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 7: Baby Kicks

The seasons had passed on from summer to autuum. The leaves that still remained on their branches had all changed a charming golden hue and the temperatures had dropped down considerably.

Here, in his New York home, Ichabod rested peacefully in a soft, warm chair near the fireplace. His feet were propped up on top of the near by automon, one hand loosely grasping a book at his side and the other hand lying gently on top of his now slightly swollen belly. His breathing was soft and even as he slept with a small, peaceful smile gracing his pale face.

Masbath approached his sleeping master carefully, being as quiet as possible so he wouldn't wake the man. Holding his breath, the young boy slowly and gently grabbed the book in the constable's hand. He froze as he saw the inspector stir slightly in his sleep, before settling down and breathing evenly once more. Masbath sighed inwardly in relief and continued to pull the book from his laxed fingures.

The boy quitely let out the breath he had been holding inside. The last thing he wanted to do was wake the pregnant man. Masbath had heard men say that their wives often became difficult during their pregnancy, but he never expected the same could be said about a pregnant man!

He looked at the cover of the book the Constable had been reading and sighed as he recognized the cover. It was the medical book that the doctor back in Sleepy Hollow had given him. Lately, Ichabod had been reading the book over and over, especially the section on pregnancy. Thumbing threw the pages, Masbath frowned when he landed on a section of the book Ichabod had marked off.

Masbath wasn't from a very well off family. His parents were servents and education hadn't gone much further then learning to spell out his own name. However, thanks to Constable Crane he was able to learn to read and write and understood a good deal of the words in this book (the man really was a fine teacher).

Constable Crane was now five months along, and according to this book, he was in the middle of what was called the "second trimester". He read over the symptoms that were listed.

Increased appetite, yes, the constable certainly was eating more often and his taste in foods had become quit odd to say the least. While once the man had enjoyed eating warm oatmeal in the mornings, he now perferred to have eggs and toast smeared with blueberry jam. Although that didn't sound strange, it looked quite odd when he ate the eggs and toast together! A sickening sight that he had to suffur through every morning. And he was constantly eating! Morning, noon, and night! Even as he watched the older man sleep, he was amazed that he wasn't eating.

However, he was sleeping a great deal, just as it said in the book. Constable Crane would often take naps in the middle of the day and retire to bed rather early, but at night he would here the older man tousing and turning in his bed. Strange, it was as if his body wanted to sleep during the day, but not at night.

Sweeling of hands and feet, the constable had that. Nosebleeds, all too often. Swollen chest, he blushed slightly at the thought. Constable Crane had started to fill out in strange places. His chest seemed to be taking on a more feminine quality. He had also gained a good deal of weight. The normally thin man now had a slight swell in his midsection. It was starting to get hard to conceil his condition. Luckily, the inspector normally wore dark colors which helped to slim him down a bit, and the cooling weather meant that the pregnant man could wear layors of clothes and no one would so much as raize a brow at him.

Ichabod sighed, his brow creasing in a slight frown. Masbath took an unconscious step back hoping that the older man would continue to sleep peacefully. He did not want the man to wake up. There was no telling what type of mood he'd be in. There were times when Ichabod would wake from his nap and would be beaming with pure joy, being as sweet and kind to young Masbath as if the boy were his own son. Others he would wake up weepy and inconsolable from his dream, spending most of the day misreable. Then there were the times when he awoke in a foul mood and everything and anything would irk him. Masbath hated that the most.

Please let him continue to sleep, he pleaded. Just a few moments more of peace!

However, it was not meant to be as the older man yawned and streched. Masbath let out a frustrated groan as the older man began to rub the sleep from his eyes.

"What time is it?" Ichabod asked, a yawn bubbling up in the back of his throat.

"Two hours 'til supper, sir," he said trying his best to hide his disappointment.

Ichabod smiled at the mention of food, placing a pale hand unconsciously on his rounded stomach. "Wonderful," he said happily. Masbath relaxed considerably. He was in a good mood. Ichabod stretched and sat up straighter. He was about to get up, but stopped mid way, his eyes widdening slightly in surprise.

Masbath raised his eyebrows at the oldr man questioningly, a look of concern crossing his young face. "Sir?" he said in a slight panic. "What's wrong?"

"I... I felt..." He looked into the concerned eyes of his young servent and smiled reassuringly. "I'm alright," he assured him. He got up carefully, keeping his hands on his round stomach a content smile on his pale face. "Give me your hands," he said gesturing towards the boy.

Masbath quirked an eyebrow at the constable. "Sir?"

Ichabod sighed in slight annoyance as he grabbed the young boy's hand and placed it on top of his belly. Masbath's face turned bright red as he stared wide eyed at his master. "Just wait," Ichabod instructed. The two stood like that for a moment until Masbath felt a strange movement under his hand. "That's the baby," Ichabod chuckled.

A small nervous laugh escapped the boy's throat. "Amazing," he gasped placing his other hand on his master's stomach to see if he could feel the movement again. He smiled as the baby kicked again.

His smile faultered, however, as a sudden thought occured to him. "Sir," he began, his voice was small and uncertain. "How... how is the baby going to... come out?"

Ichabod stared at him in surprise for a moment. He swallowed hard for a second, not really knowing how to explain it to the boy. "Have you ever heard of a 'cerean section', Masbath?" Masbath shook his head and Ichabod motioned for him to sit down on a nearby couch. Ichabod sat down beside him, taking a deep breath before starting again. "It's when the doctor cuts open the... the mother's stomach and removes the baby."

Masbath paled visably at his words. "Isn't that what they do for dead women?"

Ichabod sighed, nodding sadly. "Yes, most of the time, but since I... I have no... openning for the baby to come out, I'll have to find a doctor who will be able to perform this procedure on me."

"Isn't that dangerous?" Masbath asked. "Cutting you open and all... that doesn't sound very safe. Is there any chance of... of...?"

Ichabod nodded, squeezing the boy's shoulder reassuringly. "Yes, there is a chance that I might not survive."

A look of wild panic crossed young Masbath's face. A feeling of guilt over took him. No more then a few minutes ago he had been mentally berating the pregnant man and now he found out that there was a chance that he might die! "No... you can't!"

Ichabod smiled reassuringly at the boy. "No need to worry," he said. "There are plenty of fine doctors out there. Surely there's one in New York that can preform this opperation. Now, let's go see about supper." With that, Ichabod got up and left, but Masbath could tell that the constable simply didn't want to talk about this anymore.