Disclaimer: Sleepy Hollow belongs to Washington Irving and FOX
Ichabod's POV
The new clothes Abbie had purchased for him fit like nothing has for a long time. The black fabric is expertly tailored, even if the cut of the cloth is not in the style of what he grew up accustomed to. Still, Ichabod's been in the 21st century long enough to know that what he wears is nearly the highest level of formal wear for the era. He sits in the armchair near the door, his new overcoat draped across his knee, and fingers the letter Miss Jenny handed to him earlier that day.
Compulsion has Ichabod opening the letter once more. Abbie's looping script greets him and, for what must be the hundredth time that day, Ichabod reads the letter again.
"Ichabod. It was over a year ago that you woke up to this new world and I know it hasn't been easy for you. It's been a rough ride, with everything that's happened. So I wanted to do something for you, something you would enjoy and that would take your mind off of things, even if just for one night. I guess I should start by explaining what I have planned and that requires telling you another secret of mine.
"When I was a little girl, I would watch a lot of public television. We didn't have a lot of money, so whatever channels came on was what we watched. One day, when I was about 6, a little before Christmas, I turned on the TV to the local PBS and they were showing "The Nutcracker". It's a ballet, written in the late 1800s. You know what ballet is, right? It was around in your era, I think.
"Anyway, I fell in love with the whole thing: the dancing, the music, the costumes, all of it. For a long time, I wanted to be a ballerina, but we never had the money to afford to pay for classes. But I would always watch ballet when they aired it on PBS. And after I started working for the police, I saved money from my first paychecks and bought my first ticket to a live ballet performance – "The Nutcracker", of course. It was one of the most magical evenings of my life, so much better than watching it on TV.
"That's my secret: I love ballet. And I wanted to share some of the magic of seeing a live performance with you. I hope you'll enjoy it. You once told me about the operas you saw when you lived in England, but you never mentioned anything about ballet.
"So, be ready by 5. I'm having a car come by and pick you up a little after that. See you tonight. –Abbie"
Every time Ichabod reads the letter, it's like the first time all over again. His heart beats and constricts in his chest, his palms go a little clammy, and he cannot help but smile. But, mostly, he is overwhelmed with Abbie's thoughtfulness. He'd almost forgotten that it's been a little over a year since he woke up to discover that it was 2013 and that over 230 years had passed him by. That she would share something so close to her heart with him to mark the occasion is the most precious gift he could ever imagine receiving from her.
So he obliges her and gets ready with time to spare. He's dressed in the suit with all the accoutrements that goes with it, his hair is clean and tied back, and his beard is neatly trimmed. It has been so long since he's been so impeccable that the feeling is nearly a novel one. And, so, now he waits, excitement causing the blood to course faster through his veins.
At 5 past the hour, Ichabod hears the sounds of a vehicle pulling up to the cabin and he stands to peer out the window. In the dying light of the day, he can see the vehicle, black and perhaps a little larger than the police vehicle Abbie drives. The vehicle parks and a man, the driver, gets out. Ichabod steps away from the window and is at the door to open it when the driver knocks.
"Mr. Crane?" the man asks. "I'll be your driver this evening. An Abigail Mills sent me."
"Excellent, I've been expecting you," Ichabod says. He folds his overcoat across his arm and closes the door behind him. "Lead on, good man."
The driver gives him a look. "Uh, sure." Ichabod follows the driver to the car, where the other man opens the rear, right-hand door for him. "Slide on in, Mr. Crane."
Ichabod does as instructed and the soft leather of the car's backseat cradles him with ease. With his seatbelt buckled, he waits for the driver to get in as well.
The driver's starting the engine when Ichabod speaks up. "Do we go to retrieve Miss Mills?" he asks.
"That's our next stop," the driver says. The car rolls away and Ichabod is a bundle of anxious excitement. He's used to seeing Abbie every day, usually in some sort of evil-thwarting capacity, but he hasn't seen her at all since the night before and they're about to partake in a pleasant evening, free from the Apocalypse for a few hours.
It's not long before the car pulls up in front of the building that houses Abbie's apartment. Before the driver can get out of the car, Ichabod speaks up. "Shall I go fetch her, then?"
The driver looks over his shoulder at Ichabod. "That's what I figured, Mr. Crane. Hold on just a sec." The driver gets out and jogs around the car to open the door for Ichabod. Ichabod has to admit that receiving such service, while a luxury, is a nice change of pace.
Minutes later, Ichabod knocks on Abbie's front door. When it opens, Jenny's standing on the other side. "Well, long time, no see, handsome," she says, looking him up and down.
Ichabod smiles at the easy sarcasm in Jenny's voice. "Good evening, Miss Jenny. I trust I am on time."
"Yeah, come on in. Abbie's still finishing up." Jenny closes the door behind Ichabod and walks further into the apartment. "Hey, Abbie!" she yells out. "Your date's here!"
"I heard the damn knock!" Abbie yells back – from the direction of the bathroom, Ichabod figures. "And it's not a date!"
