Ichabod did not want to be here.
Specifically, he did not want to be surrounded by a crowd at the pub and feign interest in making civil conversation. He would rather be searching for Washington's lost treasure mentioned in the late Lady Washington's letters. However, it was Captain Irving's farewell celebration. He couldn't refuse to attend due of his despondency.
The good captain was leaving Sleepy Hollow to pursue safer employment for the sake of his family. He was going to sorely miss the captain. He had been willing to support the lieutenant and him in every way he could when no one else would. He had most generously offered him his friendship during his time of need after the death of Katrina. He had saved their lives countless times and all without the need to be recognized for his sacrifices. He was a selfless, irreplaceable captain.
It was unfortunate to lose another ally but Crane understood the importance of ensuring the safety of one's family. Not that he had one to speak of anymore. He glared at the shine of the wooden bar in front of him, bitterly drinking from his fifth glass of the night.
His wife and son's death haunted him on a daily basis. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see the bullet rip through his son or the knife plunge into his wife by his own hand. He could still hear the contempt in Henry's voice and the venomous resent in Katrina's. Her words rang louder than any cannon, stung harsher than any blow to the chest. It nearly tore him to pieces to remember each and every utterance she hurled at him before nearly killing Abbie. Before struggling over the knife that ended her life.
Of course, he still had the Mills sisters. They did their best to keep him preoccupied with research, hockey, motion pictures, and a variety of other meaningless distractions. They didn't pry. They didn't demand he share his feelings. The most they had ever done to broach the topic was to ask if he wanted a public memorial service in honor of his family. He refused, of course, and requested a private gathering instead.
Nonetheless, there was nothing the Mills sisters could do to end the aching in his soul. He ached for his wife, for the son he didn't get to raise, for the life that was stolen from him. Resentment toward all the personal losses he had endured in the past few months were starting to rear their ugly head. He downed his glass of rum, set it down hard on the bar, and requested another. Luckily, the drinks were free tonight. He could keep the ugly head at bay, for now.
"Hi, I'll have a ginger ale. Thanks," said a voice next to him.
Ichabod languidly turned his head to see who had taken the seat next to his. He instantly rolled his eyes to the side and turned away.
"Nice to see you, too, Mr. Crane," said Sherriff Reyes, folding her hands primly on the bar.
"Sherriff," he said, clearing his throat, "Good evening." He tightly smiled. Another glass was set down before him.
Sherriff Reyes raised her brows. "Taking advantage of the free drinks, I see," her eyes signaling to his drink.
He raised his glass and sipped it, just to demonstrate some self-control in front of Ms. Mills' superior. His intention may be to drink his pain away but he didn't want to risk his partner's standing with her in the process.
Sheriff Reyes was not Crane's greatest supporter. She distrusted him from the very beginning and resented his presence in her department. However, the Lieutenant had no problem in declaring to her that his assistance was vital and that she considered him to be her partner.
Nonetheless, it did not appease the sheriff and she was continually reluctant to recognize any contribution he made to any case. In anything that concerned Crane, she was unyielding and unforgiving. Being the gentleman he was, Ichabod did not return the sentiment as he had nothing to justify it although he did have a thorough distaste for her in general.
"Your presence is unexpected, sheriff," he bit out, immediately realizing his blunder. He scrunched his eyes. "I mean, we…I assumed you would be patrolling the town tonight…not that you are not welcome because you are more than welcome to…"
Sheriff Reyes held up her hand to silence him. She set down her drink before facing him again. "Its fine, Mr. Crane. I know Captain Irving and I have had our disagreements in the past but, in the end, I respect and care about him as I would any other member of the Sleepy Hollow Police Department."
"Of course," he agreed solemnly, his fingertips tapping the sides of his glass.
Sherriff Reyes eyed him warily. Ichabod glanced at her before taking a hesitant sip of his glass.
"You know, Mr. Crane, in certain ways I would even consider you as part of our department."
"Oh. Why, thank you, sheriff," he replied unsurely.
"Though, in many ways you are not part of this department. As in, I don't consider you to be my employee."
