occhi_bella (occhi_bella) wrote in story_arc, @ 2007-09-16 02:18:00 |
|
|||
Current mood: | creative |
Entry tags: | fifteen set 03, ichabod crane, occhi_bella, sleepy hollow |
FIC Aftermath - Chapter 10
Cross-posted to occhi_bella and unknown_fandom
Title: Aftermath
Author: occhi_bella
story_arc Set: 15-03
story_arc Theme: Lost (5-02, #4)
Fandom: Sleepy Hollow (movie)
Character: Ichabod Crane
Rated: M
Warning: Non-explicit implications of rape and incest. Spoilers
Disclaimer: Sleepy Hollow and its characters do not belong to me. I make no money from this.
Link to Story Archive and All Chapters
Summary: Ichabod departs for New York with Katrina and Young Masbath, but their journey is delayed by unexpected complications. Picks up at the part where the Hessian disappears into the Tree of the Dead for the last time with Lady Van Tassel.
Chapter 10
When he awoke he was in bed, his head cradled against Katrina’s chest. He lifted his head to look at her. She was asleep. For a moment his mind was in a fog; then the conversation he’d heard came flooding back to him in a rush of memory.
Abigail was a disturbed and hysterical woman…the stories Abigail told were ludicrous! A figment of her twisted imagination.
Day by day things seemed to become more baffling. What stories had Abigail told? Clearly the town magistrate hadn’t believed them, whatever they were. Had anyone else, he wondered? The townsfolk’s opinion of Abigail Jenner was quite obvious, both that of the women and the men.
As a constable in New York he’d seen so many evils of humanity, including vice and licentiousness. Poor women, alone and with no other means of supporting themselves, solicited men who, drunk or sober, would always have a need for their services. They lived in decrepit neighborhoods where robberies, assaults and murders occurred on a daily basis. At times he had questioned many of these women as eye witnesses; but the High Constable and Burgomaster denounced their testimony, declaring them unreliable given their profession and position in society.
Often Ichabod argued that profession and means had nothing to do with whether a witness’s testimony was truthful. Many a rich, respected man of society had lied for their own gain. But, as with everything else that he spoke of to his superiors, his words fell on deaf ears. These women were considered unworthy as witnesses, unworthy of anyone’s time or attention when they became victims.
He suspected that something similar had happened here. Abigail’s story was not credible simply because her behavior did not conform to her society’s expectations. And perhaps because the man who heard the story, Ian Dockery, did not want to hear the truth. Perhaps that truth would incriminate him as well.
Before the others interrupted, McKinley had started to suggest that the stories may have involved Emily as well. Certainly Emily did not engage in such activities as her mother; and yet somehow she was involved. How was it possible? He doubted Ian Dockery would repeat the stories to him, but perhaps someone else would. Maybe one of the women.
Ichabod gazed into space pensively, thinking of the evidence of bruising that Dr. Thompson finally admitted, and the conversation he had heard from downstairs, of Ian Dockery’s words. Before he fainted, he heard McKinley say that it would be more difficult to save the boy if both Abigail and Emily had somehow possessed him. He used the word save.
Dread and guilt gripped Ichabod as he thought of that. Had he taken Stephen out of his home only to face his death in this strange village?
The idea that perhaps it was Abigail that held a hold over Stephen terrified him. Emily was bad enough, but it was a child contacting another child. Both were on an even keel. But Abigail was an adult, an adult possessing a child.
“Dear Lord,” he uttered softly.
There was a vast difference in experience and power. What hope would there be for Stephen then?
Feeling much too jittery to sleep, Ichabod slowly extricated himself from Katrina’s embrace, taking pains to not wake her, and eased himself out of bed. He dressed quietly, took up ledger, pen and ink, then padded down the hall to Stephen’s room in his stocking-covered feet.
“Dr. Thompson,” he exclaimed softly, not expecting to find the doctor there now. He was sitting beside the bed, bathing Stephen’s forehead.
“He’s having a bad night, so I thought I should stay with him.”
“Thank you.”
Ichabod set his ledger, pen and ink on the desk, then crossed the room and brought one of the chairs near the fireplace over quietly and sat beside the doctor.