Jenny smiles over at Ichabod, the expression filled with teasing sweetness. "She's a little touchy."
"Well, she would not be your sister if she was not a little bit…prickly," Ichabod says.
"I heard that, Crane!" Abbie says, her voice sounding closer.
"My apologies, Miss Mills," Ichabod says around a smile.
Abbie emerges from the hallway that leads away from the main living area. She stops and smiles at him. "Well, look at you all dressed up. It's a good look for you. Give me just another minute to get my things together."
Ichabod, meanwhile, has been struck dumb by the vision that is Abigail Mills. Truly, he has never seen a more enchanting sight and he cannot take his eyes from her as she moves around her apartment.
Abbie is sheathed in silken midnight. The gown skims down her figure, accentuating each delectable curve and the rich color of the fabric brings out the dusky rose of her skin. Her arms and one shoulder are bare; a ring of silver cinches the silk just above her right breast, causing the material to fan out as it hooks over her shoulder. And her hair, normally pulled back, cascades down her bare shoulder in gentle waves. Throughout the tenure of their acquaintance, Ichabod has never known Abbie to be one for rouges and face paints, but she has used them tonight with devastating effect: enough to accent her features, but not so much as to overwhelm. And the coup d'grace is the baring of her left leg up to the knee as every other step reveals the slit in the side of her gown, exposing a shapely calf, a delicate ankle, and a black, high-heeled shoe.
He cannot breathe and he has to hold back a telling cough when Jenny slaps him on the back. "Real smooth, Romeo," she says under her breath. But it helps shock Ichabod back into a semblance of normality. "You two have fun tonight, ok?" Jenny says before she excuses herself from the room.
"Night, Jenny," Abbie calls over her shoulder, scooping a small clutch and what Ichabod presumes is a coat into her arms.
Ichabod manages a nod at the younger sister before he turns his attention to the elder. He desperately wants to take her hand and press a kiss to the tops of her knuckles, but he cannot figure out how without making a bumbling fool of himself. "May I just say that you are looking particularly beautiful, this evening?" he manages to get out instead.
The smile that his words bring to Abbie's lips makes Ichabod feel twice the man. "Thank you. Now, let's get going. I wanna grab a quick bite to eat before the ballet starts," Abbie says as she moves towards the door.
Ichabod's a half-step ahead of her and he opens the door for her. Abbie smiles her gratitude and walks through. Ichabod considers it a great feat that he only lets his gaze linger on her swaying hips for a second instead of the much longer he wishes he could indulge in. He matches his stride so he can walk beside her. "You never said what production we will be viewing this evening," he says, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. By god, is she beautiful.
Abbie glances at him. "Sleeping Beauty. Do you know the story?"
Ichabod nods. "Yes, I am familiar with it."
"It's one of my favorites," Abbie says in a softening voice.
Ichabod holds the door leading outside the building, but grudgingly lets the driver open the door for both of them. He does, however, hold out a hand to help Abbie into the car, which she takes instantly. Her palm is warm against his clammy fingers and he wishes he did not have to let go of her hand.
Abbie slides all the way over to the left of the car and Ichabod follows. The car door shuts and, for a moment, they are alone. Ichabod looks over at Abbie. "I wish to thank you for your kindness this evening."
Abbie gives him a wry smile. "Yeah, I just hope everything turns out ok."
"An evening spent in your company could never be anything but enjoyable," Ichabod says.
Abbie looks as if she's about to laugh, but she shakes her head instead. She reaches out to give him a light hit on the arm. "You're such a kidder."
Instead of letting hit connect, Ichabod reacts and grabs Abbie's hand. "I am being perfectly serious, Abbie." Before he can stop himself, he brings her hand to his mouth and presses a feather-light kiss to the tops of her knuckles, just like he'd wanted to 5 minutes before. Abbie freezes, her eyes lock on his, and Ichabod cannot look away. The air between them has turned heavy and sultry, thick with anticipation. They can scarcely breathe.
The tension mounts and before Ichabod can even think of doing something to break it, Abbie gives a small laugh and slips her hand from his. "You were a big hit with the ladies back in your day, weren't you?" she asks, but her voice trembles a little and the sound of it gives Ichabod hope the likes of which he hasn't felt in some time.
The moment is gone, the tension diffused, but Ichabod's heart still pounds in his chest. "I was actually hopeless with the fairer sex back in my youth, if you must know." The driver gets in the car, but neither of them pay attention to the intrusion, so caught up in teasing each other, they are.
The ballet is in New York City, a place Ichabod's only visited a few times in the modern era. After a quick meal consisting nearly scalding hot pizza, Abbie and Ichabod arrive at the ballet. They check their coats at the door and an usher shows them to their seats. Ichabod marvels at the architecture of the production house and is glad to see that the arts are still valued in this day and age.
The seats are good ones, one tier up from the orchestra level, giving them a good vantage point from which to watch the stage, but not so far away that the dancers will be indistinguishable. The size of the auditorium awes Ichabod. None of the theaters of his youth ever came anywhere close to housing nearly 1000 people.
