occhi_bella (occhi_bella) wrote in fic_variations, @ 2007-07-22 01:53:00 |
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Current mood: | accomplished |
Current music: | Law and Order: SVU |
Cross-posted to occhi_bella and unknown_fandom.
Title: Coming Home
Author: occhi_bella
Fandom: Sleepy Hollow (movie)
Character/Pairing: Ichabod/Katrina
Rating: T
fic_variations Prompt/Claim: the four seasons, fic 3 of 3
Word Count: 1067
Spoilers: Yes
Disclaimer: Sleepy Hollow and its characters do not belong to me.
Soft warm lips upon his cheek tenderly woke Ichabod from his slumber and his eyes fluttered open. Content and relaxed with Katrina by his side he’d slept peacefully during most of the journey home. He raised his head and glanced through the coach window at his surroundings, pleased to see that they had arrived back in New York in time for winter and just before the dawning of a new century. A better life lay ahead, one in which he could wake every morning to such a sweet kiss upon his cheek, from now on.
He could scarcely realize it.
Snow flurries drifted down slowly and a thin layer of white already covered the ground and the rooftops of the buildings around them as they alighted from the coach. Despite the winter chill, Ichabod felt warm inside. His sleep was less troubled and despite his frailties and fears, he knew that he could be brave with Katrina by his side. There was pride and confidence in his step as he walked toward home with his beautiful new wife on his arm and a wide-eyed Young Masbeth trailing behind with their bags.The boy had been a loyal assistant to him while he worked in Sleepy Hollow. Until that moment Ichabod had imagined that he would remain single for his entire lifetime. He’d left New York a bachelor, living a sparse and introverted life in solitude. Yet here he was, barely six weeks later, returning with the loveliest young woman he’d ever known as his wife and young Peter Masbeth, who would now be their ward. He could hardly believe it.
“Ichabod? Ichabod?”
Katrina’s voice punctuated the darkness surrounding him and the dream of the past faded. Ichabod’s eyes fluttered open and he woke with a start. His mind was clouded over with confusion for a moment as he noted that he was lying on his back on the floor and his wife was kneeling beside him, gazing down at him with concerned eyes and shaking his shoulder. He sighed, realizing instantly that he’d fainted.
“Are you alright, my love?”
“Oh…yes,” he murmured vaguely. She supported him as he struggled to sit up. He shook his head to clear it, then focused on her again, gazing at her in wonderment. “Katrina. You…did I…you’re with child?” he finally stammered.
She leaned in and kissed his cheek softly. “Yes. You’re going to be a father, Ichabod Crane.”
Still scarcely able to wrap his mind around the news, he dazedly stood up and allowed himself to be led by the arm to the couch. They sat down side by side and she snuggled against him. He took her hand absentmindedly, linking his other arm around her waist and trying to focus by doing the calculations in his head.
Seven weeks along, the doctor had guessed. It was mid-December now, which meant the baby was going to be born around early to mid August.
“I’m due in early August,” she spoke up as if she’d read his thoughts. She sighed and added with a wry chuckle, “This summer is probably going to be miserable. With any luck it won’t be too hot. And I’ll carry small the way my mother did.”
Ichabod nodded absently, staring across the room through the window, at the falling snow. His thoughts were drifting off in all directions and he was at a loss for words, his emotions a jumble of awe, bliss and trepidation. It was only a year ago that he had brought Katrina home to New York as his wife, after solving the murders and ridding Sleepy Hollow of the headless horseman. Just last winter. It was snowing then, too. He’d dreamt of that homecoming only moments before, when he was unconscious.
Together they had created a contented and fulfilling life for themselves and young Peter was like a son to them. Now, almost a year to the day later, he had the wonderful news that he and Katrina were going to have a child of their own. His stomach tightened into knots as doubt gnawed at him. What if he wasn’t a good father? He’d hated his own father, who had always behaved as a rigid and cruel tyrant. What if he began to act like Reverend Crane with his own child?
“Ichabod?”
Ichabod blinked, drawn out of his reverie by the sound of his wife’s gentle voice, and turned his gaze back to her. She was regarding him questioningly.
“Oh.” He smiled lightly and shook his head. “I’m sorry, my love.”
He released her hand and reached up to stroke her face lovingly.
“What is it, dearest?” he asked, now noticing the expression of worry in her eyes.
She averted her eyes. “You look disturbed…you’re not disappointed are you?”
“What?” Ichabod gaped at her in shock for a long moment before rushing to embrace her passionately, beside himself. “Oh my God, Katrina, of course not! How on earth could you believe that I would be disappointed at such news?”
“You seem so distant. I thought you would be happy when I told you...”
“Oh, Katrina, I am! It’s wonderful! Our first child…I’m just overwhelmed, that’s all.”
Her arms tightened around his waist and he realized in that moment that he hadn’t yet kissed her since she’d given him the news, so stunned had he been by it. He leaned down and pressed his mouth against hers firmly, parting her lips with his own and kissing her long and deep. Then they leaned against one another, their faces a mere inch apart, both catching their breath.
“I hope I will be a good father,” he mused quietly after a long pause. “What if I…?”
But she pressed her lips softly against his, cutting off his words with another kiss.
“You’re going to be a wonderful father,” she reassured him. “You’ve been like a father to Peter all year long, and a good one. I’m certain that you’re up to this challenge, Constable Crane. The same way you’ve bravely faced every other challenge.”
“I love you,” he whispered, closing his eyes and kissing her softly again.
For the rest of the evening they cuddled together on the couch, his head leaning on hers, and gazed out of the window at the falling snow, alternately nuzzling one another lovingly and speaking in quiet, intimate tones, planning for the promising future that lay ahead of them.