A/N: Hey guys, nice to see you hanging in there with this story. I'd hoped that this would be the final chapter of this story. It's not. It's going to take at least another two chapters to wrap this puppy up. Urgh! I hate that I can't get to the point quickly, I really do. I blame Hawley and Ichabod in this story. Them sniping at one another is too much fun. I kind of get carried away. This chapter at least lets you in on what is happening a bit more, so that's something.

Oh, and before I forget, one of my lovely reviewers, opheliablack was asking me about something in another one of my stories – Love Potion #9 I believe it was. As she was a guest, I couldn't reply directly, so I'll do it here. Yes, the double entendre thing is absolutely intentional and ingrown after years of growing up watching British comedies like 'Are you Being Served' and 'The Two Ronnies' and 'It Ain't Half Hot, Mum'. There is definitely a generous dose of that history in Bunny's exchanges with the others. I just can't help myself. Lol

And now, back to this story. Another long chapter. I really do have to work on that. Lots to still go down and there will be a body count in this story, just a heads up, there will be more than one.

Okay, with that vaguely ominous warning delivered, here's the chapter. Hope you enjoy, and I'll see you in the next.

Cheerio. :D

CHAPTER FIVE

Abbie sat in the front seat of Hawley's car, body relaxed as she dozed lightly. At least she was trying to sleep. Sandwiched between Ichabod and Hawley, waiting for the bank to open, Abbie was very conscious of Ichabod staring at her intently, even though her eyes were closed. "Stop that," she muttered in vague annoyance. "I'm not dead." Abbie felt Ichabod stiffen against her, obviously surprised at being caught out.

"Your breaths were shallow," he protested a little stiffly. "I was merely making sure you were not—"

"Dead?" supplied Abbie flatly. She opened her eyes and looked up at him. "I'm not dead, Crane, I'm just trying to sleep. It's been a long night."

"Indeed," sighed Ichabod, brows knitting together.

"And you can stop that too," she ordered him. "This isn't your fault." It was hers. Abbie was still mad at herself for being so careless and drinking from that flask. It had been just been a stupid thing to do, and she wasn't a fan of stupid.

"How is it not my fault?" asked Ichabod sharply. "The entire events of last night were down to my many errors in judgement, starting with not noticing the obvious booby traps laid out in the area."

"I drank from the flask," she retorted. "This was my fault."

"You drank from the flask because of—" Ichabod shot Hawley a look from where he was sitting behind the wheel, staring out the window and apparently ignoring their conversation. "Reasons we are both cognizant of."

Ichabod was intentionally refraining from mentioning their sniping at one another in Hawley's presence and Abbie didn't blame him. She wasn't exactly proud of her behavior in that hole either, and that was before they got to the kissing part.

"I'm an adult, Crane, I made my own decisions. You're not to blame."

"Well, I'm definitely not to blame," said Hawley, suddenly joining in on their conversation.

Both Abbie and Ichabod looked at him.

"You share a large portion of the blame," said Ichabod hotly. "All you had to do was reference what it was exactly you had given to us, and none of this would be happening."

"No, none of this would be happening if being in an enclosed space with you hadn't driven Mills to drink," shot back Hawley. "I mean, I get it, trust me. I could do with a couple of beers right now."

"It's not even nine o'clock in the morning," said Ichabod with open disdain.

"I know, right? I wanted to start drinking two hours ago when you insisted we come and sit outside the bank at seven o'clock in the morning," said Hawley tartly. "Frankly, I should get a medal for my restraint so far."

"There may have been a worker at the bank whose habit was to start work at an earlier hour." Ichabod defended his insistence on the matter.

"Yeah, well, there wasn't," said Hawley flatly.

"It was worth taking a gamble on the matter."

"My numb ass says differently."

"Nobody wants to hear about the state of your buttocks, Hawley."

"Hey, there are women lining up around the block to find out about the state of my buttocks, Crane."

Ichabod arched an eyebrow. "And can you see those supposed women now, Hawley? Or are your deluded fantasies about your desirability to the opposite sex entirely contained to your imagination?"

"Hey, hands up who has had sex in the last two hundred years?" shot back Hawley, immediately sticking up his hand and then pointing a finger at him with the other hand. "Not so fast, Crane."

