Time seemed to stop altogether as their lips touched and he was sure he had never felt so connected to another human being in his strange and preternatural existence. He reached out and pulled her into his embrace, wrapping his arms around her tightly. She felt wonderful and perfect in his arms – as though he had been waiting his whole life to hold her. For a few moments, he allowed himself to be lost in the magic of their kiss and returned it. But then, the longer they kissed, the more certain Ichabod was that something else was happening between them. He could feel an energy passing from her to him that had nothing to do with emotions.
Or perhaps it had everything to do with emotions. Hadn't Miss Mills mentioned something about her intentions needing to be pure if her foolish plan was to come to fruition? Instantly terrified, he pushed her away, then rubbed his fingers roughly across his lips, trying to erase what had taken place.
"What have you done?!" He was horrified that she was going to evaporate before his eyes.
But before Abbie could answer, her eyes rolled back in her head and she fell to the ground like a petal from a flower. Ichabod managed to get to her before her head hit and eased her gently down onto the floor, tears filling his vision.
"What have you done? What have you done?" he whispered, his words a shadow of their earlier fervor, dread choking his throat with an iron grip.
His hands fluttered over her face and body uselessly even as he could still feel remnants of that energy stinging his lips. He also felt different, effused with strength. Powerful. Briefly, he thought of kissing her again, in the hopes that it might return that life force back to her, but abandoned the idea almost at once. After all, his intentions would not be pure. They were selfish – saving her life. He pulled her up to cradle her in his arms and looked over at younger Jenny and Abbie.
"Help her!" he shouted, frantic. "Please, I beg you!"
They turned in unison to look at him, but did not move. In the end, it was Jenny who spoke. "She has made her choice. It cannot be altered."
Crane looked at them, eyes wide in complete terror. "She did not understand the choice she was given!" he screamed. When their faces remained impassive, he turned back to Abbie and stroked her cheek gently. Closing his eyes, he let his head rest against hers. "She did not understand…" he said faintly.
"I…did…"
Crane flinched and his eyes snapped open. He found himself staring into Abbie's beautiful brown eyes. "Miss Mills? Are you injured?"
Her mouth curved into a small smile and she blinked a few times, seemingly attempting to awaken herself more fully. She tried to move and then apparently realized she was being held in Ichabod's steely embrace. "Umm…Crane?"
He immediately released his hold on her and moved to help her to stand. He watched as she brought her hands to her head, rubbing her temples.
"I apologize, but I feared for your safety. You fell after we…ah, subsequent to our…" he faltered, too embarrassed to say the word.
Abbie stood on wobbly legs, reminding him oddly of a newborn fawn and moved one hand to his arm to steady herself. She looked up at him through her hair, and he swore he saw shyness in her eyes.
"After we kissed?" she finally asked, her voice uncharacteristically small and soft.
He wondered if the kiss had felt as magical and thrilling to her as it had to him. He did not voice his question. He fell into his familiar stance of a soldier at ease: hands clasped behind his back and only nodded briskly once, looking somewhere to the left of her face. "Correct."
"Sorry about that, Crane. It was the only way."
He wanted so much to tell her that she should never apologize for kissing him and he was now speculating if he would be able to make it through the rest of his life if it never happened again.
"The only way?" he repeated, saying none of what his heart wanted him to say. Then the realization of what she meant hit him and he felt his heart plummeting. He found the courage to look into her eyes and his fears from before came racing back. He knew what she was going to say.
She moved closer to him and took his hand tenderly, looking at him with nothing but happiness. For the life of him he could not seem to formulate a reason as to why she would be so happy.
"You have it now. You'll be okay. You'll last until Jenny finds you."
She leaned closer to hug him tightly for a few moments, but it was so fast that Ichabod didn't even have time to put his arms around her. Before he knew it, she had retreated and was looking off at Jenny and Abbie again.
"I can feel that it's gone. I feel different; lighter."
She seemed to be directing the statement towards them, but they did not reply.
Ichabod reached out and took her hand in his. She looked back to him, apparently surprised at the contact. "Abbie, please reverse what you have done," he said, daring to break with etiquette and use her first name. "I am begging you."
