There was nothing quite like having the sinking sensation that something was wrong pulling you from sleep. During such times, it became a battle of wills between being responsible enough to awaken and being lazy enough to stay tucked into the warmth of your bed and continue dreaming of paradise.
His paradise included him and Katrina wrapped in each other's arms beneath the warmth and comfort of modern blankets. It was a luxury he knew would become a favorite of his for years to come.
However, there was one thing wrong with his remaining in paradise: Katrina wasn't there.
Bolting upright, he fought the drowsiness which still clung to him and wiped a hand over his eyes to help his blurred vision. The room was still dark for the most part, which made the light seeping through the cracked bathroom door all the more apparent.
The possibility of Katrina being inside was confirmed when he heard, what sounded to be, strangled noises coming from within.
Pushing himself from the bed, he took in the beginnings of sunlight streaming through the bedroom window as he apprehensively approached the door. Unsure if he should knock, or go right in, he heard her give another strangled sound, prompting him to forgo manners and push the door wide open.
What he found was his beloved sprawled out before the toilet with her head held over it as she retched.
"Katrina," he murmured as he rushed across the small room and knelt beside her. "What's wrong?"
She startled and quickly turned her head away; laying her face in the bend of her arm. "Ichabod, please, I don't want you to see me this way."
Resolutely ignoring her, he moved even closer and brushed her hair behind her ear; his face deep with concern. "After the experience of the day before yesterday, I imagine I could see you just about any way and survive it."
He was sure he'd still not returned to his normal color after all the doctor's probing questions he'd been forced to endure. Never in his life had he been so embarrassed.
"Ichabod, please..." she groaned, pressing her hand to her mouth.
"I'm not leaving you," he began before reeling back slightly as she returned to her hunched position and proceeded to empty more of her stomach.
The putrid smell was enough to have his own stomach rolling, but he did his best to abate any signs of that from showing. The last thing he wanted was her thinking he thought she smelled, or that he couldn't handle this. Enough insecurity had been prevalent in their house without vanity joining in as well.
By the time she was sitting back on her haunches, her retching had ceased and become something more akin to gagging than anything else. Her face was sweaty, her hair line damp, and she looked paler than normal.
Needing to do something with himself other than gawk at her, he pushed himself up and quickly acquired a cloth from the cabinet. After running it under some cold water, he returned to her side and gently turned her face toward him so he could place the cloth to her forehead where he continued to hold it.
"I'm sorry, I woke you," she whispered; her eyes downcast as she took a few unsteady breaths. "I tried to be quiet."
With a growing frown, he pulled the cloth away and tilted her chin up. "I wish you would have awoken me the minute you thought something was amiss."
"You need your rest," she replied as her green eyes filled with tears. "And I- you've already done so much for me."
So tired he could barely see straight, he scooted closer to her and wrapped his arms around her slender form while pulling her head to rest against his chest. "This is our baby, Katrina; not just yours. We made it together, remember?"
Her fingers clutched at his back and it was but a moment before he felt her tears' appearance on his skin, signaling he needed to awaken himself further if he was going to properly be of aid to her. He'd learned over the past few days to simply allow his wife to have her say and counter her thoughts rather than flat out interrupt.
"But it's inside me and there was nothing for you to do."
"There's plenty for me to do right here," he whispered as he rubbed her back in small circles. "Am I not doing something now?"
A choked sob escaped her as she trembled in his embrace. "You're everything."
Well, that was a relief. He felt like such a bumbling idiot most of the time. At least, his love thought he was worth something.
Stroking his fingers through her hair, he placed a kiss to the top of her head and asked, "Are you still ill?"
She eased herself away from him and gave him a half smile. "I think its passed for now."
More than a little relieved she wasn't going to empty any more of her stomach, he returned her smile and stood before reaching for her hands.
"The sun's just rising," he informed as he tugged her to her feet. "Why don't we acquire you a glass of water and proceed to watch the world awaken?"
After having forgone water for a glass of orange juice, he made his way out onto the porch where Katrina was waiting on the swing.
For a moment, he paused in the doorway to admire the way the sun rising in the distance over the lake seemed to bring her hair to life. Each strand danced in the light as the rays all but sought her out if only to magnify her beauty. They soaked into her red hair, giving her a glow he could only describe as magnificent.
However, when she gave a slight shiver, he came to himself and returned indoors to snatch a small afghan from the sofa before venturing, once more, out the door.
"Here you are," he said as he held out the glass.
Green eyes flickered up to him. "What is it?"
With a small smile of reassurance, he handed the glass to her. "Orange juice. I read in one of the books we acquired that it can be quite beneficial to you and the baby."
She appeared doubtful, but accepted his offering none the less; her eyes studying the liquid with rapt attention.
"I've never much enjoyed the fruit whole, I can't imagine I'll enjoy it this way."
Sighing rather heavily, he sat beside her and spread the blanket he'd acquired over her.
"At least, try it," he prodded. "Perhaps, you're preferences have changed since the last time you tasted an orange."
