God almighty. She wanted to run her tongue along his neck more than anything in the world.
But who could blame her? Because, in Abbie's defense, what the fuck was the point of the First Witness being a hot-ass piece of manmeat if the Second Witness- namely herself- couldn't fuck his brains out? It honestly made no sense to her.
Jesus, get a grip Abbie.
It was true that she found Crane exceedingly attractive (all sinewy muscle, and rustic features. Her kink for continuously hearing him call her 'Miss Mills' even after years of intimate acquaintanceship didn't hurt either), but she still respected the fact that he was a married man. Even if said married man's wife was trapped in an endless purgatory with no means of escape.
No, Abbie- just NO.
She wasn't going to ruin her friendship with Crane just because she thought she might love him in a non-platonic way.
"Lieutenant?"
The call of Crane's voice pulled her out of her internal soliloquy, and when she found his face she was instantly frozen once again, trapped by that damned beard of his. The length of his neck was stretched as he gazed up into the branches of a tree that stood before him, Adam's apple defined beneath the point where his facial hair ended and his alabaster skin began. As he reached up to thumb the leaves of his specimen, the fluid fabric of his billowing tunic (that he still insisted on wearing occasionally, even after she demanded he change wardrobe. She didn't want to be mean about it, but his original clothes had become rank after 3 years of nonstop action) tightening against the defined muscle of his athletic waist.
God, he's so attractive. And he doesn't even know it.
She finally refocused on the task at hand, and found herself surrounded by a thorny bramble. Inspecting the forest above her, she could see the tell tale leathery foliage of a parasitic plant. It was the same greenery that was growing on the oak Crane stood before, as well as inside the Graham's home.
"Mistletoe?" She looked to Crane for confirmation, who nodded his head enthusiastically in return: 'Looks like we're getting somewhere', it said.
Her brow furrowed, "But mistletoe doesn't grow naturally in Sleepy Hollow, or even in the woods around it."
"Correct, Miss Mills." he nodded, congratulating her on the deduction. He returned his sights back to investigating the plant, eyes alight with the information streaming through his frankly amazing eidetic mind, "This particular brand of flora- Viscus album- can only be found in Europe, as well as some parts of Asia. So the questions we should be asking are thus: Who raises mistletoe in these woods, and for what purpose?"
"Purpose?" Abbie turned her eyes from Crane back to the oak being strangled by mistletoe. Behind her, Jenny was treading lightly across the woods near the police tape outlining their crime scene, trying to avoid being spotted by her sister. She plucked a leaf from the plant above her, and made her way past Captain Irving, towards the Lieutenant.
"According to various legends, mistletoe can be used as a deterrent to ward off certain demons- like a kind of shield, to protect you." Jenny pitched in, stepping across a log and joining the Witnesses.
Abbie's eyebrow arched as she cocked her head and turned to look at her sister, "I thought I told you to stay in the car?" It wasn't a question, but it sure sounded like one.
"It's been like an hour. And besides, when has you telling me what to do ever worked?"
Ichabod bowed his head, as to not tangle in a low-hanging branch, as he quickly escaped the crossfire of his bickering allies. Crane had learned the hard way not to intervene in the 'You can't tell me how to live my life!' fight. Usually he would attempt to separate the siblings during a heated argument, but this bout would last no more than a few minutes: Miss Jenny would grow tired of the good Lieutenant's constant nagging, and just walk away, leaving her older sister to trail after her, shouting criticisms.
From behind the trunk of another unhealthy oak, where he could still hear Abbie's heated words, Ichabod studied the parasite clinging to the dying branches.
The squabble climaxed quicker than expected, resulting in (as anticipated) Jenny storming away from Abbie, back to the car, and Abbie shouting something about not touching the firearms in her trunk. Miss Jenny, who of course always needed to have the last word, muttered to herself that she could always use her own damn gun, she's got like twelve.
Ichabod dared to sneak a look at the fuming Lieutenant, who was cradling her forehead in her right hand, while supporting the arm with her left. She looked defeated, once again unable to go a few hours without avoiding domestics while trying to help to save the world. She composed herself with a sigh, and pushed the loose fringe of her hair away before taking the steps to stand beside Crane, unable to look away from the dirt floor.
"Alright, Lieutenant?" he asked of his fellow Witness, unable to see her distressed.
She met his face with the tug of a smile that did not quite reach her eyes, "Fine," her voice was clipped, unsteady. She cleared her throat, and took the mistletoe clipping he held in his hand; she saw him reach for it reflexively as she grabbed it from him, but he kept quiet, and said nothing to get it back.
"So," she began, twisting the twig between her thumb and forefinger, examining the small berries, "mistletoe. Wards off evil, huh? Does that include the ghost that the vic saw here in Douglas Valley?"
"Perhaps. When we first entered the Graham's home, their entryway was decorated with holly and-"
"Mistletoe." Abbie finished for him, picking up his trail. Over the past few years their minds had begun to function on the same wavelength, occasionally spooking Irving to the point of believing that a Vulcan Mind Meld had been involved (Abbie then had to explain the Mind Meld to Crane, followed by explaining Star Trek, which led to twelve hours of couchsurfing between Abbie's apartment and Crane's cabin to finish the first season of Star Trek: The Original Series between bouts of saving the world. Sufficed to say that Crane left Abbie's apartment with bloodshot eyes and a much broader scope of the universe).
"Exactly. At first I had dismissed it for simple Yuletide folly, but perhaps…"
"Perhaps, Mr. Graham knows more than he says he does."
