AN I know, it's been a while. I was just really stuck with this chapter, because I wrote what I wanted to happen, but it just seemed so short! It was strangely difficult for me to flesh things out. But I promise, things are going to be picking up speed in all of the best and worst ways, so just hold tight ;)

The days were getting shorter, but Katrina made full use of what little sunshine she could grab hold of. She stole little moments of open windows, her hand extended to feel the golden warmth. Her baths were taken with the door locked and the shutters thrown wide. She had no fear or someone looking in, and even if Abraham burst in, the swathes of sunshine would hold him long enough for her to get away.

Most of all, she pushed the time when she went to visit the Horseman's mount. It wasn't much, a few minutes here or there, but she would go before sunset, willing her body to soak up the light. She would watch the forest quickly darken from within the stable, brushing the beast's coat, or feeding him an illicit carrot. Sometimes, once the sky was suitably dark, Abraham would join them, wordlessly coming to stand by Katrina. The hair on the back of her neck stopped raising at his approach, but any time he drew too near, Katrina's skin prickled. And yet, some part of her longed for human contact. She had almost forgotten what another person's skin felt like, and so it jolted her, but also thrilled her whenever his fingers brushed her elbow, or pushed a strand of hair back into place.

(she tried not to think about it too much.)

And then the day would be gone, and Katrina would be left in a frigid darkness. They were her old friends, by now. They would leave her for a time, alone with her thoughts and the sunshine, but then they would come back in full force, asking her why she thought they had ceased to exist.

Abraham helped, somewhat. He brought her candles and lanterns, and provided thick blankets and, of course, shared his warmth with her on especially cold nights. Sometimes, he would take her riding and spite them both. Katrina would wear her warmest dress and wrap herself up in a blanket, and settle in against Abraham's chest as they went through the woods, fields, and over the occasional creek. And sometimes, when they went especially fast, or crested a particularly beautiful scene, a laugh would escape Katrina, and it would be real.

But on most nights, like together, Katrina was stuck inside of the coach house. She distracted herself however she could, with books and sketching and all sorts of little busy work, but it was not always enough. Her mind had become especially adept at wandering.

Katrina gazed out of a window, which had been opened once the sun had finally set. She traced the arm of her chair with a finger, as though the whorls in the wood could carry her someplace else.

Word had come from one of Abraham's men—one of the Witnesses had been injured. Not gravely, but enough to force them to go to ground. But how bad was 'not gravely'? Was it merely a severe burn or cut, or a broken bone? Had one of them lost a limb entirely?

Here, Katrina pulled herself back, but the thought still lingered. That was a truly terrible thing about her seclusion, not knowing what went on beyond the property line. She relied on what Abraham told her, and what could be extracted from the Hessians or Jeremy. Yet even that stream had dulled to a trickle. The Hessians stayed only long enough to report or do a requested task, and Jeremy hadn't appeared at the coach house for days. The Horsemen still conferred, she could hear Abraham addressing him behind his closed bedroom door. Katrina assumed they were using the mirrors, though she couldn't imagine what would suddenly make Jeremy stay away.

"Do you miss being able to do magic?" Abraham suddenly asked her, making Katrina tear her gaze from the window. She flashed a light smile, then stared at the ceiling.

"Yes. You can't imagine…it is almost like singing a song. My heart craves it, though my head knows I do not need it, not really."

"It gives you joy?"

"Yes. I feel content, buoyed up, almost. And when it's gone…well, it takes some getting used to. I'm fine, though," she added quickly, forcing a smile to her face.

Katrina stood up and walked past him to the book shelf, hoping to slide out of the conversation. It didn't feel like a trick, like he was trying to get her to let something slip, but it was always wise to practice caution.

"Is there anything else that you find joy in?"

"Of course," she said, coming to a stop before the book case. She looked back at him as she spoke. "Reading, for one. Taking long walks, spending time with children, exploring the outdoors…"

Katrina could hear him come nearer, his steps strangely slow, echoing across the floor. She turned back to the book case, and gave a slight shrug to illustrate her point, even though they both knew the thought of being able to do magic made her bones buzz.

"So, you see, there's really quite a lot to keep me distracted," she continued, pulling a book off of the shelf at random. Katrina could feel him behind her, quiet as she spoke. Every inch of her skin seemed to be on high alert, ready for anything now that she had her back turned. When Abraham spoke, it was much closer than she had anticipated.

"I think it's more than a distraction, if it gives you joy," he told her, voice a gentle brush against the back of her neck.

"Oh?" she breathed. Abraham may have grunted out a response, but she couldn't hear him. She squeezed her eyes tight because she knew where things were going, and part of her was trying to prepare, but then she kept snatching the thoughts back, refusing to believe it would actually happen, faster and faster until she couldn't think straight—

Abraham ran his hand through her hair, brushing it away from her neck. Katrina swallowed and tried not to hunch her shoulders as his touch turned from a light brush to something heavier. Then, Abraham pressed his lips to her neck. Katrina sucked in a breath as he kissed her again, the touch firm. He pushed her forward into the bookcase, the shelves pressing into her ribs and her hips, pinning her in place. Katrina clenched her hands around a shelf as Abraham kissed her harder, mouth wandering farther along the side of her neck.

Then suddenly he was turning her around, pressing her back against the shelf and kissing along the cord in her neck, down to the hollow of her throat. One hand was against her back, while the other was wrapped around his fist, clenched against her hip. Katrina swallowed, grabbing hold of his coat in an attempt to anchor herself, because her legs felt weak and her head light and she didn't know what to do, or how to respond, or where things were going to go from there. All thoughts of turning his affections to her advantage had disappeared, as a blank fear filled her stomach and froze her in place.

