The rich smell of pine wafted in the air as he brought the axe down in a swift and meaningful strike. Small chips of wood soared around him and the newly splintered halves of the log fell to the ground with a thud.

Wiping the back of his sleeve across his sweat beaded forehead, he bent over and acquired another piece of wood as a hot ache settled in his lower back that nearly rivaled the burn along his upper arms.

Since first light, he'd been scurrying about the yard, finding various projects to tinker with and occupy his time. The grass had needed cutting, the trash taking out, and the limbs trimmed back from the house. Currently, he was chopping firewood from a fallen tree which had blocked the path to the dock; a job he'd told himself just couldn't wait.

After bringing the axe down yet again, he kicked the new halves aside and sucked in a deep breath as he leaned against a nearby tree while his gaze flickered up to the cabin.

To be completely honest, he was avoiding his wife.

It turned his stomach to acknowledge his loathsome actions, but there was little changing that fact.

Since the night he'd spoken to her of Abraham, a distance had settled between them; one much greater than when she'd been trapped in Purgatory. He still wasn't sure if it was entirely one reason or another that was perpetuating the ever growing chasm between them, but he was positive his ceasing of their kiss that night had a great deal to do with it.

Pecks to the cheek upon his exiting the cabin were about as intimate as they'd been over the past two weeks and while they still held each other at night and he still rose to help her when she was ill, or suffering a nightmare, they touched each other very little.

What made it even more difficult was the fact that Abbie had left the day after their talk for a mandatory two week training camp in Virginia. So, that placed him forcibly trapped in the cabin with only his wife for company; something that should have delighted him, but instead made him nearly as ill as Katrina's morning sickness.

One positive result of the last week was Katrina's growing willingness to depart from the cabin, at least for short walks. In the early mornings and late evenings, she would meander around the gardens, touching this flower or that one while reacquainting herself with nature's beauty.

While she did so, he'd watch her from afar, always needing her in his sights as assurance that she was content; that nothing plagued or disturbed her. Every so often, he would see her appear to decline into deep concentration, which usually led to some form of magic she was attempting to perform coming about soon afterward.

Flowers had both grown into beautiful blooms and exploded into shredded pieces during her many outings.

He recalled the first time he'd seen her blow a flower to bits and how it had nearly scared him to death. He'd rushed to her side, begging her to inform him if she was hurt or in need of aid. However, she'd promptly waved him off, saying it was hardly anything to fret over, but, since then, he'd been sure to watch her like a hawk while being ever mindful to keep a distance so as not to smother her with his over protectiveness.

What had piqued his interest the most, though, was her random encounters with wild creatures. She'd be simply standing still and out would pop a rabbit around her feet, scurrying about as though discovering a long lost friend. Then, of course, there'd been the deer which had walked right up to eat something out of her hand. Birds lighted around her; unafraid and lively with song.

It was both the oddest and most interesting thing he was sure he'd ever seen. She talked to them like they were regular people capable of communication with her. Try as he may, he couldn't quite wrap his mind around the idea of it.

Tires connecting with gravel drew his gaze to an approaching vehicle, one that set his heart to racing when he caught sight of it.

Abbie had returned.

With renewed energy, he propped his axe against the tree and hastily made his way up the small hill to greet her.

"Hard at work, I see."

The grin she wore was a welcome sight.

"A man must earn his keep," he said with a wave of his hand, doing his best not to pant from his exertion.

"You bet," she agreed with a half hearted, stern nod. "I'm not feeding you and cutting your grass."

Joking as her comment may have been, it still managed to leave him with a sour taste in his mouth. Here he was, still unemployed and being fed like a begging animal. It seemed he was unequivocally useless to the most important people in his life.

"So, uh, how've you been making it on your own?" She glanced up at the cabin. "The two of you don't seem to have burned the house down while trying to figure out how the microwave shuts itself off."

Rolling his eyes, he dusted some chips of wood from his shirt as he was suddenly more self conscious of himself than normal.

"I assure you, Leftenant, that Katrina and I are both highly capable individuals. We're more than adept on the subject of how to care for ourselves."