“Has his fever gone up?”
“No. But I’ve already had to stop him from leaping out of bed four times this night. He wanted to run off, somewhere outside no doubt, and he fought me like a tiger when I restrained him.”
Dr. Thompson rolled up his sleeves to show him the scratch marks on his arms and the already-forming bruises.
“Look at this.”
“I-I’m sorry,” Ichabod stammered, gripped with worry. “This is not his way at all.”
“Of course, I realize that. There must be some significance to the places where he wants to go.”
“Yes,” Ichabod sighed. “So far he’s run off to the cemetery, Abigail Jenner’s grave specifically, and to the stream, into which he threw himself.”
He fell silent, pondering the facts that he’d gathered so far. There were many details that he’d noted in his ledger but still hadn’t given deep thought to.
“Mr. McKinley has told me that there was a maid, Katie Doyle. She was possibly the last person to see Edna Jenner alive, at least. She knew that she had gone upstairs to take a nap. Do you know if Katie Doyle was still in the house when the murders took place?”
“I don’t know. There are servants’ quarters in the building behind this one; she may have gone there before the murders occurred. If she was in the house, she was most likely downstairs but would have heard something.”
“Why did she leave town?”
“All of the servants left after the Jenners died. They had to find other work. I assume Katie left for the same reason.”
“Did she have any reason to want the Jenners dead?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Who was the first person to find the bodies?”
“Jamie McKinley.”
“Mr. McKinley. And…does anyone know if Abigail was in the house at the time? Or had she gone out? She was here for two more weeks after the murders. Did she say anything?”
“Jamie had summoned me, and several others in town. We were here when she returned home and he rushed downstairs to stop her from coming upstairs. The sight of the bodies, of the rooms…was not one for anyone to look at, certainly not a young woman, especially one who was the daughter of the victims.”
Abigail had seemed the most likely culprit, and it was along those lines that Ichabod had been forming his logic with regards to this crime. But if she had been out at the time, then someone else was guilty. He would not make the same mistake of jumping to a conclusion too quickly simply because all of the circumstantial evidence seemed to point to it.
He stood up silently and moved back to the desk, opening his ledger and dipping his pen into the ink.
Katie Doyle – possibly the last person to see Edna Jenner alive, he wrote. Where was she at the time of the murder? Did she have a motive to kill the Jenners? Why did she leave town? Is there possibly someone in town who knows where she went?
James McKinley found both bodies, summoned Dr. Thompson and several others, he wrote below that. Abigail came home while they were already here. McKinley would not allow her upstairs.
“Where did Abigail go that morning?” he murmured, writing it as he did so.
“I don’t know, Constable,” Dr. Thompson answered.
Ichabod stared at his notes. “What about noise? Did anyone hear screams? Something must have brought Mr. McKinley up to these rooms.”
“You’ll have to ask him,” he replied smoothly.
He made a note to himself regarding that. As he did, something else occurred to him. James McKinley had been Abigail Jenner’s lover and he’d admitted that they were good friends, from childhood. It made sense that he would want to protect her from such a sight.
It was also possible that he might want to protect her even if she was guilty.
His eyes widened as the realization hit him and he took up his pen again, writing fiercely. If Abigail had committed these crimes and Mr. McKinley found her, he may have persuaded her to leave the house and return at a strategic moment when the others had arrived, making it appear as if she’d been out and just coming home. She would have had to wash the blood off her hands, remove her soiled clothing and put on clean clothes before leaving. She or McKinley would then have burned her bloody clothes in the fireplace.
If this scenario was accurate, he would have waited until she left the house and then gone to summon the others.
James McKinley seemed to be a decent and honest man. Would he shield a criminal? he thought with a spurt of outrage. But a moment later he stopped, shaking his head and scolding himself. What right did he have to judge the man? After all, when he believed Katrina guilty of summoning the Headless Horseman and killing the people of Sleepy Hollow, he had behaved the same way, keeping her supposed guilt secret. He never took her into custody, which was his job, nor had he made any effort to even confront her. Instead he threw the ledger, which had any notes that might have incriminated her, into the fire to be consumed by the flames and instructed Stephen Masbath that his suspicions of Katrina could never be uttered.
