I'd like to say that even though I don't watch Sleepy Hollow anymore, I'm still deeply in love with Ichabod and Katrina. To heck with the show. They had a great love story to slowly reveal as a backdrop to the Witnesses fight against evil and they messed it up every chance they got. Betsy freaking who?
The feel of warm sunshine caressing his skin as he lay amidst soft sheets and tangled blankets had become his favorite greeting to each new day. While this new time he found himself existing in often terrified and overwhelmed him, there was something so simple and beautiful about the morning hours. Perhaps, the first stirrings of a new day were a recall to an old life; a common occurrence he was accustomed to already as nothing in nature really changed. It could also be the fact that at this point in the new day he'd yet to stumble across anything too odd or difficult to understand. He was still safe from anything other than the comfort of his bed's embrace and the sweet dreams which had come before.
This morning, however, was different. Upon stirring, the first thing that had truly occurred to his conscious mind was the sound of birds going about their business outside the bedroom window. That was an expected sound as it was what he awoke to every morning, but the real difference came in the following moments; a difference that, at first, nearly made him jump out of his skin. It was the feel of fingers lightly stroking his bearded jaw. Such a realization as someone being in bed with him had him quite too tense to move.
Then, ever so slowly, the familiarity became too much to ignore and, before he knew it, he found himself fighting a smile as the knowledge of who was touching him sank in.
"It's nice to see two centuries hasn't changed your insufferable need to watch me sleep."
The tinkling of her silvery laughter warmed his ears and a breathless feeling consumed him as he opened his eyes to see a bright smile greeting him from her seated position at his side. It seemed almost as though he were still dreaming what with the way the sun was dancing along her fiery hair; making her seem like she might be some tempting angel he may never have the joy of holding again.
Lifting his hand to cover hers and hopefully dash away any doubts of her being a beautiful reality, he felt his heart swell at the warmth of her skin. So in awe of her, he couldn't help his whisper of, "You're here."
The flutter of her eyelids told of her surprise as she regarded him with an ever softening smile. "Where I belong."
Perhaps, he should admit how deeply her words sunk into his heart, but he couldn't bring himself to utter the shameful darkness that was his life without her. He wasn't yet ready to confess to her how many nights he'd screamed at the darkness, begging and pleading for it to return her to him.
No, instead, he asked, "How long have you been awake?"
Her shoulders gave a half shrug as she continued smiling at him; the wizened brilliance of her eyes holding him in place. "I'm not quite sure. Tracking time seems so trivial to me now." Her eyes fell to their hands, where she began tracing her thumb over his knuckles with light strokes. "A moment spent with you now seems like a lifetime of sought after dreams coming to pass."
Well, he could certainly become accustomed to her speaking in such a way. "I did promise you that if you married me, I'd treat you better than any dream you could muster."
Eyes glinting in the morning sunlight, she tilted her head with a thoughtful look. "You asking me to marry you was better than any fairytale I've ever heard spoken."
With a grunt, his hand fell to her waist. "Your father didn't think so."
"Neither did yours," she added softly.
It was true. While her father had been thoroughly put out by his only daughter up and daring to go against society's rules in the name of love, it was his father who had been the tempest that had nearly ruined them before they had began. His father's first letter after he had defected had been to berate him and demand his return. The second had been a manipulation device in the guise of his mother's ill health due to his choices. The third and final had been to disown him as his son as the reality of a wife seemed to be the nail in the coffin of him ever returning home. His father had known well enough that his taking a wife meant he was sure in his choice to remain in the colonies. The final letter had forbidden him from ever returning to his childhood home.
While he'd always been sure in his decision to fight for his beliefs and marry for love, the idea that he would never again see his family after the war had found its end had nearly driven him mad for a time. Katrina had done everything she was supposed to do; everything possible to do. She'd been his shoulder to weep on, his encourager, his ever strong supporter. She'd been everything he loved and admired.