Abbie placed an elbow on the hood of her jeep and her narrowed eyes on him. "You seem more snippy than usual. Everything alright?"

Avoiding her gaze with a deftness he'd learned quite well in recent weeks, he looked out over the lake. "Now, Leftenant, it would be entirely rude of me to go into conversation about myself when you've yet to give detail to your weeks away."

"Uh, well," she shrugged her shoulders. "Jenny and I ate a lot of takeout while watching a lot of cheap cable. The training was the usual as I'd expected, nothing too strenuous, and the sights were beautiful. However, other than that, it wasn't much to talk about."

"I'd hardly consider so much time spent in your sister's company to have a lack of talk," he mused with a shift of his eyes to her. "I imagine you enjoyed your time with her."

"Actually, Jenny and I get along really well." She smiled, a hint of genuine shine in her eyes. "It was kinda refreshing to be away from all the stress of the Apocalypse. We got to spend a lot of quality time together without crazy interruptions; something that's been rare throughout our lives. We were just a couple of sisters with nothing but time on our hands."

Heart warming with her words, he clasped his hands behind his back and turned to face her. It was a true testament to her graciousness that such an event had taken place between the sisters. He'd worried in the beginning that it would be all fights and harsh words between the two for the duration of their battle against evil and, to be honest, he hadn't been sure how he would deal with such a situation. Women were much different than men when it came to expressing their troubles.

"I'm pleased to hear it, Leftenant."

Abbie tilted her head to the side as their eyes finally met; her gaze serious once more.

"It it just me, or do the dark circles under your eyes mean I've gotten more rest than you lately?"

He should have known she'd turn the conversation back to him at some point. Ever avoidant of discussing her own personal thoughts, he'd found Grace Abigail Mills to be very adept at reading others' expressions. He imagined that was why she was so coveted by the higher authorities of the government who wished to whisk her away from the small town of Sleepy Hollow.

"It's nothing to worry over. Katrina's nightmares and illness have simply prevented a great deal of rest." He shook his head, praying she would accept his answer. "But it's hardly a reason to complain with all that she's giving me in return."

"And?"

He stared at her through narrowed eyes. "And what? There's little else to be said."

"Mhm," she muttered as she glanced up at the house again; her eyebrow quirked in that way that could lead him to no good. "Did you and her have your talk? Or have you been avoiding it all this time?"

Uncertain if he should be offended or not, he huffed and returned to staring at the lake; taking comfort in its beauty as a plausible means of distraction from looking at his inquisitive partner. "She's aware of Abraham, yes, and she had very little to say on the matter."

"And what about the aversion to leaving the cabin?" Abbie pressed. "You know she's got another doctor's appointment coming up soon."

Shifting his feet as a means to attempt quelling his discomfort, he answered, "We spoke of it briefly."

Abbie paused a bit, giving him the impression that she'd given up. It would be a rare win for him as she tended to be like a dog with a bone. There was just no stopping her perceptiveness and force of will to gain answers. He was truly glad they were on the same side as he'd hate to know he might one day end up as a true person of interest during her interrogations.

However, the heavy sigh she soon released quickly put an end to his hopes.

"Crane, please don't make me drag it out of you. Just spit it out."

Fingers itching to grasp something, he swallowed the anxiety in his throat.

"We've drifted apart."

"Wow," Abbie drawled out. "Three weeks. That was fast for the honeymoon phase to fade."

Scowling as a means to deflect the sting of the truth in her words, he straightened his shoulders and tersely replied, "It's nothing for a lack of love or want of connection. It's just that I feel certain anxiety when it comes to... acts Katrina wants of me and in return for my unwillingness in regards to such acts she's become very withdrawn from me; keeping her thoughts locked tight."

The crunching of rocks beneath Abbie's boots were the first signal he received that she was moving and it was enough to draw his gaze back to see her now standing with crossed arms and narrowed eyes.

"You mean she wants sex and you aren't delivering."

What felt like hot liquid began spreading down his neck as he flailed about for a moment, appalled at the easy manner in which she spoke of such things.

