I hope you enjoy this. Some of you have written the most beautiful reviews and for those i am truly grateful. I know this is an angsty story but that is kinda my thing.

Anyway, thanks again and, as always,

Rock On

But, ah, who ever shunn'd by precedent

The destined ill she must herself assay?

Or forced examples, 'gainst her own content,

To put the by-past perils in her way?

Counsel may stop awhile what will not stay;

For when we rage, advice is often seen

By blunting us to make our wits more keen.

W. Shakespeare

Confusion carved itself into his features in the same way Crane would encounter some self-declared asinine piece of modernity that irked him. The cars on the road continue to careen past them on the road outside of the station house as if nothing had changed.

"You look as if you have seen a ghost?" he spoke with a slightly different cadence than the person missed.

Shaking off the past she affected a smile. "And you are?' Abbie drawled as they stood in front of the diner frequented by the entirety of Sleepy Hollow emergency services.

The tall man shifted the box from his hands and tucked it under his gangly left arm. "I knew it was you. Your picture." He glanced at the box again. "It's uncanny."

"DO I know you?" she asked with folded arms and a sour affectation.

He seemed to redeemer his manners; the man ran his hand through his medium hair. "I got an email about looking for more information about an Ichabod Crane? I am the historian that was contacted by the Historical Society in Sleepy Hollow by a Jenny Mills…any relation?" he asked suddenly.

"You could say that. But I still have no idea who you are. You know my name; you even know my sister's name. But I don't know yours."

"Oh," He bowed quickly. "Right," The tall man thrust his free arm out toward Abbie. "Frederick Crane, though my friends call me Frederick."

"That sounds like a family name," Abbie spoke, "And I am assuming that last name is no coincidence."

"You would be right on both counts, Miss Mills." He grinned. "What better authority on the history of a family than one's own history I suppose." He shrugged.

"So how did you know what I look like?" she asked. Crane took nothing with him when he went back to his own time. He claimed he was too afraid of causing some sort of causality loop. Abbie had laughed then, recalling nights spent watching Doctor Who, one of his favorite shows.

Confusion enfolded his features for the second time in their brief conversation, followed by an emotion that Abbie could not recognize. "Miss Mills, is there anywhere we could talk? In Private?" His features schooled into something more serious and he even looked around briefly as if concerned for being caught out in public.

Abbie studied his affectation before nodding. There was only one place she could think of taking this man walking around in Crane's skin. "Yeah, follow me, but I want some answers." She insisted.

"Indeed," Frederick nodded shifting the medium sized box again and running to catch up to the diminutive woman.

XxXxX

"Is this the Historical Society?" he asked turning mad circles in the center of the archives. Franklin held his hands out with fingers outstretched as if he wasn't certain of what to touch first. He had placed the box onto Crane's old desk and was slowly making his way around the room filled with antiquities.

"Not any history that you're aware of, but okay." Abbie smiled and ran her hand over the desk that Crane had favored. His scent still carried through the dusty tomes and old leather chairs. She had avoided the place since the miscarriage. Before she lost the baby she would come here and sit, to feel closer to him. Sometimes she even talked to the old must walls and round windows an if they would answer back in his voice.

"It's astounding! What is the purpose of this room?" he asked from across the room, Franklin had found the back stacks and was running long fingers along the collected volumes.

"Look, as much as I would love to give you the two dollar tour, I kinda have some questions about your ancestor." Calling him an ancestor felt wrong in her mouth, bitter and hard like a left over chunk of food found after brushing.

Franklin turned and nodded; he jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and moved closer to Crane's desk. "I knew who you were from the sketches and drawings. "

Abbie nodded, she had suspected as much. "Is that what's in that box?" she asked.

"And other things." Franklin nodded. "I need some answers. Have needed them for a long time but the terms were specific—"

"Terms?" Abbie asked moving closer to the box on the desk. "What does that mean?'

"You tell me Miss Mills." He tossed as he opened the box and withdrew a parcel. Inside was what could only be a letter, o old and fragile she wondered if it should be handled without gloves. "What is that?"

