This was from a sort of prompt I saw. I appreciate you reading my rushed nonsense. Good luck.

…

She knows she hasn't been there long. She KNOWS this. But the passing of time is becoming distorted. It's been seconds. Minutes. Hours. Decades. She remembers but at the same time, she doesn't.

People are crying all around her. They bump into her with brittle skin and dry hollow eyes, mouths stretched open n rasped wails filled with desperation and agony and the sounds never stop.

They scream over and over and over and over and she can feel the death in this place. This desolate place of eternal in-between.

It's getting to her. How long has she been here?

She feels the eyes of those who want her destruction following her. Nowhere is safe.

Where is nowhere?

She runs. She never stops moving.

She stops for breath and only feels weaker.

How long has she been here?

He throat aches as she gasps for breath. She's so thirsty.

Maybe water would make this more bearable. Just some water. Something to drink, something to soothe, something to bring any sort of comfort…

Water. Just a sip of water. Just a little bit.

Surely she could have that much.

He offers her the drink, and she takes it, because she is so thirsty and it's only a little sip, just a small sip, that's it, she needs this, she has to have this and the canteen is at her lips, liquid sloshing back and forth, so close, and she swallows, and it is the best thing she'd ever have.

Ichabod smiles at her, grin stretching further and further across his face until it tears, stretching and ripping grotesquely, skin turning pale, horns bursting forth from the sides of his head, clawed hands reaching and grabbing her face, crushing her skull…

He is laughing and she is screaming-

…

Abbie screamed as she shot up, head spinning and chest heaving as she gasped for breath. For a moment she could still feel the claws tearing at her skin, the hot breath fanning across her face, the terrifying bass of its delighted laughter and she shuddered, hugging herself in an attempt to calm down.

She was fine. She wasn't there anymore. She'd gotten out. She was fine.

She took deep, even breaths until her heart slowed and she stopped hearing the pained whispers of the damned. Closing her eyes, she brought trembling hands to wipe at her sweaty forehead.

She couldn't do this. She couldn't spend every night waking up in terror and convincing herself that she wasn't there anymore.

Maybe it was time for a walk. If she got some fresh air, she'd feel a little better.

Abbie slowly pushed the covers off and walked to her closet, stepping out of her sleep shorts and into some sweatpants. She also pulled on a hoodie, zipping it up, and some comfy sneakers. Lastly, she pulled her hair up into a loose bun.

Keys in pocket and umbrella in hand-they'd mentioned something about rain- she stepped out into the cool air, taking a deep breath. It was quiet and her steps were light as she moved. Her thoughts were scattered as she wandered, oddly muddled and incoherent. She was thinking, but didn't have what it took at the moment to truly comprehend it, so she let her mind wander as her body did.

The first droplets of rain were light, and she paid no mind to it. It wasn't until it turned into a steady downpour that she stopped, blinking up at the night sky as it drenched her. It was oddly soothing. She closed her eyes.

Reading by the fire had always brought soothed Ichabod in times of great comfort, but for some reason, tonight was more unbearable than most. While the Leftenant had very good taste in literature, Harry Potter just wasn't holding his interest right now.

He set the book aside, disgruntled at his unfocused mind. He stretched out on the chair, leaning his head back and turning to the window. The rain was sudden, and the sound provided a strange comfort he found himself clinging too. It was then that he noticed the silhouette a few ways from the cabin. They were standing still, head angled toward the sky.

He was immediately on edge, standing up and grabbing the weapon the Leftenant had provided him. Pulling on his boots, he carefully stepped outside onto the front porch to get a better look at the person.

"This is a private residence. State your name and intentions and no harm will come your way." he said, voice cutting through the sound of the rainfall, but the person remained unmoved.

Ichabod sighed. While the noise the rain had brought was soothing, stepping into it wouldn't be, but alas, this person failed to heed his instructions and he couldn't bring harm on someone who at present made no threatening advances. He stepped out into the rain, steps steady and senses sharpened, ready to defend himself if need be.