Tentatively, she lifted the glass to her lips and allowed the barest amount of the liquid to flow into her mouth.
"Well?" he asked, feeling as though he had some sort of stake in whether she enjoyed the drink or not.
Her eyes flickered to the glass as she smacked her lips. "I suppose there are worse things one could partake of."
Unable to help his chuckle, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and turned to the morning sky.
"You're still temperamental, I see."
"I am most certainly not," she exclaimed with wide eyes upturned toward him. "You're the one who's temperamental, dear husband."
"Me?" he asked as though she'd just accused him of some atrocious crime. "I haven't the slightest idea as to what you could mean."
With a shake of her head, she pulled the afghan tighter around her body. "I'm sure you don't."
The lake was alive with color as the pinks and yellows of the morning sky danced along its surface.
"It's beautiful here," he whispered as he admired the scene.
Her hair tickled his face as she burrowed her head into his neck and murmured her agreement.
"I think we'll be happy here," he offered, hoping to draw her into more agreement.
He worried about her happiness with the place they occupied. One of his greatest fears was being unable to bring her happiness. If she found this place unsatisfiable, he wasn't sure what he would do.
In their own time, he'd had the means to provide her with a large house which held all the luxuries most women would be content with. Katrina had turned their house into a home, making every inch of it theirs. She'd not been overly materialistic in her character, or in the decorating of their home, but she'd made it cozy; a place they could both find peace in while together.
However, no such agreement was coming from her at present. She was quiet and still; barely even breathing as far as he could tell.
Heart pounding in his chest, he tilted his head to the side in the hopes of catching some part of her expression and mood.
"Katrina?"
Green eyes were transfixed on the glass in her hand; a sorrowful expression on her face.
"I'm sure we will."
Her whisper was so low, he was forced to strain to hear it, but that didn't stop him from catching the crack in her voice.
Gently grasping her chin in his fingers, he tilted her face up, hoping to garner a better read on her mood.
"Do you think we'll be happy here?"
A smile came to her lips; one he was positive she was forcing, but with the expertise of a woman who'd been doing so for all her life.
"Of course."
The sense of doubt he'd been carrying on his shoulders weighed even heavier on him. "You know I'll do everything possible to make you happy."
Her expression softened as she lifted a hand to caress his cheek. "My love, you don't have to make me happy. That's something that comes so naturally while I'm with you that hardly anything else compares."
With the feeling like his heart was lodged in his throat, he whispered, "You don't seem happy."
Her eyes fell as she began fidgeting with the afghan; a tell tale sign that she was uncertain.
The urge to help her overcame him as he slid his fingers into her hair. "I'll do anything to help you."
A small smile, this one more genuine than the last, came to her face. "I'd be really happy if you held me again."
Unable to help his smile, he sighed and wrapped his arms around her before pulling her against his side once more.
With her head burrowed into his neck, he returned his eyes to the lake and the sun's rising; hoping this day offered more than doubt and fear.
She was so peaceful now; much more so than she'd been during the earlier hours of the morning.
The two of them had watched the sun rise for quite some time before she'd requested he return to bed with her so she might acquire some more rest.
More than happy to do so as he'd been pulled from sleep long before he was ready due to her illness, he'd accompanied her back into their room and snuggled under the blankets with her to ward off the coolness lingering in the air.
However, while it had taken Katrina no time at all to return to slumber, he'd been unable to join her. Too many thoughts plagued him; new ones now added to the old.
Her mood and lack of enthusiasm when it came to his speculation over if they'd be happy here in this time had left him forlorn.
It's not as though he expected her to be overjoyed. Too many losses had occurred due to their new life. Customs, an entire way of life, and the people they'd called their own were now long gone and forgotten by time; for him, withered away in the blink of an eye.
Katrina, on the other hand, had endured centuries of knowing that, one by one, her friends and family were dying away as she remained unchanging; unmoving. How many times must she have asked herself if Purgatory was to be her home for eternity? If she would ever see him again? Ever give birth to the babe lingering in her womb?
Did she consider it all lost now? That her life, save for him and their baby, was over? He surely felt that way at times; like his only purpose in life was to be a Witness.
However, that left the question of what would happen to him once this was all over. When the world was safe at last, what would become of him? Would he wither away into the background even further than he now was?
Gently running his fingers through her hair, he absorbed the feel of her pressed so fully against him.
He loved it when they laid this way. With her arm around his waist and her face resting against his chest, it gave him the opportunity to gaze upon her while holding her close. He truly felt as though he were protecting her; keeping all evil or hurt from her.
He wondered if his beautiful bride truly knew how blessed he felt to be with her this way; how blessed he'd felt since the moment she'd agreed to be his on that bright and sunny day so long ago.
It had been a spring morning. He recalled the way the rising sun had glinted in her hair as he'd sought her out on the front porch of her father's house; his heart pounding in his chest and his body covered in a slight sheen of sweat.
There hadn't been a moment in his life where he'd been more nervous; more fearful of rejection. Even with the knowledge of her love still ringing in his ears, he'd been afraid; afraid she'd find herself aware that he had nothing to offer her other than the life of a soldier's wife and the heart of a man who'd worship her like no man had ever worshipped his beloved before.
