Thank you to all those who've warmly received this humble fan-fiction. Thank you to my wonderful first ever reviewers; ReadtoRelax, Ess Trailer, TTracee, and sleepyheadfan20. This is the first time I've ever shared my fanfic writing and your kind feedback is greatly appreciated. This is going to be a slow burn type of story, in case you haven't already noticed. :) After this chapter, I plan on one more that takes place before the time jump. Then, hopefully, we'll get to the anticipated summary I gave this story. Thank you very much for reading!

Abbie was infuriated. Not necessarily at the bumbling, drunk string bean next to her but at the stupid lock she was contending with at the moment. All she wanted to do was get the damn door open, put Crane to bed, and go home.

It had been a long day. After dealing with stacks of paperwork she had been putting off for weeks, providing a department orientation to the new pair of rookies, contending with the impossible task of stretching out the budget without having to make any cutbacks, delegating assignments to unenthusiastic officers, and a few hours of patrolling filled with petty crimes, she just wanted to go home and sleep for the next ten months.

She had thought that going to Irving's celebration would have helped her mood but it managed to do the exact opposite. Not having Irving around anymore was going to make the whole witness mission thing that much more daunting. He'd saved their asses more times than she could count and his support was unparalleled. She was going to miss him. That's why it was almost unbearable to be there tonight. Yes, she loved the Irvings and it was heartbreaking to see them go but she would have preferred to be alone wallowing in self-pity instead of mingling at a depressing party.

A deep voice startled her thoughts.

"Ol' King Cole wassa murry ol' soul an' a murry ol' soul was…burp…heeee! Annie call for 'is pipe an' he call for 'is bow an' he call for a fiddlers threeee! An' a fiddler…fine fiddle…faddle…twee…hmm…hmmm...," sang Crane in his deepest voice.

She closed her eyes and sighed deeply. Sometimes she didn't know where or how she found the patience to deal with him sometimes. His little scene tonight was going to be the talk of the station for days. Hopefully, Reyes would forget about it but knowing the sheriff, it would probably be addressed first thing tomorrow morning. She would probably have her write it up in an incident report and make a twenty minute presentation about it, complete with visuals, to the entire department.

For some reason Reyes had been making more of an effort to find busy work for her to complete. Abbie was finding it more and more difficult to find any justification for the extra workload. It almost felt like she had it out for her recently. Her choice to stay instead of going to Quantico was beginning to plague her thoughts on a daily basis.

Dealing with all of it, work and Witnessing, was starting to get to her. But it wasn't like she had a choice. Crane needed her. She had to stay and finish the mission with him. That needed to be her main focus every minute of every day. Well, perhaps not every minute, because for now, she just needed to focus on get her crooning, plastered partner into the cabin in one piece.

Although, it was certainly amusing to see him sway precariously near her hip and slur through a children's song. If she wasn't exhausted, she might have laughed at him but all she could manage to do was open the door and mumble, "I think I actually know that one."

Crane scoffed and rolled his eyes, using his whole head. He stumbled through the door, catching his balance with the back of the couch. He sputtered, "Ugh, of all the songs in my time, your generation remembers the nonsensical children's song about a mediocre king?"

She scrunched her face sympathetically and nodded. "Yeah, I know. Now sit."

He sighed dramatically, making his way into the living room. He paused in front of the unlit fire place before flopping onto the couch. He rested his head back and closed his eyes. Abbie shook her head and made her way into the kitchen. She was going need him to hydrate if he wanted to avoid a massive hangover.

"Lieutenant…," mumbled Crane.

She ignored him as she filled up a glass of water.

"Lieutenant…," he repeated.

She sighed, looking for the bottle of multivitamins she had stashed somewhere. She decided to check the bathroom hoping to find them in the cabinet.

"Lieutenant…" he called out louder.

Losing her patience, she leaned her head back and huffed. She literally couldn't even walk into the bathroom without him demanding her attention. If she ever wanted a pet or child, she would be well coached to deal with the separation anxiety involved. She called out, "What, Crane? What?"

"Lieutenant! I have a most imperative inquiry I must make!" he hollered as if she were two states away.

She ground her teeth. Pasting a fake smile on her face, she walked out the door and popped her head out from behind the wall. She chirped through a tight smile, "Oh yeah? And what's that?"