"It's a letter, from my ancestor Ichabod Crane. Addressed to you." Frederick nodded with a pointed look.

Abbie fingered the lid of the box and stared at the brown cube on the desk. "To me?" she asked. "Anyone else read it?"

"No, it was well guarded. But that is not all, Miss Mills." Frederick dipped his hand into the box and extricated more items. He lined them along the desk and stood back. Along with the letter was an old accordion folder that looked to be made of some sort of hide. An ancient looking key, and lastly an old wooden box.

"That stuff for me too?" she asked folding her arms.

"Yeah, it's the essentials."

"I don't understand." Abbie spoke but felt a million miles away, or maybe just 250 years, whichever was closer.

Frederick nodded and slid the box to the side. "It's a puzzle that has wracked my family for two centuries." He nodded. "We could not ever get the whole story and the items here were left in a safety deposit box in a Barclays. They were kept there for some two hundred years." Frederick turned and folded his arms. "For all we know, Ichabod Crane was the first customer to stand in line at the teller."

Abbie smiled imagining Crane standing in line for anything. He had always been so twitchy. His long fingers always told everything his rigid posture would not. "So you just waltzed im there and claimed it?" she asked with a frown.

Frederick shrugged, "I was in search of this family mystery, about the man who seemed to be so far ahead of his time."

Abbie did laugh then, laughed so hard she had to put her hands over her eyes to keep the tears from falling. A man out of time no matter where he landed.. God she missed him.

Frederick eyed her strangely from his perch across the desk. "Miss Mills," he asked watching her wipe tears from her cheeks. "You all right?"

He nodded and plastered on a smile. "Yeah," she insisted. "Yeah I'm good. " She sniffed despite her assurances to the not Crane. "I uhm…So tell me about this oddball in your family." She tried.

Frederick went into historian mode with no further prodding. He produced from his briefcase a stack of papers and his glasses which he pushed up onto his long nose and began. "Well, first thing, he fought for America in the Revolutionary War."

Abbie nodded unconsciously as Frederick laid out a story she already knew about Hessians and New York. She listened about his marriage to Katrina and his never substantiated work with George Washington. "You seem uninterested?" Frederick said after retelling about the Culper spy ring from 1780.

Abbie shrugged again, pulled out the chair and waved Frederick to sit down. "I knew this part, some of the stuff I had come across on my own."

Frederick stood for a moment without taking the offered seat. "Which begs the question of your initial interest in my great, great, great, great, great… oh too many greats…grandfather."

Abbie's heart left its proper place as she took in the implications of his words. She sat silent for a moment too long and Frederick finally sat in his seat to meet her eyes. "Miss Mills, I need to know some things."

"I'm sure you do, but so do I." Abbie insisted feeling she was in an interrogation but not sure if she was good cop, bad cop,, or ton the opposite side of the questioning. "I know this all seems unusual to you, but trust me on this, it's all above board."

Frederick shook his head. "I am not questioning your intent. I can read it in your eyes; you really do want to know. My question is, why?"

Abbie flexed her hands in contemplation and shook her head to clear her mind. "What I could tell you is a possible relational link between my family and your Crane. His time in America, a link between the Mills and the Cranes."

Frederick nodded embarrassed suddenly. "Ah, oh I see. A rather indelicate connection?" he not quite asked.

"You could say that, yeah."

"Okay," he agreed clearing his throat. "So, there was this three day hiccup, after he was cut down on the battle field. My notes say he was in a sort of coma when the tall soldier cut him across the chest." He looked at Abbie again, with an intensity that reminded her so much of her Crane she nearly went into tears again. "He disappeared from the hospital."

"For how long?" she asked.

"Well he was there for the three days, never woke up. Went missing and turned up outside Sleepy Hollow, he and his wife…uhm…"

"Katrina Von Tassel." Abbie finished for him.

Frederick gave her another curious look before going on. "Right; and that is where things seem to get…strange."

"How so?" she asked.

