A/N: Hi guys, back again, with a chapter sooner rather than the later I assumed it was going to be. Thank you to all who are reading, and of course, the wonderfully kind people who fave/follow and review. You are the light to my moth… which sounds vaguely sexual, but I promise you it isn't… unless you want it to be… then we can maybe talk. ;)

(Side note – if I winked as much in real life as I do in writing these A/N's, I'd be institutionalized by now, and rightly so)

Okay, this chapter… I have a confession to make – I like Hawley. I know that's not a popular opinion amongst a lot of Sleepy Heads, but I do. First of all, he's pretty… you can never have too much pretty if you ask me. Second of all, I liked where he and Ichabod could have gone – that whole frenemies thing finding a common ground. I didn't have an issue with him at all and thought he was a fun character… although they did struggle how to balance out him and Jenny. Jenny used to be the one with the secret contacts and getter of magical weapons. But that wasn't an insurmountable problem, they just needed to think it through better. And I don't mind a bit of jealous!Ichabod, as predictable a trope as it is. Hawley probably won't be back, but I wouldn't say no if he did pop up again.

And so, this fic has Hawley in it just because I wanted to have fun with him and Ichabod… and I have. Whether you have fun with it remains to be seen. And I promise, by the next chapter, you'll know where I'm going with this, and some light will be shed on the title of this fic. That's definitely a thing which is going to happen.

Hope you'll join me for that. :D

CHAPTER THREE

Abbie dusted herself down, very conscious of the fact Ichabod's eyes continuously returned to her as they cleaned themselves off after finally escaping their dirt-laden prison. He looked anxious, clearly worried about what she was going to say about their surprising make out session in the hole. Abbie shared his concerns. She didn't really know what she was going to say either. The thing was she'd never viewed Ichabod in a romantic light before. He was married. Abbie simply did not allow herself to ever go there with any married man. Even though she considered it unlikely she'd ever marry, given her circumstances, it was an institute she very much believed in. Marriage was also something she knew Ichabod took very seriously. He'd loved Katrina, very much. Or rather, he'd loved the woman he believed Katrina to be. It occurred to Abbie that Katrina had told so many half-truths to Ichabod over the years, that he'd fallen in love with a phantom, and when confronted with the real Katrina, he'd struggled to recognize his bride. To his credit though, Ichabod had never stopped trying, because he was a man of his word and this was his wife. Abbie had seen that and respected him all the more for it. Besides, they were the Witnesses, most of their time together was consumed with just staying alive, and trying to stop the end of the world. It was hard to get romantic in those kinds of situations. "Although apparently holes are the exception," she muttered under her breath.

"Lieutenant?" Ichabod was immediately leaning in close, expression intent. "Did you say something?"

They both knew she had, but Ichabod's uncertainty told her he hadn't quite caught it. Which was probably a good thing. "Nothing."

Ichabod managed to look both disappointed and relieved. Abbie didn't know quite how he managed that feat. She figured it was the eyebrows. Ichabod had crazily expressive eyebrows. Abbie sometimes thought that if he lost the power of speech, his eyebrows would still be able to communicate with people.

Ichabod raised an uncertain hand to his forehead at her staring at him. "Do I have dirt on me?"

"No," said Abbie quickly, vaguely embarrassed she'd been caught staring at him. But then, she was standing right in front of him, staring at the man, so it wasn't like it was that big of a surprise. Subtlety didn't seem to be her thing tonight… if the staring and the kissing was anything to go by. "No, wait, yes, you do have dirt on you," she corrected herself distractedly. "Left a bit."

Ichabod scrubbed at his face, removing the telltale signs of their misadventures. If only everything about tonight was going to be so easy to erase. Assuming erasure was something she wanted, of course. Abbie didn't even know. Ichabod no longer having Katrina as his wife was one thing. And the obvious fact that the man hadn't dealt with his wife's untimely demise at his own hand was another pretty pertinent fact that warranted considering. But all that aside, they were still the Witnesses, ordained by God, fate, the universe, whatever you wanted to call it, to be the two who stood against the oncoming darkness. Office romances rarely ended well at the best of time, and their office was responsible for the fate of mankind. What if they decided to pursue something between them, and it didn't work out? Abbie remembered how awkward it was with Luke after their break up and there had only been hearts at stake then. These were all a lot of thoughts she was thinking, and they were in no particular order. Abbie knew she'd have to get them into some kind of order to talk to Ichabod about what had just happened between them. She could see in his eyes that her promise of them talking was not something he'd be willing to put off for another day.

