Hello Sleepy Hollow fandom!

Here is my second-ever Ichabbie ficlet.

Apologies for the godawful length; I'm notorious for short fics (just ask The Walking Dead archive)!

Enjoy, and as usual, I do not own the show this thingy is based on.


The entire ride back to the station was tense, sizzling with the remnants of what Abbie could only guess was an absolute rage-filled breakdown on Crane's part.

He was splotched with blood (or red chlorophyll? God only knew and she certainly didn't want to) from hair to knees and his eyes remained wide and dilated; his chest rose and fell heavily and Abbie could not stop glancing over at him as subtly as possible as she drove.

She wanted to say something: I'm sorry Moloch went after your son. I'm sorry your wife is in between worlds. I'm sorry you feel alone. I'm sorry that you're in pain.

She wanted to say it, but she couldn't. "Sorry" was a meaningless, weak statement at this point, and it would do the man sitting rigid and exhausted next to her no good at all.

So she drove, got them back to their safe haven as quickly as possible.

Followed him into the station as he veered straight for the closest restroom.

She stopped only when they got to the door, her eyes took in the small rectangular sign that read "MEN" and she realized it would be just downright weird for her to go inside with him.

He glanced back at her blankly before pushing at the door, and she made an attempt to smile for him.

His own lips were pale and thinly stretched as he half-copied her gesture and nodded to her in silence.

Abbie smiled again, wider. Shoved her hands into her jacket pockets and took a few steps back, jerking her head back down the hall from whence they came,

"I'm gonna run back into town for a few things. I'll…see you soon?"

Another stiff nod. His eyes were still dilated and the plant blood was drying into red-black streaks along his face. She fought a shudder. Ignored the desperate want to reach out and hug him.

When he walked through the heavy door, it clunked shut behind him.

She came very close to waiting for his return before leaving to run her errands.


They drank.

Drank until the archives grew just fuzzy enough around them to make them notice, just enough to make them giggle and snort about the general silliness of certain holiday traditions.

Drank until the pain turned to laughter.

Abbie leaned back in her chair lazily and felt her blood hum with the lull of alcohol, felt her lips peel back to flash teeth at the man sitting across from her.

Ichabod hunched over the table and picked at a snack cake she'd bought.

He glanced up at her, loose bangs falling into his face and the corners of his mouth attempted a grin.

"This neither looks nor smells of carrot, Miss Mills, and I dread the thought of what heinous amounts of sugar are in the icing. I'm quite sure this thing could kill me."

She laughed. God, he was adorably dramatic.

"No more than the doughnut holes or pumpkin pie will, Crane. Now eat it. You need something on your stomach."

He relented with a snort, breaking the carrot cupcake in half and shoving it resentfully into his mouth.

She watched with a buzzed glee while he chewed, his face contorting at the sweetness. He glared at her as if she was the Devil herself, but Abbie could only bring herself to smile wider.

Maybe it was the rum. Maybe it was her company. Maybe it was both. She didn't care.

For the time being, Ichabod's eyes were brighter.

And for her, that was all that mattered.