It was then he noticed who it was. He stopped short for a moment, possibilities flying rapidly in his mind, all of them centering on feelings of fear and concern. He found himself rushing over, stopping before the Leftenant who still remained oddly stagnant.

"Leftenant." he spoke, peering down at her worriedly.

Again, she failed to respond. He raised his hand to touch her, hesitating. While their relationship was certainly a… friendly one, it was still unbecoming for him to place his hands on her when she wasn't aware to respond for or against it.

"Leftenant." he tried again, and he still received no response.

His concern finally overrode his gentlemanly protocol, and he dropped the weapon, hands clamping down on her shoulders.

"Abigail! You must awaken from this trance at once!"

Her eyes blinked open and she gasped, showing him away from her and taking a few hurried steps backward. She raised her hands to defend herself only to stop short at just who she was about attack.

Ichabod watched as the recognition slowly dawned on her.

"Crane?" she asked, clearly confused, and he nodded.

"Yes, this is he. Are you alright?" he asked softly, and she glanced around, realizing she was at the cabin.

When had she even gotten here? How long had she been walking, and why didn't she hear Ichabod approach? This wasn't like her.

"I…" she closed her mouth, because she honestly didn't know what to say.

Here she was in a place she had no recollection of arriving at, soaked to the bone and confused as hell. This wasn't the walk she'd had in mind.

Ichabod watched her wrestle with her thoughts before interrupting.

"Would you like to come in?"

She turned to stare at him, frowning. "It's late. I should probably head back. Don't let me bother you." she answered, and he shook his head.

"You provided my place of residence, Abigail. Please don't think it a burden."

"But-

"I insist. I assure you I am unbothered. I'll not have you drenched and in the cold in the middle of the night if I can prevent it."

She watched him for a while before nodding slowly. "Alright. I guess I can stay for a while."

Ichabod bent to retrieve the weapon he dropped, walking back to the cabin while Abbie followed him somewhat unsteadily. He frowned. She still seemed off balance.

He waited for her to step inside before following, shutting the door and placing the weapon down. They both toed off their shoes and stood watching each other, neither knowing what to do next. It was in his careful moment of observation that he noticed her shivering.

"Would you like to make use of my…shower, as you call it?"

That got a slight smile out of her. "That'd be great actually."

They continued to stare. "I'll need clothes though. Do you still have the ones I got you?" she asked.

He thought back to those cumbersome articles of clothing. Those oddly fitting jeans that left no room for comfort.

"Yes. I'll retrieve them for you." he answered, setting off to find them while she headed to the bathroom.

She was fiddling with the levers on the shower when he returned, placing the brown paper bag along with an extra towel on the counter. For a moment he was struck by the way the material of her clothing clung to her skin and he cleared his throat.

"Is everything here to your liking?" he asked.

She turned to him with a soft smile.

"Yea, this is great, thanks." she answered, peering into the contents of the bag.

He stood still, watching her, uncertain as to what he should do next, when she looked back up at him with an eyebrow raised.

"Is this gonna be a group activity or…"

"Oh! Pardon me." he answered, rushing out and shutting the door behind him.

…

Abbie stared at the closed door for a moment before turning to look into the mirror. She still felt somewhat off kilter. The walk was supposed to clear her head, and it totally did in the literal sense, because the walk from here to Crane's was a huge gap.

It was uncomfortable.

Just like these wet clothes.

She quickly stripped and stepped into the spray. Sighing in relief as the warmth brought back some feeling. She waited for the numbness to fade before she scrubbed herself with the bar of soap she'd bought Crane. It felt good. She imagined herself removing all traces of her nightmare, and it left her feeling lighter and more aware. It was then she'd realized her hair was wet too. She frowned, hand reaching up to pull out the hair tie and finger through the now thick tresses.

Oh well.