Ichabod nodded in agreement. When they interrogated the husband, Mr. Graham continuously stuttered over his words and couldn't keep his recountment straight, "It would explain why the wraith had only appeared to Missus Graham and did not attack her." The gestures he made with his clenched hands became more animated as the cogs in his mind began connecting, beginning on a new thought.
"The holiday season has barely begun, and although your generation seems to be fascinated with the idea of decorating for each new holiday the moment the former has ended: does it not seem strange to furnish for Christmas during late October?"
"Yeah, I did think it was kinda weird…" Abbie's voice petered out to a soft hum, as she looked around the crime scene. The dozen officers that still remained were interviewing the few witnesses on clarifications, while taking notes in their small books.
"Alright…" Abbie finally sighed, massaging her forehead in defeat, "Let's see what we can find back at the station. Got everything you need?"
"Indeed, Miss Mills." Crane assured her, plucking his mistletoe clipping out of her small hand and placing it into the evidence bag he'd been keeping in his coat pocket. Abbie rolled her eyes as he made a show of zipping it closed, the tug of her smile finally feeling genuine.
The ground turned from dirt to asphalt as the Witnesses made their way back to Abbie's Jeep. Abbie yawned loudly before pulling the keys from her pocket, only to ignite a similar cry from Crane. She laughed. "So, Starbuck's then?" she suggested, in the mood for a pick-me-up.
"Assuredly." Their selection of teas was sub-par, but Crane could appreciate the option of an espresso-shot on rare occasions. "Will Miss Jenny be riding back to the precinct with us?"
"You can ask her yourself, if you want," Abbie gestured to her younger sister, who Crane had not yet noticed to be splaying herself across Abbie's car, the heels of her hands behind her on the hood. Her head was thrown back in laughter at something the Captain had said. He as well was chuckling, the pearly white of his teeth happily on display, and the phone perpetually holding his attention surprisingly hidden in his breast pocket (apparently along with his ever-present scowl). Abbie had a hard time admitting that she thought Irving might reciprocate her sister's feelings for him, however hard Jenny tried to deny her own towards the Captain.
Abbie used the electronic car key to unlock the vehicle, making Jenny and Irving jump apart at the honk. Jenny scowled at her older sister, who only smirked back, Crane shaking his head in Abbie's peripheral.
"We're headed back to the precinct to do some research," the Lieutenant told her superior, stepping closer to her car as Crane climbed into to the passenger side. Abbie looked over to her sister on the hood, "Coming with?"
"Yeah," Jenny replied, jumping off the Jeep. She glanced back at Irving and smirked, ushering him out of the way, before opening the door beside him and sliding into the car.
"You're staying here, right?" Abbie asked, looking up to Irving's face as she reached for her door handle.
He nodded. "Yeah. The guys here want to look around one more time before heading back, I thought I'd stay and help."
"Alright, see you there," she waved lazily before climbing into the driver's side and starting the Jeep, its engine roaring to life beneath her.
As they pulled away from the crime scene, the forest was quickly replaced by the suburban community surrounding it. November was Sleepy Hollow's rainy season, and many of the endless potholes along the road were littered with puddles, each more dangerous to drive through than the last. Abbie tried to avoid them, but would occasionally miss one and violently rock the passengers of her Jeep, cursing and apologizing as she tried to right them again.
"Okay," Abbie started, as she turned onto Main Street, avoiding yet another hole in the road, "Jenny you seem to know the most about the mistletoe." She looked at her sister through the rearview mirror, only able to catch a glimpse of her sister's fierce eyebrows. "Care to explain?"
"Sure." Jenny cleared her throat and made herself comfortable in the limited space of the backseat (Crane liked to take up most of the space by pushing his chair all the way back, to make room for his ridiculous, spidery long legs). "Basically, mistletoe was primarily used by the Celtics to scare away any type of evil spirit: Faeries, ghosts, daemons. A lot of them hung it over their beds to scare away bad dreams."
"Like a dreamcatcher?"
"Yeah." Jenny nodded in confirmation, "But it was more than that. Other cultures around the world took to wearing talismans made of mistletoe to protect themselves from harm. Like a good luck charm."
In the corner of her eye Abbie could see Crane trying to focus, eyes closed and hands pressed together at the bottom of his nose, as if in prayer. It made Abbie grin. "You're thinking pretty hard over there. Anything you'd like to share with the class?"
The moment of study was shattered by Abbie's interruption, but Crane had gathered enough from the bowels of his memory, "I had not thought of the tale for a long time, until Miss Jenny mentioned the Celtic mythologies; but when I was young, my father once told me the story of Baldr, the Celtic god, who was defeated with an arrow of mistletoe. "
"Not that you'd need it." the younger Mills goaded, "Just fire that famous Abbie death-stare his way, and you'd be good as gold."
Abbie wanted to shoot her sister a death stare that moment, but settled for tightening her grip on the steering wheel instead, her knuckles whitening. "Care to roll back the attitude?"
"Well, just because you're the Chosen One, it doesn't mean I have to be nice to you."
"I'm not the Chosen One," Abbie scowled, finally shooting her sister a glare from the rearview mirror.
Jenny snorted, leaning back into her seat and muttered, "Close enough."
Crane shifted awkwardly when Abbie turned into the precinct parking lot. "Ergo, the employment of such a plant would make those who use it deadly to such evils." he supplied, hoping to put them back on track.
Jenny nodded from the backseat, unbuckling as Abbie pulled into her parking space, "Exactly."