He raised his brow unsteadily. He tiredly shook his head and knit his brows in concentration. "What happened to Luke Morales?"

She blinked and her mouth slightly dropped open. "Really? That's your burning question?" she asked, unimpressed with his 'imperative inquiry'.

Crane wrinkled his nose. "He didn't like me. Needless to say, I reciprocated the sentiment," he added haughtily.

She rolled her eyes and mumbled, "Ugh, God. Are we really doing this?" She continued her search for the vitamins deciding to look in the fridge. Of course, there they were neatly placed in between a half empty jar of pickles and a can of fruit cocktail. She shook her head and took them out.

He continued contemplatively using his hands to emphasize his point. "Tis as if he vanished without a trace. Puff. Gone. No more Morales."

She unscrewed the lid from the vitamins and shook one of the pills out. She returned the bottle to the fridge. He was not going to let this go if she didn't respond. She slowly approached him and sighed. "He, uh, got another job offer upstate. And after the whole Ancitif incident with the Irvings, he had good reason to leave," she said disinterestedly, studying the pill in her hand.

He narrowed his eyes. "Hmm. And do you…do you miss him?"

She nodded nonchalantly. "Sure. Of course. He was a good detective and we all miss having him around."

"That is not what I asked, Lieutenant."

She gave him a reluctantly warm smile. Leave it to Crane to immediately detect her attempt at hiding something. He was getting too good at that. She closed her eyes and reluctantly admitted, "Fine. Yeah, I miss him. But it was for the best. It's like I've said before, we need to put our bond as Witnesses before everything else, including relationships. Especially, the romantic kind."

"And so you will deprive yourself of love?"

She rubbed the inside of her cheek with her tongue and nodded. He was going there. Again. It seemed like this topic came up more frequently from him than from her own sister. It was a tired subject of conversation. She didn't have the time or enough opportunity to dedicate any effort into reigniting her love life. And it would take a lot of effort than ever before to maintain a relationship without revealing the whole apocalypse, time-traveling partner, Witness part of her life.

Frankly, she didn't know if she had the energy to explain it to some stranger and hope he didn't turn tail and run. Her ego could only take so much rejection. She, of course, would never admit this to him. She could barely admit it to herself.

She sat down next to him on the couch. She looked down at the glass in her hand before looking up at him. She quietly explained, "Listen, I've got enough with this whole Witness thing and my job at the department. Then there's Jenny and you and whatever else comes up. Trust me, it's plenty for now." She handed him the glass and the pill. "Now, drink your water and take your vitamin."

He frowned. Brusquely taking the glass, he shoved the pill in his mouth. He took a sip from glass of water before suddenly sputtering out, "Oh cease with all your…mollycoddling. Tis stifling."

Abbie gave a small smile. "Good, now drink the rest of your water."

He downed the glass of water before handing her the empty glass. "Truthfully, I'm astonished you still have a maternal instinct," he muttered under his breath, roughly wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

She playfully scoffed as she walked into the kitchen and placed the glass in the sink. "And what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Well, you did kill my son."

She slowly set her hands down on the edge of the sink and slightly nodded her head. She knew it. She knew he would eventually throw it in her face. She just didn't think it would hurt so much to hear it come from his mouth. But it hurt because it was true. Even though she did it for all the right reasons, she killed his son. Of course, she had not taken any pleasure in the act.

Regardless of the number of times she had fired her weapon out of necessity, she was a human being with feelings and emotions who had taken another life. She lost nights of sleep and had awakened drenched in a cold sweat because it haunted her, even in dreams. She didn't need him to remind her about what she had done. She understood the enormity of it and she felt like shit. But in her experience, there was no use in trying to explain to or reason with a person that wasn't in their right mind.

She turned around slowly. Crossing her arms, she leaned against the sink. She sucked in her lips and nodded, taking a deep breath, she replied calmly, "M'kay. I'm gonna let that slide. But just this once."

He looked up at her and glared. If she didn't know better, she would have thought, based on the way he was looking at her, he really did hate her with every fiber of his being. For some reason, it brought to mind her first meeting with Corbin at the diner. She must have been throwing him the same ugly glare at the time. Somehow he had not taken it personally and found it in himself to give her a second chance. If Corbin could do that with a complete stranger, she could do it for her very drunk, miserable partner. She finished her sentence wearily, tilting her head tiredly, "And only because there's no use in arguing with a drunk."

