There had been many times throughout his life that he'd considered himself lost; the kind of lost that left one without hope of life ever picking them up from the desolate mire in which they were caught.
As a boy and even as far into his adulthood as it had taken him to enlist, he'd been coddled under his mother's affections and prided at the feet of his father. He had been their greatest joy and most treasured confidant. Countless hours had been spent with him at his mother's side, the two of them lost in dreams of the future and tales of the past, whereas in his father's presence, he'd been stimulated with rum and politics as the elder Crane had done his best to outwit and surprise him with knowledge. From the time he'd been a small boy, and his father had learned just how much his memory held, his father had taken to jotting down the most random of facts to hold close and quiz him on later throughout the years. His father's wonder had never ceased while speaking with him; something that had filled him with such pride of which to be on the receiving end. To this day, it still pained him to dwell on those times. The loss of their love upon his change of heart during the war had been significant; an emptiness he felt even now in this modern era; centuries later.
However, the loss hadn't ceased there for then had come the saga of Abraham and Katrina, a set of names, when spoken together, which had never failed to bring a spike of envy and longing to his heart. The arrangement between their families had seemed so callous at the time; a forcing of two hearts to spend eternity bound under the eyes of God no matter the wishes of said hearts. He'd watched them through covetous eyes all the while praying he could lessen the desire he'd felt whenever in Katrina's presence; that unyielding, unbreakable yearning to have her heart close to his. It had caused him such turmoil due to Abraham having been his best friend since boyhood, his bonded brother through the hardships of school and university, yet the ever widening chasm and ultimate break in their friendship had become an inevitability the day he'd encountered Katrina van Tassel in the home of Arthur Bernard.
He'd often wondered if he'd been struck with the lust of her body, or if it truly had been the meeting of two souls destined to find one another. That day had set the course of his heart in more ways than one. In the span of a few heartbeats, he'd become bound to those gold-green eyes with a burning desire to never be parted from them this side of eternity.
But, then, he'd lost her, or rather... she'd lost him. Two centuries had broken their all too short time together as fate had seen fit to only give them six years of blissful happiness before tearing them asunder with a violent sweep of a blade at the hand of their former friend.
More than that, fate had taken him at a time when he'd needed to be with her most. The regret he felt over not having been there for his son was, to this day, a plague against his heart. He felt the loss with a crushing weight upon his soul; one he was sure would never be lifted.
That was the thing he'd learned about choice. One choice led to another and another. His choice to breathe Katrina's love for him to Abraham that fateful day on the path had been the tempest that had set fire to this entire storm; the storm who's effects were still being felt to this day; over two centuries later.
It was the question he often asked himself. If he'd remained silent, if he'd use a modicum of more decorum on that day, would things have occurred differently? Would he and Katrina have been able to slowly acquaint Abraham with the love that existed between them?
The dark, dreary tunnels did nothing but add to his lost sense of direction. How would his choices today effect tomorrow?
This time, after quietly allowing the tunnels to lead him to his destination, there was no stopping on his part to lament at the window; to pause and wonder over how life came to be this way.
No, this time, he went right for the door, knowing nothing on this earth could right this course he was on other than the occupant within its hold.
To his relief, Katrina was once again at the desk, writing away in her journal, when he wearily shoved the door open and strode into the room, no more certain of his path with her than he'd been three days earlier.
Her posture stiffened at his sudden entrance, but she didn't stand. Instead, she observed his progress with the same calculating eyes he'd been watched under during his previous visit until he was right in front of her.
"Another visit so soon?"
The smugness on her face was an irritant he attempted to ignore, but he found it tugging at his nerves all the same. If anyone had the ability to successfully get under his skin, it was Katrina. In all his life, he'd never encountered another being who could both read and push him better than her. The ease with which she directed his moods frightened him more than anything else. He considered it to be one of her witchy abilities as no natural born human being could possibly harbor such skill.
Instead of rising to her bait, he simply stared at her, contemplating all the dreams they'd once whispered in the dark of night, their bodies entwined, desperate for the warmth of their lover. Times had been so much simpler then; so much more peaceful. Their greatest joy had come with the caress of the other's hand; a kiss filled with so much more meaning than one could comprehend; a whisper of affection while in the throes of passion. He longed for the days where he could whisper his heart's desire in her ear; where he could touch her, reach for her in the night, whether it be for her tender touch or her warm comfort.