With his pledge of love, she'd not smiled brightly or lost herself to the whims of girlishness over a proposal, but, instead, she'd taken his hand and sworn the same; a gentle smile on her face and a loving gaze only for him.
In his heart of hearts, he'd known Katrina van Tassel would forever be the owner of his love.
However, the question of how deeply that love still ran plagued him. Was it still as strong; still as resolute as before? Or was it an obligation borne of centuries of waiting and little other choice?
A knot formed in his throat at the idea of his beloved being torn between duty and freedom. What if that was why she couldn't answer him before? Was that why she couldn't agree to happiness here? Perhaps, it wasn't the time, but him that she doubted? They'd been apart for so long. Feelings could have faded to memory.
Pressing his mouth to her forehead, he absorbed her scent and prayed he'd always be allowed such a luxury.
Unfortunately, his phone drew his gaze to the bedside table when it began buzzing along the wooden surface.
Torn between answering the call and remaining still for his wife's sake, he glanced down at her still wrapped around his chest. It was a risk he nearly didn't take.
Gently sliding his arm from under hers, he carefully leaned toward the table and felt for the device; his fingers just managing to touch the edges of the still vibrating object.
Clenching his jaw, he glanced down at Katrina again, taking in her still form, and shifted ever so slightly away from her, permitting him to stretch the remaining distance to capture the device in his grasp.
Relieved to finally have it, he brought it to his ear with a hushed, "Hello?"
"Hey, you awake?"
Raising an eyebrow at the ridiculousness of such a question, he muttered, "No, I'm conversing with you while still deep in slumber."
He could practically feel her rolling her eyes on the other end of the line.
"Well, someone's in a mood," she said, her voice mocking. "Sorry to interrupt your beauty sleep, but I actually have something important for us to do."
Regretful over his greeting, he whispered, "I wasn't asleep, but Katrina still is and I didn't wish to wake her. She had a trying morning with the baby."
It was odd, speaking of Katrina while she lay against him. It felt even odder to be speaking about something he knew she might feel embarrassed of. He simply couldn't help it. When he began speaking with Abbie, his thoughts seemed to seep right out of his mouth.
"Right," Abbie said rather quickly. "Look, I know the two of you have a thing going on right now where you don't want to be separated for more than a minute at a time, but we have a problem."
Suddenly more alert, he asked, "What's the matter?"
"It's the Horseman," she explained. "He killed two people last night."
Body tensing, he asked, "To what end?"
"I haven't been to the scene yet to attempt figuring out why."
His breathing had quickened under the knowledge that he and Abbie were speaking of Abraham while Katrina remained in the dark.
With a glance down at his wife, who was still peacefully resting within his embrace, he considered what this new information meant.
The conversation involving Abraham being the Horseman of Death was one he'd meant to have with her, but had somehow managed to convince himself wasn't a necessity at this time. Too many other things had been happening during the few short days he'd been reunited with his beloved and talk of her former fiancé and his former best friend being the Horseman who'd attempted to murder him two centuries ago wasn't high on his list of priorities. He'd been too busy concerning himself with helping her adjust to the modern world while he, himself, adjusted to impending fatherhood.
"Crane? Are you listening?"
A bit ashamed of himself for having become so distracted, he cleared his throat and said, "Forgive me, Leftenant, I was simply considering the Horseman."
"I was asking if you wanted to accompany me to the scene."
"Yes," he responded immediately before he thought better of himself and focused back on Katrina. "Oh, I... perhaps not."
He well recalled their venturing out of the cabin to the doctor's office two days ago and how much convincing it had taken to acquire her agreement to leave. She'd been attached to his hip like a small child clinging to a parent. Every sharp movement caused her to jump and, most nights, she awoke in a cold sweat, afraid she was still trapped in Purgatory.
All of that was topped by his reluctance to leave her after having witnessed her so ill, prompting him to whisper, "I can't leave her alone."
For a few moments, all he heard was the sounds of Abbie's jeep as she drove, presumably toward the cabin to retrieve him. However, he could still perfectly picture her pursing her lips over his lack of agreement.
"I understand this is a sensitive time for her, but this is important, Crane."
Eyes falling closed, he felt himself begin to tear in two. "She's afraid of her own shadow. I can't leave her alone for an extended period of time."
"Well, you said she's asleep, right?" Abbie asked, her voice searching. "If we're fast, we may make it back before she wakes up."
"That's being a bit hopeful, Leftenant," he whispered as he stared at his wife's still form.
"Then, wake her up and explain it to her. Either way, I need you with me on this."
"She struggled all morning," he replied, his voice wavering. "I can't wake her after she's finally gaining some peace."
"Crane, we have to get this done," she urged. "You might see something no one else will. We'll give it a once over and return to the cabin to discuss it."
Still doubtful, he listened as Abbie added, "We're the Witnesses. Sometimes we have to make the tough choices."