"I am not drunk," he growled through clenched teeth, now scowling at the fireplace.

She raised her brows and pursed her lips. Crane looked over at her with an offended expression. He clenched his fists and closed his eyes tightly. He looked like he was about to burst.

"Enough!" he shouted, standing up abruptly, pointing at her accusingly. "Enough with your…self-righteous judgement! Yes, I am drunk! But I deserve one, just one, Goddamn moment to seek refuge my hellish torment without your judgement!" he roared.

She stood stunned by his reaction. Her heart beat violently as she widened her eyes and her mouth formed a perfect o. He had never spoken, no, yelled so rudely to her. Her immediate reaction was to throw it all right back, damn the consequences. She had enough dirt on him to make him regret his words and more. But he was opening up.

After keeping it in after all this time, this explosion of offensiveness shouldn't come as a surprise. Therefore she, as maturely as possible, closed her eyes and pushed off the sink. She carefully approached him, with her arms at her sides, her hand flexing. She immediately noticed the familiar twitch and wiped her hand on her hip agitatedly. She delicately chose her words and sensitively replied, "I get it. I do and I'm not judging you. But we all have our own pain we have to deal with. Not just you."

Crane dismissively regarded her and sneered, "What exactly do you know of pain, Lieutenant? You weren't ripped away from your family and thrown into a time not your own. You didn't marry the love of your life only to have them betray, resent, and renounce the love you felt was true. You didn't have to choose to end their lives by your own hand for the sake of a futile mission."

Abbie's nostrils flared. Obviously her personal sacrifices didn't count. Her mother's torment didn't count. Her lost childhood, her father abandoning them, being thrown into foster care, having her sister committed, growing up without even a sense of family, the violent death of her beloved mentor, and the possession of her friend were just minor incidents apparently.

Plus, she was the one that fired the shot that killed the seemingly sweet old man she had known as Henry Parish, the man who had once saved Crane from the clutches of death. That didn't seem to register on the list of what he thought counted as painful.

To add on to that pile of crap, the fact that she had literally been ripped from her time, thrown behind bars, and risked everything including the possibility of ever returning to her own time to stop his insane former wife from killing him off permanently. No, of course, none of that could compare to Crane's sacrifice.

He slightly staggered back a step trying to keep his balance, unaware of Abbie's growing fury. He bellowed, his voice slightly cracking, "You didn't have a child you didn't know existed choose to dedicate their very soul to destroying you for your involuntary absence. Then to have your fellow Witness slay them mercilessly. You don't know my pain!"

She agreed with that part. She didn't have a child involved, thankfully. She didn't understand that pain but she could certainly empathize. Restraining the anger that was threatening to escape in the form of immature insults, she irritably snapped at him, "You're right. I don't know. Your situation is unique. As is mine. As is everybody else's in this world. But you are not the only person to have ever existed who suffered a cruel fate. People go through it all the time but they survive. They keep on living."

He closed his eyes and clenched his fists. He seemed to be making an attempt to repress his need to continue spewing out his rage. She watched as his chest heaved. She felt just as out of breath but was prepared to continue the argument if he decided to resume pointing out her lack of understanding and experience. She folded her arms over her chest. Sure she knew how to take the high road but she had her limits.

After a moment, his shoulders slumped and his fingers began to twitch slightly. It looked like he was done picking a fight with her. Perhaps her logic got through to him or maybe the alcohol was doing its job. Either way, it was one of those moments in which she was grateful for her police training. If she hadn't learned to control her impulses in difficult situations, the rage inside of her would have definitely caused some significant damage to the both of them. He opened his eyes and blinked several times, avoiding her gaze. He unsurely sat back down on the edge of couch.

Abbie kept her arms crossed. She wanted to be pissed at him. She wanted to continue the shouting match until both their throats were raw. But, in the end, what would it solve? Did she really want them to say mean shit to each other and hold it over each other's heads till God knows when? No, she just wanted him to work out his issues. She wanted the inquisitive, determined, enthusiastic, and adorably petulant Ichabod back. She sighed and rolled her eyes, abandoning her defensive stance. She needed to back off this fight.