"Must you be so blunt?"

Abbie fixed him with a pointed expression. "Crane, I have other things to do and places to be today, I can't spend half of it beating around the bush with you."

The pressure which had built in his chest burned all the brighter. Could he truly speak of such things with his partner? It was inappropriate on so many levels. Then again, who else was he going to speak with? He couldn't exactly seek out Abraham, his former best friend, to discuss his intimacy issues with his wife who also happened to be Abraham's former fiancé.

"Very well, then," he replied rather uncomfortably. "I'm simply afraid that it won't be the same because of the baby and all that's happened. It just fills like there are still too many things left unsaid to even consider attempting to make that intimate connection. Katrina and I have always been so... close in this moments. It was always so much more than just a physical connection. It was..."

He ran a hand down his face as the weight of his troubles began to suffocate him.

"I'm guessing you haven't shared that with her?" Abbie asked before continuing without waiting for his response. "Because if that's true, if you shut her down without explanation, I hope you realize what that did to her psyche. She's already so insecure about her place in the world and now she probably senses your hesitancy and thinks your reluctance is something involving her. Talk about a jerk move."

He moved to speak in his defense, but she held up a finger.

"I'm not finished. She has went two centuries without certainty or security, Crane. She needs to feel that you're there for her as her lover, not just her dutiful husband." She waved her hand toward the cabin. "Also, you know, maybe consider that her pregnancy might be affecting her moods as well. Let me tell you, emptying your guts every morning probably doesn't leave you feeling like the sexiest attraction for your husband."

Thoroughly feeling like the worst person alive, he suddenly found his feet to be the most interesting of sights and helplessly whispered, "Is that all?"

"Look, I'm sorry," she sighed. "It's just that, as a woman, I can tell you that we over think everything. Nothing you do escapes our notice, no matter how hard you try to hide it. All this stuff you're keeping from her because you think you're protecting her feelings, I can promise you, she senses it. Something else I can tell you is that she's laying in bed at night going over what it is about herself that's the problem."

Feeling more out of his depth than ever before, he said, "Women are the most complex puzzles man could ever endeavor to attempt understanding."

Abbie chuckled. "Well, good luck with that and, just as a note, a little love and affection will go a long way in curing the bedtime woes."

Not finding her offer amusing in the least, he kicked at the rocks beneath his feet. If it were at all possible, he would sink to the ground and beg it to swallow him. All the demons in the world didn't make him as anxious as the beautiful red head who held so much power in his life.

"Now, I do actually have some uplifting news for you that will perhaps bring the color of your cheeks down a shade or two."

Spirits perking up just a bit, he glanced up at her. "More uplifting than my being a jerk?"

Clearly amused over his discomfort, she smiled. "I think I have you a job."

"A job?" He stared at her incredulously. "You've procured me a form of employment?"

"I have. You free to go check it out?"

His reply was immediate and lacking nothing in the way of eagerness.

"Alright, well, go tell the wife and we'll hit the road."

For the first time in weeks, he was actually eager to enter his home.

"Miss Mills," Katrina said with a smile as she stood from the sofa with a bright smile. "It's wonderful to see you've returned."

Abbie glanced at him with a raised eyebrow to which he shrugged. Katrina's joy seemed out of place when considering she and Abbie had yet to truly have a real conversation.

"Uh, yeah." Abbie gave a tight lipped smile as she slipped her hands into her back pockets. "Jenny and I got in last night."

"I trust your journey was well travelled?"

"Mhm."

Katrina circled around the sofa to stand closer, her green eyes never once meeting his. That fact sucked some of his renewed energy away quicker than he would have liked.

"I'm afraid I must beg your forgiveness, Miss Mills," Katrina said, her face bearing sorrow as she twisted her fingers together in front of her.

For her part, Abbie leaned forward slightly, her eyes squinted. "My forgiveness?"

Katrina gave a helpless sigh. "I assure you that I'm not usually so rude and thoughtless, but I'm afraid my own selfish sorrows have caused me to fail to make your acquaintance in a better manner."