Now, she sat, her posture rigid and almost taunting. She was still as beautiful as ever, her light summer dress clinging to her skin in all the appropriate places. However, she bore no kindness in her gaze, nor any of the love he'd once depended upon like a breath of fresh air. Everything was now all a game to her; one chess move after another.
"I've been going over and over it in my mind, how we arrived at this place, and I can't seem to put a finger on where it all began to go so very wrong." He held his hand out, palm up, as the burn in his eyes continued to build. "You spent all that time in Purgatory for me out of love. What did I do to now make you hate me so?"
A low sigh slipped from her nose as she sat back in her chair, her eyes flickering to the picture of Bella, which sat at the corner of her desk.
"I once believed love to be a gift; that it was sweet and warm; that it was all that mattered in the world." Gold-green met his blue gaze with a biting sting. "However, I've learned that it isn't perfect and it doesn't dwell in your heart regardless of your choices. It's hard and it's rough. It pushes and pulls you in directions that are at times difficult to handle. It requires sacrifice and strength." She raised an eyebrow. "Love is not a luxury afforded to the selfish. It is not something that forever remains without care and acknowledgment."
"It also requires trust," he added, his gaze unwavering. "It requires commitment, two things you seem incapable of."
A small laugh broke her face into a smile as she tilted her head. "Oh, my dear, Ichabod. You speak of things you know nothing of."
"Then, tell me." He stepped forward and leaned against the table, his heart hammering against his chest as though it wished to tear from him. "Tell me how you've deluded yourself into believing I was in the wrong. Tell me how you justify your lies, Katrina."
"What lies?" she asked, her eyes wide with mocking. "The ones you accuse me of, or the one's that actually took place?"
Unable to believe she was playing at this game with him, he dug his fingers into the wood. "I have accused you of nothing that isn't true."
Barely a feature on her flawless face shifting, she crossed her arms, chains clinging together, leaving him to stand resolute under the guise of being unintimidated, something very hard to do in the face of her calm and collected gaze. Why couldn't she, for once, cave to his authority? She was his prisoner and yet she acted as if she had all the power in the world.
"Tell me what I could have done differently in regards to our son."
"You could have told me!"
"When?" She leaned against the table. "Tell me when I could have told you, Ichabod. When would it have been an appropriate time in your opinion?"
Face burning, he gripped the edge of the table to keep himself from physically laying hands on her, his breathing shallow and labored. "That first dream."
"Oh," she whispered as she sat back. "So, it's your opinion that I should have squeezed not only a congratulations, but also a condolence, into those two short minutes we had between supplying the information you needed about the horseman, explaining my witchcraft, and Moloch arriving to rip you from me. That is the time you would have liked to have learned of the son you'd desired for so long, but would never know?"
Clenching his jaw, he moved to speak, but she held up a hand.
"Let's pretend I had told you. That I'd said, 'By the way, my love, I gave birth to your son, but was forced to relinquish my claim to him in order to protect you'." Her brow drew tight. "Would that have been best? Or would it have been cruel to tell you such a thing and then expect you to continue to focus on your mission?" Her voice softened ever so slightly as she relaxed back into her chair. "There was nothing to be done for Jeremy at that point. I'd thought him dead for centuries as you would have as well. It was a conversation meant for the two of us in private, a conversation that should have had us together physically so we could take comfort in one another. It wasn't something trivial to be thrown into conversation as though speaking of the weather."
Hot under the collar, he pushed back from the table and paced away from her, choosing to instead stare at the candle flickering on the far wall.
He hated when she justified herself, how easily she manipulated his emotions, and yet... he had no rebuttal. In truth, he'd been so focused on the secret she'd kept that he'd hardly given any attention to the circumstances surrounding it.
Lifting a hand to his eyes, he rubbed his fingers against the lids, hoping some response would present itself.
When would have been the right time? After that first dream, he'd awoken to doctors swarming and restraining him before Abbie had come in and rescued him from that awful facility. Then, they'd gone straight into battle with the Horseman, barely having a moment to formulate a proper plan. That first day had been utter chaos and he'd been so lost in the new world; fumbling to perform even the smallest of tasks. How would news of the son he'd never known have changed his choices that day? How would he have functioned while also attempting to reconcile his joy and subsequent loss?
"Nightmares," he whispered as he wiped his hand down his face, finished with playing at games he could never win. He wasn't even sure why he bothered trying any more.
"What?"