"That's a real nice hole," declared Hawley, hands on knees, bent over looking down the hole. "You don't see craftsmanship like that anymore. Look at those walls, as smooth as a butter." He nodded appreciatively. "Yep, that is a fine-looking hole."

Ichabod made an impatient clicking sound. "If you're finished with your ode to the hole, you can go now."

Hawley straightened up, and arched an eyebrow. "Is that the British way of saying thank you for rescuing me? Because I can see why your empire is dying out. Politeness costs nothing, you know."

Abbie rolled her eyes at him. "Shut up, Hawley."

He pointed a finger at her, and winked. "On you it's adorable."

Abbie felt Ichabod tense beside her. There was enough going on tonight, she didn't need Hawley thrashing about in what were already muddied waters. "Crane's right, we've got it from here. Thanks for the help, but I'm sure you've got better things to be doing tonight."

Hawley shrugged. "Goes without saying. So, did old man Hinton help you out with the book?"

"We have yet to make his acquaintance," admitted Ichabod a little stiffly.

Hawley smirked. "Because you fell in a hole, right?"

Ichabod looked put out at being forced to admit any missteps to the other man.

"I thought you were this big time woodsman? Don't you guys normally have a sixth sense about holes? I mean, they're not that hard to spot, it's where the dirt isn't."

Abbie shook her head at Hawley's relentless teasing of Ichabod.

"Maybe you should write that down for future reference?" Hawley made a show of patting his pockets. "I'm sure I've got pen and paper on me somewhere."

"Are you completely done with your mockery?" bit out Ichabod.

"I feel like I've got a few more in me, which you pretty much owe me, because you know, I rescued you from the hole. Hole rescuers get to make fun of the rescuees, it's like a rule nowadays."

Ichabod gave a grunt of annoyance. "You are truly the most vexatious man I have ever known."

Hawley grinned. "Why thank you, Crane, I think you're real pretty too."

Ichabod took a step towards Hawley, and she put herself between the two men. "Okay, that's enough! Tonight's been long enough. I don't need you two idiots throwing down to top it off." Her look was pointed at Ichabod. "Just ignore him."

"I would, except his soul reason for existence seems to be irksome," ground out Ichabod.

"Let it go, Crane, he's just trying to bug you." She looked between them. "Besides, we've still got things to do tonight."

Ichabod's attention was instantly fully on her, and Abbie realized he thought she was referring to their talk. "We have to see about the book," she said quickly.

A flash of disappointment crossed Ichabod's face, but then he was immediately nodding. "Yes, of course." He hesitated. "Unless the lateness of the hour precludes a visitation."

"It's nine o'clock," said Hawley dryly. "I realize that might be past your bedtime, but anyone under a hundred and fifty years old can usually make it until at least nine thirty."

Ichabod exhaled a noisy breath of exasperation at Hawley's continuing needling of him. "Then we have a mission to complete, and your presence is redundant," he said sharply. "You may go now, Hawley."

"Okay, again with the rudeness. I'm not one of your slaves, Crane, you don't get to dismiss me."

"I did not have slaves!" exclaimed Ichabod roundly. "In actual fact, I fought by the side of—"

Hawley held up a hand. "Okay, okay, I can't stand another round of historical name dropping." He looked Ichabod over. "Which none of us can validate, mind you. You could tell us you and Betsy Ross used to have a thing."

"It was one date, and we were chaperoned," said Ichabod disapprovingly.

"Seriously?" asked Hawley, taken aback.

"It was the custom of the day," he said tightly.

"That wasn't the surprising part, Crane," said Hawley in vague amusement.

"In any instance, you may go now." Ichabod waved a dismissive hand at him. "The Lieutenant and I have this well in hand."

"Now that you're out of the hole. You know, the one I saved you from," said Hawley laconically.

"You didn't save us, we were in no danger." Ichabod's gaze drifted over to Abbie.

She moved a little restlessly on the spot, not entirely sure that was true. Things were getting decidedly perilous in that hole.

"I definitely saved you both," said Hawley confidently. "I'll add it to your tab. Say hi to old man Hinton for me. Try not to make direct eye contact. He doesn't like that."

"Oh, now you're a font of information on our contact," said Ichabod acerbically. "You did not think to mention the hole booby traps undoubtedly littered around here before sending us on our way?"

"Hey, the hole things weren't here last time I came by, just the bees."

"Bees?" repeated Abbie in surprise.

"Yeah, Africanized ones. He had them strategically placed around the place."

"And you didn't think that was worth mentioning?" asked Abbie in mild horror. "I'm allergic."