Her face crumpled a bit and he even thought she looked a bit offended. "I can't reverse it, Crane. And despite what you think, I did understand what I was doing – what I was choosing. I did it freely and honestly."
"But you have condemned yourself to Purgatory and this damnable dollhouse for all of eternity!" he roared. "And for what?!"
She looked at him, tears shining in her eyes and he felt the peculiar notion that she was memorizing his face. "For you," she said simply, stepping back from him, her hand slipping from his.
"But why?" he cried, his blue eyes wounded. The fear that she was forever tumbling away from him at a breakneck speed gripped him suddenly, and he felt nauseous. "We were supposed to stop Moloch together," he said, his voice softer, defeated. "Not for you to spend eternity languishing in this horrid place. We promised each other."
"We promised a lot of things," Abbie said, the hurt at his choice touching her words for the first time.
She let out a breath and walked over to the window. Outside laid Purgatory in its awful splendor. Tortured souls crying out in agony, lost in their own personal hell as time went on without their notice. Ichabod could not begin to imagine her lost in this place forever. His heart ached at the thought. He wasn't so distraught when Katrina was trapped here and he was beginning to think he knew why.
"Did I ever tell you about my grandmother?" Abbie asked suddenly, the previous venom leeched from her voice. She spoke as if they were meeting on a lazy Sunday afternoon and had all the time in the world. She looked to him, waiting for his reply.
Ichabod did not comprehend why she suddenly wished to reminisce about her grandmother, but he decided to indulge her. He shook his head; said nothing.
"I didn't get to see her much and there's not much about her I remember. But there is one thing she said that has stuck with me: take care of those you love." Abbie chuckled sadly. "Too bad my mom never took that one to heart."
Ichabod was about to say something to comfort her, but she spoke before he was able.
"Doesn't matter now, does it? Anyway, I believe that wholeheartedly. You take care of those you love and that's what I am doing. I'd do the same for Jenny."
He looked at her in a mixture of confusion and newborn hope and was unable to think of anything to say that would make any sense. For the first time in his life, it seemed, he was rendered speechless.
Abbie moved from the window back towards him and pulled him to her gently, reverently. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she nestled her head against his chest – near his heart – and took a deep breath. He felt as though she were preparing to say something. He imagined her lips pursed and brow furrowed; the way she looked when she was going to tell him something important.
"I know this won't really matter to you, Crane. Your heart belongs to somebody else – I get that and I respect it, but the truth is…I love you. It's as simple as that."
Ichabod felt his heart begin to beat double-time and thought it might burst from his chest. He made no move to return her embrace out of fear that she would run away from him if he tried. He felt as though shock had permeated his entire being. Abbie's declaration took him totally by surprise. He thought he had been alone in his newfound feelings.
"Miss Mills, I never dreamed that—"
"It's okay, Crane," she said. Surprisingly, she didn't move from where she was. He felt no anxiety emanating from her. No regret. "I know you don't feel the same. I'm just your partner. You love Katrina and that's how it is. That's why I'm doing this – so you can be with her - and it's why I know you'll be fine without me. Besides, even if you could have gotten me out of here by some miracle, I'm thinking Katrina is not big on being the third wheel anyway."
Confused as to her turn of phrase, he looked down at her, using his fingers to tip her chin up and force her to look into his eyes. "Third wheel?"
He noticed she could hardly hold his gaze. "There would have been no room for me if we all got out of here. You, Katrina and me down in the archives all fighting Moloch? I don't really see that working. That's how I know this is the right choice. It's like a big neon VACANCY sign pointing me to my destiny. It's better this way. Trust me. Besides, you'll be better off with a witch on your side instead of just a cop."
He took hold of her gently by her shoulders. "You are more than just an officer of the law."
She shrugged. "Okay, a Witness. Still…witch beats Witness every time."
He shook his head and finally put his arms around her slight frame. His eyes shifted into a warm cornflower blue. "You embody far more than a Witness…to me."
"Crane…" Abbie tried to pull away, but he wouldn't let her go.
"Miss Mills, earlier you intimated that I came to Purgatory to rescue my soul mate. However, I've recently come to grasp that the veracity of that statement is in question."
