Author's Note: So class doesn't start until next week, and I was itching to write Ichabbie in an AU. I hope you like it and that this little surprise makes your day. :) My dialogue seems a bit awkward in some places, but it could just be me. Maybe it progressed a bit too fast. Hmmm... Anyway, enjoy. lol

The train was crowded, and the only seat left was by a man with a dark brown beard and neck length hair.

"Mind if I sit here?" Abbie said as she held her suitcase.

He smiled at her, stood up. "I do not mind at all. I would very much enjoy the company. Would you like some assistance with your suitcase?"

"Sure." She handed it to him and stepped out of his way. He opened the luggage compartment above their seats; then put her suitcase in it and closed it.

"Thank you." She liked his kindness towards her.

"You are very welcome." He extended his hand in front of him. "Would you prefer the window seat?"

Abbie smiled at him. "It is my favorite spot, but I can't take your seat."

"It is no trouble. I don't really like it much. It makes me quite dizzy sometimes."

"Thank you. I think it's nice being by the window." She sat down in his seat, then she removed her briefcase bag from her shoulder to sit it on the floor in front of her legs.

He took his seat beside her. "What do you like about?

"The scenery is always gorgeous, depending on where you go." She stared out the window. "I think I like it most because I get to daydream. There's nothing to worry about, you know?"

He nodded his head. "It's an escape from the maddening world around you, I take it?" He wondered what would cause a beautiful woman like herself to find escape from a window. What, in her life, bothered her? He wanted to ask, but he didn't want to pry too much.

"Yeah. Maybe next time, you can enjoy it without being too dizzy. It really is amazing." She stared at him now with a little smile on her face.

"Perhaps." He paused. "My name is Ichabod Crane. Would you mind telling me yours?"

"Abigail Mills."

"I'm pleased to meet you, Miss Abigail Mills." He stuck his hand out.

She shook it, liking their contact. "You can call me Abbie."

"I think it is more appropriate to call you Miss Mills, unless, of course, you are a married woman. Please excuse me for assuming otherwise."

She chuckled. "I'm not married. Are you, Mr. Crane?"

"I am divorced."

"I'm sorry."

He avoided her eyes. She wondered what happened to him. What kind of person would hurt someone like him? From what he's shown her, he appeared to be genuinely nice.

"Some marriages do not last as long as we hoped, which is truly unfortunate."

"It is." She gave him a small smile; and he did the same.

The train let out a noise that let everyone know it was pulling out from the station. Abbie knew this would be a long ride, but she was glad she wasn't by herself this time. She liked having someone to talk to.

"Where are you headed?" she said.

"I am on my way to Virginia for a conference. Sometimes I travel out of town to present speeches. I am presenting one about the Founding Fathers and how their contributions affect today's society."

"You like history?" Abbie was sure his speech would be wonderful.

"Oh, very much so. My father was a history teacher at the University of Oxford in England. I have gladly chosen to follow in his footsteps. I teach history at a local high school in Sleepy Hollow."

Abbie thought that was sweet. He seemed to admire his dad. She couldn't say the same about her father though. He left when she was in the first grade. Her mom raised her and her little sister, Jenny.

"You're making him proud."

"I wish I could know for certain; he died five years ago from a stroke."

Again, Abbie was sorry about the loss of his wife and his father. "I'm sure he's very proud of you right now."

He smiled at her. "That means the world to me, Miss Mills. Thank you. Now, I would very much like to know about you. What do you do for a living?"

"I'm a lieutenant for the Sleepy Hollow Sheriff's Department. I'm going to the FBI headquarters in Quantico to help assist with a case. I used to work there a few years ago, but I missed my home in Sleepy Hollow; I decided to come back and work at my old job. Sometimes, I go to Quantico to help out, like I am today."

"Would you ever consider going back to Quantico?"

Abbie sighed. "I thought about it, but no. I like it here in Sleepy Hollow. I love this little small town and the people in it. Plus, I couldn't leave my sister again. I missed her too much."

"What's her name?"

"Jenny. She's three years younger than me."

"Did she want you to go to Quantico the first time?"

"No. She wanted me to stay with her. We had just reconnected after years of not seeing each other."

Abbie told him too much. How did she go from sitting beside this man to telling him her whole life story? She didn't know what made their conversation so easy, but she liked it. She liked talking to him. She's never opened up to a complete stranger before. On the other hand, since she's going to be on a train for about seven hours, she might as well get to know the person beside her. However, it wasn't the distance to their destination that made her speak to him; she wanted to do it because he was open enough to let her share with him, to listen.

"If you don't mind my asking, what happened with you and your sister?"

"Our mom died when we were teenagers, and we just fell apart. We ended up in foster care. It also didn't help that we blamed each other for mama's death." She stared out the window again. "She killed herself."

Ichabod didn't know what to say to her. There was nothing he could say. He couldn't imagine what that must've felt like and what Miss Mills and Miss Jenny went through. Instead of speaking, he placed his hand on top of hers.

She glanced at his hand. She didn't know what to make of this type of physical contact, but she was glad he offered. Wrapping her hand tighter around his, she smiled at him; he returned her gesture.