Abraham kissed Katrina on the mouth. It wasn't aggressive, or careful, is was desperate. It was him grabbing up whatever he could before the moment ended, before she turned away, became cold and difficult once more.

Katrina held her breath, and softened her grip on his coat, instead pressing her hands into his sides. At the touch, he relaxed, as if reassured she would not try to flee. Abraham held her closer, not holding her in place, but truly embracing her. A hand was winding through her hair, and his kisses became slower, teasing her mouth—

Katrina gave a gasp, and turned her head away. She couldn't do it, she couldn't play this game, not yet, not with such reckless and destructive abandon. Thoughts of Ichabod were springing into her head, causing guilt to churn in her stomach, but there was also doubt and frustration and uncertainty and dread as to where this would all end, if she actually did manage to keep it up.

Abraham fell still, panting slightly. He was still holding her, but his grip had loosened somewhat. She let go of him. Even though her back hurt from the bookshelves digging into her, she pulled back into them a little more, trying to find some room to think.

Abraham took his hands away from her, but didn't step back. Katrina took the opportunity to get away, needing clear air, even if it meant she had to claw her way back into open space. Her eyes were stuck on the floor, but when she reached the doorway, she couldn't help but look back. Abraham was leaning against the book case, bracing his hands on the shelf.

She slipped into her room, and closed the door. Katrina sank to the floor, and wrapped her arms around her knees. Her hands shook the entire time.

A couple of days passed, in which neither one of them mentioned what had happened. Even though frost was consistently lacing the ground each night, Abraham made the wise decision to stay away from her room. A distant part of her missed the warmth he offered, but the rest of her was on its hands and knees in relief. Katrina strongly doubted that he would push her to do anything she would not want to do, but it was certainly not something she wanted to have to test.

She felt herself drifting through the hours, again feeling his lips on her skin, and again feeling sick. What she was doing was not right.

And yet. She had remained at the coach house to manipulate Abraham's feelings for her, to use them to the Witnesses' advantage. As far as she could tell, that was exactly what she was doing, with alarming success. She had known full well what this might entail, had walked into it with open, determined eyes. She just hadn't anticipated it making her feel so wretched, though.

What was worse, Katrina didn't know if her stomach was twisted around itself because she had allowed another man to kiss her, or because all of his affections were being fanned by a lie.

But that was the only weapon available to her, she reminded herself time and time again. Her magic was stifled, her communication hampered, her allies sealed off. The only thing she could do, in all honesty, was to push on, to grab up what she could with a vicious ferocity and not let it go until she had used it best as she could. And she may not be able to commit wholeheartedly at the moment, but she would learn her limits and Abraham's, and she would grow until she could be the hardened weapon this war needed her to be. Katrina hated herself for the reality of it, but it was exactly what she had enlisted herself to do when she had forced Ichabod to leave her be.

So, as soon as she could get to her feet and not feel her legs shake, she left her bedroom. It was dark in the house, and a stubborn draft managed to wind its way through all of the rooms. They were both warnings she refused to let herself take.

Abraham had left not long after sunset, saddling his horse and cantering into the forest. He was simply going for the sake of the ride, attested by his lack of coat and weapons, but Katrina still felt the thrill of dread when she saw him go.

She waited in the parlor for what felt like hours. Katrina tried thumbing through a book, attempted brushing her hair, straightening the room the best she could, but she could not settle on anything. Her gaze kept dragging back to the window, waiting to see the ghostly shape of the Horseman and his mount returning.

Eventually, he did. Katrina licked her lips and took a breath, then walked to the front door. She waited for him, standing in the doorway despite the harsh edge of cold the air carried. Katrina wrapped her arms around her, waiting, waiting, waiting.

When he appeared from the direction of the stables, Katrina simply watched him, not moving an inch. He came to stand in front of her, expression not giving anything away.

"Abraham," she began, trying to force out words she could barely fathom, "I—I did not mean—the other day, it was just so—I can't, because Ichabod—and I—"

She cut herself off, and dragged in another breath. She looked down, trying to buy herself time. He waited, silent and imposing, a force of nature wrapped up in the form of a man.

Katrina took hold of his hand in both of her own. She kept her eyes on it, clasping it like it was the last life line she would ever know. She pressed their hands against her chest, holding them dear to her as she closed her eyes.

He started drawing his hand back, and Katrina opened her eyes, initially confused, terrified that this was a rejection, that she had failed, he had seen through her, he knew exactly what she was above. And then he pressed her fingers against his lips, silently telling her that she was truly precious. She tried speaking when he pulled his lips away, but his smile kept her quiet. It told her that this was fine, that it would be their secret, that there was no rush.

That night, when he lay beside her and an impassable swathe of blankets lay between them, Katrina could not let herself fall asleep. She kept seeing his face after he had kissed her hand. For the first time in so long, Abraham had looked happy. And the reason made her want to vomit.

AN I honestly feel really awkward at initiating romance of any sort. I'm more of a slow burn kind of person, but since this is not really a slow burn type of thing, I have a very difficult time getting to the point where they can actually GET to the romance, unhealthy and not good as it may be.

With that said, I really enjoyed seeing Katrina's headspace here. Like, I've been kicking around it for a while now, but now the denial is gone and she is well and truly sickened by the game she plays. Now, we just have to wait for it to stop being a game (hueh hueh hueh)