"In what deluded world would you believe yourself to have the first insight into such an aspect of my private life?" snapped Ichabod, obviously stung by the comment.

"The same deluded world where you think you know anything about my sex life," countered Hawley sharply.

"I can unhappily lay such a claim as you take it upon yourself to boast openly of your many conquests, which frankly demeans yourself as well as the young ladies involved, who, let's be honest here, have most likely suffered enough with their involvement with you."

"Oh, like you're in a position to give out pointers about how to keep a woman happy. At least none of the women I've slept with have tried to kill me!" Hawley paused briefly. "And chasing me down with their cars and trying to run me over doesn't count. That was more of a spirited misunderstanding and I was only in the hospital for two days."

Ichabod snorted. "Clearly you have quite the understanding of the gentler sex and are able to bring out the best in them when their understanding of playfulness involves a two ton vehicle bearing down on you," he said sarcastically. "And I have to say, God speed to each and every one of them with you in their headlights."

"You're wishing me dead now, Crane? When all I've tried to do is help you?" asked Hawley in disbelief.

"You do not have to be dead. Just mute. The removal of your head should achieve that goal quite nicely."

"Oh, if anyone needs to dial back the talky talky, it's you, Crane. It takes you three days to say hello."

"If you removed your presence, then you would have no need of me saying hello, or any other kind of greeting."

"Hey," said Abbie suddenly, "I've just had a thought." Both men looked at her expectantly as she sat between them. Without missing a beat, Abbie reached up with both of her hands, and slapped both of them around the head.

"Ow!"

"Argh!"

"Thought over," she declared in annoyance.

"We are sorry for our bickering, Lieutenant," said Ichabod unevenly, rubbing his ear. "You do not need such anxieties in your present condition."

"Don't apologize for me, Crane," snapped Hawley. He looked at Abbie, looking a little embarrassed. "Sorry."

"I just need the two of you to pull on the big boy pants and get along for the next half hour," she said tersely. "Because apparently I need both of you right now, and pushing you both out of the car and driving off isn't an option." Abbie folded her arms in front of herself. "Although don't think I haven't given it serious thought. Nothing could be worse than this."

"I fear that not to be the case, Lieutenant," said Ichabod seriously. "Until we find out the true nature of your malaise, your present condition could be the lull before the storm."

Abbie looked up at him. "Okay, was that totally necessary? I know this isn't good. You don't have to tell me that I'm screwed."

"You are not… screwed." Ichabod stumbled over the word. "I have promised you that we will make this right. I stand by my assertion and my promise."

"Could you stand by it a little more quietly when it comes to Hawley?" she asked in exasperation. "Seriously, I feel like sending both of you to your room for a time out."

Ichabod's lips tightened. "Your censure of our recent behavior is warranted. I am sorry, Lieutenant."

"Yeah, you really need to work on your people skills, Crane," chimed in Hawley.

A muscle in Ichabod's jaw ticked wildly, but he impressively didn't rise to the bait. "The doors are opening," he noted. "We may retrieve the book and shed some light on your condition."

Hawley went to get out of the car. "I'll be right back."

"We're coming," said Abbie quickly. She nudged Ichabod to get out of his side of the car. "Come on." When he hesitated, Abbie sent him an exasperated walk. "I can walk, Crane. I keep telling you, I'm fine."

Ichabod didn't look over convinced but he climbed out of the car, holding the door open for her.

Abbie slid out of the car, grimacing at her stiff legs. She rubbed them distractedly as she stretched a little. Abbie went to take a step and stumbled, her legs surprisingly uncooperative.

Ichabod grabbed her arm in a flash. "Lieutenant?"

Abbie glared up at him. "Stop fussing over me like an old woman, Crane," she snapped and then felt immediately guilty. Abbie was frustrated at her own weakness and taking it out on him. "Sorry," she muttered. "I guess I'm not a morning person, or at least my legs aren't. They're still half asleep." Abbie really needed to believe the numbness in her legs was because she'd been sitting for so long, and for no other reason.

"Perhaps we should wait in the car after all?" suggested Ichabod quietly.

"No, my circulation is coming back." Abbie suspected however that was due to the fact Ichabod was still holding her arm, despite her rebuttal of his help. She could feel the warmth of his touch coursing through her body where his flesh was against hers. It was like she was siphoning Ichabod's energy directly from his touch into her flagging reserves. Abbie didn't want to acknowledge how much she needed Ichabod's touch right then, but he must have seen something in her expression as he regarded her intently.

