Abbie finds herself walking in the forest for the first time in months, her feet steady on the familiar path to the clearing. When she reaches it, it is still as she remembers it from her old dreams, with the four strange white trees and solitary bench, not the carefully landscaped hidden garden complete with small gazebo.

There is one difference, something she doesn't notice until she hears a strange sound. It's not the sound of Ichabod's voice.

It's a high wail, slightly nasal, and unyielding.

Abbie whirls around and sees a white bassinet in the center of the clearing. As her feet carry her towards it, she thinks, I swear that was not there a second ago.She automatically reaches down and lifts the crying baby into her arms, making soothing shushing noises.

She doesn't even need to see her own doe eyes colored blue looking back at her to know that this child is hers.

Hers and Ichabod's.

"Shhh," she soothes, and the baby calms some. She sits on the bench and, again without thinking, places the baby at her breast, where it latches on and begins hungrily nursing.

She gazes down at the baby, a wave of love washing over her. She reaches up and smoothes her hand over the halo of soft curls surrounding the child's head.

She leans over and places a tender kiss on the baby's forehead…

…and suddenly wakes up. She sits bolt upright in bed, her hands grasping for the warm bundle she had been holding. She exhales and her empty hands fall into her lap. "Shit," she whispers, lightly rubbing her hand over her face. "What was that?"

She looks over and sees Ichabod's sleeping form beside her. His mouth is slightly open, his face completely relaxed. She smiles, enjoying seeing him so relaxed and still. When he is awake, he is always moving, his eyes taking everything in. She reaches over and runs her fingers through his hair, the dim light from the alarm clock glinting on the gold band on her left hand. It's only been there a month, and she's still not quite used to seeing it.

"Abbie?" Ichabod mumbles as he blindly gropes for her. "What are you doing up? You have that debriefing in the morning; you should be sleeping."

"I had a dream," she says. "Like… like the kind of dream I used to have before we brought you back."

He opens his eyes and lifts up on his elbows. "Come back down here; you're going to catch a chill," he says, pulling her down and tucking her against his side. The winter was brutal and the weather doesn't seem to realize that it is nearly April. "Was I in the dream?"

"No," she answers.

"Oh, that's a relief," he sighs, his eyes closing again. "I would hate to think that I was still around in spectral form somewhere. Especially now that we've finally got everything settled here."

She chuckles, snuggling against him. Despite the harsh winter, they got a lot accomplished. They finished the major work on the house, hosted a Christmas Party for the re-enactment group, spent New Year's in the city – not going anywhere near the mess that was Times Square – and Crane officially became a U.S. Citizen, thanks in no small part to Henry Parrish's glowing reference and insistence that Ichabod Crane remain in this country because he has become an essential member of the museum's staff.

With all that sorted, Crane finally felt emotionally, personally, and financially stable enough to propose to Abbie, which he did on Valentine's Day.

Not wanting to wait, they were married two weeks later on the first of March. They had a small, private ceremony in the clearing, in front of the white trees.

"There was someone else in the dream with me though," Abbie says.

"Was there?" he asks.

"A baby. It was ours," she answers.

He sits up quite suddenly, looking down at her. "Abbie…" he gasps, "are you…?" his eyes drift towards her stomach.

"I don't think so," she answers. "I still have my IUD, but… maybe this dream is telling me I should get it taken out?" she ventures.

He sinks back down into the bed and kisses her quite thoroughly. "If it is your wish to do so… I would be overjoyed," he says.

"I don't know if I'm ready, but I think very few people are ever completely ready for that," she says.

"True," he allows. "And now that you are the Director of your office, I will not have to worry about you being out in the line of fire while carrying our child."

She chuckles. "You're ridiculous. I'm not even pregnant yet."

He leans his head down and kisses her. "If you did not have your early meeting, I would suggest we begin practicing immediately," he rumbles.

"It's not that early," she says, her hand beginning to wander.

"Abbie…" he groans, giving in to her wishes as usual. His eyes blissfully close as she climbs over him, and when her soft lips press his, her sweet tongue slipping into his mouth, he wraps her in his arms, never wishing to let go.

She sighs into him, saying a silent prayer of thanks to both the soldier for injuring him and Benjamin Franklin for never getting around to reviving him.

Those misfortunes allowed them to find one another, resulting in a life together neither of of them could have ever imagined.

-End-