Before he could answer, the girls stepped forward in unison and motioned for Abbie to come closer to them. Abbie did so slowly, her gait wobbly and unsure. Ichabod watched as they both leaned up on their tiptoes, their mouths close to her ear, and spoke in hushed tones. The longer they whispered, the bigger Abbie's eyes got and he saw her breathing quicken. At one point, she gasped and covered her mouth with her hand.
Finally, when the girls were done, Miss Mills took a shuddering breath. "There's got to be something I can do?" she asked them.
They were silent for a few moments and then began speaking again, but their voices were too low for Ichabod to make out anything they were saying.
When they finally finished, Abbie nodded, her face solemn. "I understand," she said softly.
She turned back to Ichabod. "So…I missed some crucial plot points, huh?"
Ichabod did not understand her meaning and thought it best to remain silent.
She sighed, obviously exasperated with him. "Look, I know about Jeremy…and the coffin. Weren't planning on telling me, were you?"
He stepped closer to her; close enough to touch. "No because it is of no consequence now, Miss Mills. I am dead. But at least we are here together. I can stand with you against Moloch."
Abbie straightened her posture and drew herself up as tall as she could. She leaned in close to him and he felt something awaken between them. It was their connection; their bond. It had sprung to life not long after they had met and it seemed that even in Purgatory where Death had reign, it still lived.
"You're not dead, Ichabod. Not yet," she said, her voice calm and even with certainty. "The girls told me how I can help you. Give you a boost in a way."
Ichabod was confused as to her meaning and had no idea how she thought she could save him when he had already died.
"Miss Mills, I hesitated to tell you this for fear of upsetting you, but I AM dead. The earth above the coffin was too heavy and I remember it pressing down on me. I remember not being able to breathe and giving in to the darkness."
She crossed her arms; the picture of defiance. "I don't care what you remember. You're not dead; end of story. The girls told me so."
"Did you not call those…apparitions 'memories'? What would they know of life and death?" he asked.
Abbie turned and looked back at the girls and shrugged. "They might have started off as just memories, but they're something more now. They know things and I trust what they've told me."
Ichabod sighed and clasped his hands behind his back. "And pray tell, what did they tell you?"
"They told me that you are CLOSE to death, but not dead and that there is a way for me to give you some more time to last until you are found. If there's a chance of it working, I've got to try, Crane. One of us has to get out of here and beat Moloch."
He moved a step closer to her, his blue eyes solemn. "Miss Mills, if it means you must stay here, then I would rather die and remain with you. You are here because of my selfish actions."
She looked up at him, a sad ghost of a smile on her lips. "Crane, my whole life I felt like life was pointless; that MY life was pointless. What was I living for? Why were Jenny and I born into a family that couldn't care for us? Why did our father run off? Why were we given a mother whose mind was too wrecked to let her be a mother to us? Then Moloch happened and nothing made sense anymore. But for the first time, Crane, I feel like I know the purpose of my life. When we first realized we were Witnesses, I thought that was my purpose. But I was wrong…"
Ichabod reached out and took her hand gently, wary of her injured shoulder. His eyes were shining with tears, "Miss Mills, surely you don't believe your purpose is to die? To forfeit your life?"
Abbie smiled softly and took a step towards him, allowing her hand to stay in his. She was now close enough that Ichabod could have reached out and pulled her into an embrace - if he had the courage. He could feel that special something crackling between them – even here, in Purgatory – like the embers of a fire. He felt a sweet nervousness flutter to life in his stomach; a thousand butterflies taking off at once. Of all the times he had been in battle and faced dangerous opponents, nothing scared him as much as this seemingly diminutive and devastatingly beautiful woman before him. She was so unlike any woman he had ever met and though they had only known each other for a short time, he could no longer imagine his life without her beside him.