"Did not know that," said Hawley, and then shrugged. "But they're bees, they buzz. Just don't go near the buzzing thing. It's not exactly hard. As booby traps go, I never thought it was all that."

Ichabod's lips tightened. "Unbelievable. The man is a never-ending stream of smart-mouthed comments, but actual useful information he remains decidedly mute. Your logic defies understanding."

"Hey, I just assumed you'd noticed the bees, and could tell holes in the ground when you see them," shot back Hawley. "Forgive me for giving you the benefit of the doubt."

"Okay, enough," said Abbie tersely. "This is getting us nowhere. Come on, Crane, let's do this already." She looked up at Hawley. "Is there anything else we should know about this Hinton before continuing on?"

"Nah, that's it."

"No attack dogs, no trip wires?"

"Wasn't last time… although he does have a couple of angry ferrets. Again, just don't make direct eye contact, and you should be fine. They take that as a sign of aggression."

Abbie sighed heavily. "Is that it?"

"Your partner is kind of an uptight dick, but I feel like you already know that."

"Unbelievable," muttered Ichabod under his breath, expression darkening.

Hawley chuckled, clearly pleased to have gotten the last dig at Ichabod in. "Okay, I'm outta here, seeing as my good deed for the day is done. Let me know how it goes with Hinton and his iguanas."

"You said he had ferrets," said Ichabod sharply.

"Only to keep the iguanas company," he said casually.

Abbie screwed up her face. "Wouldn't the iguanas eat the ferrets?"

Hawley shrugged. "I don't know, maybe they're not the same ferrets all the time. I don't really take any notice." He grinned at them. "So good luck with that." With that, Hawley sauntered off, rope slung over his shoulder.

"That man is truly infuriating," bit out Ichabod as he watched them leave. He turned and looked at Abbie. "And obnoxious and puerile and—"

"And gone," finished off Abbie, as she looked back to where Hawley had been seconds ago, and now only dark forest remained.

"Finally," huffed Ichabod, dusting himself down one final time with unnecessary vigor. "I have encountered plagues which were easier to dispense with."

Abbie put a hand on his arm, stilling his movements, eyes glued on where Hawley had just been. "No, seriously, Crane, Hawley's gone."

Ichabod stopped patting himself down, and followed Abbie's line of vision. "He merely carried himself away swiftly."

Abbie's hand went to her gun on instinct, resting on the butt of it. "No," she said, lowering her voice, "that was too quick."

Ichabod immediately followed her lead, as they both carefully but determinedly started to retrace the route Hawley had just taken. Out of the corner of her eye, Abbie saw Ichabod looking up, scanning the gnarled branches above their heads. Nowadays you never knew where an attack could come from. Flying nasties were just as likely as earthbound ones. They moved purposely forward, with Abbie debating whether calling out Hawley's name would be a good idea, when they heard some coughing. They both stopped, and quickly looked at one another. Then Ichabod was striding forward to where the sound had come from. Abbie was close on his heels. Suddenly in front of them was another hole, the sticks and leaves used to hide it now displaced. The reason for the displacement was at the bottom of the hole. Something Ichabod was quick to point out.

A smirk came to Ichabod's lips as he peered down the booby trap. "Well, I never," he said in obvious enjoyment, "a hole." His smirk widened. "One you seem to find yourself at the bottom of, Mr. Hawley. How very interesting, and you with all of your raiding of tombs, and bypassing of booby traps experience. It is hardly fathomable as to how such a fate could befall you."

There was a loud sigh from the bottom of the hole. "Just get the gloating over with and help me out of here, okay?"

"Oh, I feel like I do not wish to rush the gloating," countered Ichabod sweetly. "Not after it is so richly deserved."

"You're an ass, Crane, you know that?"

"Mayhap, but I am an ass at the top of the hole, not at the bottom."

"This time," shot back Hawley swiftly.

"My encounter with the holes were before we knew of their existence," said Ichabod in barely concealed satisfaction. "You, however, knew full well of the danger, and yet still managed to find yourself at the bottom of one such hole."

"You keep talking, and I'm going to start praying for this thing to cave in on me," snapped back Hawley, his earlier humor gone.

"A prayer I will happily join you in."

"My hand is on my gun," said Abbie flatly as the men continued to snipe away at each other. "Don't make me shoot the two of you."

Ichabod was still smiling as he straightened up from talking down the hole to Hawley. "Allow me my simple pleasures, Lieutenant." He was clearly enjoying this change of fortune regarding the other man.

"Just help me get him out of the hole so we can get this night over and done with already," she said in exasperation. "We've been out here for hours and all we've got to show for it is dirt in our hair and pockets, and no spell book."