"I will not leave you," he vowed, voice low so that only she could hear him. Ichabod hand tightened on her arm. "As always, we face this new challenge together, and as always, we will triumph."

Abbie managed a half smile. "Your pep talks are getting peppier," she said dryly.

Ichabod's lips twisted into a wry smile. "I do endeavor to learn from my mistakes, albeit slowly sometimes."

Despite his attempt at levity, Abbie still saw the concern in Ichabod's expression.

"The book will give us answers," she said unevenly.

"Indeed," said Ichabod gravely. His tone suggested he was worried about what those answers might be.

"Ah… so are we doing this or not?" asked Hawley impatiently. "Or are you two just going to keep on whispering at each other?"

Abbie looked over at Hawley standing on the other side of his car. "We're coming," she said shortly.

"So is Christmas. Let's do this already." Hawley headed off towards the bank.

Abbie and Ichabod moved to follow him at a slower pace. Ichabod still hadn't let go of her arm, and she felt his other hand settle on her back. Abbie couldn't deny it made her feel better to have him this close to her. She swallowed hard, worried as to what that might mean. Abbie didn't handle the concept of weakness well.

When they walked into the bank, Hawley had already secured the safety deposit key. He waggled it at them, inclining his head towards the viewing room. She and Ichabod followed him into a room where all the walls were lines with safety deposit boxes. A metal table was in the middle of the room. Abbie watched Hawley open his deposit box, and pull out a large, grey book with battered edges and ragged pages. It was clearly very old. He walked over to the table, and laid it down. Ichabod immediately commandeered the book, opening up the ancient tome and flicking through its yellowed pages. He was instantly absorbed in what he was doing. Abbie watched him, head bent over the book, eyes flicking back and forth as he skimmed through each page. She always found his ability in this area impressive. Ichabod's keen intellect and his ability to cut to the heart of matters had saved them many times over in the past. Abbie just hoped there was a way out of this mess she'd created.

Her gaze lingered on Ichabod's profile, knowing she was safe to stare at him when he was absorbed in acquiring knowledge. The roof could cave in when Ichabod was reading and he'd probably barely notice. Abbie had learnt long ago not to try and talk to him whilst he was in the thrall of a book. It was a pointless exercise. It was one of those annoyingly habits that people in your life might have which becomes endearing over time. When you reference it you roll your eyes, but can't help the smile which comes with it. That pretty much summed up how Abbie felt about Ichabod most of the time – a roll of the eyes and a smile. But then they'd kissed and something tangible had shifted between them. Abbie knew Ichabod could feel it too. His concerned gaze that rarely left her now was not only about her physical wellbeing. He was worried about the two of them, about losing the 'us' of them after changing the status quo between them because of a few stolen kisses. To Abbie, the prospect of losing their partnership was more frightening then whatever was happening to her body right then, so she understood those looks. That realization was an amazing one to her. She didn't let people easily into her lives. Experience had taught her to be guarded, and even though she'd tried her best with Ichabod to put him into a neat box in her life labelled 'Fellow Witness', the truth was he wasn't contained in that box, and hadn't been for a long time. Those kisses just made it harder to pretend otherwise now.

"I have it!" Ichabod suddenly proclaimed triumphantly, finger on a page. "The Nephesh." He looked at Hawley with pointed disapproval. "Not the Nogah."

"I said my Hebrew was spotty," said Hawley defensively. "I was close. They both start with the letter N."

"As does nomologist and ninny," said Ichabod shortly.

Hawley looked at him blankly. "Is that an insult, because I really couldn't tell? I was just getting that from your eyebrows. You have very judgmental eyebrows."

"A nomologist studies the science of the law; especially of the mind, and a ninny is short for a nincompoop," said Ichabod impatiently. "Little wonder you are ignorant of both terms."

"That explanation doesn't help me at all, but I heard the word poop, so, hey!" Hawley jabbed a finger at him. "You're the poopy head!"

"I swear to God I am literally seconds away from shooting you both," ground out Abbie. "Just tell us the difference between nogah and nephesh, Crane."

Ichabod looked upset that Hawley's niggling had gotten the best of him again as he returned his attention to the text. "The Nogah in this context means brilliance or light."