"Well, then you may consider my services voluntary," declared Crane contemptuously, raising his glass before taking another swig. The alcohol was beginning to lower his inhibitions. It suddenly dawned on him that this may not be the most ideal of settings for him to be drowning his sorrows.
Sheriff Reyes smiled tightly. She continued, "I would consider them voluntary, however, it appears that I have been compensating you unknowingly. You appear to be exhausting my resources."
Ichabod frowned. Did the sheriff just accuse him pilfering resources? This was completely undeserved and unfounded. The good lieutenant and he had never abused their access to the archives or to the department. They never required the help or attention of any of the other officers on their personal missions, therefore, did not waste the police force's time. Her accusation was most untrue. The sheriff's mistaken belief needed to be immediately thwarted, at least for the lieutenant's sake.
He calmly explained, "I assure you, madam, Lieutenant Mills and myself use the archives solely for research purposes during her free time and have not in any knowingly way abused the power she holds within the department for any personal gain."
"I wasn't talking about archives or abuse of power. I'm talking about Lieutenant Mills herself."
He knit his brow. He felt riled up and a bit confused, to say the least. The alcohol was certainly not helping as he tried to process the baffling claim. How could this possibly be about Lieutenant Mills being used as compensation? What sort of sheriff would allow her police force to be used as any form of recompense? He raised a finger indignantly and proceeded to unattractively gape at her, his mouth still attempting to form coherent words. She interrupted him swiftly.
"Do you know how many times Ms. Mills has called in sick this year? Did you know she used up years of accumulated personal days in just the past few months? She comes in to work late. She leaves early. She's constantly tired…" Sheriff Reyes paused, eyeing Crane critically. Her suspicious look shut his mouth instantly. He was slowly starting to perceive a suggestive tone to the sheriff's claims. His eyes widened indignantly as he straightened his posture.
She continued, a frown working itself around her mouth and eyes. "I am aware that she has been taking on several other illicit assignments on the side with your involvement. The only reasons that have kept me from reporting her to my superiors is that the quality she puts into her work is consistent and because the knack she has for catching criminals based on her 'gut feelings' is remarkable."
This conversation was leaving him in knots. He squeezed his eyes shut, in order to keep focus. He stammered, "I-I-I fail to see how this pertains to my receiving of compensation or, as you put it, my exhausting of your resources."
"Lieutenant Abigail Mills is a vital asset to our department. She is an essential resource. And you, Mr. Crane, are draining her."
Crane blinked at her.
Sherriff Reyes huffed impatiently, "You know she was headed to Quantico before you showed up, right? She would have made an impressive federal agent. Expert in her field, no doubt." She gave him an accusatory stare, folding her arms defensively. He knit his brow and swallowed nervously.
"But she held herself back. And for what? An adrenaline rush from chasing whatever it is you've got her involved in? Or did she hold herself back just for you? A dashing, supposed history professor on sabbatical from Oxford? Don't get me wrong, you may have your attractive qualities but you're married, are you not, Mr. Crane?"
Feeling quite appalled and caught off guard by her allegations, he could only soundlessly gasp.
"So explain to me, how does the over-qualified, talented Ms. Mills benefit in any shape or form from sacrificing her success, her time, basically her entire person for you? Sure, you might be enough to keep her satisfied for now but what about her future, hmm? Or do you just see her as some bimbo you can string along until your wife finds out or until you get bored and find another willing distraction?"
That was it. This sheriff had crossed the line. He would not stand to have the Lieutenant's reputation sullied by somebody's inappropriate interest in her personal relationships. Abbie was his partner. They shared a holy bond. To debase such a powerful connection to such a depraved level would not be permitted. Ichabod grit his teeth and narrowed his eyes. He clenched his fists to control his rage, his arms shaking from the effort. He set his fist down heavily on the bar.
He spat out, as evenly as he could manage, "I assure you, Sheriff Reyes, that the relationship between Ms. Mills and I is far more profound and complex than the perversion you've so inaptly presumed."
"Really? Profound? Huh, then why are you holding her back?"
