Disclaimer: I own Rose and all that crap. I'm "borrowing" Ichabod Crane and his people from Tim Burton and Washington Irving, and I'm stealing my mom's birthday for Rose.

Once Upon A Time
Chapter One

"Ichabod! Ichabod!"

Ichabod Crane looked up instantly, dark eyes expectant. Then he smiled. He knew that voice. It was her voice. So he set aside his quill and leaned back in his chair, entwining his fingers and propping his boot heels on the bureau.

"Ichabod!" Heavy breathing. She must have been close. "Ichabod, where are you, you silly goose?"

"In the library!" he called in reply.

A moment later, Rose Hughes came dashing into the library, breasts heaving beneath her blue-gray dress. She went straightaway to his bureau and placed her porcelain hands upon it, breath coming in ragged gasps for a moment as she tried to regain her composure. Finally she stood up straight and adjusted her bonnet before handing him a piece of parchment. "This is for you," she said, and proceeded to seat herself on the edge of his desk.

He placed his feet on the floor again and scanned the parchment. Then he looked up at her. "An invitation?" he said, eyebrow lifting.

"Yes, to my birthday party," she said, hitting him lightly on the shoulder. "Don't tell me you've forgotten."

"Of course not," he said in earnest, and tucked the parchment away inside his raven jacket. "But won't your mother disapprove?"

"Oh, Mother won't mind," Rose assured him, waving away his fears with her dainty hand. "She knows I'll be perfectly safe surrounded by a swarm of twittering girls." Then she smiled mischievously "But I'm not so sure you'll be. They're all mad about you, you know."

He grinned along with her. "What I fail to comprehend is why your mother refuses to think me a decent young man."

"Because you're much too handsome," Rose told him. "She's afraid that a boy of your looks would too easily let flattering compliments go to his head. I suppose she's too afraid that without a mother you'll be under the influence of forces that are beyond your control." He was silent, and his smile faded. "Oh, Ichabod, I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by it." She leaned in to embrace him.

But he stopped her short. "No, it's all right," he said. "I know you care too much to purposefully hurt me." And a small smile returned to his lips.

She grinned and said, "And you're right to think it." And she embraced him, anyway. When she pulled away, she asked, "So will you be there? Please say you'll come. It would mean the world to me."

"How many girls are set to attend?" Ichabod asked.

"Oh, I don't know," Rose said, beginning to look contemplative. Then her mischievous smile returned. "Enough of them to pin you down and have their wicked way with you."

He suddenly pulled the invitation from his jacket and began to swat at her with it, to which she responded by letting loose a high-pitched squeal and hopping off of the desk. She then proceeded to run wildly around the Crane library, giggling, while her handsome friend chased after her, armed with faded parchment embossed in gold.


The next day was the twenty-first of November, and Ichabod had just over a week to choose a suitable gift for his best friend in all the world. So he enlisted the help of Nancy, a scullery maid whom he was not particularly fond of, but knew that she would be the one to ask about gifts for women. She was one of those maids who thought herself high above her station, perhaps because it was rumored that Lord Crane favored her above the others. This, in and of itself, made Ichabod distrustful of her, but she was the best resource he had.

So he approached her the next morning, as she was scrubbing something or other, and tapped her lightly on the shoulder. She immediately jumped up, her brush falling to the floor. "Oh, Mister Crane," she said, her hand traveling quickly to her chest. "You frightened the life out of me."

If only, was the thought that passed through his mind. Instead, he gave her a rather forced smile and said, "Nancy, I've a favor to ask you."

"What is it?" she said, and proceeded to place her brush in the pail at her side.

"Well, my friend Rose is turning seventeen in about a week's time and-"

But she cut him off by saying, "Oh, that girl that came yesterday?"

"Yes," he said, ignoring her horrid manners. "Anyway, I need to find a suitable gift for her, and I thought that you might be the one to talk to when it concerns gifts for women."

She actually smiled. "Oh, Mister Crane, I'd love to help," she told him. "Whatever you need me to do, I'd be more than happy to do it."

Oh, no, he thought, but kept it to himself. Instead he forced another grin and said, "If that is the case, I was hoping you might accompany me on a shopping expedition so that you could perhaps advise me on what would be best to purchase for my friend."

"That would be wonderful, Mister Crane," she said. "Just gather some money and I'll meet you in the entrance hall."


Half an hour later, Ichabod and Nancy were in a jewelry shop admiring a fine black silk choker with a single tear-shaped garnet hanging from it. "Why not give her this?" Nancy suggested, and held it up.

Ichabod considered it carefully. "Rose is not one for gaudy jewels and pieces of the like," he told her.

"Oh, come now, Mister Crane," she said, "every woman likes jewels. And is not her birthstone garnet?"

"Well, actually it's topaz," he corrected her.

"Then she'll positively adore this!" the maid said, beaming.

He knew at once that there was no reasoning with this woman, so he refused to even try. He merely plastered a forced grin on his face and said, "I'll go ask the gentleman behind the counter about its price, then." She nodded ecstatically and he turned on his heel toward the counter, more than happy to escape her company. He would rather be in the company of the gruff-looking gentleman behind the counter, which is exactly whose company he found himself in moments later. He swallowed uneasily, cleared his throat, and said, "Good morning, my good man. I'm curious, do you happen to have any blue topaz? It's for a special young friend of mine."

"Give me a moment, sir," the gruff-looking gentleman said, and disappeared into a storeroom of sorts. He reappeared a few minutes later with a choker almost identical to the one Nancy was swooning over, save for the fact that the jewel in the middle was cerulean.

Ichabod smiled. "I'll take it," he said.

"It's going to cost a bit," the gentleman said.

"Money is of no matter," Ichabod assured the man. "How much?"

The man did not reply for a moment, merely smiled. "Ah, young love," he said. "How sweet."

Color flushed into Ichabod's pale cheeks. "Oh, I beg pardon, sir, but I don't love her. She's just a friend. Her birthday comes in a week's time. I want to give her a piece of jewelry with her birthstone. So if you would just tell me how much you'd like for it-"

But the gentleman cut him off by saying, "Young man, I'm going to make you a deal. Since I'm a romantic at heart, I'd like to see how this relationship of yours turns out. If you can bring your sweetheart back here the day after her birthday with this topaz round her neck, so that I might see her for myself, then I'll let you have it at no cost to you. And she has to like it."

Ichabod was speechless. There truly were some very odd people in the world, and he was fairly certain he had just met one of them. But the man was making him an incredible offer, one he could scarcely refuse, and he wasn't about to let Rose's wonderful birthday gift slip through his long fingers quite so easily. So he said, "It's a deal, sir. But I will have you know she is not my sweetheart."

The man handed over the choker and gave a small grin. "She will be before you know it, boy," he said. "Now, get out of my shop and go buy her something else nice."

"Will do, sir," Ichabod said. But as he walked away from the counter, he mumbled under his breath, "She's not my sweetheart."


The blood is the life, Sikerra.