Releasing a heavy sigh, he nodded as if she could actually see him. "You're right, of course."
"Good," she briskly replied. "I'll be there in five."
The click of the phone signaled the end to their conversation, leaving him to contemplate what to do next.
Eyes falling to Katrina again, he lightly ran a hand over her arm, testing how close to waking she might be if he moved. When she gave no reaction, he took a deep breath and eased her arm slightly away from him and began scooting his lower body toward the edge of the bed. Once clear of her arm, he rested it along the sheet between them before gently sliding his shoulder from under head.
Everything seemed to make so much more noise than usual as he adjusted the pillow to support her in the place where he'd once been.
Upon standing from the bed, he stared down at her and told himself that she would be fine as she looked so peaceful.
However, the nagging sensation that when she awoke and began to look for him with no result left him riddled with worry.
He couldn't just leave her without any word.
Quickly dashing to the kitchen, he pulled out a notebook and set to penning her a short note; one that told of his need to depart from her presence for a short while as well as instructions to not worry as he would return to her as swiftly as possible.
He, then, acquired a book from the mantle and returned to the bedroom where he placed it and his note on the pillow beside her just as the sound of Abbie's jeep rolling over the gravel alerted him to her arrival.
With a last look at his love, he prayed for her mindset when she awoke and exited the room to prepare a few essentials for her.
"Glad you didn't change your mind," Abbie said as he dropped into the seat next to hers. "You didn't sound so sure on the phone."
"I'm still waging war with uncertainty," he replied as he stared at the cabin. "She and I haven't been parted since our reunion."
"It had to happen at some point," Abbie said as she backed out of the driveway.
"Yes, but this isn't the way," he answered, his heart hammering in his chest. "She'll be terrified when she awakens."
"Or she'll adjust," Abbie offered, her eyes on the road. "You never know how you'll react until you're in the situation. The same goes for Katrina."
Lifting a hand to his eyes, he said, "Forgive me, Leftenant, I simply worry for her. She's having such a difficult time."
"She'll be okay, Crane. She's survived a lot. A little time alone won't do much to her."
With a sigh, he stared at his hands. "I pray so."
"But, in the mean time, you and I have some pretty big fish to fry."
The mention of their latest problem didn't help his frayed nerves in the least. "What is our plan of action?"
"I don't really know what happened, but from what I've heard, the Horseman cut down two guards at one of our labs."
"Why there?" he asked, curiosity finally seeping out of him.
"It's where Irving had previously been keeping the skull. I'm guessing the Horseman intended to start their in his search."
Nodding along with her assessment, he barely noticed her glance of concern.
"What's wrong?"
Shrugging his shoulders, he said, "I've yet to tell Katrina of the Horseman's identity."
Abbie remained silent, giving him the feeling she was mulling his offering over. It didn't really matter. He already knew what she was going to say.
"Why?"
"Because she's with child and stressed enough as it is," he answered a bit snippily.
"And?" she prodded, her eyebrow cocked.
"Because she's my wife and I'd be informing her of what occurred when she spurned her ex fiancé's hand in favor of mine; the very same fiancé who was once my best friend."
"I swear, Crane," Abbie groaned. "Your life's like a soap opera."
Unsure what she meant, but still hyper aware of the fact that she was mocking him, he said, "As if your life is any less complicated."
"My issues with my sister are hardly anything to compare to your love life," Abbie said as she kept her gaze forward. "Besides, Jenny and I are doing a lot better these days. You and Katrina, however, what's going on there?"
Hot burning began in his chest as he allowed her words to sink into him. Truthfully, she was correct, but it pained him ever so terribly to admit it.
"I fear leaving my child fatherless," he admitted as he returned to staring at his hands. "If something were to happen to me while on a mission-"
"You can't think like that, Crane," Abbie cut in while shaking her head. "Everyone in the world dies at some point. It could happen at any time to anyone."
"But-"
"You and I could have a car wreck in the next five minutes or so," she went on without blinking an eye at his interruption. "Stop borrowing worry. You're gonna give yourself an ulcer."
Was it too much to ask to be allowed to wallow in self pity for a moment?
After a moment, Abbie asked, "So, what about you and Katrina? Are you guys talking more?"
"She's been ill," he answered, avoiding her gaze.
He heard Abbie's heavy sigh, but chose to ignore it.
"And you're using that as an excuse to delay the inevitable conversations you two need to have," Abbie concluded.
"It's only been a handful of days, Leftenant," he defended.
"I know and maybe I'm trying to force my own tendencies to not procrastinate onto the king of procrastination, but..." She stopped at a fork in the road and turned to look at him. "These things, the baby, the money, Abraham, and whatever else you're avoiding talking to her about... They fester."
All the energy he had left seeped out of him as he stared down at his hands. "It's too much to discuss at once."
"Don't discuss it all at once if you don't feel like it's appropriate," she reasoned. "Take it one issue at a time and work through it."