"Jenny thought it was my fault because I resented mama for pushing dad away. He wasn't making enough money, so mama told him to go somewhere else. I didn't want my dad to leave, but he did. I blamed Jenny because she was always getting in trouble after dad left. It stressed mama out so much sometimes that she would leave the house hours at a time before coming back home. But my sister and I are all better now after a few heart-to-hearts and therapy sessions."

He squeezed her hand. "I'm pleased to hear it."

"Me, too. So, tell me more about you. I would love to know about your father and your speech." She didn't let his hand go.

"My speech is twenty minutes long. I had to prepare months early, as there was so much information I came across. I couldn't put all of my findings in my speech, but I provided what I could. It turned out quite lovely. I could read it for you if you like."

"I'm listening." Her eyebrows lifted.

He let go of her hand and reached in his coat pocket to pull out his notes cards. There were about ten of them. He cleared his throat, then he began. Abbie listened to the whole speech. There was so much information in it and so many theories about how the Founding Fathers affected the United States.

"Wow," she said. "That's quite a speech. I'm not much of a history person, but it is interesting."

"I'm pleased to hear it." He put his notecards back in his coat pocket. "What case are you working on?"

"I'm not allowed to talk much about it, but a serial killer is running around. He's murdered five children, and we're still trying to figure out why. We've had this case for a week now. The killer doesn't have any kids, nor was he in foster care. He doesn't even have any siblings. Maybe something happened to him when he was a kid at school. An agent is interviewing some of his teachers now—those who are alive that is."

"What would possess a man to want to kill innocent children? That isn't right. It's horrendous and barbaric."

"It is, but we'll figure it out. We always do."

"During your time in the FBI, how did you sleep at night knowing that someone has died?"

"Some nights weren't easy, but I managed."

"Daydreaming?"

"Yeah. Phone calls to my sister and friends back home," she reached into her briefcase bag and pulled out a MoonPie, "and these. Would you like half?"

"I couldn't possibly."

"You gave me your seat. It's the least I can do."

"If you insist."

She opened the wrapper, took out the treat, and broke it in half. "I do. Here."

He took it. "Thank you."

She bit into her piece. "On a rough day, when there was a really bad case, my boss, Daniel, would give me a MoonPie. He said they made him feel better, that he could go on a little bit more. It was a simple treat that reminded him that everything would be okay. It's crazy at first, but things will eventually calm down."

"That's a nice way to look at a MoonPie." He took a bite from his own half. "These are really delicious. I haven't had one since I was a child. My mother used to make them from scratch. She would be ashamed at me for eating such over processed rubbish out of a wrapper. However, they taste just like hers."

"Where is your mom now?"

He swallowed what he chewed. "My mother also died. I was teenager at the time."

"How did she die?"

"A plane crashed on the highway while she was driving."

Abbie grabbed his hand this time and squeezed it.

He squeezed back. He liked her comfort, and he liked talking to Miss Mills. He hoped to learn more about her while on this train ride. They ate their MoonPie in silence.

"Do you have any kids?" Abbie said once they finished. She stuffed the wrapper in her briefcase.

"Yes, I have a son. His name is Jeremy Crane." He played with his fingers.

"You don't see him much, do you?"

"I'm afraid not. He lives with my ex-wife in New York."

Abbie wanted to know why he didn't see his son as often. He seemed like he would make a great father. She didn't ask though. His ex-wife probably took him away just to hurt him.

"It's none of my business, but why did you get divorced?"

"She had an affair with one of my co-workers. She said it was my fault and that I never spent enough time with her. She never liked that I sacrificed most of my time at school with my students." His fingers played with his fingers again.

"You don't deserved that. She shouldn't have married you if she couldn't handle your job."

He looked at her. "You seemed to be speaking from experience."

"I dated a guy who didn't like the hours I spent at work. He wanted me to quite, and I didn't, so we broke up."

"That is unfortunate. You don't deserve that either. We should find partners who understand our jobs. My students are important to me. I want them to do well, even if that means staying after school to help them succeed. Your job is important, too. Without the police force, unimaginable people would run rampant. You keep people safe."

"Maybe we'll find someone who understands our schedule."

"I dearly hope so."

Abbie yawned. "I think that moon pie is getting to me."

"A nap sounds excellent. We should both probably get some rest. Once we get off this train, who knows what the rest of our day will entail, especially yours."

"Right." Abbie yawned again.

"Someone sounds rather tired. Are you sure it was the MoonPie and not my dreadful babbling?"

"Of course not. I enjoyed our conversation." She placed her hand on his; he grabbed it.

Crane liked holding her hand. "Would you mind if I held your hand while you slept. I find it a great sense of consolation."

"Sure." Abbie leaned her head on the window.

"If you want, you can rest your head on my shoulder—only if it makes you comfortable, of course."

Abbie put her head on his shoulder. His coat smelled like pine trees. She wondered where he lived. "This is much more comfortable than the window. Thanks."

"I want you to be comfortable."

Abbie closed her eyes. "Do you sing?"

"Not at all. However, my father used to sing me a lullaby before I went to bed."

"Sing it to me." He had a nice speaking voice. She figured he could probably sing a few notes.