"Ichabod, I don't see it as a forfeit," she said, her use of his first name alerting him to the fact that she felt that what she was saying was extremely important. "Forfeit implies a penalty or punishment. That's not what's going on here." She reached up and touched his cheek gently, her other hand still holding his. "I can't let you die. It's not gonna happen, not if I can help it. You have too much to do."
Ichabod felt mesmerized by her touch; trapped like a bird in a net. He could not have looked away from her eyes even if he had wanted to do so. He was certain he could drown in their chocolate brown depths forever and never miss another breath of air. Her very essence pulled at him the way the shore pulls the tide in each evening, and he was just as powerless as those frothywaves.
No other woman had ever had such an effect on him; not even Katrina. And if he was honest with himself, at this very moment, he could not fathom how the two of them had ended up in this predicament. How could he have abandoned Miss Mills here in this place that was a hair's breadth away from Heaven yet halfway to Hell without even looking back?
At the time, it had been so easy to allow Katrina and Miss Mills to exchange places on the off-chance that everything would be able to be righted in the end. He had pushed anything and everything he felt for the Lieutenant down into the dark recesses of his soul and walked away from her, because he finally had been reunited with Katrina. And that was all he had ever wanted, wasn't it? Was it not his duty as a husband to rescue his wife and give her a proper life? After all, she had been imprisoned in Purgatory for over two centuries. Surely any suffering that might befall him due to her rescue and his subsequent separation from Miss Mills was nothing compared to what Katrina had been through. He owed her his suffering – or so he had felt at the time. However, Miss Mills owed Katrina nothing, yet he had offered up hers alongside his. It seemed, they were always side by side in everything – even pain.
Ichabod closed his eyes in torment and cursed himself for being so oblivious to the workings of his own heart. But then his eyes snapped open, bright blue with resolve. He may have been unmindful of his feelings then, but he was unmindful no more. Everything with Katrina could be worked out at a later time. He had to find a way to convince the Lieutenant that this was not the correct course of action. Ichabod did not know if he could leave this place without her again.
"Miss Mills, I wish I could convince you of one truth: that I can accomplish nothing without you by my side." He did not add that he would be worthless without her or that he would otherwise feel incomplete.
Abbie's hand fell from his face and he felt as though he had been plunged into an icy river. He felt bereft without her touch; forsaken. She sat down at the plastic dollhouse's kitchen table and sighed, looking world-weary and so alone. He was shocked at the toll Purgatory had taken on her in such a short amount of time. He was almost certain that he could see the energy stolen from her as he stood there. The mere sight of her solitary silhouette made his heart seize in sorrow for her.
Although he was now aware that he had strong feelings for this unbelievably brave woman before him, he was not yet ready to make them known. His courage had suddenly deserted him; seemingly in the face of her own. So he focused on reminding her of the rules of the game.
"You are a Witness. Both Witnesses are needed to defeat Moloch. What will happen tomorrow when Moloch discovers I have become the lone soldier on the side of Good in this war?"
"'Tomorrow was made for some,' Crane," she said, sadness coloring her words for the first time. She ran her hands through her hair and rubbed her eyes. At long last, she looked up and gestured to the chair across from her.
"I fear I am at a loss as to your meaning, Miss Mills," he said, walking forward but opting to kneel before her, his hands clasped together, resting on her lap; the penitent worshiper. Moreover, the chair would have kept him too far away from her and Ichabod couldn't bear the thought at that moment. He was almost afraid that she would chastise him, telling him to get up, but she did not. Instead, she put her hands on his shoulders.
"It's from a song my mother used to listen to when I was young," she said gently. "It always made her cry and I never really understood why or what that song meant until now." She wiped an errant tear from her cheek and took a deep breath, seeming to fortify herself. "My meaning, Crane, was that not every soldier in every war gets to see the big victory. When the flag gets raised and everyone is cheering, there are lots of soldiers who fell on the battlefield and didn't make it to the end. But without them, that victory would not be possible. You should know what I'm talking about, because in an ironic twist...YOU were such a soldier."