"Nightmares have plagued her every night since the awakening of her magic and, as a result, her room is steadily becoming unlivable due to the magic she's unintentionally expelling."
"Her power will only grow greater as time carries on. It's a force of nature that will not be stopped and, without her properly understanding how to control it, the magic will destroy everything in its path."
An unintentional tremble shook his body as he shifted around to face her. If Bella's magic became any more destructive, they'd soon be in need of a new home.
"Just... tell me what to do for her, Katrina." He placed his palms to the desk and all but sank to his knees in front of her. "I'll do anything you say, just tell me."
Eyes flickering away from him, he observed the way she withdrew her emotion, leaving only that unreadable expression, as she took to staring at the journal laid open on the desk.
"There's nothing to be done. Her magic is a part of her and it must be honed and practiced. Ignoring it or attempting to fight it will only lead to more destruction."
Disheartened by her lack of advice, he pressed his head to edge of the table and sighed, his helplessness taking hold of him.
"What if..." He swallowed the thick feeling in his throat. "What if we bound it?"
Silence.
The tension between them became so suffocating that he had to remind himself to draw breath. Her aura was an intimidating force; one he could feel without touching or gazing at her. However, when he finally forced himself to lift his gaze to her, he found not one, but a myriad of emotions being flung at him.
Surprise. Realization. Disbelief. Acceptance. Rage.
Each of those emotions played out over her face before that eerie calm returned; one that had him finding his feet again before she became the one to lay hands on him.
"That is never going to happen," she growled as she leaned over the table. "Bella is a witch. You're not going to tear that piece of her away to suit your own selfish desire to change and mold her into the perfect idea of what you want."
"That's not what I'm doing," he argued, his brow drawn tight.
Eyes narrowed into slits, she flung a finger at him. "That is exactly what you wanted from me. You wanted me to return to being the doting housewife who met your every need; who prepared your dinner, sucked your cock, and stroked your ego whenever you needed uplifting. You couldn't stand the idea that I wasn't the perfect picture of what you wanted anymore."
Anger to match her own swept through him as he placed his hands on the table and closed the distance between them, no longer fearing the weight of her power.
Mere inches from her face, his chest tightened at the feel each of her ragged breaths washing against his cheeks.
"I am no more ashamed of my daughter than I was of you. I'd give anything to see her flourish in the gifts of her heritage just as I'd have done for you had I had any knowledge of such gifts." He narrowed his eyes and dropped his voice, wanting her to see and hear each word clearly. "I don't care what it takes, or what I have to do. This is about keeping Bella safe and I'm willing to go to whatever lengths I must to ensure her safety and happiness. Don't you ever entertain the idea that my motivation comes from elsewhere again."
Unsurprisingly, she never flinched under his heat, causing his will to falter ever so slightly. Battling against her would prove useless. Katrina was not a creature to be swayed by heartfelt pleas, or commanding words. She only responded to angles; to choices that benefitted her. So, he had to approach her from a different angle. He had to approach her as a father speaking to the mother of his child. If there was anything Katrina would respond to, it would be the welfare and happiness of their child.
"She's frightened from the changes happening to her and I'm powerless to help her." He swallowed his pride. "Only you can do that, Katrina. Only you can help her."
Her shoulders slumped forward as she pressed her head into her hands, her eyes screwing tightly shut.
"You don't understand," she whispered, voice soft. "To bind her magic would be one of the most painful things you could do to her."
"What are you talking about?" He dipped his head to see her more clearly. "How could it pain her?"
"You would cut her off from a part of herself. She would spend the rest of her life feeling like a piece of herself was missing; disconnected." She lifted her head, her eyes filled with more emotion than he'd seen her covey in years. "Trust me, Ichabod, you don't want to force her to live such a life."
"Trust you?" He pushed himself away from the table. "I might be unsure of how to help Bella, but the one thing I am certain of is that I most definitely cannot trust you; not now; not ever."
There was a moment of something he would have like to have called hurt that flashed in her eyes, but it was gone as soon as it appeared, leaving him to wonder if it was ever there in the first place. Maybe he just wanted to see something in her worth depending on.
"Fair enough," she said evenly. "But you can be certain that I'd do anything for my child and I'm telling you that binding her magic isn't an option. If I thought it would make life easier for her, I'd do it in a heartbeat, regardless of my feelings, but she's a witch, Ichabod, and she's going to remain so until the day she breathes her last breath."
