revel a little in the fact that I actually caught him off guard.

"I thought you were a man of your word.", I say in his ear, fingers brushing over his cheek.

The moment our eyes lock, though, I fall silent, because his expression speaks volumes. Frustration, impatience and underneath that an unquenched thirst.

He presses a soft kiss on my lips.

"I will remember that.", he assures me before reluctantly drawing away, rolling to his side and tugging me up against him.

"I really hope you will.", I murmur drowsily, closing my eyes. "Gute Nacht."

A/N: Thanks to bleach102, xLunaAngelWarriorx, HessianLover99, noodle86, TheElegantFaerie, Guest666, Venom fan, Beclaws Reason and Guest for reviewing! And thanks for making me think of Erhard whenever I listen to "Love Me Again" :P As for the Sleepy Hollow TV show, nope, I'm afraid I haven't watched any of it yet. Maybe it has to do with the fact that I watched the trailer and now the image of the Horseman wielding a handgun is burned into my brain for life? :P I've heard it's pretty good, though, so I might give it a shot!