Ichabod shook his head, his eyes blazing with anger. He reached up and took her hands from his shoulders, holding them tightly in his own. "No, Miss Mills! That shall not be you! I will not allow it. You will not be this war's celebrated martyr. You are my fellow Witness and I will not let you go so easily…not again."
He looked up to see if she had divined his meaning and by the fresh tear that ran down her cheek, he knew she had. The next thing he knew, she was in his arms, hugging him as though she would never see him again.
"I don't want you to feel bad about that, Crane," she whispered, her mouth against his ear. "You had no other choice but Katrina. I never expected you to choose me. I might have hoped for it, but I certainly didn't expect it. Now don't get me wrong. It still stung when you did it, but I knew it was coming; knew it from the second that Andy told me about the prophecy. I can't compete with Katrina. She's your soul mate; the love of your life. I'm just a Witness and somebody you've known for a little while. I think that's why I was so scared and upset and wanted you to destroy the map. I knew that when it came down to it, you would choose the person most important to you in the entire world. I was mad at first, but now I get it. I really do. She's your happily ever after. Besides, you needed her to try and stop War. You couldn't have known it was already too late."
Her words, meant to mollify, instead flayed his heart wide open and the pain of his mistake burned through him like a wildfire, leaving only ash and agony in its wake. He felt his own tears slipping down his cheeks and allowed himself the luxury of resting his head on her shoulder even though he did not deserve it. He could never remember feeling so safe in his entire life than when he was in her arms. How incredible that in Purgatory, he felt safe – simply because she was with him.
"It may be too late to stop Jeremy," he said finally, softly. "But it's not too late to save you, Miss Mills. I will rectify this situation and my error. As long as I am still breathing, I vow to do just that."
"That's where you're wrong, Crane," she said, stroking his head as if she were comforting a little boy.
Startled, he looked up at her. "Pardon?"
Abbie looked at him tenderly, but there was a fierce determination in her eyes. "It IS too late for me, but it's not too late to save YOU. Your soul is here with me right now, but your body is trapped in that pine box and I will not let you die. I just…can't."
She trailed off and he felt that she had stopped herself before she had stumbled headlong into some profound confession. Before he could ponder it further, she had collected herself enough to continue.
"Anyway, I'm gonna save you. That's MY vow. You can't save me if you're dead, can you? You can't defeat Moloch, either."
Ichabod pushed away and stood up, anger coloring his cheeks. "I cannot defeat Moloch without you!" I am afraid I cannot live without you, either, he added silently.
Abbie said nothing, but instead looked away and over at the younger memory-version of herself and Jenny and her breathing slowed; eyes faraway. Ichabod's gaze followed hers and he saw them sitting in the living room on the hard plastic couch, holding hands. Their school uniforms were pressed and perfect, but their eyes were haunted. He was certain he knew what Miss Mills saw when she looked at them: ghosts. They were the embodiment of the memories of what she and Miss Jenny had seen in the forest that day and how Moloch had besmirched their souls; marked them. Ichabod knew without a doubt that if she stayed here, this was her fate, as well: to become nothing more than a fractured image of a tortured memory that most would find better forgotten.
He looked back at Abbie and it seemed to him that she was already drifting away from him, pulled along by Purgatory's treacherous eddies; lulled into a dreamless sleep from which there is no awakening.
He walked back to her and grabbed both of her shoulders. "Miss Mills, please abandon this endeavor! It's as though I've lost you already!"
Abbie flinched and looked back to him, and her eyes were no longer glazed. She was back with him, it seemed; back from whatever dark place her soul had gone for those few moments. "It's okay, Crane. I'm still here," she said, patting him on the shoulder.
For now, was the unspoken addition to her statement and Ichabod swore he heard it whispered to him from Purgatory's cold shadows. He felt an icy chill skitter down his back and shivered. He looked around the dollhouse she seemed intent on making her new permanent residence and just the thought of her spending eternity trapped within its walls made him sick to his stomach. All for what purpose? For him? To keep him alive so he could be with Katrina? How did she think he could ever find happiness knowing what she had sacrificed for him to have the opportunity?