However, in his youth and idiocy, he'd finally pushed her away, nearly ending their engagement altogether. It had seemed set in stone that he would forever punish himself with guilt for disrespecting his family in such a fashion as he had, forever refuse to allow himself any happiness, but Katrina hadn't had any of it. After a week of his avoiding her, she'd busted into his barracks, thrown his boots at him, and told him to rise up and marry her before she murdered him herself. Even to this day, he still wasn't sure if he'd done as she'd said in that moment because of the love they'd shared, or because of the clear intent within her to do just as she'd threatened shining in her determined olive eyes. By that night's passing, they'd become man and wife; one flesh for eternity. It was a choice he'd never once regretted.
"I've never been so happy to admit I was a disobedient child."
Her returned smile at his words brought his grin out in full force. Nothing made him happier than seeing her happy.
"You can't possibly imagine how dearly I treasured waking to you this morning," she whispered as her fingers skimmed his chest. "I honestly never thought I'd experience such a precious moment again."
A barely evident tremor in her voice, one he only knew due to years of studying her, prompted him to push himself up to sit face to face with her and lift a hand to cup her neck, praying all the while that she could see the sincerity exuding from him during his next words. "I can imagine it just perfectly. When I arrived in this strange world and found that gravestone with your name on it..."
No words could truly describe the feeling which had overcome him that night all those months ago.
Her hands came to rest on either side of his face as she leaned within a breath of him. "Oh, my love, please forgive me. I never meant to cause you such pain. If there had been any other way, please know that I would have sought it out. I would have given anything, paid any price..."
Vision blurring, he dipped his head to capture her lips in the kiss he'd dreamed of all night; the one that had haunted his dreams, begging to be made a reality.
The sweet feel of her smooth flesh slipping along his was dizzying in how deeply it affected him. The depth of control she had over him, from the rhythm of his breathing to the flush of his cheeks, should have been a discomforting talent to him, but admittedly he thrived from it. She released him of responsibility in these moments, of the need to discern and ferret out the reasons for why or how things happened. He did very little thinking when with her in this way, something he was unaccustomed to in his life's journey. Being a man with so much knowledge swimming in his mind often placed overwhelming amounts of stress on his shoulders. So, to be able to release some of his control to her, to be weak in her arms, was such an intensely gratifying feeling to him.
Soon enough, his fingers were threaded through her thick, silky hair; the desire to feel the full effect of kissing her having him pull her closer. She was so soft, so welcoming, that he wondered how he'd survived a day without her, much less months on end that had seemed to bear no hope for their entwined futures.
If he could have damned the need to breath to hell, he would have, but it eventually became too much of a necessity to ignore as he pulled back from her kiss and rested his forehead to hers; their mingled breaths washing over their faces respectively.
"You're so beautiful," he whispered as he slid his hands along her shoulders and down her arms. "My beautiful, Katrina."
After a moment, she pulled away and fixed him with a thin smile. "I-is there anywhere I could wash for the day?" She dropped her eyes to the thin shirt covering her upper body and began fidgeting with the material. "I don't want to-"
The realization that she was self-conscious of her appearance and hygiene occurred to him. It had been so long since he'd seen her worry over such things. In truth, they could both use some time to freshen up. Morning breath wasn't the most romantic of smells, but it was a scent he adored, not because of the smell, but because of the intimacy it spoke of.
Lifting her chin so he could catch her hesitant eyes, he assured, "You could be wearing a feed sack and smell like the back end of a mule and I'd still desire you like a man dying of unbearable thirst."
The fight she was now putting up with the grin attempting to take over her face was obvious in the twitching of her lips. "Be that as it may..."
Not caring to hide his own grin, he pushed himself up from the bed and bowed low to her with his hand held out to her. "My lady?"
The fight was over as her grin was now on full display as she took his hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet.
"Now, for your first lesson," he began as he led her toward the bathroom. "You should know that this is going to be the most glorious bit of learning you may ever encounter in this century."
To his delight, her eyebrows knitted as she took in the plain shower curtain. "What is it?"
Eagerly pushing the curtain back, he bent to turn the water on before activating the mechanism which shot the water from the faucet overhead. When he was satisfied with the temperature, he took her hand and smiled reassuringly in light of her wide eyes as he guided it under the water.
Her subsequent squeal brought a bubble of laughter from him as her hand jerked back. "It's warm!"