Ignoring the question momentarily, he drank back the rest of the amber liquid. It no longer burned going down yet he felt as if he were on fire. He was enraged. In a different time, he would have challenged such a slanderous fool to a dual. However, he was not in his time and the sheriff was not some fool. She was an ordinary person with simple thoughts. She had no reason to believe that she was indeed mistaken. Inclusively, she was also Ms. Mills' superior.
As disturbing her comments were, he needed to find reason. He couldn't very well divulge to the sheriff that he and Ms. Mills shared a sacred bond as Witnesses and worked together to save the world from a horrific apocalypse. He couldn't demand that she be grateful instead of disparaging of their partnership. So, instead, he requested another rum, this time without ice. He downed it in one ferocious gulp. Reyes glared at him waiting for an answer.
"I am unsure as to what has prompted this confrontation, sheriff, but may I be so bold as to remind you that Ms. Mills is a full-grown woman. As such, she makes her own choices and I hold no power over her decisions," he quietly declared, simply paraphrasing the words the Mills sisters had repeated to him in the past. They were always more than happy to remind him of the fact that women were just as capable of men and that the antiquated mindset toward women of the 18th century was not acceptable in any shape or form, a modern idea that he quickly came to terms with. He ordered another drink and slumped in his chair.
Reyes looked at the defeated man slouched in front of his newly refilled drink. She guiltily looked away, sipping at her ginger ale. After a few moments of self-examination, she resignedly sighed. "I apologize for the outburst, Crane. You can't blame me for looking out for my own. She is the best on the force but she deserves so much more than what Sleepy Hollow can offer. Believe me, I've seen too many young women lose their way due to unworthy distractions. But you've got a point. Ms. Mills makes her own decisions. She needs to decide what's best for her, not anybody else."
He sagely nodded before taking a swig from his glass. After unsteadily putting his glass down, he began to the effects of the alcohol blur his vision. He gripped the bar. The room began to rock back and forth.
"Oh, the sea is treacherous tonight," he mumbled incoherently.
Reyes placed her hand on his shoulder. She warned, "I think you've had enough."
Crane sloppily shrugged her hand off his shoulder and rubbed his eye. "I feel fine, sheriff, thank you," he managed only slightly slurring, messily tucking his hair behind his ear. He reached for his glass again.
Sheriff Reyes leaned in close to him, startling him with her close presence. "I don't think you want Abbie to see you this way," she advised him.
Crane hesitantly held his glass up to his chin. A thought of shame momentarily filtered through his haze. It disappeared just as quickly. He downed the glass in one gulp. He set the glass down hard, squeezing his eyes tightly and letting out a growl.
"Okay, time to get you home," said the sheriff, taking the glass from his hands and setting it as far away from his grasp as possible.
Crane snorted. Home was down the road, two and a half centuries ago. He doubted very much that anyone could get him back home. "Good luck with that, sheriff," he hiccupped. Sherriff Reyes glowered at him disapprovingly. She called over an officer and asked him to find Abbie or Jenny.
Jenny saw him first. Crane's sleeping head rested on his folded arms on top of the bar, his ass hanging off the edge of his seat. She made her way swiftly toward him, a determined look upon her face. She couldn't believe it when they told her he was completely wasted.
Of all the places and all the times, he chose to get smashed at Irving's party in front of all her sister's coworkers. Abbie was going to be livid. In fact, she herself felt livid. She, Abbie, and Irving had repeatedly offered him opportunities to help him cope with the crap he went through and of course he chooses this moment to get drunk on his ass in front of Abbie's boss.
Leave it to Crane to inconvenience the whole world to accommodate his needs. If she didn't like him so much and feel a strange duty to look out for him, she'd have made Abbie kick his pathetic ass to the curb a long time ago. But when she spotted Reyes standing next to him, she slowed down and pasted a fake smile on her face.
There was no way in hell she was going to let Reyes start poking around in their apocalypse business, let alone all the weird and depressing issues Crane was working through. She was going to have to charm her way out of this situation if they all wanted to avoid getting locked up in individual, padded cells at Terrytown Psychiatric.
"Sheriff Reyes, good to see you. Oh God, I am so sorry about this," Jenny said apologetically. She sympathetically shook her head at the still lump that was Crane. She took a peek at Reyes to see if she was buying it. The puzzled sheriff was focused on Crane as he let out a gruff snore.
