Ichabod wasted not one moment and sprinted to Miss Mills' side, chest heaving, heart stricken with intense worry. Gently, he turned her over onto her back and was dismayed at the sight of her. She had only been in Purgatory for a few hours, but if he hadn't known better, he would have sworn on his life that it had been weeks. Her cheeks were gaunt and hollow and her skin was terribly pale. Her shoulder had a deep gash that was still bleeding and she had a nasty bruise on her left temple, most likely from hitting the wall, but upon closer inspection, Ichabod found older bruises on her arms, as well. Her upper lip was chapped and scabbed over and the bottom one was split open anew.

"Lieutenant…please awaken," he said softly, pushing her hair away from her face. He looked around for something to use to put pressure on her wound but there was nothing. In the end, he could only use his hand to try and staunch the flow of blood. He pulled her closer to him gently, cradling her in his lap, and noticed that she seemed thinner. It didn't seem possible and yet, Ichabod was certain that she had lost weight since he had left her here hours before. He cursed himself for the hundredth time for what his choice – or inability to make a choice – had done to her.

A pained moan slipped from between her lips and she brought her hand up to her head gingerly. "That…hurt," she said slowly.

"Miss Mills, are you gravely injured?" he asked, gently pulling her hand away from the dreadful bruise on her temple while trying to maintain the pressure on her shoulder.

She froze at his words and looked up at him, eyes wide. Ichabod held still as she stared at him, into the very depths of his soul, it seemed. The longer she looked but said nothing, the more he started to entertain the notion that all of this was a dream. In the time he had known Miss Mills, he had never known her to be silent for so long. He was about to say something, when he noticed that she had begun shaking – shaking all over. Tears welled in her brown, red-rimmed eyes but did not fall.

"Lieutenant…"

In mere seconds, she had scurried away from him and was apparently trying to melt into the wall, shaking still. Ichabod knew she had to be feeling the discomfort of her injuries now, for she had not tried to stand and get away from him. He tried again.

"Miss Mills, please listen to me. I am here to help—"

"YOU don't get to talk!" she hissed, cutting him off, her voice low and dangerous. "YOU are not…him," she accused, her words breaking off as a sob escaped in a rush. Still shaking, she looked past him, her eyes scanning feverishly about the room. At long last, her gaze rested on him, once again, but it was one of dismissal and disgust. "You can't trick me, Moloch."

Ichabod was suddenly nauseous. She believed him to be Moloch – some phantom vision concocted by the demon? What dreadful things had Moloch been doing to her while he was gone? Had Moloch been using Ichabod's countenance to try and seduce the Lieutenant into handing over her soul? The thought chilled him to the bone.

"Lieutenant, your shoulder has been injured. You are bleeding. Take a few moments to collect yourself and you will see the truth."

She looked down at her shoulder and grimaced as she tried to move it. "Dammit," she breathed, the curse slipping from her lips angrily. She brought her hand up to cover the wound and looked away from him, off to the left, her brow furrowed. "Girls!" she shouted, her voice high and reedy, close to the edge of hysteria. Her body had not stopped shaking and he could not tell if it was from cold or fear or pain or some other reason altogether. "Girls, you can come out now!"

"I'm right here! Who are you bloody talking to?" Ichabod bellowed, his patience having withered away. She was bleeding profusely.

Abbie flinched and moved even further away, eyeing him as though he were a rabid animal.

Frustrated that she still did not see him for who he truly was – did not trust him – Ichabod reached his hand out to her. She looked at it suspiciously. In truth, what had he been expecting? He had allowed her to take Katrina's place and abandoned her in Purgatory to battle Moloch alone. Did he really believe she would smile and laugh and tell him all was well?

"Miss Mills, please believe me. It IS me. Please let me help you."

He hoped his simple plea would somehow reach her for he was at a loss as to how else he could persuade her.

She looked at him, her head crooking sideways, and he could tell that she was fighting a war against herself. Her shaking had not abated and now it intensified and the tears that had not fallen before spilled onto her cheeks. "Please, girls," she half-whispered, half-sobbed. "I need your help."