"If that is what you wish." Crane began to sing. It was something in French. She didn't know he spoke another language; she liked it though.

After Crane was sure she was really asleep, he smiled down at her and kissed the top of her head. "Sleep well, Abbie."

He laid his head on hers and went to sleep, too.

A voice on the intercom woke them up. Abbie looked down at their hands. She didn't realize that their fingers entwined. She untangled her fingers from his and placed her hand in her lap. She was getting too comfortable with Crane in such a short amount of time. She didn't mind though, but would they ever see each other again? There's no point in catching feelings if they weren't going to spend more time together. At least it was nice while it lasted. She liked him a lot. His personality was sincere.

Crane didn't feel Abbie's fingers between his anymore. He wished she didn't have to move them so soon, but it was for the best. Their intimacy grew quicker than he could have imagined. His affections for her were stronger than they should have been. He's only known her for three hours; they slept for two and half of them. He shouldn't get too attached to her; they may never cross paths again. However, he was glad he got a chance to speak to her. She was honest and caring. And very beautiful. She had full lips and wondrous brown eyes.

Abbie lifted her head off his shoulder and stretched as much as she could. "Have a nice nap?"

He yawned. "Quite. You?"

"I did. Thanks for being my pillow." She poked his shoulder.

"I didn't mind."

They were quiet. Abbie stared out the window.

"Abbie, I am very honored to have met you today. It was delightful to partake in a conversation with a person I've never met before. However, I fear we have grown closer than I could have imagined."

"Same here."

"What should we do?"

"What do you want to do?" Abbie said.

"I would like to see you again. I live in Sleepy Hollow myself, but with our schedules, I'm afraid we won't have a lot of time for each other. I want time with you, Abbie."

She nodded her head. "Maybe we can exchange cellphone numbers. We can call if one of us has any free time."

"That is an excellent idea." He took a notecard out of his coat. "I'll write mine on here."

"You keep extra notecards?" Abbie said as she reached into her briefcase bag for the MoonPie wrapper. She also took out a marker. "Do you need a pen?"

"I always keep one handy." He reached inside his coat pocket for a pen. "And to answer your question, yes, I do. It's only in case I need to write down any additional notes for my speech. Why didn't you discard your wrapper?"

"I like to keep them as reminders of something good leftover."

"I understand." He wrote down his name and number. "I hope it brings you peace."

Abbie started to write as well. "It does."

When they finished, they traded their items. Abbie put hers in a small compartment in her briefcase while Crane stuck his in his other pocket. Next, they ordered lunch and talked until they reached Virginia.

Crane reopened the compartment above their seats again. He handed her her luggage. "I guess this is goodbye?"

"Looks like it, but at least we have a way to stay in contact with each other."

"Indeed." Once he had his own suitcase, he extended his hand again, and she walked in front of him off the train.

They stood in front of each other; people around them rushed to get on and off the train or towards their family and friends.

"It was my pleasure to meet you, Miss Mills." He bowed. "I hope you and your team can catch the killer."

Abbie smiled at him. "Aren't you sweet? I liked talking to you, too. And thanks. So do I. Good luck with your speech. They'll love it, Crane."

"Thank you."

They were quiet.

"Well, I'll be on my way now." she waved and turned to leave.

"Abbie."

She turned back around. "Yeah, Ichabod?"

He stepped closer to her, put his luggage down. "Would it be too forward if I asked to kiss you? I know this isn't proper and unexpected, seeing as we've only known each other for seven hours. However, I don't think I could wait until we've met again. I am not sure when we will actually be able to—"

Abbie placed her hands on his cheeks and kissed him. She pecked his lips. There was no rushing. After a minute or two of warming up, Abbie kissed him a little quicker, pulled him a little closer. He gave her what she gave him: sighs, tongue, fingers through the hair. Soon Abbie slowed down; it had to come to an end.

When they finally stopped kissing, she said, "That was nice."

"Thank you for your permission." He picked up his suitcase.

"Thank you for asking." She picked up her luggage as well.

"Perhaps I can relish in your lips again."

Abbie smiled. "Perhaps. I'll talk to you soon?"

"Yes."

Abbie nodded her head and turned around again. She walked away this time, tracing, with her fingers, the places of where his lips touched hers.

Abbie sat at a table with her coffee. While she waited for it to cool, she stared at the notecard in her hand. Her cellphone was next to her drink. She put the notecard to her lips. Today was Saturday, a free day for her. They hadn't called or texted each other in three months since their meeting. It was Saturday. Abbie was off work. She wanted to call him, but maybe he would be busy grading papers or out of town.

Crane walked into the coffee shop, holding the MoonPie wrapper. Concentrating on her number, he wondered if he should call her. He didn't know what her day consisted of, but it wouldn't be a bad idea if he contacted her. There was nothing for him to do today. When he finally looked up from the wrapper, he saw her sitting at a table. He smiled and tried to fix his coat as he walked to her table.

"Mind if I sit here?" he said.

She smiled and looked up from her card. She bit her lip. "I do not mind at all."

He sat down while still holding the wrapper.

"I would very much enjoy the company." She put her notecard on the table.