She let the water run through it for a while, opting out of Crane's shampoo. Hers was specifically for her type of hair and she could go without whatever the hell was in his.

Turning off the water, she stepped out onto the step mat and grabbing the towel Crane had left her. She dried quickly, pulling on the white t-shirt and boxers she'd brought him before wrapping the towel around her hair.

Lotion was behind the mirror and she applied that, because he'd seen her dazed and confused but he would never see her ashy. That done she wrung out her wet clothes and finally made her way out of the bathroom, steam following her.

"Crane?" she called.

"A moment please!" he called out, and he came out with a new pair of sleep clothes.

"Was your bath satisfa-

He stopped short at the sight of Abbie's legs in the boxers and promptly walked right into a table, knocking a third of the things atop it off as he scrambled to find purchase, failing miserably.

"Crane!" she gasped, dropping her clothes. "What in the hell…" she muttered as she rushed over, helping him sit up.

"Leftenant, my apologies!"

"You nearly brained yourself on this hard-ass wooden table and you're apologizing to me? Okay."

His cheeks were blood red.

"No, well, yes, I was just, struck by the sight of your bare legs."

She froze, staring down at him.

"Why? Are they ugly?"

He gapped. "Goodness no! Rest assured, they are as shapely and smooth as I had imagined."

She watched his eyes widen as he realized what had just come out of his mouth. "Please accept my deepest apologies Miss Mills. I have never been so uncouth in all my years-

Abbie watched him fumble over his apology before bursting into laughter, staggering backwards.

Ichabod stopped speaking and watched the way her laughter seemed to bring life to the entire room. Even the flames burned brighter.

"Don't hurt yourself Crane. It's alright. I've been known to break necks."

Her phrase was lost on him. "Pardon?"

"You're not the first to like what you see."

He frowned at the thought of other men marveling at her beauty, before she leaned down to pick up her wet clothes.

"I'm gonna lay these out by the fire if that's okay."

"Of course." he replied, trying to get himself together.

He stood up carefully, putting everything back in its place before watching her. It seemed lately that whenever he was in a room with her he could do nothing else but stare.

Abbie stood up and pulled the towel off her head, draping it across her shoulders.

"Your hair…its texture is different."

Her dark brown eyes turned to him and he swallowed.

"Yea, this is kind of how it normally is. Heat straightens it, but it goes back to this when wet."

"Fascinating." he whispered. "It looks quite thick."

"It is." she confirmed.

There was another lull in conversation where they did nothing but stare, and Ichabod found himself nervous.

"Would you like some tea?"

"Yea, that'd be nice. Crane, you're on a roll here." she said jokingly, and he blushed, ducking his head as he walked to the kitchen.

Abbie watched him leave with a smirk, before settling down onto the couch, facing the fire. She used her fingers to comb her hair into a thick bun, getting it out of the way.

Crane soon returned with two steaming hot mugs, handing one to her before sitting across from her.

"Thanks." she mumbled, pulling her legs up so her feet were planted on the couch, Crane following her.

Their toes were a few inches apart.

"Apple Cinnamon?" she asked with delight, taking a small sip.

"Indeed. Out of all the tea you graced me with, this one is most pleasant."

She smiled.

"It's my favorite too."

The sipped in comfortable silence, and Ichabod was awed at the way the flickering light from the flames danced upon her skin. She met his eyes and he found he couldn't look away.

"What?" she asked softly, and he shook his head.

"It is nothing."

Abbie nodded, neglecting to mention that the way he was staring at her was definitely not nothing.

"You hair is different too." she said, and he automatically reached to touch the brown strands.

"I mean, I'm so used to seeing it in the ribbon."

"Ah." he said, nodding.

He found it pointless to sleep in the ribbon when his constant tossing and turning shook it out.

They managed to finish their tea quickly, and the silence became awkward again as they were both left with nothing to focus on but each other. It was different, sitting together and not focused on saving the world. This was just them.