"You might want to close that mouth before you catch flies," Abbie says as they sit down.
Ichabod realizes he's gaping and blushes at being caught. "My apologies, it's just…."
"They didn't make them this big back in your day?" Abbie finishes for him.
"Yes, quite." Ichabod amuses himself by taking in the details all around him. He glances over at Abbie, who is staring forward at the curtain, a particular look of excited anticipation on her face. It makes Ichabod's heart swell to see her so happy and he's glad that, in doing something for him, she has done something for herself, as well.
The lights dim, the auditorium is filled, and the ballet begins. The music is astounding, the costumes exquisite, and the dancing otherworldly. Ichabod gets lost in the story, as the king and queen herald the arrival of their newborn daughter, who then gets cursed, only to be saved by a good fairy.
Near the beginning of the Act I, Ichabod notices Abbie shifting out of the corner of his eye and he turns to look at her. The music swells, the tension builds, and Abbie's leans forward a little in her seat. The tempo of the music shifts to a waltz and Abbie begins mouthing words around the tiniest of smiles that curves up her lips. The joy on her face captivates Ichabod and he can only half pay attention as the stage fills with dancers. Abbie is radiant, the most beautiful woman he has ever known, and he cannot look away.
Abbie brings her right hand up and loosely curls her fingers into a fist that she presses against her sternum, like what she is watching is too much for her to bear. She even sways a little to the music, completely lost to it, just as Ichabod is lost in her.
The waltz ends and, out of the corner of his eye, Ichabod can see who he presumes is Princess Aurora, all grown up, come onto the stage. Four suitors appear, each of them asking for Aurora's hand in marriage. Next to Ichabod, Abbie gasps and reaches for his hand with her left, her right still pressed to her breastbone. It no longer matters what is happening on stage, because Ichabod would not look away from her for anything. The music around him is majestic and romantic and he vaguely notices that Princess Aurora is dancing with each of her suitors.
And as the dance continues, the tension in the music builds and Abbie's breath begins to sharpen. Which is just as well since Ichabod thinks he may have forgotten how to breathe at all. Abbie is in pure rapture, like the rest of the world may as well not exist, and Ichabod in turn is enraptured by her. He knows when he sleeps that night, he will dream of her wearing the same expression that she does now, her hair spread out across his pillow as she lies beneath him and he cannot get the image to leave him.
Abbie squeezes Ichabod's hand tighter as the music reaches the height of its tension, her breath coming to her in small gasps, and he's nearly unable to take anymore. Just then, the music reaches its breaking point and the auditorium bursts out in applause. Abbie takes her hand from his to join in, but Ichabod's left reeling. His heart pounds as if he's just run from one end of Sleepy Hollow to the other in a matter of minutes, his mouth is dry, and he is uncomfortably and intensely aroused. It takes him the rest of the Act to get control of himself and when the lights brighten to signal the start of intermission, Ichabod no longer feels like he will embarrass himself.
Abbie turns to him, her smile bright and infectious. "So, what do you think? Amazing, isn't it?"
Ichabod smiles in return. "Amazing, yes." He does not have the courage to tell her that she is by and far more amazing than the production that plays out in front of them for fear that he will confess the depths of the love that he feels for her.
The rest of the ballet passes without any uncomfortable incidents and, before Ichabod knows it, the driver is pulling up to the front of Abbie's building. Ichabod walks Abbie to her door and is loathe to see her go. "I would like to thank you for a truly wonderful evening," he says, his voice softening.
"It was my pleasure," Abbie says. She steps forward, keys in one hand, and braces the other on his lapel, pulling him down so she stand on her toes to press a kiss to his cheek. "Good night, Ichabod."
Ichabod stands there, dumbfounded, as Abbie unlocks her door and steps inside, closing it behind her with a soft snick. He walks back down to the car in a daze. It's moments like this that make him glad for his perfect recall, for he feels the softness of her lips pressed to his skin the rest of the way home.
Abbie's POV
Abbie closes her door and leans against it, her heart pounding. She can hear Ichabod's footsteps through the door as he walks down the hallway and she lets out a sigh. He was so…perfect, with the kiss on her hand and the way he looked at her like she was the most precious person in the world. She is seriously, 100%, head over heels in love with Ichabod Crane and she is starting to think he might return her feelings.
It is the scariest thing she's ever felt in her life. She doesn't know what would happen if she lost him and Abbie knows that losing him would be so much worse if she ever got to experience the full force of what she thinks is between them.
Abbie shakes the thoughts from her head. She can't just enjoy the evening, can she? Abbie pushes away from the door and moves further into her apartment. Jenny's asleep, so Abbie slips her heels off to keep the noise down as she makes her way to her room. And when she falls asleep, she dreams of soft kisses and clenched hands.
AN:The waltz that Abbie was mouthing along to is the famous Sleeping Beauty waltz, the one that the Disney song "Once Upon a Dream" is based on.
The second piece, which comes right after the waltz, is the Rose Adagio, widely considered to be one of the most difficult sequences in ballet.