A/N: I know it has been almost 3 months since an update. I needed to step away for a bit because nothing I was writing seemed to work and finally this did. I hope you all enjoy it!

Split sleep reeps through rewards and ill fitting thoughts,
A twilight force, she doesn't wanna walk,
Your legs start running and your head gets caught.-Pretty Visitors(AM)

The two days before Crane's parents were due to arrive were some of the most anxious days Abbie had ever experienced. With her strength returning, she had little more than soreness and the occasional flare of pain that her pain meds fixed before bed. Now, she had time for the weight of her experience to settle on her and she could not deny that she was absolutely terrified.

The day after Christmas saw Abbie working tirelessly to make sure every inch of the house was clean. Crane did whatever she asked without question, guessing that whatever Abbie was feeling was not something that could be solved with his words. He found himself wondering if he should have told his parents to wait until Abbie had had time to recover mentally from her experience.

"What else do you need from me?" he asked, hoping that she would say something that had nothing to do with cleaning. He could feel her closing herself off slightly and he didn't want her to slip away from him.

Abbie had just finished placing her best china out on the dining room table in case Crane's parents came over, which she thought they probably would. Though she'd heard Crane asking her something, her mind was far away.

The relationship she had with Ichabod Crane was one in which she felt encouraged to look forward rather than backward. Forward meant a future that was entirely their own. Backward meant a past filled with people like Abraham and Katrina and Parrish and Moloch. She had forced herself into not acknowledging what both her and Crane's past meant for their relationship.

"I need to think." She replied absently as she dusted her hands against her pants and walked to the living room.

Crane nodded and followed her, sitting in the armchair while she sat on the sofa. If she needed to talk, he wanted to be right there.

"How much do they know about me, Crane?" she asked after a while.

He eyed her carefully. "They know you used to work for the FBI. I told them you desired a less stressful environment and wanted to move back to Sleepy Hollow."

She sighed and turned fully to face him. "Do they know I'm Black?"

It was a question that never came up between them. Abbie liked to think that Crane saw her race, not as something to be tried or tested but as a vital part of her identity. To her, it was alright that they had yet to discuss it. But, now that his relatively well-off British parents would be coming to see them, she needed to know that who she was would not cause any issues.

He stood and joined her on the sofa, snaking one of his hands into hers. "It is of no import to them, my Grace. They asked for a picture of you and I sent one. Neither can get over how beautiful you are."

She nodded in response, only a moderate feeling of relief overcoming her. "Okay," she breathed out. "I guess I have to find something to do on the 29th."

"Why ever would you need to do that?"

She gave him an incredulous look. "I don't know, Crane, maybe because your dead ex-wife's parents whom you've known all your life are going to be there judging me as some home-wrecking harlot?" Abbie let out a humorless laugh. "I don't think so."

"Abbie, no. Katrina's parents will not judge you. They knew...long before Katrina died, they knew that she and I were drifting. All they wanted was for both of us to be happy, even if it wasn't with each other. Barrett and Theresa are...well, I could not possibly have asked for better in-laws. Trust me, my Grace, everything will be fine." Ichabod implored, taking Abbie's hand and bringing it to his lips to kiss softly.

"Yeah, maybe." Crane's words did nothing to ease the anxiety that made her stomach feel as if it was turning itself inside out.

Edgar and Cecilia Crane arrived the night before Katrina's memorial service. Abbie wasn't home when they showed up. She'd been running around the supermarket with Jenny like a chicken with its head cut off. By the time Jenny talked her down from a possible panic attack, they were pulling into Abbie's driveway.

"Take a deep breath, Abs. Everything will be fine," Jenny rubbed her sister's back the way she used to when they were little. "If it gets bad, just text me a bat emoji and I'll come running."

Abbie looked over at her, a watery smile on her face. "What?" She broke out into a smile as she realized Jenny was trying to cheer her up. "You're ridiculous, Jen."

"Yeah, maybe. Now, go meet your future in-laws and cook the best damn dinner you possibly can. I believe in you, sis." Jenny gave her sister a hug and shooed her from the car with her grocery bags.

She could hear pleasant music coming from inside the living room as she hung up her coat by the doorway. Following the sounds, she was greeted with the sight of an older woman, presumably Ichabod's mother, singing some jazz song while an older man, probably Ichabod's father if the resemblance could be trusted, sung background. Abbie felt confusion come upon her face as she saw Ichabod smiling as if he were the happiest person on the planet.

Ichabod took notice of her standing in the entryway and stood to greet her. "Abbie, my love, these are my parents: Edgar and Cecilia." He gave her a brief kiss and led her over to his parents who were on the sofa, warm expressions on their faces. They'd stopped singing when Abbie came in, but their good mood appeared to still be in place.

"It's lovely to finally meet you, Mr. & Mrs. Crane. You've raised quite a man here." Abbie smiled as she looked up at Ichabod.

Cecilia smiled even wider if that were even possible and pulled Abbie in for a tight hug. "Oh, you are absolutely gorgeous, dear! Those pictures do you no justice. I hope you plan to keep this one, Ichabod."

Abbie felt some of her nervousness ease as she hugged Cecilia back before stepping away. She tried to take in the woman as best she could. Cecilia was slightly darker than Ichabod, with huge brown eyes and bone straight hair that was half up and half down. She was much shorter than Ichabod and Edgar, but taller than Abbie. The creme sweater she wore, coupled with dark jeans and the most gorgeous pair of riding boots Abbie ever laid eyes on did much to take away from the snobby British woman Abbie had previously been picturing.

