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A winter's tale	By : darkangel985 Category: S through Z > Sleepy Hollow Views: 18378 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Sleepy Hollow, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
- 5
Since today is my
one-year aff anniversary I'll update all my stories. So happy reading
to all of you and a huge THANK YOU to everyone who read and reviewed
my stories during the last year. Special thanks go to
Vampirezdarkgurl,
Nice, Fenris
Mourningstar, Zuzanny and DaemonDaughter for reviewing the last
chapter.

Chapter 4 – Fainting

Ichabod's mind was
still reeling with the memories of his dreams as he padded down the
stairs that lead to the kitchen. His ankle was aching slightly as if
he had twisted it for real and not just dreamed
about falling in the woods.

Sitting down at the
table he absentmindedly started to eat, paying neither attention to
what he was eating nor to Katrina who sat opposite him. His mind was
occupied with solving the riddles surrounding these dreams that just
didn't seem like dreams at all.

Two weeks since they
had started, haunting him every night, almost as effective in
stealing his sleep as those about his past were. Especially the
stranger with the ice-blue eyes always seemed to be there, even
though his age varied just like Ichabod's did. Another puzzling thing
because he knew that he had seen the stranger before, but he simply
couldn't remember when or where. It was important, but he had no idea
why.

Katrina's voice
suddenly interrupted his thoughts, asking him if he had had more
nightmares. Shaking his head Ichabod looked up from his plate. Her
face was filled with concern, but when he shook his head a slight
smile replaced the worried expression.

For a short moment he
wondered if he should tell her about his dreams and ask if she could
work her magic to keep them away. But he didn't. Not only because he
was embarrassed about their nature, but
also because deep inside himself he felt that they were his and
nobody else had a right to intrude on them. Besides, did he really
want them to stop?

He had once again
missed what Katrina had said, hoping that she wasn't insulted by his
lack of attention he asked: “What did you just say?”

Her brows momentarily
formed a small frown before she spoke again: “I told you that I
talked to the new priest and the magistrate. Our engagement can be
arranged as soon as the new notary arrives. And if that is done we
can start to plan the wedding.”

Oh. Engagement?
Wedding? When had this happened? Ichabod stared at the smile
spreading over Katrina's face, his mind reeling in confusion.
Suddenly darkness was looming at the edges of his vision, his blood
rushing loudly in his ears. The constable was almost relieved as the
blessed darkness of unconsciousness
swallowed him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~+~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ichabod woke with a
sudden start, wondering how he had ended up in one of the armchairs
in front of the fireplace, a blanket spread over his body. But then
the memories came rushing back at him and he groaned.

Hearing the sound that
had escaped his mouth young Musbeth entered the room, asking him of
he was okay. Nodding his head the Constable threw the blanket away
and got up. He faced the boy, who was standing in the doorway and
asked: “Do you know where Katrina is?”

“She has gone to fetch some
groceries.”

Nodding his head once
again Ichabod donned his coat. He needed to clear his head and the
best way to do this would be going for a walk. Telling Musbeth that
he was going out and didn't know when he would be back the Constable
strode out of the house, his feet carrying him towards the Western
woods.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~+~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He was musing over the
thought that Katrina was planning their
wedding and the fact that he wasn't as happy about it as he should
be. He just couldn't figure out what was wrong with him. She would be
a good wife and he loved her.

He loved her, just not
with the passion a man should feel for his wife. Not with the passion
he felt for the blue-eyed stranger each and every night. The thought
caused him to flush in embarrassment, his
mind wandering to wild hair, strong muscular thighs
and the smell of sweat mixed with leather and hay.

The thoughts alone
caused tingles to shoot down his spine, heating his body like no
thoughts of Katrina were ever able to accomplish. They were still
wrong and he had no idea who the stranger was anyway. And he didn't
want to know either. Liar, his mind once again screamed at him, but
Ichabod ignored it.

Lately he had spend so
much time thinking about these nightmares and he had come to a
conclusion that would explain why he dreamed
these ungodly things. It was an explanation that was completely
unscientific and before coming to Sleepy
Hollow he would never have considered such a thing possible, but his
mind had changed.