"And which issue should I begin with?" he asked with a wave of his hand. "That I have no means to support her and our child? That I have ill timed thoughts about my child being some sort of abnormal monster? That I have no clue as to what she, as a witch, is or what she's capable of? That I fear she's only pretending to still love me because she has nowhere else to go? Or, best yet, do I tell her that her former betrothed still wishes to claim her as his own and force her to spend eternity as Death's bride?"
At the end of his rant, his chest was pulsing with that hot burning that made it seem as though he'd implode at any moment. Had he truly allowed so much to fall into the chasm resting between he and his wife? It just continued to build and pile on.
Eyes falling closed for a moment, he held his breath and glanced at Abbie, who was sitting with her chin propped on her knuckles while staring at him.
"You done?"
Deflating under her lack of sympathy, he rolled his eyes and straightened in his seat.
"You're absolutely no help at all," he griped with a wave of his hand.
"Crane-"
"I pour my heart out only to be treated as though..."
"Crane-"
"...I'm some dimwitted, chronic worrier who can't speak with his own wife."
"Crane!"
Half turning to glare at her, he came up short at the smile tugging at her lips.
"You find amusement in my sorrows now?" he asked incredulously.
She shook her head and patted his arm before placing her car in gear. "I don't know much about Katrina other than what I'm sure are the overinflated tales you've told of her greatness, but for her to have gone to hell and kept her mouth shut for two centuries all in the name of preserving your dramatic rear end, she much be in love."
Crossing his arms with a huff, he turned to gaze out the window, not caring for her poking fun at his life.
"Crane, I honestly adore you, but you've got to stop with the pity parties. It's not healthy."
Still avoiding her, he said, "I haven't entertained any such events."
"Really?" she asked with a chuckle. "Because from what I can see, it seems like she's reacquainted you with that stick up your-"
"Leftenant!" he exclaimed, finally turning to her self-satisfied expression.
She rolled her eyes and made a turn before saying, "Look, you're here, helping me on our mission, and that's all that really matters to me. My only concern is that you're distracted and that's something that can actually get you killed and leave your child fatherless."
Stuck by her change in demeanor and tone, he swallowed the knot building in his throat and whispered, "I'm trying to be a good husband."
"That's great, Crane. More guys should be that way, but," she went on with a side glance at him. "At what expense are you willing to revolve around her?"
Adjusting in his seat, he stared out the window. "You said it yourself, Leftenant, I'm here with you."
"Are you?" she asked in an unsure tone. "Because it kinda seems to me like you're still back there with her. You've not talked about anything else since you got in the car."
Yes, that was true, but his worries were not something trivial, or unwarranted. However, he supposed he was being inconsiderate of his partner's well being.
"Did you wish to discuss anything? Your sister? Detective Morales?"
"My sister's working part time at the antique store in town and Morales transferred to Philadelphia. The rest of my life revolves around my two jobs. That's me in a nut shell. You, on the other hand, are-"
"When did Detective Morales transfer?" he asked, his curiosity peaked.
Abbie shrugged her shoulders and stared straight ahead. "Two weeks ago."
Flabbergasted, he asked, "Did he bid you farewell? Offer any sort of explanation?"
"He didn't own me anything, Crane," she said softly. "We weren't together."
"But you shared a past, intimate relationship; one I know for certain he wished to rekindle," he went on, his brow furrowed in concern. "For him to leave with a lack of proper farewell to you is an unquestionably, foul reflection on his character."
"This isn't 1777, Crane," Abbie answered with a roll of her eyes. "Not that you would understand a break up. You've been with Katrina for over two hundred years."
"Technically," he said, holding up a finger. "Katrina and I have been married for six years, but that's beside the point and very presumptuous on your part. I do, indeed, know of the departure between a man and woman as I've encountered my fair share of the fairer sex and, each and every time, I've been the proper gentleman toward them."
A heavy sigh slipped through Abbie's nose as she leaned her elbow against her window and propped her head in her hand.
"You're full of yourself, Crane."
With a huff, he asked, "And why have you not told me of this sooner?"
"When exactly, during your Katrina clouded past two weeks, was I supposed to tell you?"
Suddenly unsure of his position, he asked, "Do you dislike my wife?"
Abbie shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know your wife, Crane, and that's something else you need to add to your list of issues to discuss with her because I really think she has some form of PTSD or something."
"She's not insane," he defended, uncomfortable by this turn in conversation.
"Of course not," Abbie agreed. "But she's been through hell and is about to spend the next handful of months enduring a pregnancy. She has to talk stuff like that out because what happened the other day on the way to the doctor's office wasn't only dangerous because of her out of control magic, but also because it was a real eye opener of just how deeply wounded she is."
"What do you suggest I do?" he asked tiredly. "I don't know how to talk to her of such things when I'm not even sure I want to know what she endured."
Blue lights reflected off the front window as they rounded a bend in the road, signaling they were upon their destination.
"Start with Abraham," she said with a wave of her hand at the scene before them. "She's going to find out about that eventually as things like that have a way of coming out when you least want them to. When you're sitting there with her later and wanting to avoid talking about it, just remember how it feels to learn the truth from someone other than the person you love."