"Yes, she is quite lovely, son. Well done!" Edgar hugged his son tightly and, with the two standing so close together, it was easy to see where Ichabod got his height from. While he was 6'3, his father seemed closer to 6'5 and had a body type nearly identical to Ichabod's. He had graying brown hair that was cut short and the same electric blue eyes Ichabod did. With the exception of a few things, Ichabod was practically Edgar's clone.

"I wish I could've been here when you guys arrived but I was out at the store for dinner so I hope you're hungry! It's roast, potatoes, and carrots." Abbie picked up the grocery bags a bit before readying to go to the kitchen.

"Don't worry, Treasure, I'll get started on everything. Father, if you would, I might require your assistance with the roast." Ichabod made a none-too-subtle gesture to his father and Abbie's eyes went comically wide as he left her alone in the room with his mother.

Without the music, the room seemed a bit emptier. Abbie felt like her heart had jumped into her ears. She was never one to care much for what others thought of her but, for some reason, she felt like she needed to impress Ichabod's parents. She took a deep breath and turned to sit on the sofa across from Cecilia.

"You have a lovely voice, Mrs. Crane." She stated honestly. "I don't know if Ichabod got that from you, though." Abbie allowed a small laugh as Cecilia responded with a smile.

"Yes, I suppose his singing voice is about as alluring as two stray cats fighting in a London back alley." Her voice was smooth and welcoming, but Abbie still could not shake off the nervousness she felt coursing through her.

"Abbie, dear," Cecilia started, getting up to move so that she and Abbie now shared the sofa. "I want you to know that you don't need to be afraid of me."

Abbie shook her head incredulously. "I'm not afraid, Mrs. Crane, I-"

"Cecilia, please. And you are," Mrs. Crane smiled to herself. "I know what you're feeling like I know my own name, dear. Edgar and I...well, suffice it to say that our story is not much different from yours."

The blood seemed to thump in Abbie's ears one more time before quieting. Though she still felt her left hand shake slightly, she felt more curious than anything. "I don't understand." Her voice sounded odd even to her own ears. "What do you mean?"

Cecilia sat back on the sofa, a wistful look crossing her face. "Edgar was married when we met. His wife, Hadley, was diagnosed with terminal pancreatic cancer. I volunteered at St. Anne's Hospital where she was being treated. Edgar practically lived there."

Intrigued, Abbie felt relaxed enough to sit back. "What kind of work did you do at the hospital?"

"I went to the rooms and sang to the patients. I made a point to visit Hadley as often as I could. She always told me how much she adored my singing." Cecilia felt tears coming and she blinked upwards to keep them at bay. "We were friends, Abbie. I knew her for only four months but it felt like a lifetime. She was such a beautiful woman with the most resilient spirit."

Abbie felt melancholy pass through her as she realized where Cecilia's story was headed. "What happened?"

"She passed away on Valentine's Day, if you can believe it. But it was far from sudden. The entire week before she began to decline, started making last requests. When the doctors informed her that she had a day or two, she asked for me and Edgar to be at her side. They hadn't had any children. Hadley's parents were already gone. It was...very small. We told her how much we loved her and I promised to look after Edgar as best I could. She didn't want him to be alone, you see." Cecilia wiped away the stray tears that made their way down her cheeks.

Abbie rushed forward, hugging her tightly. "I'm so sorry."

She felt the woman shrug slightly and pulled back. "I took it upon myself to move in with Edgar, help him sort through all of Hadley's things, make sure he was okay. It was not until two years later that we began to date. Three years later, we eloped."

"But what about Mr. Crane's family? Did they know?"

Cecilia gave her a rueful grin. "Oh, they knew. They were hardly happy about it. They had it in their minds that I stole Edgar from Hadley, took advantage of him at a most vulnerable time. They went to their graves with that! Oh, Abbie, it was positively miserable. They said over and over that I was the reason Hadley died!"

Abbie's eyebrows shot up into her hairline. "What? But that's insane! The woman had terminal cancer, for Christ's sake."

"Indeed. It was a long, sad tale, I know, but I wanted to tell it to you because I want you to know that it is very clear to me how happy you make my Ichabod. He is happier with you than he was with Katrina and that is what truly matters to me. You ought not attempt to prove yourself worthy of him because I see it."

This time, it was Abbie who felt the tears coming. She hugged Cecilia again. "That means a lot to me, Cecilia. Honestly."

By the time Ichabod and Edgar finished up with dinner, Abbie and Cecilia were having a lively discussion about the greatest jazz musicians of all time. Ichabod stood in the doorway, a warm feeling encasing his chest as he observed Abbie, relaxed and smiling, talking to his mother.

After dinner, Edgar and Cecilia retired for the evening to the guest room on the first floor. Abbie and Ichabod finished up in the kitchen and went upstairs to their room.

"You and Mother appear to be getting on famously." Crane commented as he pulled Abbie close to him.

"She's a lovely woman. You were right, Crane, I had no reason to be nervous." Abbie traced circles on the sheets with her finger, her voice strangely emotionless.

"You are still worried about tomorrow."

Abbie nodded wordlessly and Crane moved them so that her head rested on his chest. He kissed her forehead and held her as tight as possible. "Rest, my love. If your worry will not leave you, at least put it aside for a few hours."

She nodded again and fifteen minutes later was fast asleep. Ichabod, however, was still awake, unable to get any sleep, for he too was nervous about Katrina's memorial service.

A/N: Hope you all enjoyed this! Let me know what you thought! Until next time...