Quickly nodding his agreement, he said, "It's astounding, is it not?"
She seemed to be mesmerized as she stuck her hand under the water again, slowly testing the new discovery. "Is this where I'm meant to cleanse?"
With a shrug of his shoulders, he said, "Unless you'd prefer a bath? I could draw one for you."
"No," she quickly replied with a reassuring smile. "This is fine."
Satisfied she would be alright, he showed her how to work the knobs then left her to her own devices after bringing her the bag Abbie had so graciously brought earlier, which had surprisingly contained detailed instructions on just about everything Katrina needed to know; from the use of deodorant to the art of shaving.
Now, he was sitting on the edge of the bed, nervously tapping his feet in anticipation of her emergence or possible call for help. As he waited, he considered their first morning together to be going smoothly. He wouldn't admit it out loud, but he'd taken more than a small measure of pride in being able to teach her how to operate the shower. For him, for once, to be the one with knowledge of a modern contraption filled him with the confidence he'd been sorely lacking for some time.
Though, he was grateful to Abbie for all the care she'd shown while being patient with him, it infuriated him to no end that he was helpless in most situations. He often attempted to cast his lack of knowledge off as though he were fine, but, deep down, he felt completely emasculated.
To have to ask for help, be weak, was not something he was accustomed to being. Sure, every now and then, it was fine; small doses and nothing more. However, apart from his random offerings of knowledge from his time about some important figure or another, he contributed little; he accomplished little.
In his time, he'd been a man in every sense of the word. He'd worked for his earnings, provided for his wife, and had been a respected member of his town. People had known his name, not because he'd made an unintentional fool of himself, or stuck out like a sore thumb, but because he was a true colonist and hero.
Not here, though.
No, here, he was like a dog begging to be fed. He was of little import to the town as a whole. No one knew his name, or had any respect for him. He had no job, or means to contribute to society. He was a helpless burden and he just knew it wouldn't be long before Katrina, his beloved wife, would see him as less than a man as well. She'd never say it in a thousand years as her love for him ran too deeply, but she'd think it. Surely, before the week let out, she'd notice how little he contributed to their new life, how little he had to offer; save for his unyielding love.
What would he say when she broached such a topic? When she asked about the food, or lack thereof, on their table? How would she react to their lack of funds to provide for the arrival of their child?
Of course, thoughts of their child often derailed his more logical thoughts altogether. Did magical children even arrive naturally? Were they born with powers?
Suddenly images of a baby, one deformed and unnatural, began swimming in his vision. Physically shaking himself of such thoughts, he jerked his hands to his eyes in an attempt to rub the images away.
"Ichabod?"
Her voice, soft and full of concern, brought his eyes up to find her standing in the open doorway; her hair wet and pulled over one shoulder. However, that wasn't what caught his gaze. It was the vast amount of skin below her lower region; smooth legs exposed to just above her knee where the thin, yellow dress she wore ended.
How a creature of such beauty had ever thought to look upon his lanky, clumsy self never ceased to completely befuddle him. Was any man truly worthy of such beauty to feast upon? To touch? Oh, how he'd missed touching her. Her smooth porcelain skin warming his rough hands. The soft sounds she'd exhaled as he worshipped her.
His stare must have begun to worry her as she cast a nervous glance down her body. "Is-is this alright?"
Nearly choking on the buildup of saliva in his mouth, he managed a cracked, "Yes."
Her previously concerned gaze was now fighting a grin as she approached the bed; a lighter step in her stride. "Is this the sort of fashion acceptable in this era? To show so much of one's body?"
Chuckling to cover the rising blush on his neck and cheeks, he gently grasped her hand and pulled her to sit beside him. "My love, I barely knew the fashion in our time."
The smile that lit her face was brilliant as she gazed down at their interlocked hands. "Is it acceptable for you?"
Gently grasping her chin in his fingers, he tilted her face toward his. "You're the most beautiful creature this world ever thought to bring forth. Anything you wear is acceptable to me."
The subtle change in her breathing wasn't lost to him, nor was the way her eyes fluttered as she stared into his own. If he had the power, he'd freeze this moment in time; the simplicity of it.