As surprised as he was by Katrina's admittance, Abbie's face showed the true shock.

"It's really not a problem. It's been a strange few weeks."

"Hardly a reason for my lack of kindness," Katrina protested. "You're my husband's dearest friend and I've yet to properly even introduce myself."

"Uhm, ok," Abbie answered with a half hearted chuckle. "I, uh, I guess that makes sense."

Katrina smiled, clearly pleased.

"I hope you and I can find a time to speak at more length." Katrina cast him an amused look. "That is, if we can rid ourselves of our male distraction for a short while."

Playing into her joke, he gave a crooked grin. Katrina had always been a more than adept hostess when it came to conversing and caring for his friends and fellow soldiers. He knew this, however, was something that was altogether different. Abbie wasn't some new soldier under his command, or anyone who might just be an acquaintance and comrade. She was a permanent fixture in their lives.

"I can't imagine what you'll speak of that will require my absence."

Lips pursed, Abbie gave a rather uncomfortable nod. "Uh, yeah, we'll definitely have to do that soon."

Well, that was more than enough chit chat for one day.

"The Leftenant has something she'd like me to see in town." He stepped closer to his wife so they could speak more softly between themselves. "Will you be alright being alone for a short time?"

Her gaze fell to her hands, which had taken to twisting together again, as she gave a small nod. "Of course."

Hardly believing her, he gently took her by the arm and led her further away. "Convince me better, Katrina."

Ever so slowly, she lifted her eyes to his; the green in them filled with hesitancy.

"I admit, I'm afraid, but that's a part of this process I have to face. If I'm never fully alone, never without you here to hold my hand and tell me everything's alright, I'll never get past this panic I always feel." She gave a small smile; one that was somehow both nervous and strong. "Just don't stay gone all day this time."

Whether he felt awkward and uncomfortable or not was irrelevant. He had to do something for her; something to ease her nerves and give her assurance. Hesitantly leaning in, he pressed a soft kiss to her cheek, taking his time to linger and inhale the lavender scent of her hair.

"I'll be back in time to make dinner for you," he whispered against her skin.

A soft laugh slipped from her. "I shall be delighted to see what that will entail."

"What is this place?" He scrutinized the small building as he met Abbie on the sidewalk. "A bookstore?"

Abbie smiled as he grabbed the door and held it open for her.

"You bet. I used to come here all the time before I got too busy with..." She raised an eyebrow and tilted her head side to side. "Things."

The small store was cozy, not too big or too bright, and held a warm enough atmosphere. There was a scent of cinnamon and worn leather in the air that set him at ease almost immediately.

"Anyway, Mrs. O'Conner is getting up there in age and is looking to slow down a little for her health and also to spend more time with her son and grandkids." Abbie tapped a small bell. "She needs someone to help her out with the business."

Unsure if she was implying what he thought she was, he glanced around the store, which suddenly seemed much larger and less inviting than before.

"You mean to say, you think I should help her?" He shook his head. "Leftenant, I'm not so sure I'm up to such a task."

Abbie chuckled and waved him off. "Take a deep breath, Crane, and just meet her, alright?"

"Oh, Abigail!" Mrs. O'Conner, he assumed, came walking from around a row of bookshelves, a spring in her step. "I'm so glad you were able to come."

To his surprise, Abbie met the woman half way and leaned into her for a gentle hug.

Intrigued by the exchange, he gazed after them inquisitively. It was rare to see Abbie willingly offer such means of affection. He wondered just how often she'd once come to this place, seeking refuge amongst the many books. The two women were smiling and talking like they'd known each other for ages.

Mrs. O'Conner, for her part, was a rather short, plump woman. Her hair had grayed to the point that it was more white than the natural black which was still lingering in certain places. Brown eyes outlined with deep lines gave way to years of knowledge, likely from reading the very books he was surrounded by now.

"So, is this the mysterious Mr. Ichabod Crane I've heard so much about?"

Clearing his throat, he gave a small bow and came up smiling. "I hope nothing too mysterious."

"Oh, no," Mrs. O'Conner said with a soft laugh. "That sweet Jennifer Mills has told me you're quite the history buff."