Frustration consumed him as he turned and paced away from her, his gaze returning to the far wall. She could be so damned stubborn sometimes and it was leaving him with fewer options than he was comfortable having. However, he knew time wasn't on his side and the corner he'd been forced into was growing darker by the minute.
"When Bella was three, she began asking for you," he said softly, hoping the change in direction would get them somewhere. "Her best friend is another girl her age and, since infancy, they've spent so many hours together. I suppose Bella began to realize what a mother was through observing her friend with her own mother. It was inevitable that she would notice she, herself, didn't have one."
He ran a hand through his hair and turned back to her, the lost expression on her face doing nothing to help the choice with which he was seemingly stuck.
"No matter how evasive I was with my answers, she would persist and, after a while, she began wanting to know what you looked like." He pulled the photo from his shirt pocket and placed it on the table. "She keeps this at her bedside and most nights it's the last thing she looks at before falling asleep."
A moment's confusion swept over her features before she abruptly stood from the table, her chair scraping the stone floor, and paced away, her back to him.
"I'd hoped it would be enough," he continued, not wanting to squander this moment of opportunity. "I could barely bring myself to speak of you and, besides that, I wasn't even sure how to begin explaining where you were, or why you weren't there with her."
He eased around the table to stand behind her, his eyes remaining on her crimson hair which was draped over her slumped shoulders. This was his moment, his opportunity, to attempt to endear her to his feelings.
"Katrina, you must see how deeply I love and cherish our daughter."
When she didn't give any reaction, he felt his hope faltering. Were his words effecting her at all?
"This isn't the past; it isn't Jeremy." Tears welled in his eyes as he recalled her screams. "The last thing I wanted to do that day was separate the two of you. I was just so afraid that you'd take her and I'd lose my little girl."
"So, instead, you took her from me," she countered, spinning to face him, her eyes narrowed into slits, even as unshed tears glistened in them. "You took my baby from my womb and never once let me see her."
A sob slipped between her lips, prompting him to unconsciously lurch forward. He'd never coped very well with his wife being distraught and time had not lessened his urge to comfort her pain.
"Do you have any idea what that did to me? What it was like for me to lose a second child without ever having the opportunity to know them? I don't know what her voice sounds like, Ichabod. I've never even touched her."
The thickened sound of her voice gave way to the emotion bubbling just beneath the surface. It was enough to have him itching to hold her.
"Perhaps, I was being selfish," he admitted, desperate to find a path on which they could find solidarity. "But what other option did I have, Katrina? You were threatening me. You tried to kill me; multiple times."
She looked away, but he reached out and grasped her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. She had to see the truth in him; the earnestness.
"You're here because of the choices you made; selfish choices that left me with next to no options." He loosened his grip to where he was simply cupping her cheeks. "You being down here was the last thing I wanted, something I would have fought like hell against had any other option been available to me." The tears burning his eyes began falling over his lashes. "Katrina, I needed you, but I had a little girl to protect and I was only trying to do what I thought was best for her."
Wiping a thumb beneath her lashes, he caught the tears attempting to trail down her cheeks.
"Had I done what you did, would you have allowed me to remain in our child's life?"
Her body shook as she sucked in a shaky breath. "I just wanted to be with him. Jeremy was all I wanted."
Throat closing off, he went against his better judgment and pulled her into his arms, wrapping her in his embrace and holding her close.
"I know." He pressed his lips to her hair. "I know."
The constant tremble that was riddling her body prompted him to tighten his hold on her. Perhaps, it was an act, or a play on his emotions, but he couldn't help himself when it came to her being in pain. It was as though he was overcome with a compulsion to comfort her.
"I can bring her here," he whispered, despite the dread he felt at Bella ever seeing this place. "You can help her here."
Katrina abruptly jerked from him and backed away, her face contorted in disbelief. "Absolutely not!"
"Katrina, I'm not fond of the idea of Bella being down here either, but I'm left with little other choice."
"You would have our daughter, our precious little girl, see me this way? You would have this be the first sight she would have of her mother?" She crossed her arms over her chest as she backed further away from him, the chains dangling from her wrists. "Ichabod, have you lost your mind?"
At a loss for what to do, he wiped a hand down his face. "She must have help, Katrina."
"Of course, but that isn't the way. That can never be the way. I'd rather never meet her than have her see me this way."