Dr. Thompson was watching him write, attempting to eye the notes on the page. After allowing the ink a moment to dry, Ichabod closed the ledger and returned to the seat beside the doctor.
Stephen’s sleep was restless and his lips moved feverishly, though no sound emerged. Ichabod brooded with great concern as he watched him and thought of James McKinley’s words again.
“If it’s indeed Emily who has a hold on the boy. I’m beginning to suspect it might be Abigail. Or both of them.”
“Dr. Thompson, do you know where Emily was at the time? Did she go out with Abigail? Or was she in the house when her grandparents were killed?”
“She was not in the house when I arrived. These are also things that you will have to ask Jamie about.”
“When exactly did she disappear? Was it some days after the murders took place? Before her mother died? When?”
“I do not live in this house, Constable, and was therefore not aware of everything that was going on at all times. Jamie worked here. He is a better person to ask. But, I did not see Emily on the day her grandparents were killed, nor ever after that.”
“Did she…is it possible…that she may have witnessed the killings?”
“Dear God, I hope not. She was a little girl.”
“Yes…I know. But…for Stephen’s sake…I’m trying to find out what happened to her. If she witnessed the murders, she may have been harmed by the assassin because of that. Or she may have been so frightened that she ran away.”
Of course, if Abigail was the culprit, Emily had witnessed her own mother killing her grandparents. Ichabod shuddered at the thought. Would Abigail have then harmed her daughter to prevent her from speaking of it? It would provide another explanation for her suicide two weeks later. Or reason for Emily to have run away.
“That was this past February. A very cold winter.”
“She might have run into the woods and gotten lost,” Ichabod murmured, deep in thought and only half-listening to Dr. Thompson. “If she couldn’t find her way home, she might have easily frozen to death...”
“The village was covered in snow then too, and the stream was iced over. In fact a couple of children decided to try skating on it, but the ice was too thin for that. It cracked under their weight and they fell through the surface. Thank God we were able to rescue them. Both of them are fine.”
“Hmm?” Something about his words caught his attention again and Ichabod snapped out of his thoughts. He turned his gaze to the doctor. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”
“Nothing important.”
“I thought I heard…did you say something about the stream?”
“Only that it was iced over. A couple of children went skating on it and fell through the ice. It was too thin. Fortunately they were rescued and both are well.”
That water was cold, Ichabod mused. He’d had to leap in to retrieve Stephen. Fortunately the stream was not iced-over now; attempting to find him underneath a layer of ice, in the dark, would have been a nightmare, and might have cost him his life as well.
“The stream!” he exclaimed suddenly. “Did anyone look for Emily there?”
“What?”
“If she did witness the murders and ran away…it’s possible she never got as far as the woods. She may have slipped and fallen into the stream.”
“Then, she might have frozen to death, or drowned. There was never a search for her in the water. If that is what happened, the chances are slim that we will find her.”
“That might explain why Stephen was drawn to the stream and compelled to hurl himself into the water.” Ichabod sighed. “And I suppose a search of the stream would be impossible.”
“It’s too cold. And the stream empties into the river. Once the ice thawed and the water was flowing…her body would have been carried to the river months ago. Then, of course, there are the creatures that live in the water that would have begun to feed…”
His words trailed off as Stephen began to writhe in his sleep and then bolted upright suddenly, eyes wide open and blazing. Ichabod and Dr. Thompson both lurched forward and attempted to stop him from leaving the bed. The boy thrashed wildly, pushing both of them off with what seemed to be inhuman strength. He leaped out of bed and dashed out the door. Ichabod scrabbled back onto his feet and ran after him.
Stephen shrieked in a voice that wasn’t his own when Ichabod caught him and wrestled him to the floor at the bottom of the stairs. There was no fire burning in the room and it was pitch dark.
“What the devil is going on?”
James McKinley had emerged from the back room carrying a candle. Little by little the room brightened as he moved about, lighting the candles in the sconces on the wall.
“Constable Crane?”