However, the growling of her stomach broke the spell they seemed to be under.
With a chuckle, he pushed a few locks of damp hair behind her ear and asked, "Are you hungry?"
She gave a half shrug as she brought a hand to rest against her belly; a playful smile on her lips. "Well, I am carrying your child. I imagine I'll remain hungry for the duration of his or her stay within me."
Rather than joining her in her joy, he once again felt the weight of responsibility and fear begin to suffocate him. Quickly standing, he walked across the room to obtain his shirt, making sure to keep his back to her in the process. The last thing he wanted was for her to sense his doubts, something he knew she would see in him if she were to even glimpse his expression. No one could read his emotions in quite the same way she could.
As he pulled the material over his head, he sucked in a deep breath and forced a smile to his face before turning back to her.
"I suppose I should feed you, then."
The hint of a frown creased her brow, causing his heart to all but momentarily halt. Had he failed at keeping her happy already? Was she searching his eyes and finding all the things he was keeping buried inside?
Not wishing to give her too much time to consider his actions, he cleared his throat and gestured toward the bedroom door. "Is there anything in particular you'd like? I suppose I can manage most simple dishes."
A small smile finally graced her face, much to his relief, as she stood. "Can you? Last I was aware, you could barely boil water. It's a wonder you ever survived the war for as long as you did."
Unable to help rolling his eyes, he stepped forward and grasped her hand. "I assure you, I've made a great deal of progress in the area of cooking. There's quite a few television programs that explain the process quite well and with much more patience than you."
"Television programs?" she asked as her eyes danced around the room; flitting over the various objects she'd likely not be in the state of mind to take in the previous night.
"Oh," he replied, laughter bubbling from him at the realization that she didn't know what he was speaking of. "You must see this."
All but dragging her to the sitting area, he pulled her down on the sofa and reached for the control. Pressing the appropriate button, he watched the television spring to life before turning to observe her reaction.
He wasn't disappointed as she immediately jumped up and circled the table to kneel in front of it; her eyes wide with curiosity. "How is this possible?"
Grinning with the knowledge that he would once again have the opportunity to explain, he followed her to the floor. "I assure you, this is by far one of the least remarkable advancements this century has to offer."
Her eyes flickered up to him, dancing with mirth. "Will you show me?"
Overcome with joy at such an innocent request, he reached for her hand and pulled her to her feet. "I'd be honored."
The responding smile he received filled him with the energy he'd been lacking. Taking her by the hand, he led her to the kitchen and had her stand beside the stove as he turned the knobs. When the pilot lit, Katrina gave a sharp gasp and leaned over to inspect it more closely.
"I don't understand," she said as she scrutinized the sight before her. "How is it lit?"
"The world is far more advanced than you could ever imagine, my love. The wonders of it never seem to cease."
Her eyes sought his out as a bright smile graced her face; a touch of wonder present in her olive orbs. "You know so much about it."
"Oh," he sighed as he gave her a small smile. "I assure you, I'm not as well versed in modern technology as I may be demonstrating."
Before he barely managed to get the words out, he noticed her smile waver and her eyes give off a glisten as though she may be about to cry. Concerned she may have burned, or injured herself in some way, he stepped closer to her.
"Katrina?"
She despondently shook her head as she whispered, "I feel you'll grow tired of my questions after a time."
Taken aback at her turn in mood, he grasped her hand in his and lifted it to his lips where he placed a gentle kiss to her palm. "To be with you here is the greatest joy I've had in such a long while. I could never grow tired of you."
Without another word, she fell into his embrace, wrapping her arms around his waist as she wept against his shirt.
Unsure how to handle this turn of events, he laid a hand to the back of her head and held her close.
"My love," he softly said as he rubbed circles on her back with his other hand. "I find myself at a loss as to what you need."
"I-" She eased from him just enough to where he could catch her eyes, giving him a view of her tear streaked face. "Forgive me, my love. I-I don't know why I've fallen into such a state."
Lifting a hand to caress her cheek, he asked with more than a little concern, "Is it something to do with Purgatory?"
"No," she said with a heavy sniff. "I think it might be the baby."
