The hospital hallway was grey and dim – lifeless – and Ichabod felt like the walls were closing in on him. He had not been in many hospitals since he had awakened in this new time, but already he had a great distaste for them. They seemed apathetic and impersonal and a place where no healing of any kind could take place. Sighing loudly he turned on his heel, like a good soldier, and began his hundredth trip back down the hallway.
He had been pacing for hours, but could not find it within himself to sit. Sitting led to thinking, which led to worrying, which would quickly lead to madness because so far, they had been told nothing about Abigail's condition. He was tortured by thoughts that she had bled to death and he hadn't gotten the chance to tell her goodbye or that he would be with her again soon.
Intensifying his pace, he continued down the hall, looking down at Jenny as he passed. She was slumped in a chair, her head back and eyes closed. She had her vest wadded up behind her head as a pillow, and had been that way for the better part of an hour now and he could only hazard a guess that her thoughts were much the same as his. Perhaps he should sit and talk with her? Perchance it would bring them both a measure of peace?
His thoughts were on what to say, when suddenly, someone came careening around the corner, running full on into him and making him lose his footing momentarily.
When he recovered, he looked up to find himself staring into green eyes he had not seen for the better part of three months.
Katrina.
He could barely manage to keep from leaving immediately. Just the sight of her made him feel queasy and his self-hatred roiled, making him feel slightly dizzy. Only the thought that the doctor could come out at any moment with news of Abbie kept him still.
"Abigail has returned?" she asked, slightly out of breath, her eyes wide. If she noticed his reaction to her, she paid it no mind and did not make it obvious in her expression.
Ichabod was slightly shocked to see her in modern dress: hair loose with dark jeans, a long red tunic and a black leather jacket.
A jacket similar to one that Abbie owned.
He swallowed the lump in his throat and merely nodded, falling back on his familiar, protective soldier's pose: hands behind his back.
"Yeah, we found her at the baseball field. She's in really bad shape," Jenny supplied, wiping her face in an apparent attempt to rouse herself.
Katrina heard, but seemed to have eyes only for Ichabod. Her expression was one of astonishment. "Ichabod, your face…it's so pale…and you look malnourished. Are you not eating?"
Ichabod was not shocked that she was surprised. She truly did not understand the depth of his feelings for Abbie or she would not have asked the question. He tried to keep his voice calm as he answered, his jaw clenched. "I have not had much of an appetite since Miss Mills has been missing."
Katrina nodded and took a step back at his quiet tone, her hands fiddling nervously with the edges of her tunic. Perhaps something of the truth was finally reaching her. "You discovered her at the…baseball field, you said? Why were you both there? Research?"
"Crane goes there almost every night," Jenny blurted before Ichabod could answer.
He turned and shot her a dark glare. Why in the world would she ever tell Katrina such information? She looked back sheepishly and shrugged.
"Whatever for?" Katrina asked.
Ichabod hesitated just a moment before answering. "Miss Mills once brought me there as an amusing diversion. It has special…meaning for us. I went there to feel closer to her."
Katrina looked as though she had been slapped. "I see."
Ichabod turned back to Jenny, a thought suddenly occurring to him. "The fact that she was returned to that very place must mean something. Before I left Purgatory, she told me that if I were to think of her, I should think of her there. It cannot be mere coincidence that she reappeared at that very spot."
Jenny nodded and Ichabod watched as an expression of confusion settled on her features as Katrina sat down next to her.
Ichabod was equally perplexed. "May I ask what you are doing?" He was quite sure that Jenny was wondering the same thing.
Katrina looked up at him, pain clearly evident in her jade eyes. When she spoke, her voice was thick with it. "You may not believe it, my love, but I do care about Abigail. I never wanted her to remain in Purgatory. I do not understand how she has returned, but the fact remains that she has. So if it is agreeable, I would like to remain and wait with you both until we discern her condition."
Ichabod looked to Jenny. She merely shrugged and he knew that she was too tired to argue or force Katrina to go, and he was, as well. So he relented. "As you wish."
They waited like that for another hour: Jenny and Katrina in the chairs while Ichabod paced and brooded. Katrina and Ichabod did not speak to each other. They barely breathed. Ichabod found the whole situation completely inappropriate. In truth, what could he and Katrina possibly converse about? The whole scenario was so bizarre it was almost laughable.
Almost.
Perhaps if Abbie weren't in the other room fighting for her life, they could have shared pleasantries. Perhaps if Abbie hadn't been the captive of a demon for four months and hadn't been tortured and abused by that same demon for those four months, they could have gone to the cafeteria for a cup of coffee. Conceivably, if Abbie hadn't been in Purgatory because she had bravely taken Katrina's place out of misplaced trust, they could have sat together and prayed.
But Abbie was in the next room fighting for her life and she had been held captive and tortured and she had taken Katrina's place in Purgatory, and so, Katrina and Ichabod were the last two in the world to ever be friends again.
Suddenly, the doors at the end of the hall swished open and the doctor came out. He was younger, with thick dark hair combed back from his face. His eyes were a dark coffee brown and seemed kind. His dark green scrubs were littered with blood and just the sight of him brought Jenny immediately to Ichabod's side, her hand clenched around his forearm. Katrina stayed back, but close enough to hear.