"Miss Jenny?" he asked, surprised to hear such a familiar name.

"Jenny works across the street," Abbie said, gesturing toward the door.

With a glance through the glass window, he spotted the antique store wedged between Della's Bakery and Subway.

"Oh, well," he cleared his throat again in the hopes of quelling his anxiety. "I do enjoy history."

"So, Abigail tells me you might be a good fit here at Hollow Books."

Shifting his feet, he cast Abbie an uncomfortable look. "I believe she has overestimated my abilities, madam."

"I believe that will be for me to decide," Mrs. O'Conner replied with a raised eyebrow. "Anyone can learn with a proper teacher and you look ripe to do a bit of learning, Mr. Crane."

At a loss for words, he was surprised when the woman looped her arm through his and began leading him further into the store.

"I'll take him from here, Abigail," she called over her shoulder. "I'm sure you'd like to browse your old haunt over in the mystery section."

Shooting a glance over his shoulder, he sought out Abbie only to see her grinning ear to ear right before she ducked down a side aisle.

"So, tell me, young man," Mrs. O'Conner said, her voice bearing a sense of curiosity. "Are you married?"

The warmth of his home was a welcome feeling.

As he removed his coat at the door, he breathed a sigh of relief as his feet and back were aching and in desperate need of a hot soak. If he kept up the work load he'd been taking onto himself, he'd surely be useless during the next demon attack.

The front of the house was dark, save for a small light in the living room to guide his steps. After turning it off, he made his way to their bedroom, which only permitted him the knowledge that Katrina was in the bathroom.

A bit of hesitancy was present in his movements as he imagined she might be put out with him for being so late, but he truly hoped that not to be the case. Mrs. O'Conner had kept him late into the evening, wanting to know everything about everything. He swore the elderly woman had more energy than he did. He truly believed she was the most curious woman he'd ever met and that was saying something considering most high society women of his time had had little else to do but pry into others' business.

"You're late, my love."

Gaze searching her out, he found her coming from their bathroom, a towel dabbing at her wet hair.

However, her hair hardly garnered his notice as her gown, a thin, cream material, was practically see through with the light of the bathroom shining behind her. The sight of her form's outline displayed in such a way had him heating under the collar.

"I-" He tore his eyes from her to focus on the removal of his socks. "Forgive me. I was detained by a curious woman full of prying questions."

"A woman?"

Struck by the slight inflection in her tone, he lifted his eyes to her as a grin began to pull at his lips. She was now turned from him, her towel gone and replaced with a brush, but he deciphered by her stance that she was unquestionably tense.

"Yes," he answered, unable to pass on this opportunity. "A lovely, intelligent, and quite humorous woman."

"Oh?" She set her brush down and ran her hand over her gown where their child resided.

"Mhm." He rose from the bed and took the few steps that would position him behind her, allowing him to slide his hands around her waist to rest over hers while pressing his front against her back. "She was also a widow twice my age."

Her head turned to the side, her lips twitching. "Truly?"

He leaned close to smell the fresh scent of her skin, his nose brushing her neck. "You smell wonderful."

Their hands over her belly pulled close as she sucked in a breath.

Overcome by her scent and the warm feel of her, he pressed a kiss to her skin, which only led to another and another. For so long now, he'd longed for the taste of her. Resistance had been a hard won fight that he now seemed to be losing.

Her fingers threaded through his as she turned her head and nudged his cheek with her nose.

Conceding to her wishes, he trailed his lips up her neck, taking his time with her supple flesh, memorizing every inch of her all over again. By the time he was caressing her lips, they were bound so tightly that every breath could be felt without question.

As his heart hammered against her back, her fingers began tracing over his hands and up his arms, leaving his to rest against her belly with a gentle firmness.

However, the thin material kept nothing of the contraction of her muscles from his notice. She was so soft and warm; two things that had his trousers constricting in their own familiar way.

"Katrina," he whispered, pulling away and resting his forehead to hers. "How I love you so."