Ichabod was staring at her, and Abbie immediately knew he was thinking that was not all they had to show for their evening so far. There were those kisses. Those totally irresponsible, embarrassingly shameless, and impossible to forget kisses. Ichabod's gaze drifted to her lips, and she knew she wasn't the only one finding them hard to forget. Ichabod dragged his gaze back to meet hers, confusion in their depths, confusion and something else a lot more concerning to Abbie. Ichabod took a step closer to her, and Abbie knew she should do or say something to break the spell between them, but she was as trapped as he was by this sudden, irresistible pull between them. Ichabod slowly dropped his head, stopping just before his lips touched hers. Abbie knew this was her chance to be the level-headed one, to save them both. All she had to do was turn her head, and Ichabod wouldn't pursue the matter, she knew that for certain. Ichabod's warm breath was on her lips, and Abbie knew she had to do the right thing. She went up on tip toes and closed the small space between them.

Apparently her brain and her body disagreed on what the right thing was to do.

No other part of their bodies were touching other than their lips, but Abbie could feel that kiss all over her body. She hadn't imagined how good of a kisser Ichabod was. There had been some notion, in the back of her head, that once they were out of that hole, back to their reality, then Ichabod's kisses wouldn't have the same impact on her. She was wrong, so very, very wrong. Abbie felt herself begin to sway, her legs suddenly forgetting what they were meant to be doing, but then Ichabod's hands were immediately cupping her face, steadying her, and helping to deepen the kiss. His long fingers snaked their way into her hair, his palms warm against her cheeks. Abbie raised her hands to Ichabod's wrist, optimistically telling herself it was to get him to remove his hands. It wasn't. Instead she clung to him tightly, feeling as though if she didn't, she might fall off this wildly tilting earth altogether.

Abbie had no idea why she'd let Ichabod kiss her the first time. She had even less idea why it was happening again. After three years of friendship based in mutual respect and understanding, Abbie didn't understand anything all of a sudden. She blamed Ichabod's kisses. Nobody should be that good at kissing. It was unnatural… unnatural and addictive. Ichabod's lips moved back and forth over hers, tongue gliding over her bottom lip, making her toes curl, like she was some stupid teenager sneaking out for her first kiss. Abbie knew she was going to hate herself later for this, but her lips parted, inviting him to taste her more deeply, like he had before. Ichabod wasn't slow in accepting the invitation, his tongue finding hers and engaging in a slow, torturous dance that had Abbie's stomach churning in delicious anticipation.

"Hey, are you guys still there?" The vaguely concerned question drifted up from the hole. "Because if this is a joke, I'm not laughing."

They broke the kiss, and Abbie looked up at Ichabod guiltily. She'd completely forgotten about Hawley. That was bad. This whole situation was bad. Except for the kissing… which was intoxicatingly addictive… which was worse.

Ichabod looked similarly shell-shocked, but that was quickly covered with irritation.

"Mills, Crane! I mean it, stop dicking around here!"

"We are here," said Ichabod tersely, stepping back from Abbie with a look of regretful reluctance. He walked back to the hole and looked down.

"You both stopped talking," said Hawley accusingly. "What were you two doing, braiding each other's hair?"

Ichabod ignored the question, for which Abbie was eternally grateful. "Where is the rope?"

"I have it."

"Throw it to me," Ichabod instructed him.

"I can't, my arms are trapped. These holes are real narrow you know."

"Yes, I recall," said Ichabod, glancing over at Abbie who was still trying to collect herself after their latest round of lip locks. Neither one of them needed a reminder of just how close a fit it was in those holes, especially for two people.

What was wrong with them?

"Do you have more rope?"

"Yes, it's in my SUV."

Ichabod looked at Abbie. "I will fetch more rope."

"Don't fall down anymore holes," she cautioned him. "I can't pull both of you out of these things." Both men would easily weigh twice as much as her. Abbie didn't like to admit defeat with anything, but sometimes basic mathematics just won out over an indomitable spirit.

"You could probably manage to pull Crane out of one of these holes. Most of his weight is in that coat of his," said Hawley cheekily. "Take that off and he probably weighs less than you, Mills."

Ichabod was immediately outraged. "We are of the same stature, Hawley, although granted, your mouth must account for at least a third of your body weight," he sniped back.

Abbie shook her head at their relentless feuding, continuing on as though they hadn't spoken. "Not to mention my desire to rescue either one of you is dwindling pretty damn fast here."

"I will away," said Ichabod a little stiffly at her censure of him.

"Crane, holes," she warned him one last time.