He cleared his throat again, pushed his glasses back up his nose and went on. "Well he was completely healed from an otherwise mortal wound for one. And, if that was not strange enough, he was….changed."

Abbie ticked her head as a means of interest and Frederick went on. "He wasn't the same. Friends had noted in journals and letters that the once 'too close' Cranes had become as strangers."

"People fall out of love all of the time." Abbie offered with outstretched hands. "I'm sure it happened even in the late 1700s."

"Not this abruptly." Frederick defended. "And completely. The Cranes were always a bit...forward for their time had often frequented dance establishments and late night parties—"

"They had those back then?" Abbie asked.

Frederick nodded. "You would be surprised. One of my post-doctoral thesis was on sexual practices of the time. They had some wild times back then. For instance, did you know they had parties where women would.."

Abbie waved her hand. "I'll read your paper later, Professor. You can even quiz me afterwards." She smiled. "What else happened to Ichabod Crane?"

Frederick could have been put off by her brusque manner, but instead Abbie noted a different reaction. He blushed and dipped his head with a smile. "I tend to prattle, I do apologize. My friends tell me that is why I cannot seem to maintain a relationship without the poor girl running off into the night."

"You're doing it again." Abbie sing-songed surprised herself at their easy banter.

"Right. " Frederick looked up as if to ensure she was not making for the exit. :"Right, so the Cranes weren't even able to be in the same room as one another after Ichabod's miraculous resurrection."

"You don't say." Abbie smiled.

"Some of the letters I found describe her as a real witch, apparently."

Abbie laughed then, so shrill and quick she was surprised that Frederick Crane didn't get up and run himself. She held her arm over her mouth for a moment before sobering. "A real witch, what did she turn people into toads and flounce around in a corset stuffed with the feet of unsuspecting small animals as a way of fending off evil?"

Frederick regarded her over the rim of his expensive glasses before clearing his throat again. "No, it was a euphemism. She was…cold difficult." He tilted his head and studied herstill smiling face with bemusement and mild concern. "You do know there is no such thing as witches, right Miss Mills?"

"Of course." She nodded seriously.

"Of course." He nodded in agreement. "But the two could not seem to patch up their differences. Even after the birth of their son Jeremy."

"Ok,. So there was a son then." She affirmed.

"Katrina was pregnant at the time of the disappearance; their son was born some five months later. They never managed to be together unless with their son. When Jeremy was two the family boarded a ship to England and remained there. Ichabod Crane reestablished his titles and lands. But, the interesting thing is he became a bit of a radical. He rallied against slavery and fought in Parliament for human rights, as well as women's right to vote."

Abbie nodded not surprised that the future had changed his past.

Frederick went on. "Mr. Crane wrote many pamphlets about a view of the future for England, that it could be a bastion of freedom and liberty as an example for the rest of the world." Frederick shuffled through more papers and looked at Abbie to gauge her intent. "He renounced his turn and received his full reinstatement into the King's service—"

"No, I don't think so." Abbie insisted. "Crane would—everything I have about him says he was a patriot…that he was proud to be an American..."

Frederick held up one finger in an action that reminded her so much of Crane her breath hitched. "He was, Miss Mills. But here is where I get to know some things. All of this…" he spread his hands displaying the accumulated life of the man she loved. "Has been in the possession of my family since the early 1900's; Ichabod Crane lived a life in relative obscurity, albeit a comfortable one. I have to ask, how did you come by so much information about a man who lived over two hundred years ago?"

"I have access to information as a police officer…" The nearly imperceptible shake of the man's head halted her defense. "Look, Mr. Crane—"

"Frederick, please."

She blows hard enough to move the hairs framing her face. "I really appreciate the care your family has taken in maintaining history. I realize this is an unorthodox situation but I cannot let too much out about what I know and how I know it." Abbie leaned back in her chair enough for a momentary flash of her badge. "Some of this is part of an ongoing investigation."

"I don't see how—"

"And I can't tell you either."