Abbie, then, stepped out of her vehicle and began walking toward the building.
Instead of immediately following, he watched her speak with her fellow officers.
She was a self assured woman; one of morals and strength. How he'd come to know her was still a mystery to him, but he was grateful nonetheless. However, that didn't stop the irritation he felt at her seeming to know more about him and Katrina than he, himself. That intuitiveness, he supposed, was why she was such a valued officer in her field. She saw things that others didn't.
With a heavy sigh, he stepped from the vehicle and made to follow her; intent upon not failing her as a partner this day.
'It'll all work itself out. You'll see.'
Those had been Abbie's last words to him when she'd dropped him off five minutes ago. Since then, he'd stood in the driveway, fearing the moment he stepped through the cabin's door.
The day had dragged on much longer than he had anticipated as the moon was now high in the sky. The cabin was lit from within; the soft glow of firelight shining through the front windows. That told him nothing as he'd lit it before departing earlier in the morning.
However, for it to still be burning so brightly, she would had to have attended it at some point in the more recent hours. That must mean she was inside and of the state of mind to care for herself and her comfort.
Dragging a shaky hand through his hair, he took the first step required of him and forced himself forward.
It was pointless to delay it. At least, that was how he imagined Abbie would say it. She'd tell him to go ahead and bite the bullet as a delay would only make matters worse.
The door handle was cold in his palm as he turned the knob and allowed the warmth from within to greet him as he pushed the door open.
The ever increasing view permitted nothing amiss. Everything was exactly as he'd left it; not that he was sure if he expected it to be different. What had he imagined? That Katrina would burn the house to the ground? That she'd pitch a fit of such magnitude as to tear the house apart?
Such thoughts were ridiculous, he told himself as he stepped inside, his eyes searching.
The faint scent of smoke met his nose, but as his eyes moved about he took in the many lit candles and burning hearth.
"Katrina?" he called rather hoarsely as he removed his jacket and set it on the back of a nearby chair.
That was when he saw her; curled into a ball on the floor in front of the hearth.
For a long moment, he simply stared at her. She looked innocent and, he sorrowfully thought, normal.
What was wrong with him that he kept returning to the fact that she now seemed so different to him? Her power wasn't something visible. It wasn't an immediate threat to him. So why did he suddenly find himself so wary of her?
Pushing his doubts aside, he made his way toward her; careful to not tread to loudly.
Upon reaching her, he bent to his knee and caressed his fingers through her soft hair.
"Katrina," he whispered, brushing a few strands from her face.
Ever so slowly, her eyes blinked; the green he so loved becoming visible.
Then, so abruptly he was forced to steady himself, her hand was around his throat as she jolted up; her eyes dilated with fear and panic.
Unsure what to say, he remained perfectly still but for his hand covering hers. He wasn't even sure she noticed as she seemed to be some other place entirely. It was like she wasn't even aware that he was there.
"It's alright, my love," he whispered as he lifted his other hand to touch her face. "It's only me."
The shadows abated to be replaced by a furrowed brow as her breathing began to labor; her eyes finally focusing on his. "Ichabod?"
Easing her hand from his neck, he dipped his head forward to press a kiss to her knuckles. "Everything's alright."
He should have known better than to awaken her in such a fashion what with how often she seemed to have nightmares; Purgatory always clinging to her even as she awoke in the real world. It was almost like threads still held her to that awful place, always taunting her with the connection.
"You-" She shook her head as she tightened her fingers around his. "I thought something had happened to you. Your letter said you wouldn't be long."
A heavy weight sagged in his chest as he beseeched her forgiveness. "I had hoped I wouldn't be, but my outing led to more research than I had anticipated."
The frown creasing her forehead was still present as she spoke. "I tried- I tried to come find you, but I couldn't make my feet leave the house."
She looked down at her hands. "And I tried to feel you through my connection to the elements, but I..."
She hesitantly glanced over toward the kitchen and he followed her gaze to find a charred kitchen table and, upon further study, a pitch black ceiling.
Surprised by the sight, his gaze flew back to her as he ran his hands over her arms. "Are you alright? Are you hurt?"
Her eyes, now full of remorse, avoided his. "I'm so sorry. Do you think Miss Mills is going to be angry? I can try to repair the damage once I regain better control of my magic."
Casting her worries aside, he cupped her face and urgently asked again, "Katrina, are you hurt?"
Finally, her gaze met his and he breathed a sigh of relief when she shook her head.
"No."
Thumbs caressing her cheeks, a pain deep in his chest throbbed as he said, "I never should have left you. I knew better than to do such a careless thing."
"I was alright at first," she assured as she touched the book on the floor beside her. "But as the day continued on, my thoughts began to wander and I-" She shook her head as her eyes began to glisten. "I became so overcome with worry and fear that I just had to find you."
"Katrina..."
"I tried to seek you out, but the spell failed and I couldn't make myself leave the cabin and I just-"
Body still coiled with worry, he watched as a small smile came to her face as she brought the book next to her to rest against her chest.