"Miss Mills, if I may ask…" he started, and she nodded at him to go on, "Why were you wandering in the rain so late at night? You even neglected to use your umbrella. And when I tried to bring you to your senses, I failed numerous times before I was able to get your attention. It was…worrying."

Abbie watched him for a moment, before her eyes drifted down to her empty mug. She's completely forgotten about her umbrella. She must have looked so strange out there.

"I couldn't sleep, so I went for a walk." she answered softly, and Ichabod leaned forward.

"Is this a normal occurrence?"

Her eyes were drawn to his again. "Yes."

He frowned. "Well perhaps you should invest in a good book, as you provided me. I find it helps sometimes."

"So you have trouble sleeping too?" she asked.

He traced the handle of his mug. "Occasionally."

"Like tonight?"

"Yes."

"Nightmares?" she asked quietly.

He sighed "Unfortunately, yes."

"Me too."

He frowned. The thought of her tossing and turning in fear while she slept was…disconcerting.

"What, pardon again, do you dream of?"

Her grip on the mug tightened. A bit of the residual fear came forth. "Purgatory."

Ah. A true terror indeed.

"I was only there for little while Crane. But it felt like forever. There's no reason for me to still be so afraid. I'm not going back there, but my head is just so scared." she confided, and his heart clenched.

"If it is of any consolation, Miss Mills, I too, dream of Purgatory."

She looked up at him with furrowed brows. "Why? You weren't there that long."

"But you were."

Her eyes widened.

"You were trapped there and it was up to me to save you. In fact, I am partly to blame. You could have been lost there forever had I not been swift enough. I have never felt such fear."

She stared.

He figured it was best to go on while the words were still forthcoming. "And for a moment, when I arrived, you looked so broken. While I hadn't lost you in body, I'd feared I'd lost you in mind."

"It would take more than that." she said, but they both heard the uncertainty.

"Even so, it should have never come close to that." he mumbled.

There was a different tension around them, with their confessions lingering in the air.

"For a moment, when I wake up, I can't tell if I never got out." she whispered.

"As do I."

They watched each other, and Abbie slowly moved her feet so they rested atop Crane's.

"Hopefully shared fears are easier to deal with."

"They are." Ichabod answered honestly. "Your companionship has already made it more bearable."

She blushed, looking down. He certainly had a way with words. And the attention he constantly gave her was…oddly comforting.

Leaning on pleasurable, if she were honest.

"You called me Abigail." she said, recalling the moment when he'd helped her come back to herself out there in the rain.

"It is your name…" he said uncertainly, and she laughed.

"Well obviously, Crane. It's just, I'm so used to being called Abbie. I never really liked the name Abigail. You make it sound so pretty."

"Beautiful. It is a very beautiful name, Abigail."

She blushed again. He was really working the charm tonight.

Another thought occurred suddenly and she perked up. "Crane."

"Yes, Abigail?"

She sent a mock glare his way before continuing. "Have you thought about what you're going to do after this is all over?"

His eyebrows rose. "That will be quite some time from now."

"Gotta stay positive." she said with a shrug.

Ichabod frowned. He hadn't given it much thought. Nearly all of his thoughts were constantly on the dire present situation. The future seemed so far away.

"Don't hurt yourself thinking about it." she said softly, and he looked at her again.

"I mean, everything seems so bad now, so it makes sense that you haven't really sat and thought about it. I haven't either, but now that I brought it up, I guess it'd be nice to go on a nice long vacation."

"Where?"

"Jamaica."

"Jamaica." he repeated.

"Yea, warm weather, sunny skies. Beautiful beaches, sipping fruit cocktails and lounging, getting a nice tan..." she paused there, looking him over, "You might burn, but they have sunscreen for that."

"Burn? Certainly I can handle a bit of sun-

"Your old ass was buried for two hundred plus years. The only sun you've gotten has been the dreary skies around here. Trust me when I say that island sun will cook you."