Abbie looked at him quizzically. She once again tried to pull back from him, but his arms were bands of steel around her. He was unwilling to let her get too far away. "Crane, I didn't understand one word of that."
He smiled and looked down at her, feeling the butterflies returning. He thought he would never tire of gazing at her face or feeling her in his arms and the very notion that this might be the last time he would do so made him certain that he had to confess his feelings now.
"Is it so hard to believe, Miss Mills?" he asked, finally. When she did not respond, he added, "I did not journey here to rescue my soul mate. She came with me."
Abbie stared at him for what felt like eons, her chocolate-brown eyes wide as saucers, lovely mouth agape. For a moment, Crane wondered if she had lapsed into some sort of catatonia and was about to shake her, when he saw a single tear make its way down her cheek. Then suddenly, she was kissing him again, and unbelievably, it was better than the first time, because there was no ulterior motive behind it. It was only the two of them, skin to skin, lost in the deep currents of their emotions.
Ichabod wrapped his arms as tight around her as he could until it seemed that she were melting into him and they were one body, one soul, one consciousness. Two Witnesses melded into one formidable shield against humanity. In their current state, he felt that Moloch's powers were infinitesimal compared to the strength they could wield when united in their love for one another.
At long last, Abbie broke from him, and he almost cried out at the loss. He took her hand, refusing to let her get very far from him, unable to endure it.
"Ichabod, I'll always be right here," she said, laying her other hand reverently on his chest; over his heart. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, unheeded, and her eyes sparkled with them; stars hovering in the cosmos of her stunning face. "Nothing can take me away from you, you hear me? Not Moloch or Purgatory and not time. We're forever."
For the first time in his life, Ichabod felt a sob working its way up from the depths of his soul. He let go of Abbie and covered his face with his hands, his whole body shaking.
"This is unbearable!" he shrieked, looking up at her, eyes wild. "I will not leave you here again! Especially not when we've just become aware of how we feel for each other. This cannot be the culmination of our relationship..." He ended his tirade in a whimper and pulled her close again.
Abbie reached up on tip-toe and kissed his stubbly cheek, tasting his tears. Her hand cradled his other cheek, her thumb stroking his lips.
"It has to be," she said, her voice breaking. "This is where our story ends, Ichabod. But not yours. You have to go on because we can't let Moloch win. He's already gotten me. He can't win the war."
Ichabod took a shaky breath, tenderly pushing some of her hair away from her brow. He looked down at her in complete adoration. "I fear I am of no use without you, my dear Lieutenant," he confessed.
"You'll have Katrina," Abbie suggested.
Ichabod shook his head, tears in his eyes. He reached up to touch her cheek with his left hand. "Hers is not the face I wish to see each morning. Hers is not the hand I wish to hold and hers is not the heart to which I belong."
Abbie's face crumbled and another tear streamed down her face. "Damn you and your way with words," she said, mock admonishment in her voice, a small smile on her lips. "I really wish you had figured this out BEFORE we came to Purgatory, you know? Maybe you wouldn't be in that coffin right now."
Ichabod nodded, pulling her close once more. He breathed in the familiar scent of her, using it as a balm on his battered soul. "I beg you to believe that if I had the opportunity to go back and start again, everything would be different. I would never have allowed you to remain here, no matter what your proclamations were. I shall never forgive myself for this. Not in 10,000 lifetimes. I thought I had sinned before, but nothing compares to the sin I have perpetrated against you."
He watched as sadness bloomed across her face at his words, and she pulled away, sitting down at the dollhouse's table. She looked so alone sitting there; never more an orphan than at that moment.
"Can't go back, Ichabod," she finally said, lowering her head; her voice a pale imitation of its usual bravado. She drifted off for a moment, head hanging low, her breathing shallow. It was then that Ichabod noticed how weary she seemed. He was almost certain he could see the life force seeping from her with every moment that passed.
Finally, Abbie raised her head, and Ichabod was shocked at how pale she looked. Her eyes were duller, as well; almost lifeless. "If there's one thing I learned in my life it's that our choices are our own and we have to live with them." Her voice was so soft, so faint and weak, but somehow, she pressed on. "You chose to bring Katrina back. I chose to stay in Purgatory. And just now, I chose to give you my strength. It was a choice made from love and I won't take it back. Without it, you were going to die in that unmarked grave on that lonely island…"
Abbie trailed off and closed her eyes. She wrapped her arms around her midsection and slumped back into the chair, breathing slowly. It was as though her declaration had sapped all of the meager strength she had left.