"I hadn't noticed," she softly replied, a smile tugging at her lips as she watched him pant for breath.

Though her words were joking, he still felt a pain from them.

"I know I've been... distant of late." He lifted a hand to her cheek and pulled her around to face him. "But I do love you more than any creature could love another."

"Ichabod." Her hands rested on his sides as her green eyes bore into him. "I could never doubt your love. It shines so clearly in your eyes every time you look at me."

His gaze fell to her chest, an action that did nothing to help the pulsing in his trousers. Her damned nightgown showed the outline of her breasts and nipples with little to nothing left for the imagination. What on earth had Abbie given his wife to wear?

"I hope I haven't caused you any conflict in your thoughts." He caressed the column of her neck. "It's so hard not to..."

Her fingers hooked under his jaw to lift his gaze.

When he met her eyes again, he found her to be frowning, the creases in her brow drawn tight.

"Why should it be hard at all?" She shook her head. "If you desire me, why not act on it in the way we have so many times before?"

"Because," he mumbled as he shut his eyes and pulled away from her, the absence of her body already bothering him.

She was so accepting, so yearning for his love. What sort of man was he that he couldn't just worship the beautiful creature God had blessed him with who was practically begging for his attention?

He paced across the room and sat on the edge of the bed before dropping his head into his hands.

How could he complicate this situation any further? He knew he had to be honest with her, but the idea of hurting her had him nearly about to bite his tongue off.

"My love." Her hand rested at his back and took to rubbing his tense muscles. "Whatever it is, just tell me."

"I can't," he whispered, feeling the burn in his eyes. "It'll pain you."

Her hand stilled and he swore his heart jumped into his throat.

Choking on the sob building within him, he felt her silence begin to strangle him as he pressed his hands deeper into his face.

"It's the baby, isn't it?"

The bed shifted as she stood and it was enough to prompt him to drop his hands and grab hers, desperate to keep her near. More distance was the last thing they needed.

"I love our baby." He pulled her to stand in front of him, though her eyes refused to meet his as she stared at the window behind him; her chest rising at a quick pace. "Katrina, I want our baby."

When she didn't respond, either verbally or physically, he spread his legs and pulled her close enough to rest his forehead to her belly as his arms wound around her waist.

"I've always wanted a child with you," he whispered. "Since the moment it became a possibility, I've anticipated it; you telling me of the beautiful miracle we'd created."

At last, her hands rested along his head, holding him close as her fingers wove through his hair.

"You're not telling all of it. I can feel it."

Heart hammering, he opened and closed his mouth with nothing being offered to her. Once it was said, there would be no taking it back. She would always remember it; be hurt by it. He couldn't imagine her ever forgiving him for this. If there were ever a creature in this world who might contend with him for Katrina's love, it was surely the one growing mere centimeters from his face. What would happen if she couldn't forgive him for his thoughts about their baby?

"I picture a..." Her tightened his hold on her so she couldn't escape him even if she tried. "I don't want to imagine it or think it, but, every time I close my eyes, I see our child as... different; abnormal."

She became so completely still that he knew without a doubt she'd heard him. Then, a heartbeat later, she began frantically pushing at him which only made him hold her closer.

"You see me that way," she breathed, barely above a whisper.

He jerked his gaze up as he stood and grasped her face, which was overflowing with tears. "No, never."

She shoved at his chest, effectively pushing him away as she stumbled back a few feet. Heartbreak was written in her every feature and the sight of it had panic building in his belly. How could he have done this to her?

"Our child is a part of me, Ichabod, and if you see it as an abnormality, then that means you see me that way, too."

Unable to move toward her due to the look on her face that unquestionably told him not to, he dropped back to the bed; weak and ashamed.

"I swear, I don't," he replied, desperately shaking his head. "I don't understand it, Katrina. I don't want to feel this way. I love you and our baby. I would die for you both."

She wrapped her arms around herself, making her seem all the younger; more fragile. Insecurity was such an odd sight on his wife. She'd never been one to show fear or doubt. If there was ever a question of who was the stronger of the two of them, it would surely always be her. She was a resilient and outstanding woman who had no rivals.