"Now that I have seen the technique which the holes are disguised, that will not be an issue," said Ichabod confidently.

"Famous last words if ever I heard them," chimed in Hawley.

Ichabod paused by Abbie as he went to leave, voice low as he addressed her. "Are we absolutely certain that simply closing in the hole would not be the simplest recourse here, Lieutenant?"

"I heard that, Crane!" shouted Hawley. "Just go and get the damn rope."

Ichabod made a show of rolling his eyes, and then he was heading back into the woods.

Abbie walked over to the hole's edge once he was gone, and looked down at Hawley. "Why do you have to needle away at him like that?" she asked in exasperation.

"Because it's fun," said Hawley without hesitation. "Come on, Mills, don't tell me you don't like to wiggle that giant stick up that guy's butt from time to time, just for the hell of it."

"Crane and I have an understanding." At least they used to. They'd rib each other over different things, but that was old Abbie and Ichabod, the ones who pre-dated the kissing Abbie and Ichabod. She could only hope that this new pair had retained their sense of humor. She had this sinking feeling they were going to need it. "We generally try not to be obnoxious to one another when we poke fun at each other. You should give it a try."

"Hey, I would, but Crane just makes it too easy. The guy can be a real dick, and the fact that nobody points that out to him on nearly enough occasions, means I've got no choice but to step into the breach, and you know, hand out some truth bombs." Hawley's white teeth glowed in the darkness as he grinned. "I feel like it's my civic duty."

"Oh yeah," said Abbie dryly, "because you're all about the civic duty, right?"

"Sometimes."

"Sometimes or just when you know it's going to get under Crane's skin?"

"I can't help it if I love my work."

Abbie straightened up, and folded her arms in front of herself. "What did you say to Crane that morning when you were at my house?"

"What do you mean?" asked Hawley innocently.

"I mean, he seems to think we're sleeping together. Where do you think he'd get an idea like that?" Her look was one of decided censure. She and Crane had enough issues. Abbie really didn't need Hawley getting into the mix as well.

Hawley attempted a shrug in his confined space. "How would I know?"

"Maybe because you told him we were?" she suggested in annoyance.

"I absolutely did not tell Crane that we were sleeping together," said Hawley emphatically. "How is it my fault that he sees me and just assumes women want me in their bed?"

Abbie's eyes narrowed. "Don't make me rethink my position on closing this hole in on top of you, Hawley."

"I didn't tell Crane we're sleeping together," he insisted. "If he got the wrong idea, that's on him, not me."

"So, you didn't lead him up any garden path at all?" she grilled him. Abbie knew Ichabod wouldn't have jumped to such a conclusion without someone giving him a decent push. She gave a little grimace as a muscle in her leg cramped. Abbie rubbed it absently. "Because I know Crane didn't get that idea from me."

"Hey, the guy's a dinosaur, okay? A man and woman making direct eye contact is like third base from where he comes from. He's got easily offended sensibilities."

"Actually, he doesn't," retorted Abbie.

"Really? Because I was forced to listen to a ten minute rant from him on bumper stickers. They're bumper stickers, get over it."

"I meant Crane is very progressive when it comes to understanding people." The frivolities of modern life were something else again. "They had sex back in his time too, you know."

"Probably weird, uptight sex where nobody got naked," muttered Hawley.

"Even you can't believe that." Abbie felt a pain in her midriff and she put a hand to it, pressing against it hard. "You're just being a j-jerk—" She gasped as a shooting pain radiated out from her stomach. It was so intense it stole the breath from her body, and dropped her to her knees.

"Mills?" asked a concerned Hawley. "You okay?"

Abbie opened her mouth to try and speak but only a pained grunt passed her suddenly numb lips. Her whole body felt like it was both on fire and freezing cold. She started to shake wildly, the violence of the pain she was in like nothing she'd ever felt before. Abbie felt like she was dying. Collapsing on the ground, she felt as though her lungs were filling up with liquid concrete, making each breath she was attempting to draw an exercise in increasing futility.

"Mills! Abbie! What's happening? Are you okay?"

Abbie could hear Hawley yelling out the anxious questions, but it was like he was a long way away as dark spots began to dance before her eyes. She drew in one last strangled breath of air which felt like it solidified in her lungs, and then those dark spots were getting bigger as she slipped away into nothingness…

A/N: Fun fact, just saw (after writing this chapter, mind you) that they've cast Betsy Ross for S3 of SH for a guest appearance. Guess we're going to find out a little bit more of what went on between those two after all. ;)

And, oh yeah, cliffhanger. But you've probably already worked that out by now.