"Where did you find it?"
Eyes falling to the worn copy of Gulliver's Travels, he answered, "Fredrick's Manor. The Leftenant and I were investigating a missing person and discovered you'd stayed there."
"Yes," she said as she stared at the book. "I sought sanctuary there just before I attempted to flee to England."
Sorrow swarmed her features. "It wasn't until after I'd departed that I realized I'd left it behind."
The look on her face didn't sit well with him so he moved closer to her and pressed another kiss to her knuckles. "Well, you're reunited with it at last."
Her expression softened as she began to finger the piece of paper sticking out from the edges. "I read your letter at least a dozen times."
The pain in her voice was too much.
"We're together," he whispered as he slid an arm around her waist. "And expecting no less."
A small smile warmed her features as she rested a hand to her belly. "A beautiful gift after so much torment."
An unexpected peacefulness shone from her as she stroked the place their child rested.
She was right. Their child was a beautiful gift, even if he did still have his concerns. More than anything, he was grateful that the thought of their child brought his wife such happiness.
When the flames of the hearth started becoming too warm for his back, he asked, "Why are you on the floor? Were you cold?"
Her green eyes flickered behind them as she said, "I can't seem to rid myself of the chill. Purgatory was always so cold. I think it might have seeped into my bones somehow."
Not wanting to discuss Purgatory at this particular time, he crawled forward and snatched the afghan from the sofa.
After reclaiming his place next to her, he draped the material around her shoulders and pulled her into his arms.
"You're always so thoughtful," she whispered as she rested her head between his shoulder and neck. "Your note and the breakfast you left for me helped calm me for most of the morning."
Adjusting himself so he could run his fingers over her arms, he replied, "Not nearly thoughtful enough."
Her finger tangled in the front of his shirt. "You cut yourself too short, my love. I couldn't have chosen a better husband for myself."
The idea of another man being husband to Katrina was enough to make his chest tighten with jealousy. That, of course, led to thoughts of Abraham and what a life of watching her be wed to him would have been like. It was an old self infliction he'd once used to entertain his thoughts in the wake of Abraham's supposed death. Now, though, the jealousy was from an entirely different source.
"Do you ever think of Abraham?" he asked in a low whisper.
Her body tensed before she sat up, still encased in his arms, and looked at him; her brow creased as questions swirled in her green eyes.
"Why would you ask me that? Since his death, you've always been so averse to speaking of him."
His eyes fell to her belly as a stray thought of her carrying Abraham's child flitted though his mind. It was enough to cause him to clench his eyes shut from the pain he knew that would have brought him.
"My love?" she softly called as he felt her fingers rest against his cheek. "What's troubling you?"
Swallowing the knot in his throat, he said, "Answer my question."
Her hand stilled before leaving his face altogether.
"Look at me."
Knowing that refusing her would do no good, he cracked his eyes open and sought her out.
Her olive orbs were swirling with confusion and worry.
"Yes," she finally admitted. "I've thought of him."
Not having expected her to voice such truth, he attempted to untangle from her, but she had none of it, as she all but straddled his lap.
"Ichabod, you've asked me a question and now want to leave before I've barely even begun my answer. What is the matter with you?"
"My wife thinking of another man has turned my stomach," he replied too harshly.
"I'm not thinking of him," she returned softly. "I said I've thought of him. You'd be wise to acknowledge the difference and realize that I've likely thought of a great many things in my two and a half centuries; gone through every choice and decision I've ever made."
"To what end?" he asked as his fears began bubbling forth. "To regret me?"
"Regret you?" she asked, her voice reaching a higher pitch as her brow furrowed even deeper. "I've never once regretted you; not ever."
"If you'd have chosen him, you'd have lived out your life; borne him children; been at peace. You'd have never wanted for anything."
"Anything but love," she added as she searched his eyes. "Yes, I would have had everything a woman could have asked for, except I didn't want those things. Baubles, trinkets, and spoiled children I'd have been permitted no word in raising would never have brought me the sort of joy you have given me."
"Katrina," he began, feeling shameful.
"Is that what you've been thinking?" she asked. "That I regret you? Have I done something to cause you to think such things?"
"Of course not," he whispered as he sought out her waist to pull her closer.
"I'm trying so hard to be better, to regain control of myself," she said as her tears finally slid down her cheeks. "I know I'm not being a proper wife to you. I'm not caring for your needs, but if you just permit me some time, I swear, I'll find myself again."
Cupping her cheeks, he closed the space between them and covered her mouth with his own.
She gave a slight gasp as he caressed her lips, taking them between his and lathering them with his attention. She so deserved his attention.
Her hands rested on his chest and began sliding up his shirt as he delved deeper into her mouth; sliding his lips back and forth over hers.
"Forgive me," he whispered against her lips. "I'm a fool."
Her slender fingers sought out his neck where she began stroking his skin.
"I don't understand," she replied softly.
Eyes falling closed, he slid a hand into her hair and prayed for the strength to be honest with her.
"It's Abraham, Katrina," he finally admitted as he caught her eyes.