"Yeah, that's what the potion is meant to do, give you a bit of a spring in your step, make you smarter, sharper," said Hawley.

"It is far more than that when a careful rendering of the text is undertaken," said Ichabod gravely. "The liquid given to you is meant to harness the nephesh of another person. In Hebrew, the literal understanding of the nephesh is living being, in English the closest we can come is the concept of the soul. The bible talks about God breathing life into his creation, the nephesh, the breath of life."

"So what does that mean?" asked Abbie slowly.

Ichabod was intent on reading, scanning the page, before turning over to the next page and reading that.

Abbie really didn't like the expression on his face as he read. "Crane," she said impatiently, "what is it? What does it all mean?"

"The writer of this text claims the potion contained within the flask is a concoction by which the nephesh of a person can be harnessed by another."

"Harnessed?" repeated Hawley uncertainly.

"Stolen," said Ichabod unevenly. "The potion is meant to enable you to literally steal the breath from another's body." His gaze locked with hers, full of worry.

"And what happens to the person who's had their breath stolen?" asked Abbie intently.

"Their life force is taken from them," said Ichabod painfully, "and endowed to the other person."

"Well, that's not… great," said Abbie soberly. "So, what, you just drink the stuff and the closest person gets your soul or whatever?"

"The translation is difficult to put into English," said Ichabod hesitantly and looking as guilty as hell. "But the closest I can render it is that the potion must be taken, and then the breath literally stolen from your body by the other person." Ichabod's anguished gaze didn't leave hers.

Abbie knew exactly what he was remembering, still having the faint taste of their kisses in her mouth, even though it was hours ago. More than a few breaths had been exchanged between them in that time, more than enough for Ichabod to steal the breath from her body. Although that was the thing, wasn't it? He hadn't stolen anything. Abbie had freely given, and now it was coming back to bite her in the ass, big time. She was never weak like that. Why was it when she did have a moment of dropping her guard did everything have to go so catastrophically wrong?

Hawley looked confused. "Wait, I still don't get it. What are we talking about here? How do you suck the breath out of someone? I mean, do you make them sneeze or cough or something? Cause it's not like you two were down there kissing or anything."

Ichabod's lips tightened and his look of guilt deepened and Abbie knew she wasn't looking any more innocent.

Hawley sucked in a gasp of horror, looking between them and their awkward looks. "Oh come on! Like tonight hasn't been enough of a nightmare. You two are banging each other?" He pulled a face. "How is that even possible?"

"We are not banging one other," said Ichabod, his tone full of contempt at the term as he glared fiercely at the other man. "And I'll thank you to keep a civil tongue in your head when addressing the Lieutenant."

"Oh, that's rich considering I know exactly where that civil tongue of yours has been lately," retorted Hawley.

Abbie gritted her teeth and willed herself not to blush. "Shut up, Hawley!" she snapped before Ichabod could give his own retort. "This has nothing to do with you."

"Really, because this guy's been trying to hang the guilt on me for this whole situation all night and it turns out, I'm not the one who's got you into this condition, it's him," shot back Hawley, scowling at them both. "I hope you're pleased with yourself. Because you couldn't keep it in your pants, now we've got a whole situation going on."

Ichabod turned away abruptly, walking towards the other side of the room.

Abbie grimaced. "Don't listen to him, Crane. This is not your fault." She really didn't need Ichabod disappearing into a new cycle of guilt right then.

Ichabod turned back around and almost glared at her. "How is it not my fault?" he asked in distress. "The potion you took would have remained inactive if I had not initiated those kisses between us," he said with obvious self-loathing. "Hawley is right. My lack of propriety in that hole has caused your life to come under threat."

Abbie shook her head at him. "I'm not going to debate blame with you right now, Crane. Just tell me what's the actual threat here? If you've stolen my breath, why am I still walking around?"

"I fear it is only my proximity to you that is ensuring your current wellbeing," said Ichabod unhappily. "And even that will be a fading comfort as the potion takes hold of your entire system."

Abbie's brain was working overtime. "Okay, is there some kind of antidote I can take then? Does the book talk about a way to reverse this thing?"

Ichabod's expression became stricken. "I have not as yet come across such a reference in what I have read so far."