Eyebrows darting up at such a thought, he glanced down at her belly and wondered how the baby could be making her cry. With all of the many subjects he's had at his disposal in his lifetime, pregnancy hadn't been one he'd thought important. In fact, he was beginning to realize he knew little to nothing about the process other than how their child had been created.
"Is it hurting you?" he asked, his fears growing. "Is it something to do with magic?"
The fear of having an abnormal child once again flooded him and he immediately felt guilty for such thoughts. Katrina would be so wounded if she knew his inner doubts. That he could think their child abnormal was to also think her abnormal and that was something he couldn't quite reconcile within himself. He still hadn't truly worked out all of the details concerning the fact that his wife was a witch for himself. All he really knew was that he loved her regardless.
Her eyes widened as she shook her head. "No, of course not."
"Then, how is it...?"
A smile came to her face as she took his hand to lay it over her belly. "A woman's body changes a great deal during this time of her life. Being a midwife, I've seen women go from laughing to spitting fire at whoever was speaking with them."
More than a little out of his depth, he chose to simply nod rather than delve too deeply into this subject. Perhaps, there was a book about the ins and outs of pregnancy he could get his hands on. Surely, he wasn't the first man with questions about this.
"You're not going to do that now, are you?" he asked jokingly, though with a smidge of worry.
Angry Katrina was never someone he wanted to encounter. He knew better.
A laugh that filled every corner of the kitchen and managed to warm his heart came from her as she stared up at him. "I'm not sure. I don't think these things are exactly planned."
After a moment of delighting in her returned bright countenance, he cleared his throat and gestured to the stove as he moved toward the refrigerator. "Yes, well, if you don't mind, I'd like to perform my proper husbandly duty by feeding my wife now."
"Oh?" she asked as she watched him from her place. "And what are you feeding me this morning?"
"Bacon and eggs, of course," he answered as he pulled the appropriate products out and returned to her side.
"What-"
Before she could ask another question, he took her hand and led her to the table where he pulled out her seat and helped her into it. "As much as I love talking about the modern world with you, my love, the fact that you've not eaten in two centuries is beginning to greatly bother me."
A sweet smile danced on her lips as she said, "I'm really not all that hungry."
"Humor me," he begged as he set about the preparations. "Please?"
The sound of her sighing rather heavily from behind him brought his own smile out as he proceeded to take great care in preparing the meal before him. He wasn't accustomed to an audience when it came to his cooking. Usually, he was alone at this time of day, waiting for Abbie to pick him up. During these earlier hours, he tended to attempt learning how to accommodate himself. As a man needed to eat, he had taken to watching certain food channels and had learned a great deal of information when it came to the proper way to prepare a meal for himself. The only problem now was that he had the most precious creature in the world observing him and that knowledge had him quite nervous.
Not too long later, and after only one mishap with an egg breaking to pieces in the cup and filling it with shells, he was sliding a few spoonfuls of perfectly golden eggs onto a white plate already donning two slices of bacon.
"Here we are," he said, proud that he'd managed to forgo burning the meal.
"Is it finished?" she asked as he turned to set her plate on the table before her.
"Indeed it is," he declared with a sweep of his hand over the table. "All for you, my lady."
Green eyes shined up at him as she touched the chair beside hers. "Join me?"
Sighing as though she were requesting a great deal of him, he took the seat beside her before bestowing her with a large grin.
When she lifted the first spoonful of eggs to her lips, he waited with building anticipation for her reaction. In all their years as man and wife, he was ashamed to admit he'd never prepared a meal for his love. If there was one thing he intended to do with this blessed time they'd been given, it was to lavish her with all of the attention and love he could manage.
The widening of her eyes as she jerked them to him had his heart practically leaping from his chest.
"Ichabod, this is wonderful!" she exclaimed, her hand flying to her mouth.
Waves of relief flooded his system as he said, "I hope you're not attempting to spare my feelings."
She playfully cut her eyes at him as she asked, "When have I ever spared your feelings?"
Rolling his eyes, he slid a glass of milk toward her. "Something you might try to work on in the future."
She smiled at him. "I will. I don't think that's the best trait for a mother to have."
