The Talk
Abbie didn't know what time it was when she and Crane returned to the cabin. It was probably somewhere around dawn. When Crane got out of the truck and she saw him walking towards the cabin, Abbie got out of the truck as well. She looked at Jenny, who nodded her head. Abbie knew Jenny would understand what she was doing and why she had to do it. She needed time alone with Crane, to make sure he was okay. Abbie backed up from the truck and watched Jenny pull off. She waved at Frank; he was sitting in the back. Abbie took a deep breath and headed into the cabin. It was quiet when she opened the door. She glanced around, but didn't see Crane. Maybe he was taking a shower. No, the shower wasn't running. Abbie's breathing became shallow. Where is he? she thought.
"Crane?" She looked into the living room, but he wasn't there. She paced the floor, then she went to his bedroom. It was empty, too. "Crane?"
Abbie hurried outside to the backyard. She found him chopping wood. He probably needed to get his frustration out. She'd let him. He didn't have an easy night either. She walked closer towards him, but gave him his space.
"Leftenant," he said. He grunted as he chopped more wood.
"Do you want some tea?"
"No, but thank you."
"You like tea."
"Indeed. However, tea implies conversing with each other about our difficult ordeals. I do not wish to bring up such matters at the moment." He chopped another block of wood.
Abbie nodded her head. "That's fine; I'll be inside."
As she headed back inside, she heard more wood being split in half. He would be a minute. When she stepped back into the cabin, she decided she would make tea anyway. He'd change his mind. He couldn't resist tea. Plus, he needed something in his stomach. She didn't want him to become dehydrated.
Before she made the tea, she wanted to take a shower. She didn't bring any clothes with her, but she did leave spare clothes and pajamas over in case she ever needed to stay the night. Crane told her that she didn't have to do that, but he let her be. Tonight was one of those nights that Crane would need her. She needed him, too.
She walked into his bedroom where she found her duffle bag in a corner. She unzipped it and dug around for her "sleeping attire" as Crane called it. She looked at her shirt, but she didn't want to sleep in it. She walked over to Crane's drawers. She bought him five different night shirts. Four of them still had tags on them. She didn't touch those, only shook her head. Leave it up to Crane to use only one. He thought five t-shirts were overly excessive. She found the one that didn't have the tag on it and gathered the rest of the stuff she'd need for her shower.
After it was over, she put her dirty clothes in the washing machine. Crane really needed one as well as a dryer. He didn't like the idea of a washing appliance, but he eventually came around to it. As much money as Abbie spent, he didn't have a choice but to like them. To pay her back for the cost, Crane told Abbie that she could always choose what movie they watched during their movie night. He even let her pick what food they ate and most of the games they played. She accepted it, since he didn't have any money himself. He liked the spin cycle and warm clothes fresh out the dryer. He blamed Abbie for forcing him to indulge like this. She told him he was welcome. She smiled at the memory.
She dropped her clothes in the washing machine, added detergent. Washing seemed like a good idea. She wanted to wash away the night, everything bad that happened. But she knew she couldn't completely clean the dirt off. They would always be stains.
Abbie walked into the kitchen to prepare the tea. Opening the cabinet, she found the box of tea bags. It was the variety pack. She wasn't sure what kind of tea Crane liked, so she figured she'd get a box with various flavors. Turns out his favorite ones are chamomile and mint. Mint was all gone, but there were two chamomile bags left. She knew he'd be disappointed that there wouldn't be any more after this. He'd have to settle for lemon or ginger, his least favorite. He hasn't used any of them yet, but he would. She wasn't going to buy anymore until the whole box was empty.
She closed the cabinet, found two mugs, put some water in the kettle, and sat it on the stove to heat up. She looked into the cabinet again for the sugar dispenser and the bottle of honey. Tea wouldn't be enough though. Crane had to eat something; she had to eat, too. There was a bag of leftover doughnut holes on the counter. There weren't many in the bag, but it was enough for the two of them. She warmed them up; then placed them on two saucers she had on the table.
The kettle on the stove whistled; Abbie took it of the eye to cool. She set up their mugs and poured the hot water in the cups. She placed them on the table across from each other; the sugar and honey were in the middle. Abbie also took out two spoons to place in the mugs.
She sat in the chair and watched steam come from Crane's mug as she stirred sugar and honey her own beverage. She still heard him chopping wood. He'd get tired soon.
While she waited, she thought of everything that happened. She was thrown in jail twice, almost sold in slavery, met Grace Dixon, he ancestor, saw Ben Franklin get axed, kicked that officer's ass, killed Henry, and watched Crane kill Katrina. She picked her tea up to drink from it. It was all too much to take in in one sitting. She sighed, put her tea back down, and pulled at the sleeves on the shirt she wore. Bringing the sleeves to her nose, she sniffed them. They smelled like him, like wood and leaves. It was as close as she'd be able to get to him until he came back inside. She hoped he was okay out there. She almost lost him during that time travelling spell. Almost.
Suddenly, the back door opened. Crane walked into the kitchen. His shirt was slightly unbuttoned, he was sweating, his eyes were red. He had on a frown on his face. She didn't speak to him. She wanted him to say something, anything.
"I'm going to take a shower," he said.