Frederick slammed the papers back into his briefcase and stood suddenly. "The things on the table are yours Miss Mills. I had come here to share as much as learn. " He removed a card from his pocket and slid it across the polished wood. "If you are in need of anything, please feel free to contact me. "

"Mr. Crane—" She spoke to his retreating form.

He turned quickly, nearly ferocious in his demeanor. "You insult my intelligence!" he intoned in a voice she knew all too well. "You know far more of this mystery than I. We are two pieces of a whole on this." He waved toward the table. "Whatever this is, whatever you need to keep close to the breast has been in my family for centuries, centuries. " Frederick stopped and Abbie watched his emotions pull over his face. "I just wanted to know. It's consumed me for years."

Abbie stepped back and studied the man in front of her. So much like Crane and yet so different. "I've got your card Mr. Crane, if anything comes up—"

"Right." He snarled turning through the door they had entered through.

Abbie sighed and took out her phone; no way was she dealing with this one alone.

XxXxXxX

"You need to read it." Jenny insisted in the candle lit room of the archives. She had come after her shift at the Historical Society and was nearly jittery in her excitement. Abbie watched her sister from the same seat she had taken three hours ago after the departure of Frederick Crane.

"Yeah, I know, I am working up to it."

Jenny nodded fingering the pouch. "It's just that, don't you wanna know?" she asked hopefully.

Abbie nodded from her perch but said nothing.

Jenny slid the pouch across the table toward her sister. "Well I wanna know, but its not for me to open. Its addressed to you, carried across hundreds of years." She sighed and ran her hands over her face in frustration. "Abs, listen I know this has been a shit year—"

Abbie's coughed laugh cut through the nearly silent room.

"—but this is the kind of closure that people pray for. Better than a last will and testament." Jenny said fingering the key that had come from the box. "I really want to know."

Abbie lifted her head and stared at the contents in front of her for the millionth time. "I don't think I can, Jenny. Once I read that." Her voice hitched in her throat. "It's the last thing I will ever hear from him."

Jenny nodded in understanding. "Some things are meant for knowing, Abs."

"You gonna go all Terms of Endearment over there, Jenny: she asked realizing how caustic her words sounded.

"Whatever." Jenny shook her head. "No, not whatever. I was the one standing by you this whole time. I was there to pick you up after he left, after you lost the baby." Abbie's face crumbled but Jenny went on. "I realize seeing that guy today was a bad shock seeing someone that looks so much like Crane."

Abbie flinches for no real reason but Jenny takes it as a positive sign.

"Look, Abbie, I am not saying open it now, but eventually you are going to want to read this." She tapped the pouch with her index finger but held her sister's gaze. "I get it, all right? You and me, we got a lot of baggage. A lot of not right shit got put down in our dossiers. Loss isn't something new to us, but Abbie, it will be all right. Eventually." Jenny quietly slipped the items back into the box and slid it under the table.

"I just," Abbie tried. "Jenny what was the fucking point?" she raged. "Why did God send me someone only to take them away? Dad, Momma, Corbin, you for thirteen years—"

"I'm right here, " she reassured her sister with a hand on the older woman's trembling one.

"I know that, but I just don't see what the hell this is all been for."

Jenny through her body back into the chair and sighed loud. "Permission to speak openly?" she asked with a smirk.

Abbie nodded. "Always,"

"Look, as much as you and Crane were connected there was so much baggage on both of you. He had issues and you had them too. I am not saying that it was a reason to not be together but the man had so many unresolved things from his life that both of you could have got lost in your own shit."

"Are you seriously telling me I am better off without him?" Abbie asked.

"No, what I am saying is that all your losses before Crane led you to be who you are right now, they made you afraid of everything. Life, love…me.. In the last six months you lost everything that a person could lose and still hope to be sane. Abbie, you made it through the fire. Think of it, you're like a Phoenix. What could possibly scare you at this point that you haven't already had to face head on?"

"You," Abbie choked with a hard squeeze of her sister's hand. "But I get what you are saying. Yes, I ran…hell I still run but…." Abbie looked under the table at the box. "Maybe it is time for me to read that letter."