The mention of their baby managed to wipe the smile from his face before he could stop himself. It wasn't that it upset him so much as the worries returned again.
"Is something wrong?" she asked, drawing his gaze back to her.
The sight of her now frowning at him again brought with it a swell of anxiety in his chest and he considered he might not so easily slip from this moment as he had the earlier one.
"Of course not," he replied rather simply, hoping she'd accept his answer.
However, her frown never faltered. "Ichabod, are you... Do you wish I wasn't pregnant?"
Eyes widening at the direct question, he quickly shook his head. "Katrina-"
"It's just that you haven't said anything in regards to your feelings yet," she went on while twisting her fingers in her lap. "And I've noticed how you react whenever I mention our baby."
Lifting a hand to wipe over his face, he asked, "How do you feel about it?"
When she didn't immediately respond, he managed to work up the courage to look at her. What he found was her staring at the plate of food in front of her as thought all of the light in the world had been drained from her.
"Katrina?"
"I'm scared," she softly said, never lifting her gaze. "Everything I've ever known is gone and ... we don't have a home."
Not wanting to interrupt her by speaking, he instead took her hand and held it in his.
"For so long, I resigned myself to the fact that I may never even have the opportunity to have this baby, but now..." Her gaze finally lifted to his; her eyes glistening with tears. "Ichabod, I want this baby so desperately."
"You do?"
"Don't you?" she asked as her eyes searchingly darted between his. "Ichabod, we made this baby together. Doesn't that fill you with such joy to know that what we did... My love, we created a life."
With a heavy sigh, he said, "Of course, I'm joyful. I wanted this, Katrina. I've wanted to have this with you since the moment you agreed to marry me."
"But not now?" she asked, her eyes sorrowful; as if he'd just stolen all the joy from her.
"My love, please understand," he begged as he went to his knees at her side while still holding her hands. "I will love our baby with all of my heart. I will do everything humanly possible to be the best father I can be."
"But you don't want to," she concluded as she turned her gaze from him. "If you had the choice, you would prefer it if I weren't with child."
"Katrina," he began, feeling his resolve slipping as the weight of the conversation began to suffocate him. "I'm a Witness to the Apocalypse. The world will end if I don't..."
Unable to stand her not looking at him, he maneuvered between her legs to be closer to her. "I don't have a means to provide for you, much less a child."
Her eyes fell closed for a moment before she turned back to him; a heavy sigh slipping through her lips. Then, to his surprise, she took his face in her hands and leaned forward to place a kiss to his lips.
It was soft, chaste even, and entirely too short as she pulled back before he could even properly return it.
"That's your problem, my love," she whispered as she remained close to him. "You become stuck on the details and are unable to appreciate the simpler facts which are laid before you."
"Katrina, there's nothing simple about this situation," he reasoned, desperately wishing she would understand. "We're going to bring a life into the world with no means to care for it."
A smile creased her lips as she said, "Since when has caring for a life had anything to do with being able to provide for it?"
Eyes falling closed, he blew a heavy breath through his nose. "Caring for our child won't keep it fed or clothed. It won't allow it the means to attend school or-"
"Ichabod, stop over thinking this," she interrupted as she cupped his cheeks and leveled their gazes. "I want you to tell me what the image of a little boy with my eyes and your hair; my joy and your intelligence; my temper and your theatrics; makes you feel." She laid a hand to his chest. "Not in your head, but in your heart."
The way she was staring at him so earnestly, her green eyes alive with anticipation and more wisdom than he could ever manage, had him melting under her touch.
"It makes me feel like the happiest and most blessed man in all of the world."
A short laugh came from her as she finally relaxed and leaned her forehead to his. "That's all I wanted to hear."
Joining in her smile, he ran a hand through her hair and marveled over the woman he was holding. "Thank you."
"For what?"
Eyes fixed on hers, he said, "For making me pause and see the beauty in the world."
A brilliant smile lit her face as she leaned into him for another kiss.
Feeling more secure in his future than he had since their reunion, he imagined that maybe everything would indeed work itself out.
Next up: First doctor's visit; More Ichabod worries; Katrina's reaction to modern Sleepy Hollow; Meeting Jenny Mills.