"And you, Abigail?"

"I'll be alright. That melanin, honey." she laughed, and it was another reference lost on him but he appreciated the smile that came with it.

"Well, with adequate preparation, a trip to the beach would be lovely."

"Plus, you'd see me in my bikini."

"B…bikini?"

She looked at him with wide eyes. "You know nothing, Ichabod Crane."

He frowned. "I assure you I am quite knowled-

"Game of Thrones reference. A book I need to add to your list. And don't worry Crane. I know you're smart."

She smirked at the pleased expression on his face. He was so cute.

Woah…

He was. He really was cute.

She needed to find time to think on that fact, because that was a pretty big revelation in her book.

They both yawned, blinking at each other.

"What's your favorite color, Crane?"

"I am not sure if I have a favorite, but I am quite partial to blue."

"I'm a green girl myself."

"I see." That was something to keep in mind then. Along with everything else about her.

"Do you have a favorite food?" she asked with another yawn.

"Again, perhaps not a favorite, but those, what you called, donuts were quite delicious."

"Oh yea. One of your first this century experiences. Props to me." she answered lazily.

"Props indeed, Abigail."

"Abigail Abigail Abigail."

He smirked. "Does it bother you?"

"No." she whispered. "Again, for some reason, you make it sound so pretty."

"Beautiful." he corrected.

"What?"

"Beautiful. Like I previously stated. And I don't make it so. It is so."

"Hm."

"As are you."

She blinked up at him, eyes focused in a way that had his heart beating faster.

"Smooth, Crane." she whispered, slightly breathless.

"I try my best."

"Yes. That you do."

The blues in his eyes were bright as ever in the dimming light. They were both breathing so loud. Her foot twitched, as she slowly trailed it up his shin.

He shuddered.

Great reaction. Yea, she definitely needed time to think on this slight attraction. Slight was also questionable.

She moved her foot and reached behind her, pulling out the quilt she was sitting on and wrapping it around her.

"Care to join me?" she asked playfully.

His eyes widened, cheeks flushing.

"That is hardly proper." he remarked, finding himself moving to join her regardless.

Abbie blinked, surprised that he'd went for it. She'd meant it as a joke but now that he was moving towards her she couldn't find it her to protest. She wasn't bothered at all as she shifted forward, giving him room. He settled behind her, and YUP she really needed to make time for some serious thought.

Ichabod worked to steady his breathing. It would do him no good to work himself up into a frenzy at mere…contact. Her body was warm above his, and if she scooted backward nary an inch, her buttocks would be pressed against his manhood-focus, Ichabod.

"What is your favorite food, Miss Mills?" he asked, words slightly rushed.

Their positioning was scandalous at best.

"Back to Miss Mills, are we?" she jokingly asked and he swallowed thickly.

"Abigail." he corrected.

He no longer required the flames for warmth. He felt like he was on fire.

"Apple pie with ice cream. From my favorite diner." she whispered, clutching the blanket around her. "I used to eat it with Corbin."

"Ah, the Sherriff."

"Yea."

She bit her lip. Whenever she thought of him…she…

She missed him.

Abbie leaned her head back against Crane's chest, sighing softly, before quickly lifting it up again. "Sorry, my hair is still wet."

"It is of no consequence, Abigail."

Anything to cool him down, and if it brought her comfort, he was truly unbothered. She leaned it back down.

The fire was nearly out now. Ichabod knew he should get up and add more logs, but leaving was so unfavorable at the moment. So he stayed.

"Abigail?" he whispered.

"Hm?" she answered sleepily.

"We will prevail. If fate was strong enough to bring us together, fate is strong enough to help us win."

"Hell yeah." she answered, weakly holding up a fist.

Ichabod knocked his against hers, catching it as it fell. He cradled the appendage in his hand, rubbing his thumb in soft circles against it as he listened to her breathing even out.

Closing his eyes, he soon followed.

…