Jenny rolled her eyes at him and tightly smiled, "Bad choice to bring him out here tonight. Definitely too soon."
Reyes narrowed her eyes at Jenny. "What do you mean 'too soon'?"
Jenny knew she had to play the only card she could at the moment if she wanted to avoid having Crane or Abbie incur the wrath of the sheriff. She sensitively explained, "Oh, um, it's just, you know, Crane he recently lost his wife and son. They, uh, passed away in, um, England a few weeks ago. Tragic, tragic accident. He hasn't been coping very well."
She glanced at the sheriff out of the corner of her eye and dramatically sighed, "I'm sorry, you had to see him like this."
Reyes' jaw dropped slightly. She composed herself before she stammered guiltily, "Oh, I…I'm so sorry. I had no idea. Crane, he didn't say anything," she knit her brow uneasily at him.
Jenny grimaced. "Yeah, not coping well," she said with a lamenting shake of her head.
"Right, of course. I, uh, I'll just go and find Abbie," suggested Reyes, grateful for the clean getaway.
Moments later, Abbie walked up to them, pinching the bridge of her nose and shaking her head. She gave Jenny an incredulous look. Jenny just shrugged, miming her disbelief too. It wasn't like she had volunteered to babysit Crane tonight. She did enough of that on her free time. She deserved a break every once in a while. Although, Jenny would have to rethink what she deserved the next time Crane got anywhere near a bar.
Abbie sighed heavily and closed her eyes. She pleaded with the ceiling for patience, then shook Crane awake. He sat up immediately, his hair in his face.
"Lieutenant!" Crane squinted his eyes, trying to orient himself. Once he recognized where he was at, he joyfully garbled, "Join me for a drink?"
"No, no more drinks for you. Come on, we're going home."
Crane groaned but assented. He stood up from the stool, gripping the bar tight. Abbie offered her support but he simply raised a finger and brow at her. Endeavoring to be dignified, Crane shook his hair out of his face, leaned forward to bow, and almost tripped over his own boots. Jenny fought back a snort.
"Alright, alright, prince charming, we're done," grunted Abbie, as they both caught him from making a very public face-plant. They put his arms around their shoulders and practically carried him out the building.
Once they managed to reach her sister's car and buckle in their tall, lanky giant, Jenny offered to ride home with them. Abbie refused and told her to give the Irvings their apologies, to let them know Crane got a little overenthusiastic with the free drinks. They both gazed at him through the car door window. He was passed out with his temple and cheek pressed up against it. He was gently snoring, fogging up the glass with his puffs of breath. Abbie closed her eyes and shook her head. Jenny smirked.
It really was amusing to see Abbie take care of the gangly Brit. In her craziest dreams, she never envisioned her sister immersed in the whole Witness partnership thing. When Corbin told her of what could possibly await Abbie, she merely scoffed at it. Abbie couldn't even manage to look out for her own sister let alone a complete stranger. Now, here she was utterly dedicated to the supernatural cause and driving her tall, dark, very drunk time-traveling British partner home.
To be completely honest, Jenny really wanted to go just to see how her sister was going to carry him out of the car and into the cabin. She envisioned a Luke Skywalker and drunk Yoda scenario. What she wouldn't do to get a video of that. But she understood her boundaries. The capital-w Witnesses definitely needed some time to talk, especially now that Crane had his inhibitions lowered.
Hopefully, they could work out their crap and get back into the flow of things. They'd both been avoiding it for weeks. If they didn't deal with it now, it would certainly come back to bite them in the ass, even more than the whole Angel Orion debacle eventually did. Abbie interrupted her train of thought and told her to let the Irvings know she would stop by tomorrow morning before work to send them off. Jenny reluctantly agreed. She bid her sister good luck and watched as they drove away.
If Jenny believed in a God, she would've prayed that everything worked out for the best between them, mostly for her own benefit. She couldn't stand to be around them when they weren't on good terms. The tension was practically suffocating. She huffed and wrapped her hands around her bare arms. The weather was getting cooler than usual. A new season was coming and she had forgotten her coat. She glanced down the road again before heading back to the party alone and hopeful.