occhi_bella (occhi_bella) wrote in story_arc, @ 2007-08-18 17:27:00 |
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Current mood: | creative |
FIC Aftermath - Chapter 2
Cross-posted to occhi_bella and unknown_fandom.
Title: Aftermath
Author: occhi_bella
story_arc Set: 15-03
story_arc Theme: Assist (10-02, #9)
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 2
One main street ran through the small town that they finally reached, lined with businesses on each side. The majority of buildings were two or three stories high and there was a stable at the end of the road. Far in the distance, among what must have been the farms and fields of the area, Ichabod thought he could make out the outline of a mill and the steeple of a church, but the night was far too hazy and the blur of swirling snowflakes made it hard to determine what he was actually seeing.
While Van Ripper saw to the horses, Ichabod escorted Katrina and Stephen into the building identified with a wooden sign as McKinley’s tavern, the only open business at night and, for that matter, the only structure in town that was lit up. He was hoping to discover the name of the town and find lodging for the night.
The heated conversation among the patrons of the tavern immediately ceased upon the entrance of the three strangers and every eye in the room was fixed on them in one collective steely stare.
Ichabod swallowed nervously as his eye swept the room, then he straightened to his full height and tried to appear confident. He gestured Katrina and Stephen over to an empty table that he’d spied and the three of them sat down together.
“What can I get for you?” the barkeep asked gruffly as he approached. He was a youngish man, probably in his mid-thirties, with fiery red hair and blue eyes that were sunken in with weariness.
“Something hot for each of us if you have it. Thank you.”
Katrina and Stephen shifted anxiously and Ichabod tried to reassure them with a glance. Unfortunately he wasn’t very convincing, as the muscles in his own face were twitching nervously.
The tavern remained eerily quiet. Out of the corner of his eye, Ichabod caught the men and women who had gathered there sneaking surreptitious glances at the three of them and whispering to each other furtively. He suppressed a sigh. And he’d thought Sleepy Hollow unfriendly and fearful when he first arrived in that town. Indeed, each one of these men and women behaved as if they were guilty of some crime that they feared would be discovered. He shook off that thought. Fortunately, that was not his concern in this particular place.
Katrina’s soft hand closed around his under the table and he gave her a light smile.
After a short while the barkeep returned to their table with three cups of hot cider.
“Thank you.”
He was about to turn away but Ichabod stopped him.
“Pardon, I’m wondering if maybe you could assist us. We’ve been stranded here by the storm. Our driver is putting the horses in the stable right now. Is there any place…in town…where we might stay for the night?”
Instead of answering at all, the barkeep merely studied them carefully.
“There is no lodging here. Go away,” a scrawny, sour-looking man with a gaunt face and white hair hissed at them from the next table. “Leave this place.”
Ichabod gaped at him, flabbergasted. The man wasn’t even making an attempt to be polite. Were these people that cruel and unwelcoming that they would leave them to travel in this storm and probably freeze to death in the cold? Never mind him, but a woman and a child? He couldn’t believe it.
“We will pay for your inconvenience, of course…”
“Money isn’t the issue,” another man chimed in from somewhere else in the room. “There is no one here that has room to lodge you for the night. If you are wise, you will leave.”
At that moment Van Ripper entered the tavern with their bags and joined them at the table. Ichabod shivered as he felt and smelled the chill on him, as if the man had brought the cold in with him. Or maybe he was merely spooked by the suspicious, fearful behavior of these country folk.
“Well, I-I…” Ichabod stammered, stunned. He took a deep breath and gathered his thoughts, then gazed at the barkeep imploringly. “Please. It’s very cold out and the child has already caught a chill. Even if we have to sleep on the floor here in this tavern after it closes, it would be better than getting lost out there, where we would be sure to die. We can pay you whatever you ask for. Please.”
“Most of the rooms upstairs have been locked for a long time now,” the barkeep finally spoke up in a quiet, accented voice. He sighed. “I’ll look for the keys.”
“Jamie, what are you doing…?”
The barkeep put his hand up, abruptly silencing the chorus of protests that began to arise from the others.
“Enough. There’s a blizzard raging and it’s bitter weather. I won’t be leaving a man and his family to freeze to death in the middle of the woods.” He turned back to face Ichabod. “I’ll look for the keys. If I can’t find them, you’ll sleep down here. I’ll only be asking the price of keeping a fire burning through the night if that’s the case.”
“Thank you very much.”
“And what will you be drinking, sir?” he asked, eyeing Van Ripper. “Cider as well?”
“Make it a whiskey,” Van Ripper answered promptly.
*******
Ichabod could hear frantic whispering in the tavern downstairs as James McKinley led them upstairs, having found the keys to unlock the rooms. Stephen and Van Ripper were each given a small room with a single bed. Ichabod and Katrina were shown to a larger room down the hall, with a double bed.
Although there were several rooms in the house on the two floors above the tavern, James McKinley lived alone, and not in any of the upstairs rooms. Instead he slept in a back room downstairs, behind the area where the local patrons gathered.
“I don’t know how Mr. McKinley can afford to keep this tavern in business, with just a handful of locals and no visitors.”
“Perhaps he has another profession,” Katrina suggested. “There are farms round these parts, it seems. For all we know he is the town’s notary and runs a tavern on the side.”
“Mm. Odd that the man sleeps downstairs and leaves two floors of a house empty. This would serve very well as an inn for travelers between the city and upstate,” Ichabod remarked as they got undressed for bed. “But I suppose they are too suspicious of visitors here.”
He drifted into thought, conjuring a mental picture of the scene downstairs and the tense, fearful look on every face in the room.