"What do you mean?" she asked as she slightly pulled back. "What's Abraham?"
"The Horseman of Death," he answered, sorrow caked into every part of his voice. "It's Abraham."
The confusion in her eyes lessened only enough to make room for realization.
"No," she said, her eyes wide. "He-"
"Made a deal with Moloch that day on the path," he went on. "He exchanged his soul for yours."
"For mine?" she asked, her eyes narrowed. "I don't understand."
"Moloch was preserving you for Abraham all these years," he explained; his contempt for the very notion of a thing evident. "That's his reward. When he completes his mission, he expects to finally claim you as his own."
Her gaze fell from his as the links seemed to fall into place for her.
"That's why Moloch kept me so apart," she whispered as her eyes focused on the flames of the hearth. "He never permitted me to interact with anyone. When I contacted you through the mirror, he was so incensed. I truly thought he would destroy me for my interference with his plans."
"He hurt you?" he asked, hoping to help her somehow.
Perhaps, Abbie was right. Katrina needed to speak of her torments.
"Dreams," she whispered as her eyes fell closed. "He always gave me dreams; tricks of the mind. Sometimes, I was with you again; free of that place. Then, just as I was about to give in, he would yank the world from under my feet and I'd be left alone again."
Hands seeking out hers, he threaded their fingers together.
"Other times, I'd be with my family, or our baby." She shook her head as the tears continued to fall down her cheeks. "He never left me be. That's why I can't find my focus here. I always think I'm in another of his dreams; that I'm not really here with you."
"Katrina..."
"And those were just the times he taunted me with things I wanted," she went on. "It was the nightmares that were truly awful. Being unable to save you on the battlefield. Being forced into marriage with Abraham. Miscarrying our baby. You hating me for my heritage."
She trembled under his hands. "Two centuries of you hating me; calling me an abomination."
Cupping her cheeks, he whispered with as much certainty as he could. "I'm going to destroy him, Katrina. I swear it."
Green eyes finally sought him out again. "I know."
"You needn't fear anything," he urged as he pressed his forehead to hers. "I'll always protect you."
"Even from myself?" she asked, her voice small and childlike. "I have no control. I'm constantly afraid; overwhelmed; out of place. I haven't the slightest idea as to what my life here will entail other than being your wife and a mother to our child."
Festering worries, indeed. He'd never doubt, or dispute Abbie again.
"One day at a time," he whispered as he stroked her hair. "We'll take our troubles and worries one day at a time and figure them out as we go. We'll find both of our places in this world, Katrina, and we'll do it together."
A small smile touched her lips as she said, "Promise me you no longer doubt my love."
Eyes downcast, he shook his head. "I promise."
"I chose you because you're a good man, my love. You feel so much all the time. How could I have not fallen in love with you?"
Her lips then found his and he welcomed her affection; the way she caressed him with both her hands and mouth.
There was a change in her kiss, however, that he felt almost immediately. She wanted more. She was intent to have more of him than kisses and light caresses. He could feel it in the way she moved against him and the way her fingers dug into his shoulders as she settled in his lap.
The feel of her thighs clenching his waist was too obvious as the small dress she wore left her lower half bare against his trousers; her center pressed firmly into his lap. It was enough to draw a low groan from him as he regretfully parted their mouths; hating himself the moment he did so.
Heavy breathing hung between them as she searched his face for an answer.
Truthfully, he had none. He only knew he wasn't ready for where she was trying to lead him.
"It's rather late," he whispered through panted breath. "We should gain some rest."
Green eyes flickered across his face, which he dropped his own eyes to avoid.
He couldn't handle the disappointment he was sure was written in her every feature. He'd never denied Katrina before and he wasn't entirely sure why he was choosing now to start doing so.
However, her soft sigh as she stood from his lap was enough to draw his gaze upward.
"I'll go change, then," she whispered before turning and retreating to their room.
Eyes falling closed, he wiped a hand over his face and released a heavy breath as he wished all the doubts and fears would part from them both.
By the time he had joined her in the room, she'd already climbed into bed and had the blankets pulled up to her shoulders.
The sight caused regret for the hurt she was surely feeling to constrict his chest.
Parting with his coverings but for his underclothing, he crawled into his side of the bed; the soft sheets welcoming him like a cherished lover.
Uncertainty then began to plague him as he stared at her red hair which was spread out over the white pillows and sheets as the urge to hold her filled him.
Rather than allowing doubt to once again control him, he closed the distance between them and slipped an arm around her waist; the thin material of his shirt doing nothing to hide the feel of her figure under his hand. She was so soft; so delicate under his palm. He could truly spend an eternity like this with her.
Burying his face in her hair, he whispered, "I love you."
The tense muscles of her body unwound against him as she laid her hand over his. "I love you, too."
With those words ringing in his ears, he closed his eyes and chased the rest he'd earlier spoken of.
Next Up: More talks between the Witnesses. A possibly soon to be employed Ichabod. Figuring out Katrina.
And thanks for all the reviews. Y'all are too kind :)