A/N: WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS RAPE. DO NOT READ THIS CHAPTER IF YOU ARE BOTHERED BY THAT. THANKS.

Also, thanks to Phish Tacko for working on this!

Ch. 44

Masbath had been working at the Crane household for almost two weeks. He didn't mind the job. Jackson was really cute, and fun to play with. The young man noticed, though, that this week had been particularly hard for Ichabod. It seemed like every day, he slept more, and when he was awake, he was sicker than the previous day. Overall, it seemed like Masbath was taking care of Ichabod more than he was taking care of Jackson.

Today, for instance, Ichabod had been sick four times. It wasn't even one o'clock yet. Masbath had taken care of him as best he could, rubbing the constable's back, getting him water, and helping him back to bed.

Because Ichabod felt so terrible all the time, he usually refused to eat or drink unless Masbath forced him to. That in itself was a hard thing to do. Usually he had to guilt Ichabod into it, telling him that it wasn't fair to Jackson, Katrina, or the unborn baby if he didn't at least TRY to eat, but it was getting harder and harder to do.

He'd just changed Jackson when he heard Ichabod's footsteps running from the bedroom to the bathroom, once again. Masbath sighed, put Jackson in his crib, and went to help. He found Ichabod on his knees, dry heaving. His shirt was off, and Masbath noticed that he could see Ichabod's ribs. He was beginning to look out of proportion: extremely thin everywhere except in his stomach, and that was only because of the baby. Masbath figured that if not for that, he'd probably look like a starved refugee or something to that extent.

When Ichabod seemed finished, Masbath helped him up and offered him some mouth wash, since he knew the constable likely wouldn't drink water right then.

"Why's your shirt off?" He asked once Ichabod spat the mouthwash out. He began leading the constable back to his bedroom, wrapping an arm around him to keep the man steady.

"It was hot," Ichabod whispered, leaning heavily on Masbath. "So hot…"

Masbath helped Ichabod sit down on the bed. "I think I need to take you to a doctor, Mr. Crane," He said, studying him. Besides looking extremely gaunt, Ichabod's hair was a wild mess. He obviously hadn't brushed it in a while. Probably didn't have the energy to do it.

"No, no doctors," Ichabod mumbled, curling into a fetal position on the bed.

"You really need help, though," Masbath replied, wrapping two blankets around Ichabod. He was shivering now, instead of hot. "More help than I can give. If you can get dressed now, I can get Jackson and take you over to the shelter before Katrina gets home."

He heard Ichabod sigh. "I'll be fine."

"Can you promise that?" Masbath asked.

Ichabod was quiet. He really did feel horrible, and it just seemed to be getting worse.

Masbath took Ichabod's silence as a 'no'.

"Come on, then. I'll get you a shirt and some socks and shoes and we can go."

Ichabod frowned, but pulled himself up. He felt terribly weak. Thankfully, Masbath noticed that he was having a hard time, and helped him move so he was leaning up against the bed frame. Once he was sure that Ichabod wasn't going to fall over, he began rooting around through his closet, pulling out a heavy gray sweater. Masbath debated asking Ichabod if he could dress himself, but the answer was pretty clear.

"Okay, arms up, Mr. Crane," He instructed.

Ichabod looked at him sadly, probably ashamed that he needed help getting a sweater on, but did as he was told. Masbath got it on in no time at all.

"Where do you keep your socks?" He asked when he was done.

"Second drawer on the right."

Masbath nodded, and pulled out a pair of thick wool socks. "It's cold today."

"Okay," Ichabod whispered. He let Masbath put his socks on for him too.

"I'm going to get your shoes."

Masbath returned to the room a few seconds later, and helped Ichabod put a pair of sneakers on.

"Okay. Good. Let me get Jackson and I'll help you out to the car."

It was a bit of a struggle, carrying Jackson on one arm with his other arm wrapped around Ichabod's waist, but eventually the three made it out to Masbath's Altima. The young man had Ichabod buckled in the front seat within a minute, and then put Jackson in a car seat in the back.

"Ready?" He asked, getting into the driver's seat.

"I didn't know you had a license," Ichabod said weakly. He leaned his head against the window.

"Yes, I got it after I graduated," Masbath said, pulling out of the driveway.

It turned out that Masbath was a very good driver. Ichabod was extremely grateful for this. He didn't think he could've handled a rough ride.

When they got to the shelter, Masbath pulled into a spot near the front. "You've mentioned that they have a nurse who works there?"

"Yes… Her name's Ashley."