Ichabod rushed to her side and kneeled next to her, pulling her against his chest. "Hush now," he said tenderly, stroking her cheek. "You're too weak. Please save your strength."
Abbie was quiet for a while, just breathing. Ichabod said nothing; just held her and hoped that somehow she would be able to draw strength from him. As he did, he slowly noticed the strange sensation of a fullness settling around where he assumed his heart was. It was not an unpleasant feeling, instead it seemed to soothe his frayed nerves and calm the tempest inside. Gradually as Miss Mills' breaths became lighter and less labored, he found his own doing the same.
He felt a tug on his sleeve and when he looked down at her, he was amazed at how young she suddenly looked – almost like a girl – and how healthy! Her previous bruises were gone. Her cheeks were full and glowing and the wound on her shoulder had disappeared. Beyond her physical recovery, it seemed like all of the pain and abuse and loneliness she had weathered in her mortal life had been lifted away, like a veil. The heavy darkness that once marred her soul and the burden it had placed on her was gone and only lightness and pure beauty remained. He was made breathless by her unearthly grace. Ichabod was certain that this was what it must feel like to gaze upon a heavenly being. Before he even realized it, his hand cradled her cheek.
"You are so beautiful," he breathed, almost like a prayer. "An angel."
She half-smiled and exhaled slowly, looking away from him shyly. "They told me this might happen."
Ichabod made her look back at him and stroked her cheek gently with his thumb. He could not stop gazing at her. His eyes were wide with the wonder and splendor of her. "That what might happen?"
"You've got a part of me inside you now, Crane," she said slowly. His brow crinkled and he wondered if that was the fullness he had taken note of before.
"What I gave you was more than just my physical strength," Abbie continued. "You have a piece of my soul. So you can see the real me; the one I usually hide. The woman behind all the pain and sorrow I knew in my life. When you look at me now, all of the stuff I used as my armor – all the things I hid behind – they're gone. My wounds aren't really gone. It's just that you can't see them anymore. You can only see the truth of my soul. This is me."
"Why did you ever hide something so precious?" he asked in amazement. "I've always thought you beautiful and brave, but now…here…you are magnificent."
Abbie smiled, a blush creeping across her cheeks, her eyes glittering. "You and your way with words."
She kissed his left cheek, then; lingered there, near the corner of his lips. Somehow, it felt like an incredibly intimate thing for her to do and he smiled, feeling his heart break into a gallop; a colt in spring.
"Now I'll always be with you," she whispered, her voice catching a bit. "You'll never walk alone and there's nothing Moloch can do about it."
He took her hand reverently between his own. "I do not wish to merely have part of you with me, Miss Mills. I wish to have all of you. Surely you can remain steadfast until I return and procure your release? Please, Abbie."
She looked up at him adoringly, but shook her head. "That's not possible now. Besides, I don't want you wasting time worrying about me or trying to save me. It's okay, Crane."
He gripped her hand a little tighter. "Lieutenant, I do not believe you realize the depth of my feelings. Have you forgotten my previous declaration?"
She sighed. "Things look different here, like I said. They feel different. I think this place amplifies the emotions of mortal people. Once you get back and you're with Katrina, you'll feel differently. You'll remember your love for her." She took a deep breath and tried to smile.
"Am I to understand by all that gibberish that you believe I will forget my feelings for you once I leave this place? That you will cease to mean anything to me?" he asked, his blue eyes bright with anger. He felt tears of frustration on his cheeks but didn't bother to wipe them away.
She reached up and smoothed his tears away. "I didn't mean it that way. I know you won't forget me, but I'm hoping you will be able to find joy in your life…in Katrina. This is how it has to be now. Look," she said, pointing off towards the younger version of herself and Jenny.
Ichabod looked to where she had directed and saw that the younger Jenny and Abigail had risen from the couch. They were standing hand in hand looking at them, but the most amazing thing about the pair was that they were smiling. Previously, their faces had been gaunt and hollow with fear and sadness, but now they were glowing with joy.