"Is she all right?" Jenny asked, her voice tremulous.
Ichabod held his breath, waiting for what the doctor would say. His next words would determine the course of his life. They were all that mattered.
"The worst of your sister's injuries was her shoulder," he said, his voice thick from fatigue. "She presented with extremely deep lacerations – all the way to the bone – and needed surgery to repair the damage. She lost a lot of blood – before and during the operation. I'm sorry you were waiting so long, but the surgery was difficult. I'm actually not certain how she survived the amount of blood she lost."
He ran a hand through his hair and untied the mask that had been below his chin, shoving it into his pocket. "Her other injuries were not life-threatening, just cuts and bruises. Her arm will be in a sling for weeks, though, and I hate to say this, but I'm not sure if she'll ever have normal use of her shoulder again. We'll just have to wait and see. She will need extensive physical therapy once the wound has healed. You can go and see her now, if you like. She is not awake, but resting comfortably."
He turned and walked back through the door, never looking back.
Jenny and Ichabod moved as one to follow the doctor and then they both stopped suddenly, looking at each other.
Katrina.
"Miss Jenny, please go on ahead. I will follow directly."
Jenny looked from Ichabod to Katrina and quickly mouthed "I'm sorry" to her before she turned and slipped through the door.
Ichabod turned to Katrina, his blue eyes bright with barely checked anger. "I do not think you should be there when Miss Mills first awakens," he said, his voice even and emotionless.
Katrina pulled on her jacket, nodding as a tear slipped down her cheek. "And that is the crux of all of our discord, is it not? You do not think I should be here at all."
Ichabod took a deep breath and retreated again to his familiar posture – soldier at ease. It was his armor.
"Katrina, you know very well my feelings on the matter. We made a bargain with the Lieutenant. She was never supposed to remain in Purgatory for any length of time and certainly not forever. She trusted us and we deceived her. Not to mention the many lies you told me as easily as you took to breathing – the greatest of which was the very existence of our son!"
Katrina looked at him sadly, tears shining in her eyes. "They were not lies, Ichabod. They were half-truths meant to protect you."
Ichabod looked at her sideways, eyebrow raised. "A marriage cannot be built upon a debate of semantics, Katrina. It seems that everything you do and say has a hidden agenda or meaning. As did your promise to Miss Mills."
"Ichabod, I would have gone back to Purgatory if it had been possible. I swear it! But it was no longer a viable option after she made her choice."
He nodded, looking at her coldly. "So you say…and yet, here she is."
Katrina took a step back, obviously shaken by his demeanor. When she spoke, it was softly and carefully. "No matter what you believe, I never wanted that to be her fate and I certainly never wished her to be harmed."
Ichabod stared at her, shaking his head. "I can only tell you what I know, Katrina, and that is that when I look at you now, all I see is our betrayal of the Lieutenant. We did a great injustice to her and must live with that, and I don't know how I will ever be able to forget it. Your very countenance is a living memorial to our sin."
At his words, something shined in her eyes for a moment and she moved closer to him, her hand outstretched. Ichabod shrank back instantly, his eyes wide, unsure of her intent.
Katrina froze and stood there, looking into his eyes for a few moments and he felt as though she were desperately searching for something which no longer lived. She sought a dead thing that he no longer cared to try and revive, for another had taken its place inside, deep inside, next to his heart. The vestige of Abbie burned brightly and proudly from within and around him and blotted out anything else. It seemed to proclaim its possession of him as clearly as if it had a voice. He could feel it growing stronger now that he knew Abbie would survive.
Katrina seemed to sense this and nodded, stepping away from him again. "I see now that there is truly no hope for us. You have changed, Ichabod, on a basic level. Your very heart beats a different rhythm now. You love Abigail in a way that is much stronger than how you ever felt about me. It is an affinity of souls; a sameness of ilk. It is plain to see. I would call it beautiful if it did not hurt me so."
Ichabod sighed. "Katrina—"
She cut him off, raising her hands. "No, I understand now. You are correct. This is not my place. I will go."
She turned to leave, but Ichabod's hand on her arm stopped her. He looked at her more gently than he had since he awakened in the very same hospital four months ago.
"You must believe I never meant to harm you. I am truly sorry that I made vows to you that I can no longer keep. My heart and soul belong to Abbie and I am bound to her in a way far more profound than a simple ceremony. There is nothing that can change that and I cannot in good faith live a life that would be tantamount to a hoax."
Katrina looked stricken and her face paled, but she managed a nod. "I would expect nothing less from the great Ichabod Crane."
Ichabod looked at her strangely, uncertain if her words were the truth or meant as an insult. He was about to speak when he heard the door swish again and Jenny stepped out.
"Crane, are you coming?"
Ichabod turned and looked back at Jenny quickly, nodding. He glanced once more at Katrina and saw she was wiping a tear from her cheek. Without another word, he turned and walked through the doors with Jenny.
Before the door swished shut gently, he heard Katrina softly speak three words that would have been his complete undoing 250 years earlier: "Farewell, my love."