"I'm going to go see if she can come help me get you guys out. It'd be easier with another person."

"Fine," Ichabod agreed. He didn't like the prospect of having to have the young woman help him up to the door, but he wasn't in any real position to argue right then.

Masbath came back outside a few minutes later, having explained everything to Ashley.

She carefully helped Ichabod out of the car, as Masbath carried Jackson in.

Soon enough, the group found themselves in the common room.

"Dr. Schnabel's in with another patient right now, but I'll tell him it's urgent," Ashley said, helping Ichabod sit down.

Ichabod just rested for a while. He closed his eyes and tried to relax. The sound of a door opening and a loud THUMP brought him out of his trance. He glanced up to see Dr. Schnabel helping another man who was wearing a pair of sunglasses and had apparently fallen on his way out of the exam room.

"Sheldon! Are you okay?" The doctor asked.

"Yeah, stupid blindness," Ichabod heard the man reply. He seemed frustrated. He also had a terrible choice in clothing. It was still winter, and the man was wearing a Hawaiian shirt and a pair of gray shorts. If he was blind, that explained it then, at least, Ichabod thought to himself.

"Can you make it to your room without falling again?" Schnabel asked.

"Yeah, whatever," The man waved him off. "I'll be fine."

Ichabod watched the doctor watch the man walk down the hall, holding on to the walls along the way.

Finally, the doctor turned his attention to the constable.

"Ah, Ichabod," Schnabel said, smiling at him. His smile then turned into a frown. "You look terrible. Let's see what's going on."

00

Less than an hour later, Ichabod was in the hospital. Dr. Schnabel had diagnosed him with a severe case of the flu. Ichabod's immune system was not acting properly, and the doctor was honestly surprised that the man was even still conscious at that point.

The doctors had taken him right in and hooked him up to various IVs and an oxygen cannula because he wasn't breathing that well. Masbath stayed by Ichabod's side, mentally kicking himself for not noticing that sooner. How did he miss the fact that Ichabod was having a hard time breathing? He felt it should've been obvious.

The medications that the doctors gave Ichabod made him very, very calm, to a point where he'd spend very long periods of time just staring into space at the wall or ceiling. For now, the doctors were hoping that the oxygen and nutrients that they were giving him, along with a few days of bed rest, would give him the strength to recover.

After a while of just staring, Ichabod finally spoke.

"Masbath?" He whispered, looking around to find the boy.

"I'm right here," Masbath answered, coming closer to Ichabod's bed.

"I can't see that clearly."

"It's the medication. It makes you fuzzy. Do you need something?"

Ichabod nodded 'yes', but began coughing harshly before he could talk any more.

Masbath handed him a tissue and helped him wipe his nose. Despite the fact that Ichabod was about as weak as a kitten, Masbath was still somewhat surprised that the constable didn't fight him much.

"Is Katrina coming?" Ichabod finally got out.

"She's coming straight from work," Masbath replied. "She'll be here soon."

Ichabod nodded. "And Jackson?"

"Dr. Schnabel kept him at the shelter. Ashley's watching him. We were afraid that he

might catch the flu you have if he were to stay nearby."

"Good idea," Ichabod said before coughing again.

It was quiet for a few moments, before a doctor walked in. The man introduced himself and picked up Ichabod's chart. He pulled up a chair and took a seat next to Ichabod's bed.

"Looks like you have a severe case of the flu."

"So they told me," Ichabod answered softly.

"Yes, well, the only course of treatment we can really offer is helping your body to rest, so that it can recover. That means you'll likely be here for a few days, maybe a week."

Ichabod shook his head. He was contemplating how boring this stay was going to be, when something else crossed his mind.

"I, um… well, I assume you have it written down that I'm… pregnant," He finished, blushing a little. In the back of his mind, he expected the doctor to make some cruel joke about it, just like his coworkers had.

However, the doctor kept his professional demeanor.

"We did note that in your medical records."

"Is the baby… I mean, is it still…?"

"Is it alive? You're still pregnant, if that's what you're asking. Obviously, there is a risk to the fetus with you being so ill, but I'm confident that we can help you without losing the baby."

Ichabod breathed a sigh of relief. Though he hadn't intended to have this baby, he still felt a strong love for it.

"For now, just relax. We're taking care of everything."

Ichabod nodded in agreement, then looked up when he heard the door open. Katrina walked in, still wearing her work attire. She immediately came to her husband's side.