"But you haven't read the entire book yet," said Abbie, grasping at straws. "There may still be an answer in there, right?"

"Indeed," said Ichabod quickly. "I must study the book more fully. Answers might still yet lie in its pages. We should return to the archives and see if there are other tomes which might also reference this potion."

"Or you two could just go and exchange spit in a closet somewhere," suggested Hawley sourly. "Cause apparently, that's something you guys do now." He shrugged. "Or maybe you always did. I don't know. Maybe you two were at it from day one."

"I was a married man," said Ichabod angrily.

"Oh yeah, because married men never have sex with women other than their wives in the history of the world," said Hawley sarcastically. "And also, Santa is real. Guess why we know that marriage of yours really went bad now, huh?"

Ichabod's expression became almost thunderous in response to that jab, and he was suddenly across the room, and grabbing Hawley by the throat, lifting him off the ground completely.

Abbie's eyes went wide at Ichabod's display of strength as he lifted the large man effortlessly above his head using only one hand.

It was an act Ichabod barely even seemed to register as he shook Hawley in real anger. "I would never dishonor Katrina or the Lieutenant in such a discourteous manner!" Ichabod's eyes blazed fury at Hawley. "Never infer such a grievous lie again or I will end this matter between us once and for all!"

Hawley was looking at him in shock but his mouth still didn't know when to call it a day, even as he dangled there. "You throwing down, Crane?" he choked out. "Should I be bracing for a glove slap right about now? Because just a heads up, I'm allergic to lace, so try and see if you've got a man's glove tucked away in your big floaty coat and stripper boots, okay?"

Ichabod's hands tightened on Hawley, lifting the man higher off the ground.

"Crane, put him down!" Abbie ordered him loudly. "Stop this right now, both of you!"

Her shouting at him had Ichabod looking at her as though he'd just been reminded of her presence.

Abbie held up a hand to him. "Crane, seriously, put Hawley down. He's going red."

Ichabod looked back up at Hawley, almost surprised at the revelation. He immediately dropped Hawley to the ground. Hawley sucked in some strangled breaths and then glared at Ichabod. "What the hell was that?"

Ichabod looked at his hands, and then back at Hawley. His expression was one of contrition. "I-I am sorry. I lost my temper." Ichabod's gaze hardened. "With good reason, I might add."

"Well, yeah," said Hawley dismissively as he rubbed his throat, "obviously. But I meant the lifting me off the ground thing. You shouldn't be able to do that, at least, not so easily. I weigh nearly two hundred pounds."

Ichabod looked genuinely concerned now as he seemed to fully realize what he'd just done.

Hawley shook his head at him in vague disdain. "I guess sucking the life force out of someone gives you a little extra bounce in your step after all, huh?"

Abbie realized Hawley must be right. Ichabod had just displayed superhuman strength, and as she could feel hers dwindling, it wasn't hard to guess where it was coming from.

"And kind of extra asshole to your persona," continued on Hawley, giving a final rub of his neck as he shot Ichabod a look of censure. "Not that you needed the top up."

"I-I am sorry for my outburst, Hawley," said Ichabod stiffly. "It was not my intention to lay hands on you."

Hawley's lips twisted. "I guess I may have been partially to blame, in a really small, almost imperceptible way."

"You were being a jerk," said Abbie in annoyance. "And not helping this situation at all. We need to get out of here and figure this out before—" She stopped abruptly. "Before whatever is going to happen to me, happens."

"Absolutely," said Ichabod swiftly, immediately by her side again. "We waste time on these internal scuffles. Time we may not have."

"Could you just try and be a little less brutally honest about this stuff?" asked Abbie in exasperation. "You're like a ticking clock of doom."

Ichabod made a face. "My apologies, Lieutenant." He turned and scooped up the book. "But no further dalliances would be a sterling idea at this moment."

"Just say 'we're outta here' like a normal person, Crane," said Hawley tersely.

"Don't start," she commanded both of them, able to see this deteriorating into yet another sniping match. Abbie led the way out of the room and back into the bank. "When we get back to the archives we'll—" She never finished her sentence as they walked into the foyer of the bank which appeared to be in the middle of a robbery. The bank customers along with staff were lying face down on the ground, hands stretched over their heads. On instinct Abbie went for her gun, pulling it out and aiming it at the man in the balaclava holding a shotgun and another across the room with a semiautomatic rifle. "Put down your weapons now, Sleepy Hollow PD!"