Ichabod felt so sorry for Miss Mills in that moment. What had happened in the few hours he had been gone that had erased all of her trust in him? Except, of course, for the small matter of him leaving her in Purgatory to fend for herself while he took his wife back to the mortal world?

He was about to try and talk to her again, when he noticed that Miss Mills' gaze was now directed at a point beyond him. She sighed. "There you are," she said, the relief in her voice apparent. "Jenny, can you find me something to hold against this?" she asked, pointing to her shoulder.

Ichabod snapped his head around in the direction she was looking the moment he heard her say Miss Jenny's name. How in the world could Jenny also be in Purgatory?

However, all he saw was a young girl dressed in what he could only imagine was a school uniform of some kind: white shirt under a grey sweater, tartan skirt, and black shoes. The whole attire seemed familiar to Ichabod, though he knew not why, but he knew he SHOULD know. His eidetic memory gave him no excuses. He turned back to Miss Mills, whose shaking seemed to have abated in some small measure.

"Miss Mills, why have you called this young girl by your sister's name?"

And then it hit him: he had seen that young girl before! In the Lieutenant's dream vision when she had battled the Sandman. This girl was the younger version of Miss Jenny. But how and why was she here, in Purgatory? If she was here, where was the current form of Miss Mills' sister? The girl stared at him with eyes as wide as a doe that had stumbled upon a hunter and stood frozen in place.

"Come on, Jenny, it's okay. Come here." The Lieutenant's voice was unsteady and raspy and Ichabod knew it had to be from the pain of her wound.

Ichabod watched as Jenny swallowed hard and then took a step forward. He immediately put his hands up, trying to seem as harmless as possible. She raced past him and over to the Lieutenant, kneeling down next to her. Jenny produced a piece of cloth from her pocket and held it on Abbie's shoulder.

"Push hard," Miss Mills instructed through gritted teeth. Jenny did so, and Abbie cried out, squeezing her eyes shut.

Ichabod was on his feet in an instant and scrambled over to them, his eyes wild with worry. The Lieutenant's eyes snapped open and her look was one of blatant hatred. Jenny's eyes went wide and he could tell she wanted to bolt, but something kept her tethered to Abbie's side.

"Get the hell away from us, you bastard," she seethed. "You think that just cause you look like…him…that I'm just gonna hand over my soul? Aren't you tired of that game already? Why don't you just finish me off instead? You had your chance before and you didn't take it…I wish you had."

Ichabod's eyes softened and he sank slowly to the ground. He reached out his hand again, palm up, this time. "Please believe me, Miss Mills. I am not Moloch, though I deserve your contempt as much as he for what I have done. But at this moment, I only wish to help you."

Abbie ignored his hand and looked at him – really looked at him, this time – and he thought that he might have gotten through a chink in her armor. Her breathing began to quicken. "Ok, I'll play along. If you're really Crane, what did I bring you the first morning at the motel?"

Ichabod let his hand fall to his side. He knew this would be his only chance to convince her of his true character. He had to get everything right – say just things perfectly. "They were a lovely pastry that I believe you called 'donut holes.'"

Abbie nodded but did not seem totally convinced. Beside her, Jenny watched her reactions carefully and Ichabod knew that Abbie's verdict on his identity would be Jenny's, as well. With effort and using her good arm, the Lieutenant pushed herself up into a more upright position and chewed on her bottom lip.

"Okay, last question. This'll be your only chance to claim your 'get out of jail free' card. Ready? What did you do…after you burned the map to Purgatory?"

Ichabod swallowed dryly. Why had she chosen that particular memory to test him? Was it because she somehow knew it was the only time he had not been totally forthcoming with her? At the time, he had meant every word he said to Miss Mills about forging their fates together, but later, in his lonely cabin, the thought of Katrina trapped forever in Purgatory and the guilt he felt for her being there had overwhelmed him.

