Something Else Entirely


Their relationship had started with simple civility. Nothing more than two kindred spirits fighting the good fight and trying not to get killed while they were about it. Then ever so slowly, it had started to become so much more. All too soon, it was beginning to form into friendship and trust. And that was why with each passing night, Lieutenant Abbie Mills' job became that much harder.

Sure, it wasn't a cakewalk to begin with, with the Headless Horseman hot on their trail, and the minions of hell ever close behind. But where Abbie once would have been able to quietly deal with her near-death experiences, she now visibly cringed. Every night, she feared the worst. Every night, she prayed that herself and Ichabod would be spared the horrific deaths that seemed almost set in stone. Every night she was almost overwhelmed with fear and desolation. And every new morning she met, was soaked in relieved tears.

Abbie had never been one to rely on others, or to wallow in self-pity. And she had never been a fearful or emotional woman. But now, with an endless amount of days piling up behind her and no sign of the onslaught stopping, she was rapidly becoming a nervous wreck. She would soon be overwhelmed, but being a prideful and self-reliant woman, Abbie tried to hide her doubts and troubles from the world. On the outside she still fought to remain the sarcastic and fast thinking cop, but on the inside she was beginning to break.

Her fellow police officers and colleagues seemed unaware of her descent, but it did not go unnoticed by the ever observant, Ichabod Crane. And to Abbie's complete chagrin, the worrisome man had asked her about it.

"Are you quite well, Lieutenant," he had inquired, concern burning in his intent blue eyes, as they drove to her small flat, after yet another night of research and supernatural occurrences. "You are incredibly pale and have the darkest of circles beneath your eyes."

Abbie almost laughed as she wondered how he could call her pale when she was a black woman, but thought better of it. For once, humor didn't seem appropriate, so she opted for a half-truth instead.

"I'm fine, just tired. . . I suppose all these late nights are starting to catch up with me."

"You have not been sleeping well." It was an observation, not a question, and Abbie nodded in agreement.

"I haven't slept well since this whole 'Stop the Apocalypse' thing started," she said with a shrug. "But I guess that's just to be expected. I mean, we are dealing with things that go bump in the night, and creatures that would put the Frankenstein monster to shame."

"Indeed," the Colonial man had agreed lightly, though there was a strange lilt to his usual assured tone.

After Ichabod had studied her for a moment, he turned his attention to the passing buildings, as his dark hair was blown about his face from his rolled down window. It was obvious that he wanted to say more, but for once he kept his questions and thoughts to himself. For this, Abbie was beyond grateful. With her mixed feelings and emotional state of mind, she wasn't sure she could keep her facade up if he came too close. She wasn't sure she wouldn't break down and tell him what she was feeling, speak loud the exact words on her mind. . . But the scariest part wasn't that she was tempted to tell Ichabod Crane everything . . . Oh no. It was the fact that for a brief moment she hadn't cared, that frightened her the most.


It was almost a week and a half later that Abbie cracked.

They had found another dead body- courtesy of the Horseman- and the tired cop had recognized the corpse to be someone she knew. But instead of playing it cool and holding back her tears until she could be alone, the officer let out a shaky breath and collapsed to her knees beside the freshly decapitated body.

For once she didn't care about appearances or being strong. If Ichabod freaking Crane saw her break down and turned up his nose, so be it. She couldn't keep pretending that she was impervious to the destruction and death that the Pale Rider brought. She couldn't hold back her overflowing anger and misery indefinitely. Weariness filled her every edifice and she cried freely as she looked down at the older woman who had been her neighbor for more years than she could count. This wasn't right. . . She shouldn't be dead. This shouldn't be happening. . . This shouldn't be real.

Her mind screamed as she began to sob violently from the strain of it all. Abbie felt as if she was losing her sanity. Almost as if the world had gone insane, and she was left to try and pick up the shattered pieces. There was no sense or light. . . Only despair.

"No! No more," her mind wailed frantically, clawing to keep control. "I can't take this! What if it's his head that gets chopped off next time? What will I do then?"