"Thank you," they suddenly said in unison, looking right at Abbie. The combination of their voices produced a strange eerie effect and sent a chill down Ichabod's back. He felt the hair on the back of his neck rising.
Ichabod looked from them to Abbie and back again. Why were they thanking her? He turned back to Abbie, eyes wide, fear gripping his heart with an ice-cold certainty. "What is the meaning of this?"
Abbie took his hand, but said nothing; simply inclined her head to them in acknowledgement.
Ichabod looked back at the pair and noticed that their forms were no longer solid. He could almost see through their bodies to the wall behind them. They began to shimmer, like the water in the pond behind his childhood home in England, and each moment that passed, he could see more of the wall and less of them. They did not seem afraid in the slightest for their eyes were bright with laughter and wonder.
Just before they disappeared completely, he heard them say, "We're free…"
Their words echoed in the air of the dollhouse even after he could no longer see them, and although they had appeared happy to go to wherever and whatever awaited them, he found their absence unnerving and feared they foreshadowed a similar fate for Abbie. Would she be next to evaporate before his very eyes?
"Miss Mills, please—"
She put a finger to his lips effectively stopping his words and smiled at him. Once again, he was transfixed by her now otherworldly beauty and poise. Her movements were fluid – those of an accomplished dancer – but even more elegant still. Her eyes were liquid pools of topaz and her skin seemed lit from within and looked as soft as silk. He wanted nothing more than to touch her at that moment. He had thought her beautiful from their first meeting, but now, paradoxically in this inherently ugly place, she was more beautiful than ever; almost unnaturally so. It was very powerful – this ability he now had to see her true version. In truth, it only made his feelings for her stronger and more profound. If he tried, he was also quite certain that now, more than just a vague fullness, he could feel the essence of her presence deep within himself; hiding in the very marrow of his bones. She was in him, curling around his mind and between every beat of his heart and in the spaces between every breath he took. Ichabod knew they had formed a fast camaraderie soon after meeting, and that had transformed into a deep friendship that had sustained him in this strange time. Recently, though, he had begun to notice other deeper emotions regarding the Lieutenant that had begun surfacing just before they came here, and now he was quite certain that bond had solidified into the eternity of soul mates.
"It's time, Crane." She pulled him from his reverie and he noticed that even her voice had transformed to him; become melodic and lyrical even when speaking mundane words. Just the mere sound of it nearly bewitched him and he wondered if this was how sailors felt when they were lured by mermaids.
"Time?" He couldn't seem to remember to what she was referring, so lost was he in the spectacle of her, but quickly, meaning dawned on him, like a red sky at sea; a warning. The idea that he had to leave her was like a bucket of cold water on his head and he was suddenly petrified.
She nodded, but her smile never wavered. If she was scared at all, he was unable to discern it. "Yep. I don't want you to, but you gotta go."
"I've already informed you that I have no intention of leaving you here – especially not to dissolve into nothing like your companions just did!" He knew his voice had a hysterical edge to it, but he couldn't seem to control it.
Abbie didn't seem upset by his ranting. Instead, she seemed to exude serenity and peace and the very dichotomy of what she should be feeling and what she appeared to be made him even more upset. He felt himself begin to shake and his vision darkened, inherently he knew that pure panic was chasing him down the way any demon would.
Abbie was immediately in his arms and the moment he felt her body against his, it soothed some of the turmoil in his soul. The gloom retreated from his vision and he felt his body still. His eyes drifted shut and he pulled her as close as he was able and bit down a cry.
"Shh…Crane, it's okay," she said, gently rubbing his back. Once again, the new persuasive capacity of her voice made him almost powerless to resist anything she might ask of him. "I'm here with you."
"For now," he said, finally voicing the fear that had plagued him since he had found her here.
"No. Remember, I'm inside you now. I'll be with you, always, Crane," she said gently, affection flooding her voice, filling it to bursting.Her voice lulled him into a kind of reverie and he could do nothing but stand there in her embrace. Time stretched and lost its meaning and he did not know how long they stood like that, heart to heart. It could have been an eternity for all he knew, because all he did know was that he never wanted to leave her side.