He sighed bitterly and looked into her eyes. What he saw there was an odd mixture of pain and hope. He knew the answer, but he wished he could explain to her the nature of the impetus behind his actions. In the end, he simply said the words.

"I drew another."

Those words seemed to hang in the air like a dark thundercloud ripe with lightning waiting to strike. He had not meant to betray her – would never betray her – and yet he had. The force of that realization hit him hard; a sucker-punch in the midsection. Ichabod's only thought was to try and apologize for what he had done; how he had forsaken her.

"Miss Mills, please accept my apologies-"

"It's really you?" Abbie cut him off, letting out a breath he hadn't realized she had been holding. Her voice was small and wounded, but her gaze was not as hard as before.

Ichabod nodded and reached his hand out one last time, rising to one knee. "It is. Now will you please allow me to help you tend to your wound?"

But a third time, Abbie ignored his proffered hand and turned to look at the younger Jenny and attempted a small smile. She put her right hand on the girl's shoulder. "It's okay, Jenny. It's really him. I'm sure of it. Moloch would never have admitted that last part. Go and get your sister. It's safe."

Ichabod winced at her words and what they implied and his open hand clenched into a fist. He had hurt her very deeply, and some part of him had known it when he did it, but that hadn't seemed as important as rescuing Katrina at the time. But now…here…in Purgatory, with Miss Mills bloody and wounded before him, he could not imagine a moment when hurting her would be of no consequence to him.

Jenny said nothing. She merely nodded and handed the cloth she had been using as a compress to Abbie and slinked past Ichabod as quickly as she could, disappearing into the shadows of the house. Ichabod watched her go and rose to his feet. There were a thousand queries in his mind, but he did not voice them. He turned back to Abbie and saw that she was holding the cloth against her shoulder wound, her eyes shut tight in pain. Sweat dotted her forehead and she was shaking again, and this time, he was certain that agony was the cause, but if pressed, he would not have been able to determine with absolute certainty if its nature was merely physical.

"Lieutenant, may I please assist you? You must be suffering."

Abbie's eyes opened slowly and he noted they were a bit glazed. She was slumped against the wall and reminded him of a cut rose, wilting in front of his eyes. "I can take care of myself, Crane. Been doing it my whole life," she said.

Though he knew she said it to sound brave and nonchalant, Ichabod found it to be one of the saddest things he'd ever heard. He hated that she felt her existence was so solitary, but wasn't that what she had told Moloch earlier? Had she not said that she had finally accepted that her destiny was to be alone? And had she not stated that even Moloch could not give her that which she truly desired? Ichabod wondered what that something was.

He crossed the small distance between them and knelt beside her and knew he would give his last breath to change her destiny. She said nothing, simply looked up at him with huge eyes filled to overflowing with a myriad of questions:

Why did you leave me here?

Why did you choose Katrina over me?

How could you betray me?

The last question he imagined she was asking hurt the most, because he did not have an answer for it. He touched her cheek gently and she stilled instantly, like a wild thing would.

"I am so very sorry, Miss Mills," he said softly. "I should never have allowed you to remain here. I have cursed myself a thousand times over for doing so."

She broke their gaze and looked off into the dark recesses of the house and shrugged. "It's done now. Besides, you didn't make the choice. I did."

Ichabod was a bit stunned by the sudden and severe change in her personality and temperament. Her usually bright spirit was dulled and broken and her eyes had lost their spark. The words she spoke were short and clipped and held no emotion. He had only ever known her to be bursting with life and her voice full of honesty and fervor. Surely this was a symptom of being in Purgatory? He could not bear the thought that she was forever changed due to his own selfish actions.

Inching closer to her, Ichabod tentatively reached out and covered the hand that was over her wound with his own. Her eyes snapped back to him the moment she felt the contact and she reached up to move his hand away.

"Please, Lieutenant. I only want to help you," he said, his voice supple and smooth with sincerity. "Let me do this small thing for you."