It took a great effort to prevent Stephen from freeing himself and Ichabod was unable to answer.
“Try to hold him still long enough for me to give him another dose of laudanum.”
A disheveled-looking Dr. Thompson had reached the bottom of the stair and he knelt beside them, a shot of laudanum already prepared. Ichabod pinned Stephen’s arms against the floor but the boy still writhed underneath him as the doctor prepared to inject him in the arm, struggling to break free. He screamed out as the needle entered his arm then, with a burst of energy, pushed Ichabod off of him and onto his back. Ichabod raised himself up on an elbow and watched in horror as the boy lunged at Dr. Thompson with an expression of absolute loathing and began to tear at the skin on his face. Fortunately the laudanum began to affect him after just a few moments. Stephen’s limbs suddenly went limp and he collapsed to the floor.
Ichabod lost consciousness.
*******
When Ichabod woke up in the morning, he was alone. Upon sitting up, he found Katrina crouched by the fireplace, chanting. The flames flared as she tossed a handful of some sort of powder into them. He shivered at the sight.
“Katrina?” he began, attempting to keep his voice steady.
“I’m almost finished,” she murmured.
He collapsed back onto the bed with a sigh, drawing the covers up to his chin and closing his eyes. Moments later her chanting ceased and he felt her climb into bed beside him. Thin delicate fingers gently stroked his face and he opened his eyes. She gazed at him worriedly.
“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” she whispered.
“You…didn’t,” he sighed. He struggled to find words to explain. “Sometimes…things remind me of other things. I can’t seem to escape it. I’m still not comfortable with the supernatural and it has been following me everywhere since I left New York. Stephen. I’m frantic about him. His behavior has worsened…”
“I know,” she interrupted, her voice soothing. “His screaming woke me up last night. I saw what happened.”
“You saw him attack Dr. Thompson?”
‘Yes.”
“I didn’t realize you were there…you didn’t want me to see you?”
“No. You would have worried.”
Her fingers still caressed his face and Ichabod reached up to grasp her hand. “You shouldn’t concern yourself with that. I will always worry about you, no matter how much you try to protect me from it.”
She smiled. “I will still keep trying.”
“So…what were you doing?”
“It is for Stephen,” she answered. The expression on her face had darkened and he became alarmed.
“Was it a prayer?”
“Yes.” Her voice was barely audible.
“Is there more?”
Noting the fearful expression in her eyes he inched closer to her and embraced her, cradling her head against his chest.
“Please tell me, Katrina. You don’t have to be afraid for me.”
“I…I also want to try to make contact with whoever it is that has been tormenting Stephen in this way.”
“You want to what?” Ichabod swallowed quickly and regained his composure. “Do you know how?”
“In theory, yes. But I’ve never done it before.”
He released a long, shaky breath. “I am still hoping that we can help him merely by finding the truth about these murders and bringing peace to the victims.”
“But if I can reach Stephen and the entities that have seized his mind, maybe I can find out the truth. You said that Abigail Jenner is your most likely suspect. And yet many believe that it is she, not the victims, who has possessed Stephen. Do you still believe that she is the killer?”
“She has the motives and many facts point to her. But…the more I delve deeper and manage to pull information out of Mr. McKinley and Dr. Thompson, the more convinced I have become that she was also a victim.”
“Of murder?”
“No. Of something else.”
“What?”
“I don’t know. There is evidence that she had been beaten on a regular basis, possibly by her father. But that is not all. I sense that something worse was happening to her. I don’t know what.”
“What about Emily?”
“It’s possible that she witnessed the murders. I’m becoming convinced that she ran away then and got lost; possibly she fell into the stream and drowned.”
“That would explain why Stephen went to the stream!” she exclaimed.
He nodded. “I know. Katrina, listen to me. If you are choosing to use your body as a vessel the way the witch in the Western Woods did, it will be very dangerous. I know you want to help, but…I don’t want to lose you.”
“If we can’t help Stephen in any other way I have to try, Ichabod. I’ve had the same thoughts as you. That we brought Stephen away from Sleepy Hollow only to possibly meet his death in this strange place. And like you, I’ll do anything I can to prevent that from happening.”