"Are you afraid of me?"

The soft whisper was filled with so much fear that it had him back on his feet before his heart met its next beat.

"No." He edged toward her slowly. "Of course, not. I think I simply don't understand is all."

When he hesitantly touched her shoulder, she briskly withdrew a few more steps as her eyes snapped opened.

"Don't." She shook her head as more tears came. "You don't have the right. This is why you haven't touched me, isn't it? Why you won't make love to me? Because you think I'm some... abomination."

The knot in his throat seemed as though it had become a permanent fixture. "Please, don't say that. That's not what I think at all."

"You're lying!" A spiteful glare flew from her as she pointed a finger at him. "You call me the liar when all this time you've been having these thoughts about me."

"I haven't damn it!" The pressure to course correct this conversation weighed down on him. "I haven't made love to you because I wanted it to be pure. I didn't want any doubts or secrets left between us. You deserve better than that and I sure as hell wasn't going to selfishly use you with all of this left unsaid."

She grimaced and spun away from him.

Taking a deep breath, he paused and attempted to calm himself. If he started screaming at her, they would never reconcile and things would only worsen. Besides all of that, he was most certainly the one who needed screaming at in this moment.

"When we make love, I want it to matter, Katrina." He stared at her back, wishing she hadn't turned from him. "I want it to be like it was. I didn't want it to be different because of the baby."

"Because of your thoughts about my baby." She turned around, her green eyes flashing hotly. "About the parts of it that I created."

"I wouldn't have our child any other way than how it is," he replied, his voice soft in comparison to her harsher one. "You must believe that I want it just as it is; the parts that are both you and I."

The furrow of her brow was instantaneous. "You're not making any sense."

It was now or never. He had to get all of it out and fix the growing chasm between them. "I'm a fool, my love. You know how my mind works; how strange it is sometimes. I have an incessant need to understand everything around me."

"What don't you understand?"

"You." He took another hesitant step toward her and thanked God when she didn't turn away. "I don't understand your magic, or how powerful you are. I don't understand what makes you a witch and where the differences between you and I begin and end. I don't know what's going to happen when you give birth, or if it's going to require safety measures because of our child's heritage."

He ran a hand down his face as his frustrations rose. "I don't understand anything and my mind is betraying me by attempting to fill in the gaps."

When her hands grasped his and pulled them from his face, he nearly flinched from surprise. She was voluntarily touching him despite his wicked thoughts.

"All you have to do is ask."

Her eyes, though puffy and red, were filled with love and mercy; two things he felt less than deserving of.

"I didn't want to hurt you." He cupped her face. "I would do anything to spare you pain and the fact that it's my own ignorance that's causing it now bothers me so deeply that you cannot fathom it."

A heavy breath eased from her nose.

"I suppose this is a conversation we should have already had."

Relieved that she had somewhat calmed, he smoothed his thumbs along her skin. "This was my fault. I shouldn't have kept my thoughts from you."

"I know I seem fragile, Ichabod, but I'm not." She pressed closer to him. "I'm strong. I just... I've lost my way a bit and it's taking some time to find myself."

"I know that, Katrina." He pressed his forehead to hers. "I swear, I do."

Her fingers twisted in his shirt as her eyes fell between them. The silence left him wondering what was happening behind those orbs of green he so adored. Was she going to forgive him? Could it be that easy? He found it hard to believe she would accept his answers and allow him back into her arms so freely.

"Katrina?"

"Yes?" she asked, her eyes never lifting.

He ran his hands down her shoulders as he dropped his mouth to press against her cheek.

"I want to hold you," he whispered, breathing against her skin. "Please, permit it."

For a few terrifying heartbeats, she didn't respond, didn't acknowledge him in the least. It left him feeling more empty than he had in a long while. There was no possible ending to this night that could ease his heart's aching other than the one where he held her in his arms as she fell asleep.

When she stepped back from him, her gaze still avoiding his, he assumed he was doomed.

She walked across the room and switched off the bathroom light, leaving him to stand in place, barely even breathing for fear that it would somehow offend her.

