Disclaimer: I do not own Sleepy Hollow. The film Sleepy Hollow was made by Tim Burton who adapted it from Washington Irving's short story The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.

Chapter 2: Check Up

Ichabod was nervous, to say the least. He knew it was silly to be afraid of something as simple as a doctor's visit, but he couldn't help but feel this way. He'd been ill for almost three weeks now and he wasn't showing any signs of getting better. If anything, he seemed to be getting worse! He didn't need a doctor to tell him that that was not good. However, he would need a doctor to tell him why he felt this way, and that was what truly worried him; the answer to his question.

These symptoms were completely foreign to him and he was afraid that they could have been brought about by some incurable illness that would lead to his death. Ichabod didn't want to die. There were times that he felt very lonely, as if he were simply all alone in this world and had no one to turn to. Even the beautiful Katrina Van Tassel didn't completely understand him, despite the fact that she loved him (or at least claimed to). Yet in his heart, Ichabod knew that he had no wish to die just yet. Death would come to him eventually, that was an undeniable truth, but he wished to linger in this would for just a bit longer.

He looked nervously at the doctor's door and felt himself tremble slightly. He suddenly felt very cold, despite the warm temperature and the sun's hot rays.

I could just leave, he thought suddenly. I could simply go back and tell Katrina that it was merely a cold. No one would ever need to know.

Unconsciously, he felt himself take a step backward and just as suddenly he felt Katrina's words from that morning ghosting back into his mind.

"You're not helping anyone, especially yourself, by doing nothing."

He bit down on his lower lip and began to chew on it nervously. She was right. He wouldn't get better if he just turned away and ran back home. What's more, if he did go back and Katrina found out that he lied to her, their already straining relationship would be over. He couldn't let that happen. Squaring his shoulders, he marched over to the doctor's door and knocked confidently.

He waited patiently at the front door. His eyes traveled over to the sign next to the door frame. It read "Doctor William Jacob Brown." He sighed before knocking a second time.

The door opened to reveal the kingly old doctor. He was a few inches shorter then Ichabod, and was bent over ever so slightly. The hair that remained on top of his balding head was powder white and a pair of wire thing glasses balanced on the tip of his nose. The old man smiled up at the constable. "Constable Crane," Dr. Brown said cheerfully. He stepped aside in order to allow Ichabod in. "I was expecting you."

Ichabod quirked an eyebrow at his words. "Expecting me?" he repeated in surprise. "How? I didn't even know I'd be coming until this morning, and I don't recall anyone being sent to inform you of my arrival."

"Yes, yes," the doctor said, chuckling good naturedly. "What I meant was: I was expecting you sooner or later," he explained. "Word around town is that you haven't been feeling well and quite frankly, you don't look quite well." Dr. Brown looked him up and down, a concerned frown creasing his already wrinkled brow.

Ichabod groaned inwardly. Not only were the towns people talking about him, but now the doctor wasn't being reassuring. Now he was truly worried!

"Lucky you came by when you did," Brown continued, interrupting Ichabod's train of thought. "I don't really have anyone else to see anytime soon, so I can take care of you right away." Patting the examination table, he motioned for Ichabod to sit down. The young man nervously did so. "Take off your clothes and lay down."

Ichabod felt a blush form on his pale cheeks as he nervously pealed off his layers of clothes.

Stop that! he scolded himself. Your acting like a child again. He's a doctor. You've nothing to be embarrassed about. Still, he couldn't help feel nervous. It was like there were a group of butterflies going wild in his stomach. He wondered faintly if he was going to throw up.

Dr. Brown patted his shoulder in a reassuring manner and Ichabod flinched in both surprise and shock at how cold the old man's hands were. "Don't worry," he said, trying his best to comfort the nervous young man. It was normal for patients to be squeamish, most people didn't believe in doctors and felt they did more harm then good, causing sickness as apposed to curing it, and when they did come by for a visit he was all too often greeted in this same manner. "Tell me about your symptoms, Inspector," he said as he began to examine the young constable's body.

Ichabod licked his lips nervously, taking a shaky breath. "Well," he began, trying his best to tell his body to stop trembling, "I've been... feeling tired lately. I'm finding it quit difficult to stay awake at times."

"Anything else?"

"Yes, actually. Quit a few things really." He paused to think for a moment, trying to decide what to tell the doctor as well as recall all of his symptoms. There were so many and yet they seemed so unimportant. Still, they were all causing him quit a bit of trouble. "I've also been having trouble keeping food down. I've lost my appetite and because of it, lost quit a bit of weight."

"Yes I can see that," he observed, feeling the pale young man's ribs threw his skin. "You also seem to be sweating quite a bit."

"That would be from the vomiting," he explained. Ichabod shivered and gasped as the man's hands grasped his lower region. How was it possible for this man's hands to be so cold?

"Is that all?"

"No, there's more," he said. He had to think for a moment to remember the other problems he was having. "I've also been a bit moody as well. I've been having trouble controlling my temper as well as having constant headaches and a strange pain in my... my chest."

"That's odd."

Ichabod jerked his head over and stared at the doctor. "That's odd" was not something you wanted to hear from a doctor. "What?" he asked, no longer bothering to hide the panic that was clear in his voice. "What's wrong?"

"The symptoms you described..." his voice trailed off as he grasped at the inspector's stomach, his eyes staring at the flat, pale surface with a mixture of shock and disbelief. "Impossible," he mumbled and Ichabod felt his heart skip a beat.

"Doctor," he said, trying to pull the old man back to reality.

He blinked and looked at him as if he'd been startled out of a dream. Dr. Brown tried to put on a reassuring smile, but it came out nervous and bewildered. "You... you can go ahead and put your clothes back on Constable. I'll be back in a moment." With that, he turned and hurried into the backroom, leaving Ichabod alone with his fears.

Pulling on his clothes, the young constable felt as if he were on the brink of tears. He was dying, he knew it. Any moment now, Dr. Brown would come back threw that door with a sympathetic look on his face and inform him that he only had a short time left. At that moment, Ichabod felt that he had lead a completely wasted life. Wifeless, childless, and nearly friendless. He had spent a good portion of his youth focused on logic and reason, but what good are logic and reason if they could not weep for you, couldn't comfort you in your final moments. He suddenly had a vivid picture in his mind of himself on his death bed, alone and forgotten.

Hot tears began to well up in his eyes and he reluctantly let them run down his cheeks. What good was it to hold in his feelings, to restrain himself when he was so close to the end?

His head jerked up as he heard Brown re-enter the room. The look on the old man's face cleared any and all hope of salvation. His voice was thick as he reluctantly asked the question that was longing to be asked, despite the fact that he felt he already knew the answer. "What is it doctor? What's wrong with me?"

"Constable Crane... I believe you maybe... pregnant."

The words entered his ears, swam around in his mind, and pierced his heart. What little color was left in his skin drained away, leaving it completely snow white. The butterflies that were occupying his stomach were beginning to go completely mad, as if they were trying to burst out of him. "P-pregnant?" he repeated as he suddenly felt his body go limp and darkness take him.

AN: I know that there was a doctor in the movie, but I couldn't really remember his name or character that well. Don't worry guys, there will be an explainiton forhow Ichabod got pregnant.