"Ichabod, dear, how are you?" She asked. She seemed very concerned, which surprised Ichabod a little. Lately she'd been fairly apathetic to him when he was sick. After the novelty of finding out he was pregnant had worn off, she'd gone back to her regular cold self.

"Sick," Ichabod answered honestly. "The doctor here says I have to stay here for a few days to recover."

"I see. And the baby?" She asked.

"It's alive."

"Good."

Ichabod reached out, trying to take her hand. She took hold of it and ran her other hand through his hair. It was sweaty and knotted.

"I'll leave you three alone," The doctor said, standing up to leave. "A nurse will be here in about an hour to bring you something to eat and give you some more medication."

When the doctor left, Katrina looked over towards Masbath.

"Thank you for taking care of my husband," She said. "I know he can be difficult."

"Still conscious, I can still hear you," Ichabod said.

Katrina forced a smile at him. "Sorry, love."

Ichabod looked away, then yawned.

"Are you tired?"

"Yes," Ichabod replied to his wife. "It's taken a lot out of me."

"You should sleep, sir," Masbath said quietly. "We'll go home and come back in a few hours."

"Alright," Ichabod agreed, yawning again.

Katrina stood up, gave Ichabod a quick kiss on the cheek, and began walking away. Masbath paused before leaving, and came over to Ichabod's side, pulling his blankets up.

"We'll see you later."

With that, the two left the room.

00

Around midnight that evening, Ichabod was lying in bed, trying to sleep. Since he'd been lying in bed all day, he wasn't particularly tired. If anything, he was bored, but he knew that he needed to rest if he wanted to get better. At least whatever they'd given him had made him feel better. His nose did not feel as stuffy and he didn't feel nauseated. In fact, he'd even been able to eat some soup earlier without throwing it back up.

As Ichabod closed his eyes, he heard the sound of footsteps outside of his room. It sounded like someone was running. There were some muffled voices, too. Ichabod couldn't really make out more than someone telling another person that they had to "get him back" and that they had to "search the entire floor".

The constable didn't think much of it. The doctors were professionals, after all. Maybe an elderly person had wandered out of his room, and they were looking for him. Or a child on another floor had gotten bored and went to find something to do.

After the footsteps went away again, Ichabod began to finally fall asleep. He was just about to fully enter dreamland when the door to his room opened. Ichabod cracked his eyes open, expecting to see a nurse or an orderly standing there, probably to switch over his IVs or give him some more medication. He was surprised when he looked up to see a rather large, scary looking man staring at him from across the room.

From what he could make out, the man was huge. At least six foot five, three hundred pounds. He had no hair and a snarl on his face that rivaled Katrina's when she was angry.

Even if he were at his healthiest, there was no way that Ichabod could take this man down. The guy would crush his tiny frame like he was a bug. So, he did the next best thing he could think of: He closed his eyes and hoped that the man went away. Maybe if the guy thought he was asleep, he'd leave him alone.

This did not happen, though. After a few seconds, he could still hear the man breathing loudly.

"I know you're awake," The man whispered. His tone was predatory. He took a few steps towards the bed. "I saw you looking at me."

Well, that was the end of Ichabod's plan. Maybe reasoning with the man would work?

"Please, I don't want any trouble," Ichabod said, watching as the man got closer and closer. Now that the man was only a few feet away, Ichabod could make out what looked like a swastika carved on his forehead.

"There won't be any trouble if you stay quiet," The man replied, grinning.

Ichabod's eyes got wide. "What... what do you mean?"

"Just shut up. You talk too much." The man moved even closer, until he was standing only inches away from the bed. Frantically, Ichabod hit the call button to get a nurse in the room, but no one seemed to be coming.

"Don't you think I was smart enough to disable that at the nurses station?" The guy asked.

Ichabod swallowed nervously. "Please don't hurt me."

"It won't hurt that much."

With that, the man clamped his hand over Ichabod's mouth, preventing him from screaming. He ripped the IV's out of the constable's arms and flipped him over so he was on his stomach. Once Ichabod was facedown on the bed, the man removed his hand from Ichabod's mouth and shoved his head into the pillow. It didn't take long to expose him.

"Now, be a good boy and keep quiet," The man whispered, bending down and biting Ichabod's ear. The dark haired man just whimpered in reply.

Only a few second later, he felt the bigger man enter him, tearing him as he did so. Unable to scream, Ichabod began to cry, tears running down his face and into the pillow. He could barely breathe. The man was holding him down from behind, thrusting into him. Thankfully, he lost consciousness soon enough.