"Oh crap," muttered Hawley behind her. "Can't we just catch one break today?"

The two men swung around and pointed their guns at Abbie.

"Not gonna happen, sweetheart," yelled the closest gunman. "You drop your gun, or we're redecorating the walls in cop blood."

Abbie knew she didn't have a chance against two gunmen, but she didn't lower her gun. Instead, she used her most calming voice. "Look, there is no way out of this. Nobody needs to get hurt. Just put down your guns and we can walk out of here before things get complicated."

The gunmen exchanged looks. "You'll get us out of here?"

"Yes, nobody has to get hurt." Abbie was very aware of Ichabod's presence as he surreptitiously sidled up beside her, hands raised.

"The Lieutenant's words of counsel are wise ones," Ichabod offered up. "More law enforcement officers will not be far away. A police officer willing to negotiate on your behalf will mean that no blood has to be spilt today. An outcome I am sure you must agree would be advantageous for all involved."

The closest gunman cocked his head. "Huh?"

"He means no one wants to get dead today," translated Hawley flatly. "So listen to the pretty lady and let's put this puppy to bed already."

Out of the corner of her eye, Abbie saw a security guard go for his gun while the two men's focus were on her. "No!" she yelled, but it was already too late. The second gunmen had noticed the movement as well, and he'd immediately opened fire on the guard, shooting him in the shoulder and chest. The man fell to the ground, undoubtedly dead, as the people in the bank screamed and cowered in fear.

"What did you do?" asked the gunman closer to her in horror.

"I had to, man, he was going for his gun," complained the other robber.

"Now the cops are going to be all over us any minute."

"And when that happens, you don't want to be the one holding the gun," Abbie assured him, trying to get the situation back under control. "Put down your weapons and I can still get you out of this alive."

The robber stared at her. "You know, honey, I think you're half-right. Come here, we're going on a little trip."

"Lieutenant," Ichabod warned her, voice tense.

Abbie didn't look at him, just kept her eyes on the man in front of her. "I'm not going to do that. You need to consider your options here and do the smart thing."

"I've considered them," said the man tersely. "Now, drop your gun and come here otherwise I'm shooting this old woman in the face."

The white haired woman lying face down on the ground near him whimpered, and started to shake.

Abbie shot her a quick look. "Nobody else is going to get shot today because you're smarter than that."

"I'm going to count to three," said the robber, unmoved, "and then my associate is going to shoot the old woman, and her blood will be on your hands." The woman began to cry, shoulders shaking as she sobbed into the marble floor of the bank.

Abbie hesitated, but could see in the man's eyes he wasn't about to back down. She slowly lowered her gun. "It's alright, ma'am," she said steadily. "You're safe, nobody is going to hurt you." Abbie started towards the gunmen.

"Lieutenant, no," said Ichabod urgently, making a move to reach out for her.

"Don't you move!" said the robber sharply, aiming his gun at Ichabod before grabbing at Abbie and spinning her around, throwing an arm around her neck and dragging her back against him. Now the muzzle of the shotgun was pressed against her jaw.

"It's alright, Crane," she said calmly.

Ichabod shook his head at her, clearly concerned that wasn't the case.

"Okay, we're leaving, and if anyone is stupid enough to try and stop us, then the Sheriff's department has got a job opening," threatened the gunmen, taking a step back and forcing Abbie to do the same.

Ichabod immediately stepped forward, holding up his hands. "Wait, you cannot take the Lieutenant." He inclined his head towards Hawley. "Take this man instead as your hostage."

"Hey!" exclaimed Hawley.

Ichabod glared at him. "We have no other option. I may not offer up myself to these men."

"Oh right, the thing with you two," said Hawley. He pouted. "Damn it. Fine, yeah, sure, take me. That'd be awesome," he said with decided lack of enthusiasm.

"Oh sure, I'm going to take the big guy instead of the little woman as my hostage," sneered the robber. "There's a plan. Besides, she's a cop. The other cops are going to think twice on opening fire on one of their own."

"Fine," said a resigned Hawley, "if you want leverage, you want to be taking me. You know the Senator of this fine state? Well, he's my dad."