After a few quiet moments, Abbie knit her brow. She looked over at her partner. His elbows rested on his knees as he leaned his hanging head in his hands. He looked like the man who carried the whole world on his shoulders. She bit her lip. She needed to say something. If she left it like this, she know she'd regret it.

He needed to understand that she was on his side. She cared for him, a lot. Probably more than she ever did for anybody in her whole life, probably even more than Jenny or Corbin. She'd give her life for him. She almost did, several times. In fact, it was frightening to think back on what she had done and was willing to do for him. How had she grown so…attached to him?

She grew up reciting and believing the words her mother made them repeat over and over again as children: "eyes open, head up, trust no one". And that's the way it was for most of her life, until she met Corbin. But even then it took a while for him to earn her trust. With Crane, he practically had her trust overnight. She had never had such an unshakable faith for anything or anyone until he came around. Christ, how could she have let herself get so completely invested in this person who practically appeared out of nowhere?

He was her partner. Her responsibility. He depended on her. He was her second chance at not letting down a person who depended on her. The question was: did she see him as a man or just as a responsibility? Now without Katrina and his son he had nobody connecting him to the past. He was entirely alone and available. She could potentially see him now as a man but what kind of man?

Was she attracted to him? Was she or could she ever be in love with him? Was he or could he ever be in love with her? Did she see herself by his side for the rest of her counted days? Could he? What if they outlived the prophecy? There were just too many questions. Too many questions she just couldn't answer.

So she blew out her cheeks and stuffed her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. She could open that can of worms later. Right now, she just wanted, no, needed her partner. She hesitantly began, "I-I really wish things would have turned out different. That you didn't have to suffer the loss of your wife, your child, hell, everything you ever knew. That wasn't fair. I get that. We were both dealt a shitty hand."

He nodded silently.

Abbie cautiously continued, "And…I'm sorry, Ichabod. I'm sorry for having to play a role in the cause of your pain. But we have to keep going. We can't wallow in self-pity. As much as we may feel like we'd like to lay down and die, we have to keep going. We are Witnesses, with a capital W. We are important to this world. You are important to this world. You, Ichabod Crane, are important to me."

A tear slid down his sharp cheekbones. Several more followed in its wake. He shook his head. He inhaled sharply, "I…I can't. The pain, Abbie, I just..."

Abbie gasped, her eyes filling with tears. She kneeled next to him on the couch, grabbed his lanky shoulders, and pulled him into a fierce embrace. He froze. She pulled him against her tighter. He grabbed a fistful of her leather jacket, shaking in pain, his head hesitantly rested on her shoulder. He let out a painful, low moan and laid his head near her heart. A few tears rolled down her cheeks as she hushed and rocked him in her arms. She could feel his heartbreak and, God, was it painful. Naturally, she didn't mind sharing it.

After a few minutes, Crane's grip loosened and his head rested heavily on her chest. She affectionately smoothed his hair back. She could count the number times she had ever held somebody so intimately on one hand. She very rarely ever showed her vulnerable side to anybody; it had always been a part of her that she guarded selfishly. Of course she was usually other people's rock but tough love went hand in hand with being the reliable one. This situation, however, called for a softer touch and she was more than happy to oblige. She closed her eyes and breathed in his scent as she rested her lips on top of his head.

Crane slowly sat up. He lifted his head enough so she could have a full view of his face. She tenderly tucked a few strands of hair behind his ears and gently smiled at him. She brushed his damp cheekbones with her thumbs. His beard rubbed against her wrists as she held his face in her petite hands. Her brown eyes met his blue ones. Her heart leapt in her chest.

If this was any indication as to what she feeling about him, then it was becoming quite obvious that she definitely saw Crane as a full-blooded man, not just as a responsibility. His gaze darted down and landed on her lips, which slowly parted of their own accord. His mirrored the movement. She slowed her breath. He continued contemplating her lips before meeting her gaze through a hooded lids. Abbie's brain froze and her heart took the reins. Just as her lungs desperately needed air to breath, her lips urgently needed to feel the caress of his lips. Her eyelids flickered closed as she drew in close.