Abbie hesitated. She wouldn’t call herself a coward -- wouldn’t even dream of it, despite how often she recognized the chill of fear that ran through her veins, because of how often she threw herself at unknown dangers when she didn’t know she’d make it through -- but she wanted to run from the conversation she expected they would have. The tension in the air had been palpable, at least on her end, and when he’d finally suggested talking in person, she first felt relief, and then fear. Whatever was going on needed to come out, but that meant facing it. Abbie had never been good at facing her innermost feelings. Instead, she shoved them aside, right to the back of her mind where they’d be safe and secure. It was easier to face down a Horseman of the Apocalypse than it was to face why she so often pushed other people away, instead of letting them in close.
Years of pain, longing and loneliness had driven her to build a wall around herself, shielding her from a world she didn’t trust. Meeting Ichabod hadn’t changed that right away. Some people, after meeting the person who would become the single most important person in their life, would say that their walls began to crumble immediately. She’d trusted him almost instantly, reluctantly, understanding that they needed each other to figure out what the hell was going on in Sleepy Hollow. But trusting him to have her back was one thing. Sharing any part of herself was another, and that was a more difficult road to navigate. What Abbie felt was more accurate was that Ichabod somehow managed to burrow underneath her defenses without her even realizing what he was doing. And then one day, she woke up and she realized she couldn’t stand to be without him. It was a shock -- she hadn’t felt like that about anyone outside of her family, whether those feelings were platonic or otherwise -- and it was deeply nerve-wracking to place so much of herself in another person’s hands.
But here they were, and Abbie genuinely didn’t know what to do. She’d meant every word of what she’d said to him about complications. She knew she loved him, even if she hadn't understood the depth of that, and she knew that imagining a life without him made her miserable. But she also knew he was married, and he was effectively off-limits. She had never allowed herself to admit that there might be other options. Where either of them went from here, she didn’t know.
She wouldn’t get any answers by avoiding him, though, so she took a deep breath. If she could handle Purgatory and survive, this should have been a piece of cake. She could avoid talking about what was going on as long as they were at work, but now that they were alone, really alone, she couldn’t do that without making things more uncomfortable. That was the last thing she wanted. No matter where they were, what they needed more than anything was to be able to trust in their connection, and to nurture that relationship. Here, they didn’t have a world to protect.
“Hey, so --” Her instinct was to ask him what was for dinner, but it didn’t quite come out. She offered a small, nervous smile. What if he was right? “Hey.”