Abbie cried harder at this, and felt herself lose the internal battle. All that was left was her anxiety and fear. She had been transformed from a calm, collectedwoman, to a sobbing mess with bloodshot eyes and seemingly no backbone to speak of. Her life had turned out to be nothing as she had planned, and that thought was the scariest of all. For the first time in many years, Abbie Mills had no idea what she was going to do. All the foresight she had accumulated over the years left her, and she was brought face to face with a blank future. There was. . . nothing.

Abbie would have lost herself completely in that moment, if she hadn't felt two strong arms encircle her middle, and a calming voice resound in her ear. It took the female officer a moment to realize it was 'him', but once she had, the pain seemed to ease, if only a little. And her body seemed to relax into his grip, though she wasn't quite sure why.

"There was nothing that you could have done," he said quietly. Then, holding her firmly, he pulled her up from the ground to lean in the crook of his side, where he hesitantly placed his arm around her shaking shoulders. "This woman was merely in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Abbie leaned into the man's warm side and let herself be comforted by her companion that she had come to so heavily rely upon. She knew that he was right, but her mind fought the logic, and her body seemed to grow more burdensome by the second.

"I should have protected her," was the teary reply. "She was an innocent old cat lady, with a habit of burning cookies. She shouldn't be dead! Not one of the Horseman's victims should be dead!"

"And yet they are," Ichabod interjected softly. "They are all dead, Abbie. . . But we can still help them."

Abbie looked up at him in surprise as he said her name for the first time. He had always referred to her as 'Miss Mills' or 'Lieutenant' up until that moment, so hearing her name was a new and exciting experience. And the shock of it almost made her miss the foreign emotion that shined in Crane's eyes. Almost.

"How can we help them," Abbie asked, wanting more than anything to run away, but knowing that she couldn't. "How on earth, can we possibly make this right?"

"We must grant them the justice they deserve."

"How?"

"By continuing to do what we have been doing each night for these past weeks. By trying our utmost to stop the Horseman and all those who would willingly call him ally."

Abbie looked up at Ichabod and saw the strength that radiated from his countenance, and it made her limbs feel lighter than before. Then as the man looked down at his partner, he smiled at her and his blue eyes came alive with affection.

"You mustn't lose hope, Abbie Mills. Sleepy Hollow isn't as dispiriting as first it might seem. And the nighttime darkness will wane, as it always does. You need only continue on the path to our goal."

Abbie still felt tired and lost, but she nodded to him, pushing back her tears and heavy heart. And yet, despite all the wondrous sentiments that passed through her mind, she was only able to settle with a single sentence that was far from groundbreaking.

"I won't let you down, Ichabod."

To Abbie, this seemed like a pretty dry comment, but as the words passed from her lips, the Colonial man smiled brightly, and she realized that it was the first time she had ever said his name aloud. It was nicer sounding on the tongue then she would have thought, and it truly suited him.

"I know you won't," he encouraged softly smiling at her for several long minutes before he stepped away from her and snapped back into the moment.

"Come now, Lieutenant," he said briskly. "We must take care of this lady's body, and then retire for the night. I know without a doubt, that we are both in desperate need of sustenance and sleep."

Abbie nodded in agreement, and the two headed back to her cruiser so she could report the murder to her dispatcher. And it was as the two walked back, side by side, that everything changed between them. It was in that moment that their relationship transformed from companionship to something else entirely, and Lieutenant Abbie Mills found that she didn't mind in the slightest.


Author's Note: With only the first episode aired, I was forced to take liberties. (Hope you guys don't mind.) Please tell me I wasn't the only one who saw the chemistry and felt the sexual tension between Ichabod and Abbie? I know Ichabod Crane is a married man and that he loves Katrina, but my gosh. . . O_O This show is going to be the death of me!

I hope you guys enjoy my scribbles! I might post more Sleepy Hollow stories once the show has progressed a bit more. This was merely written to appease my rabid mind and my insatiable plot bunnies.

~Lyn Harkeran