Then, she moved to the bedside and began pulling the covers down for her entry.

"Should I-" He swallowed against the knot. "Should I leave?"

Never looking at him, she answered softly, "I don't know."

Unsure how that answer affected him, he glanced to the door and considered he might just go ahead and permit her some time to think.

However, Abbie's words of how Katrina might lie in bed at night considering all that was wrong with her came to memory and he suddenly found himself moving toward her with resolute steps.

When he was just behind her, he slid his arms around her waist and pulled her back into his chest, making sure to be gentle with her, as he leaned to whisper in her ear.

"There's nothing wrong with you. You're the most beautiful, kind, and loving creature I've ever had the honor of meeting. Don't ever doubt that I see you any other way."

There was a tremble to her body now; an unmistakable tell tale that told him he was right to assure her.

"Ichabod, please," she whispered, a crack in her voice. "Don't ever leave me alone."

"I honestly don't believe I could if I wanted to, Katrina."

When she turned in his arms, he was greeted with fresh tears and a desperate need for acceptance in her green eyes.

Wasting no time in giving it to her, he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers; the feel of wet tears coating his mouth and cheeks.

The way she responded to him tugged at his heart. It was hesitant, like perhaps she might be doubting he was even touching her. The knowledge made him feel like the most worthless husband alive. Here he was with the most beautiful wife a man could ask for and he'd been making her feel like less than she was.

"Will you ever make love to me again?" She pulled back, her puffy eyes searching him out. "I need you, my love."

He traced his fingers over her cheek. "Soon."

A weary breath left her, one that gave way to more doubt, as she nodded and turned to climb into their bed.

Refusing to doubt himself as much as she did, he shrugged off his shirt and trousers and crawled over her to rest in his place. Then, without leaving a moment to hesitate, he turned on his side and wrapped his arm around her.

"I need you, too, Katrina." He pressed a kiss to the side of her neck. "So desperately."

She rolled her head toward his. "Then, why not quench your need now? If you desire me the way you say, why not allow us the connection we want?"

There was so much longing in her green eyes that he very nearly threw all of his doubts aside. However, the word connection bounced around in his mind.

"Would we really share in the connection the way we once did?" He ran his fingers over her cheek. "I see the hurt still swirling in your eyes. I see the doubt of my love."

She turned to stare at the ceiling.

"Would you rather I were a regular woman?"

"Of course, n-"

"And don't say what you think I want to hear," she interrupted. "Tell me the truth."

If his heart beat any harder, it would surely burst though his chest.

"I'd rather I understand you, feel as though I knew everything about you."

"You'd rather I be a simple woman," she concluded, her voice even. "But if I were a simple woman, neither of us would be here. We'd likely have never met and, let's be truly honest, Ichabod, if I were simple you would have grown bored of me years ago."

Aggravated by this entire conversation, he sunk further into the sheets. "I know for certain that I've grown bored of this point of conversation."

With a huff, Katrina turned on her side to lie face to face with him. "You fell in love with me because I was mysterious."

Not having her dictating his thoughts, he ran his hand down her arm. "I fell in love with you because you were kind, caring, and more different than anyone I'd ever met. You stood against me and cast my words aside as though I were an insignificant insect."

"You were anything but insignificant to me," she whispered, her voice softer. "So we shouldn't pretend as though I would have become your wife if I'd been any different."

She lifted her fingers to stroke his cheek. "You were so much better than all of them. You were far more intelligent and more forward-thinking than they could even fathom at times. A regular wife would never have held your interest. So, you're right. I was different because I was always two steps ahead of everyone else. I knew more, saw more, of the world and I've always been able to do things no one else can."

She smiled. "My love, you needed me as desperately as I needed you."

Suddenly at ease, he returned her smile and pulled her closer. "At least, we can agree upon that."

Her eyes fell closed as she burrowed against his body. "Ask me."

Wrapping his arms around her, he rolled to his back and held her tightly. "Ask you what?"

"Whatever you want."

Next up: A three person mission. Abraham. Warm baths and foot rubs. A first time experience.