"You need to go," Abbie said, pulling him away from his thoughts. "Your time is running out. I only hope Jenny finds you in time."
Ichabod's brow crinkled. "Miss Jenny? How do you know-"
"I just know she'll find you, Crane," she said, cutting him off. "But you won't last if I don't help you – if I don't give you my strength."
"How do you even know that your plan will be successful?" he asked limply, feeling defeated.
Abbie hooked her thumb back towards the younger Jenny and Abbie. "They told me about it. They said that if my intent is pure and I have no ulterior motive and I accept my fate of staying here, then I can give you all the mortal strength left in me. That should give you another few hours at least, maybe even 12, but…"
Crane bent down a bit to look in her eyes, brushing some hair away from her face. "There is a caveat?"
Abbie nodded, suddenly unable to look in his eyes. "Apparently, that strength is all that is tethering me to the mortal world. To life. Once I give it to you, I'll be cut loose."
"You'll die?!" Ichabod felt like someone had thrust a sword deep into his heart, and his breath left his lungs in a great rush. He was suddenly dizzy.
Abbie looked at him sideways, a sad smile on her face. She tried to laugh, but it came out as a sob. "I'm already dead, Crane. This is Purgatory, not Cancun. I knew this was a one-way trip when I came to the island with you, because I knew you would choose Katrina. She was only able to leave here because I took her place. I knew you'd never let her go again, so there's no way for me to come back. This is it for me. Giving you my strength is just sealing the deal, you might say. At least this way, my life will have MEANT something. I'll no longer be the messed-up foster kid who let a demon ruin her life. I will have given my life for a greater cause and to keep you alive. That's all that matters to me."
Ichabod took a deep breath. "So are my wishes not to be taken into consideration, then?" His words were short and clipped but full of fury. "You have decided to give your life to save mine, which is very heroic and I am truly grateful, but just where does that set my fate? You are my fellow Witness. You were meant to weather the seven years of tribulation WITH me. I do not understand why you believed this to be a mission of suicide. I certainly never intended for you to stay in Purgatory."
"Crane—" Abbie started, but the wildfire that had burned through him earlier had been reignited by his anger and he could not be denied. He ranted on.
"And, pray tell, what will you provide me to help me survive the loss of your company? A flower to lay on your headstone? Your rallying final words? Your…memory?"
His voice broke on the last word and his gaze slipped away from her for a moment. He was unwilling to allow her to see him so weak with worry and misery at the thought of going on without her; of losing her. When he looked back, her eyes were soft and full of tears. He thought for a moment that he might have weakened her resolve, but then moments later, her eyes flashed and her granite wall was back in place.
"Ichabod, your wishes are exactly what I AM thinking about."
He looked at her, brow furrowed. When he spoke, his voice was soft, but there was an edge to it. "Would you care to enlighten me, please, how you believe that my wish is for you to die?"
She walked towards him again, and as soon as she was close enough to touch, he felt that mysterious attraction and he could not bring himself to move away, even though he was angry.
"Your wish is to defeat Moloch and avert the apocalypse. Your wish, Ichabod, is to be reunited with Katrina and live your lives together – the destiny you were both robbed of so long ago. I truly understand that now. I guess I didn't before. So I can't stand in the way of that. All this time, all you've talked about is getting Katrina out of Purgatory. Well, she's out. She's back with you, Crane, and now this is your chance to get your happily ever after. She's the one you went to Purgatory for and faced a demon to save. Not me. I'm irrelevant."
Ichabod looked at her, his face a portrait of horror. "Miss Mills, there is folly in your logic. You do not-"
"I'm giving you that happily ever after," Abbie said, cutting him off mid-sentence by suddenly and shockingly pulling him down to press her lips to his in the sweetest, yet saddest kiss he had ever experienced.