Abbie watched Ichabod's shoulders sag and then give a disgusted shake of his head. She could help but agree with his reaction at Hawley's attempts to be helpful.

"Really?" asked the clearly skeptical would-be bank robber, not loosening his grip on her. "You're Senator Hansen's son?"

Hawley gave a short nod of his head. "That's right. Good old dad is someone with a bit of pull around here. So I'm clearly the better hostage material."

"We're talking about Senator Patricia Hansen right?" pushed the robber flatly.

Hawley held the other man's gaze steadily. "That's right, my dad's name is Patricia and I'm Fiona Hawley Hansen. It's a family thing. Just ask my sisters, Hank and Ron."

"Oh dear God," muttered Ichabod, rolling his eyes.

"You mean the Senator Patricia Hansen who just happens to also be black?"

"Yep," said a steadfast Hawley, determinedly not backing down from his lie even as the ridiculousness of that lie was becoming more evident to him. "I'm an albino and if you don't mind, I'm kind of sensitive about that."

"Just give it up, Hawley," sighed Abbie.

"Shut up, Mills, I got this," he said with unwarranted confidence. "Okay, you got me, I'm about to blow the lid off a big old family secret – my father became my mother. Dad did a Caitlyn Jenner years ago, before it was the cool thing to do. We've kept it in family ever since it happened, and I'm not going to lie, in the beginning there were some uncomfortable family Sunday dinners, with Dad wearing a dress and those pearls. I always thought pearls for a Sunday lunch was overkill. But now we're all totally cool with it."

"At what point are you going to see fit to give up this ludicrous lie?" asked Ichabod impatiently.

"I don't see you doing anything," retorted Hawley. "At least I'm trying. It's not my fault I didn't get around to voting in the last elections… or kind of ever really."

Ichabod sent him a furious look. "Many brave men and women gave their lives so you could enjoy the liberty of being able to elect your own officials. Why does it not surprise me that you treat their sacrifice with so little respect?"

"Hey, I would vote, okay," said Hawley defensively, "but my only options to vote for are politicians and they're all idiots and conmen."

"How can you cast such a slanderous slur against Patricia, your own dear father?" asked Ichabod sweetly. "I am beginning to see why those family dinners were so tense, Fiona."

"Shut up, Crane!"

"We would all be well served if you heeded your own advice in this matter," shot back Ichabod.

"Okay, both of you shut up!" said the robber in agitation. "You're making my head hurt."

"Welcome to my world," said Abbie in resignation.

"We're leaving, and if anyone tries to follow us, I'm shooting the cop in the head, got it?"

The robber backed up again, dragging Abbie along with him. Her hands went to the arm around her neck as he nearly lifted her off the ground, making breathing difficult. The other robber was also backing up towards the exit as she struggled against the choke hold the man had on her.

Ichabod took a few steps towards them. "No, you may not take her!" he said urgently.

"Are you trying to get your girlfriend killed?" asked the robber in disbelief as Ichabod followed them.

"You may not separate the Lieutenant and myself," insisted Ichabod. "If you will not release her, then you must also take me with you in your bid for freedom."

"I'm not taking two of you," said the gunman in exasperation. "All I need is the cop."

Ichabod's gaze locked with Abbie's. "We may not be separated," repeated Ichabod hoarsely. "The Lieutenant's life depends on it."

"What her life depends on is you backing the hell up, hero," bit out the gunman, still dragging Abbie backwards and heading to the exit.

"Listen to reason on this matter, man!" demanded Ichabod. "You causing the death of a serving police officer will garner you no favors in the fate which is undoubtedly waiting for you."

"Huh?"

"He means take the woman and you're screwed," offered up Hawley from the other side of the room.

"Give me one good reason why I should let her go," said the robber sharply.

"The Lieutenant has partaken of an elixir which is slowly stealing the life from her body. I must remain close to her otherwise the remainder of her life force will be taken from her and all which shall remain is the shell of her body, and most likely that shell will return to the dust from whence she came."

"I'm going to turn to dirt?" asked Abbie in horror.

"Only in the most literal understanding of the text," said Ichabod apologetically. "I did not feel the information was something you would necessarily find pertinent, Lieutenant."

"If I'm about to turn into a dust bunny, you can bet the farm I'm going to find that piece of information pertinent, Crane," she shot back.