“They were all so frightened of us,” he murmured wonderingly, lifting the lit candle from the desk and walking toward the end table beside the bed. “Not just frightened. As if they’re guilty of something. I still cannot believe that almost all of them were willing to let us freeze to death in the middle of this storm.”
“Yes. This little place has also seen much unhappiness, just as we saw in Sleepy Hollow,” she added sadly as she climbed into bed.
There was hidden meaning behind her statement and he gazed at her inquisitively. Katrina had an uncanny ability to see things others couldn’t. Although it made him nervous and uncomfortable, there was also something reassuring about it. He trusted her intuition.
“What makes you say that?”
“I can sense it.”
His eyes narrowed as he studied her face. There was more, he sensed, but she wasn’t telling him. “There’s something else,” he prodded.
“Only that they believe that ghosts roam the rooms and hallways of this little house.”
Ichabod nearly dropped the candle. “W-what?”
“I heard some women talking downstairs. That’s why the rooms have been locked and no one sleeps here.”
He frowned and shook his head, setting the candle on the end table and slipping into bed beside her. “What silliness. Even if that were true, what good would locked doors do? I should think that the ghosts could pass through them, and roam downstairs as well.”
Katrina burst into laughter at that. He turned and stared at her in confusion.
“It seems you know all about ghosts,” she giggled, poking him gently. “Tell me more. They can pass through doors. And walls, too? What else?”
“What a terrible tease you are, Katrina.”
There was a mischievous glint in her eyes as she inched nearer to him, kissing him playfully on the lips. He smiled and snaked his arms around her, drawing her close and returning the kiss. Her hair shimmered in the flickering light of the candle as she settled down against his chest and he began to tenderly run his fingers through the golden locks.
“Anyway, after my experience with the supernatural in Sleepy Hollow I have reluctantly come to believe that unfortunately there are a few things that just cannot be explained by science, or the rational mind.”
“It’s not only the supernatural. There is faith as well. That cannot be explained by the rational mind either. But it is very powerful.”
“Yes,” he agreed softly. “Well, hopefully the storm will abate overnight and we can set off again tomorrow morning. I will be as happy to leave this place as its inhabitants will be to see us go.”
He raised his head and blew out the candle, then settled down onto his pillow. In the darkness Katrina snuggled deeper into his chest with a sigh that made his heart melt and he tightened his embrace, leaning down to kiss her passionately.
*******
The sun was already up when Ichabod awoke, his arm still wrapped around Katrina’s waist. She faced away from him and his body was curled around hers, his face buried in her hair. He breathed in the scent and sighed. He loved the way she smelled. From the first moment she drew close to him when he arrived in Sleepy Hollow, the honeysuckle fragrance of her had captivated his senses, rendering him lightheaded and unable to think straight. He smiled contentedly and kissed the back of her head.
A frown darkened his features a few minutes later as he glanced around and immediately recalled where they were. He reluctantly extracted his arms from around his wife and slipped out of bed quietly, tenderly pulling the covers back up around her and tucking her in.
One glance toward the window told him that most likely they weren’t going anywhere today. All he could see was a cloud of swirling white, as the snow fell as heavily as ever and the wind still howled wildly. The fire was low and he went over to throw more logs on and stoke it. Then he dressed silently and grabbed his overcoat and gloves. He left the room, closing the door behind him, and ventured downstairs.
The tavern was quiet and spotless. He moved to the window facing onto the street and sighed in dismay. Even if the snow stopped, four feet high drifts of snow in front of the window told him that it would be impossible for them to leave that morning. The horses wouldn’t be able to traverse such deep snow. All he could pray for was a sunny day that would be warm enough to melt it down enough so that they could navigate the roads once more.
He sighed again and turned, walking back upstairs and returning to the bedroom. Katrina opened her eyes as he entered.
“You’re up already?”
“Mm.” He removed his gloves, then sat down on the edge of the bed and leaned over, kissing her. “It doesn’t look like we’ll be able to leave today. The storm is still raging out there and the snow is so high, I don’t think the horses would be able to get through it.”
She sighed and reached up, stroking his cheek tenderly. “Did you sleep alright, my love?”
“Mm-hmm. And you?”
“Very well.”
“Good,” he whispered, kissing her again.
“Come back to bed. Since we can’t go anywhere, you might as well relax.” She lifted the cover and patted the bed next to her. “I missed you.”
“We’ll have to eat eventually,” he murmured, undressing and climbing back under the covers beside her.
*******
Mr. McKinley allowed Katrina to purchase food for breakfast from him and cook in the fireplace. She offered to cook for him as well, but he had already eaten early that morning.
“I was up early with the others, clearing a path along the road and from the road to the door. Otherwise we wouldn’t be able to get out.”
Van Ripper joined them downstairs a short time later.
“Where is Stephen?” Ichabod asked. “Usually he is up by now.”
“I haven’t seen him about yet.”
He stood up. “I’ll go up and see where he is. I cannot imagine that he’s still asleep at this hour.”
Ichabod made his way upstairs and down the hall to the boy’s room. The first thing he noticed upon entering was that it was very cold in the room, the fire having gone out a long time ago. Odd that the boy hadn’t risen when the room grew cold to stoke it and keep it going. He hurried over to the fireplace and started another one burning.
“Stephen?” he called softly, sitting on the edge of the bed beside him.
The boy’s face was flushed and his breathing was irregular and raspy. Ichabod placed a cool hand on his forehead gently. His skin was hot. Something else that would keep them there if the fever worsened.
Stephen’s eyes opened and he gazed up at Ichabod through teary, glassy eyes.
“Sir?” he croaked.
“Lie still. You have a fever. From now on, as long as you’re not dressed properly, you’ll be sitting inside with Katrina and me for the rest of the trip. If we ever get out of here.”