How could he have kept
his perception of reality when witches and a headless horseman had so
completely turned his world on it's axis? He couldn't have, but he
had adapted, accepting that magic and superstition had a place in
this world.

With this added
knowledge he now believed his dreams to be memories of somebody else,
that had somehow entered his mind. Maybe his brushes with death had
been so close that a ghost had entered his mind, because they had
only begun after the evil witch had been defeated. To him this seemed
like a good enough explanation, even if some things still bugged him
about it.

But the Constable
firmly pushed them away. They were only dreams. They shouldn't
interfere with his life and keep him from marrying Katrina. After
all she was a good pick and considering his usual social
skills he couldn't much hope to find another.

Having come to a
conclusion Ichabod redirected his attention to his surroundings,
shocked at where his feet had carried him. The Western woods were
silent around him as he slowly walked towards the Tree of the Dead,
snow crunching under his boots. A shiver ran down his spine, whether
it was from this place or from the cold he didn't know.

His curiosity getting
the better of him he reached out, smoothing his fingers over the
tree's bark, just to draw back in shock as he heard the crunch of
snow under heavy riding boots. The steps came to a halt right behind
him and Ichabod hesitated for a moment before turning around.

The Hessian. He had
expected it to be the Horseman the moment he heard the riding boots,
but he was still shocked by the apparition in front of him. He was
wearing the same leather armor he had worn while he had collected
heads at Sleepy Hollow, his sword hidden by a long black cloak.

But the Constable was
far more shocked by the wild mane of hair and the expression on his
face. It didn't seem hostile in the least, although Ichabod couldn't
read another emotion in it either. And then there were the Hessian's
eyes.

Ice-blue, clear as the
water of a mountain spring running over rocks. Cold and yet filled
with a sparkling gleam. Captivating, beautiful, familiar. The eyes of
the stranger in his dreams.

Oh. Sudden realization
set in, the features of the man that had been blurred before now
vivid in his mind. The same features he now looked at, just a little
younger and without the frown that had spread over the Horseman's
face the moment his mouth had fallen open
and a shocked sound had slipped from his lips.

No, no, no, no. His
mind was screaming in protest, telling him that he must be mistaken,
that he couldn't have dreamed about the Hessian mercenary, whom he
had seen kill more than once while he had still been headless. But
not every part of his mind was screaming in horror. There was a small
part of him that whispered ideas in his mind, unspeakable
fantasies.

It was all too much and
for the second time that day Ichabod succumbed to unconsciousness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~+~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Horseman sighed in
exasperation as he saw the Constable's eyes roll into the back of his
head and his body slump to the ground. Moving with inhuman speed he
caught the lithe young man before his limp form could touch the cold,
snow-covered earth.

His eyes and ears of
the forest had alerted
him to his beloved's presence as soon as the Constable had entered
the Western woods. He had watched with hope and fascination as the
dark-haired beauty slowly made his way towards the tree, obviously
oblivious to where he was going. The Hessian wondered if it were the
dreams that had caused him to sink into such deep thoughts and
whether he had recognized him.

The shocked look on the
Constable's face had told him that the younger man hadn't been aware
of who his dream lover was, right until the moment they were face to
face. And he had fainted. He really should have expected it, but he
had hoped that his beloved would be ready to face the truth.
Obviously not.

Wrapping the
unconscious man in his riding cloak
Friedrich carried him towards the edge of the woods. He was unhappy
with the outcome of their meeting, his heart aching for the man in
his arms. But Ichabod had to come to him of his own free will.

It may take some time
for him to come to terms with what was meant to be, but the Hessian
could be patient. He had been patient in pursuing Georg the first
time and he could definitely be patient now. He had an eternity after
all, even though he hoped that it wouldn't take that long.

Setting his precious
bundle down just outside the trees Friedrich couldn't resist to press
a small kiss to the Constable's cold unresisting lips. A small smile
spreading over his face he directed a last longing look towards the
other man before he disappeared into the woods again.

TBC...
- 3
- 4
- 5
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A winter's tale