Her eyes filled abruptly with tears, her bottom lip trembling, but she did not push his hand away again. Instead, she sat still and allowed him to hold the cloth against her shoulder wound. He noted that the bleeding had slowed in some measure and for that, he was thankful.

"Why are you here, Crane? You're not supposed to be here."

Her words cut through the inky silence of the doll house, echoing down its lonely halls. Ichabod looked at her, thinking he had never met a braver woman in his entire life. Here she was, trapped in Purgatory, and she was worried about his safety.

"I am not certain as to how I came to be here," he finally said, unwilling to tell her about the coffin and Jeremy.

She looked at him sideways and was about to say something else when another voice stopped her.

"She was hiding again."

Ichabod looked to where the voice was coming from and was not surprised to see that Jenny had returned. However, what he was surprised to see was the girl beside her. They were holding hands, and he got the distinct impression that Jenny was holding her there; keeping her from running. She was dressed in the same school uniform, but was slightly shorter. Her face was tight with fear, eyes wide.

Abbie.

Ichabod knew that this was the young Abbie they had also encountered in their fight against the Sandman. The Abbie whose entire existence was ruled by fear and so it made sense that she had been hiding.

"What were you hiding from?" the Lieutenant asked the young girl.

"Moloch," Young Abbie answered and then pointed right at Ichabod, her hand shaking. "And him."

"Moloch's gone for now, Abbie. Besides, he wants me, not you. You're just a memory." Miss Mills then looked from her younger self to Ichabod and snickered. "And don't worry about this one. He won't hurt you. Besides, he won't be staying long. I don't even know why he's here to begin with…"

She trailed off and Ichabod could see her mind working; puzzling out the problem. The girls had not moved from their spot. They seemed to be waiting for direction from Miss Mills. Ichabod did not want her to discover the reason for his appearance. It would only upset her and he wished to never hurt her again.

"I believe your wound has stopped bleeding," he said, hoping to distract her.

Abbie shook her head and held her hand up, effectively stopping him from saying anything else. "Wait a minute, why ARE you here? How did you get here?"

He refused to look at her. "I've already told you that I have no memory of how I came to be here."

"Mr. Photographic Memory can't remember? I don't think so, Crane. Did Katrina somehow send you here?"

He shook his head. "The how and why are not important, Lieutenant. What matters is that I AM here and you are no longer alone and I will not allow Moloch to hurt you again."

Abbie frowned and then did push his hand away from her shoulder and managed to get to her feet, swaying a bit. She put her good arm against the wall for support, her breathing a bit labored. "No it IS important, Crane. You weren't supposed to come back. I knew that when I said I'd stay. So why are you here? There's got to be a reason."

Ichabod was shocked. "You did not believe I would return for you?"

Abbie looked at him with a confused expression. "Of course not."

Ichabod felt like his heart was being squeezed in a woodworker's vice. She truly never believed he would come back for her? "But Miss Mills, you told me that you knew I would return for you. You were being dishonest?"

She rolled her eyes. "Come on, Crane. How could you return? Katrina and I exchanged places. The only way I was going back was if she came back here. I knew you'd never let that happen."

The Lieutenant looked away from him, absently holding her wounded shoulder. "She's your wife and you love her. I'm just the cop who sprung you from the mental hospital. Pretty easy choice to make, right?"

Ichabod regarded her then, this woman who would have been totally overlooked and disregarded in his time. A brave soldier who soldiered on and tried to help everyone she met, despite all the pain she had suffered in her life. An amazing spirit who was able to look past the insanity of his story and find the real man behind it and give him the opportunity to prove his irrational claims. How had he treated such a rare being? He had abandoned her for his own selfish reasons with barely a second thought and now he would give his very soul to take that decision back.

He swallowed his agony and was about to try and convince her of the truth of their relationship when she nodded, apparently taking his silence for agreement.

"That's what I thought," she said, looking slightly surprised that he had agreed with her, but she recovered quickly. "So I'm gonna ask you again: why are you here?"