"What would you have me do, Katrina!?" Frustration took hold of him as he flung his hands up. "Let you go!?"
She actually flinched as she tightened her arms around herself, her countenance downcast.
"You could bind my magic."
The low whisper had him straining to hear her.
"What?" He took a step toward her. "I thought you said-"
"That I wouldn't do it to her," she cut in as she avoided his eyes; a fidgetiness coming over her that he recognized as nervousness. "I imagine you'd delight in further tearing me apart."
Her words ripped at him, but it didn't stop his mind from weighing the possibility.
"And what would stop you from simply reversing the bind on your power the moment you were alone?" When she didn't answer, he sighed and did so for her. "Nothing."
In truth, he didn't even know what to do anymore. The idea now circling in his mind certainly hadn't been there when he'd entered this room earlier, but it seemed it was fast becoming his last option.
"I don't trust you, Katrina." He tiredly shrugged his shoulders. "I haven't trusted you for a very long time and I know I never will again."
Her gold-green eyes fell to his shirt as she gave a small nod.
"I know I can't expect the truth, but I have to ask." He swallowed the knot in his throat. "If I were to let you out right now, would you take Bella from me?"
There was so much happening in those gold-green orbs that he could hardly stand to look upon her. He knew it was a ridiculous question and he briefly wondered when he'd lost his mind. Perhaps, the lack of sleep was a contributor.
"I still wish you pain," she whispered, her eyes still on his shirt. "I would truthfully delight in taking Bella away so you'd know what it felt like to have your child ripped from you." She stepped closer to him, her breasts just barely brushing his chest as she finally lifted her gaze to his. "But I wouldn't do it now; not out of consideration for you, but for Bella."
Gaze intently focused on hers, he ignored the urge to hold her, or even acknowledge that she was touching him. "For Bella?"
"If you've been even half the father I always imagined you would be, then, Bella is likely deeply attached to you and I could never rob her of that." A heavy breath slipped between her lips as she reached up to gently grasp his hand. "I'll do and be whatever you want if it helps her."
Heartbeat raging wildly beneath his ribs, he stared at her for a long moment, catching every ounce of the sincerity exuding from her. Then again, he could be imagining it. She was so adept at the games she played that he couldn't be certain of anything, most especially while she was touching him; her fingers tenderly caressing his knuckles as she leaned even closer into his chest, her breasts now pressing into him. It was enough to make his heart skip a beat.
"Are you trying to manipulate me?"
She tilted her head, a small smile flickering over her lips. "Does it matter?"
Eyes falling closed, he relaxed against her. "Please, don't."
"I can see that you love Bella. You said all you want is Bella's happiness and safety. Would the two of us together, tucking her in at night, not make her happy? I can provide Bella with the love of a mother as well as help nurture her magic. Can't you imagine all the wonder Bella will grow to achieve? How many lives she'll touch?"
Hands at her waist, he backed her into the stone pillar, needing her to stop moving and attempting to confuse him.
"I just... I need to think."
"About what?" Her fingers slid over his chest. "We'll never be what we were, Ichabod, but we can be enough for Bella. All I want is to be her mother."
Resting his forehead to hers, he shook his head and whispered, "I want to believe you."
He felt the chains at his neck as she slid her arms around his shoulders. It was enough to bring his eyes open, searching out her intentions. She was so close; her breath hot on his face.
"I'll be whatever you want."
Her lips brushed his cheek, causing him to inhale sharply due to the assault against his senses.
"Katrina..."
"I know you miss me." Her lips pressed to the corner of his mouth, beckoning him to turn into her. "Let us be a family, Ichabod."
She was everywhere; her hands in his hair and her body flush against his. The scent of her skin was so soothing and the gentle pressure she kept on his crotch wasn't unnoticed either. Everything about her was overtaking him; leaving him without his ability to reason.
"I think you were right," he whispered as his fingers closed around her waist, twisting in the fabric of her dress to hold her close. "I have lost my mind."
So, no angry sex in the Masonic Cell as the one reviewer would have liked, but don't think I didn't think about it lol. However, I do have a one shot in the last stages of editing that has them doing just that after Ichabod hears Katrina tell Abraham that she cares about him during the Akeda episode ;) I'm saving it as a rainy day post.
Anyway, does Ichabod let Katrina out? I guess, we'll see. She surely is trying her best to convince him to do just that, huh? That manipulative witch!
Your thoughts are always appreciated, darling readers :)