"I will not allow that to happen," said Ichabod swiftly.

"Seriously?" interjected the gunman with open disdain. "A magic potion which turns a person to dirt?" He looked down at Abbie. "So what's your deal here, cop? You only hang out with pathological liars or what?"

"I speak the truth," said Ichabod determinedly.

"You back your magic bean lovin' ass the hell up with the albino over there otherwise I'm shooting your girl right here and now," threatened the man.

Ichabod gave a distressed look at Abbie.

Her jaw hardened. "We know we can manage some separation," she said swiftly, all of her focus on Ichabod, as the man started to drag her towards the door again. "He only needs to put some distance between the bank and himself. We won't be apart for long." Abbie knew she could talk the guy into letting her go once they were outside. "Don't worry."

"Lieutenant," said Ichabod in anguish as the robber wrestled her through the door.

They were outside now and the next thing she knew was she was being shoved into the backseat of a black sedan. The two men jumped in after her. The gunman who'd shot the security guard was behind the wheel.

"Drive!" ordered her captor, in the backseat with her.

The man put down his foot, tires squealing as he pulled away from the curb.

Abbie looked out the back window to see Ichabod and Hawley running out of the bank after them but then they were turning a corner and she couldn't see them anymore. A sharp sensation shot through her stomach, and Abbie gave a grunt of pain. It was happening already. She fixed the gunman with a determined look. "You have to let me go."

"When you stop being useful to us," said the man dismissively.

"Where are we going, Tommy?" asked the driver nervously, taking each new corner too fast.

The man in the backseat with her pulled off his balaclava. "Just stay to the back streets. We need to get away from traffic. And take that damn mask off. You want to advertise we're on the run here?"

The driver hastily removed his ski mask and tossed it on the seat beside him.

Tommy looked at her. "You've seen our faces now. You know what that means, right? This ain't gonna end well for you, little lady."

Abbie pressed her lips together to form a white line of pain. Fissures of white hot agony were already running along each nerve ending. These two men were the least of her problems. The evidently widening distance between her and Ichabod was of much more pressing concern. Abbie knew she didn't have much time to talk her way out of this and get these men to release her. If she and Ichabod got any further apart, she wasn't sure how much longer her wits were going to stay with her. She could already feel a fog descending on her, making it hard to think. "Take-take the next left," she instructed them.

That earned her a sharp look from Tommy. "Why?"

"Take that left and the next two rights, and you'll be on the way to Old Mill Road," she informed him. "It takes us out of town and there are never any police patrols out that way. Nobody uses that road except for a couple of residents who have places out along it."

"You're helping us?" asked Tommy skeptically as they were jostled about in the back seat, thanks to some fairly erratic driving.

"I'm getting you and your guns away from people," said Abbie sternly. "And maybe without people around, you can start to think clearly. Like how kidnapping a cop is not the smartest move you can make, and either is killing a cop."

Tommy half-smiled. "You don't give up, do you?"

"It's not in my nature," said Abbie, determinedly ignoring the creeping numbness in her legs.

"You're still going to die though," said Tommy, almost conversationally.

"Maybe, but I'm not dead yet, and I've faced down the headless Horseman of Death more than once before today and lived to tell about it, so I wouldn't be counting me out just yet."

"How do you face down something without a face?" asked Tommy laconically.

"Metaphorically speaking," said Abbie, holding his gaze unflinchingly. "You picked the wrong team to mess with."

"What, Magic Beans and Fiona the Albino?" Tommy gave snort of laughter. "What are they gonna do, get crazy all over my new shoes?"

"Ichabod won't give up," said Abbie quietly. "He'll find me, and I don't know how this will end for you when he does." She'd seen something in Ichabod's face in that last look between them. There had been a kind of rage Abbie had never seen before. Whatever was happening to her, Ichabod was also feeling the effects of that potion. She'd seen him explode at Hawley. Was that just a once off, or was his own personality being changed by him taking on her life force? Abbie didn't know, and not knowing things in her world was dangerous for everyone concerned. Another stab of pain ripped through her side, and Abbie gritted her teeth against crying out. If Ichabod didn't find a way of keeping up with her and her captives, then all this was going to be a moot point. Abbie could only put her faith in her fellow Witness when it came to his promise that he wasn't going to leave her, and do her best to stay alive in the meantime.