She nodded her head, and he walked away to his room. He was having a hard time. Who wouldn't be? She was no different. They needed to talk to each other. They had to talk each other. It was the only way they'd get through it.
Two cups of tea later, Crane came into the kitchen. He sat down in front of her and messed with his tea. He put some sugar and honey in it and took a sip, then bit a doughnut hole.
"They're cold now. You may want to warm them up," she said.
"That won't be necessary. I'm not extremely hungry." He put it back on his plate, pushed it away. Abbie pushed it towards him again.
"Eat. If I can do it, you can do it."
He finished his plate and drunk some more tea. "Chamomile."
Abbie nodded her head. "You finished the mint."
She saw him staring at her shirt, his shirt. "You're wearing my sleep attire."
"I didn't want to wear mine."
He put his tea down. "If I may inquire, why not?"
"I wanted you close to me. You're shutting me out, Crane."
"I sincerely apologize, Leftenant. It's just arduous right now. I'm not sure I can conjure the right words. Just words even."
"You think you're the only one?"
He shook his head. "I'm deeply sorry I've been in my own despair. This isn't easy for you either."
"I get you're having a hard time, but you have to talk to me. You know I'll listen."
"Indeed you will. As will I, Leftenant." He reached out for her hand, and she placed her hand in his. It felt like the wood he chopped. They were silent for a minute until he spoke.
"It saddens me. The choices one is forced to make because of war. Some choices aren't easy; they are hard. Very hard. But some choices are the right choices."
She looked up at him; his eyes were red again. He was talking about Katrina and Henry. She squeezed his hand. She felt sorry for him; he did lose his wife and son. However, there was no other decision that could've been made. "You're a captain, and sometimes captains have to make tough calls. They think of the big picture. You thought of that."
"We saved a great deal of people, didn't we?"
He wanted to know if it was worth it. If killing his wife and son was right. "We did, Crane. We did. It's our job, no matter the cost at times."
As he wiped his eyes, she tightened her grip on his hand. She didn't know exactly what he was feeling, but she knew a portion of it. She'd almost took Frank out, wouldn't have hesitated if it meant thousands of people could live. What if it was Jenny? Would she do the same with Jenny, her sister? It'd be extremely hard, a tough choice. She'd hate it. However, she'd have to do what she had to do to keep humanity safe. It was her responsibility as a Witness.
"Thank you, Leftenant."
"Always."
He finished his tea while he still held her hand. "Would you care to share your treacherous night?"
"I wouldn't mind."
He nodded for her to continue; she did. She told him everything from the very beginning. She even told him about the selfie video. He listened with his eyes on her. He made a few faces, but he didn't interrupt her. He even laughed a few times. Abbie liked to hear that, his laughter.
"Thank you for sharing, Leftenant. You had quite the night as well."
"It was a hassle in the beginning. You weren't easy to convince at first. You were kind of being a pain in the ass. You wouldn't listen to me, so stubborn and prideful. And that officer who tried to attack me? He was just an ass."
Crane chuckled again. "I apologize on behalf of my old self. As for Officer Sutton, he deserved your wrath, plus more. I am terribly sorry you had to endure that type of treatment. I'm relieved that you came out physically unharmed."
"There were some good moments, too."
"Grace and Benjamin Franklin."
Abbie nodded her head. She hoped to see Grace again and was glad to have met Benjamin Franklin. It was interesting meeting her ancestor, a part of her and the man responsible for libraries and the Kindred and other inventions.
"Thank you, Abbie." He stared at her for a moment. He was thanking her for going back in time to save him from Katrina and Headless.
"I'd do it all over again, Ichabod." She let go of his hand, then stood up to stretch. The sun was peeking through the living room. Abbie yawned; she began to clean up the table. Ichabod stopped her.
"Let me."
"Okay. I'm going to lie on the couch."
After she heard Ichabod stop shuffling in the kitchen, she sat up when he walked into the living room.
"Come sit." He sat down. "Are you tired?"
He sighed. "I am."
"Same here."
Crane stood up. His stuck his hand out again for Abbie.
"What? I'm sleeping right here on the couch."
"I would rather you not."
"Why?" She lowered her eyebrows.
"Because I want you close to me, too."
She stood up and took his hand. Abbie was surprised. Crane was all about respect and not crossing boundaries. This was definitely crossing boundaries.
"How inappropriate, Crane," she said as he led them to his room. "The impropriety."
"You're the exception, Leftenant." He smiled at her while they pulled back the covers. They got into bed. They were apart at first; nothing was touching. But then they reached for each other's hand under the covers. When that wasn't enough, they scooted closer until they were in complete contact with each other.
"You almost died for good that time. If I had repeated Grace's spell even one second off, or if it didn't work, you would've died. I'm not even sure how that would've impacted everything else." Her throat began to hurt while her eyes moistened.
Ichabod shushed her. Abbie felt his hand through her hair as she lay on his chest. "I'm here, Abbie. I'm right here. As are you. We're here and forever entwined." He kissed her forehead; she kissed the bit of skin that his shirt revealed. They squeezed each other tighter.
"I'm glad, Ichabod. I'm really glad," she said as they finally dozed off to sleep, content with being in the here and now with each other.