Sleepy Hollow – a missing scene

fall_tv_preview_sleepyhollow1I started my career as a romance novelist writing fan fiction, and that’s what this is, plain and simple.  It’s not even a full story, just a scene I really wanted and didn’t get from “Heartless,” the most recent episode of Sleepy Hollow.  I’m not saying they should do this or that this is what’s best for the characters or even that this is the most likely scenario for the future based on what we’ve seen so far.  The real writers almost certainly have something better planned that will knock my socks off. This is purely my personal wish fulfillment at this exact moment in the story. And based on what I read on Twitter Monday night, there are some other people who might enjoy it, too.

* * * * * *

As the sun came up, Abbie gave up, got up, showered, and dressed.  She dialed Crane’s number on her way to the car.

“Yes?” He sounded awake, just befuddled. “Yes, I’m here; hello.”

“Good morning.” Even in her present state, she couldn’t help but smile. “I think we need to talk. I’m coming over.”

“All right.” He might have sounded a little surprised, but she couldn’t tell. He hid so much from her these days.

“Great. I’ll bring coffee.”


“I’ll see you shortly.”

“Yes.” Just as she was about to end the call, she heard him crying out in desperation. “Lieutenant!”


“Doughnut holes. Please.”

She smiled again. “Of course.”



Once she was sitting across from him at the table in the cabin, she wasn’t sure how to start. “Crane, I didn’t sleep last night.”

“Nor I.” His hands were clasped around his coffee cup like it was a lifeline. “I was glad when you called. I need to speak to you as well.”

“That’s great–I mean, I’m sorry you didn’t sleep, but . . .” She broke off and started again. “I think I’m going to need to go first this time,” she said. “And I think I’m going to need you to shut up.”

He looked taken aback, but he nodded.  “All right.”  He gestured for her to proceed.

“You’ve been taking charge of the situation a lot lately, and that’s fine. But I’m not your assistant, Crane, or your sidekick. We’re partners–”

“Of course–” She raised her eyebrows, and he stopped.  “Apologies. Please go on.”

“Then last night, after Katrina left, you gave me that speech about how we have to stick together, stick to the mission and not get distracted.” He started to speak again, then stopped, sitting back in his chair and folding his arms. “And that craziness where you were, I don’t know, giving me permission to date Hawley? I don’t even–what was that even about?”

“You want me to speak now?”

“No, I don’t.” Just saying it all out loud, she was getting mad all over again. “You don’t tell me who I can date, Crane. That is none of your business.”

“You are right,” he said, nodding, his arms still folded. “It is not.” He wasn’t even looking at her.

“I don’t need you to find me a boyfriend.”

“Of course you do not.”

“And when you do things like that, it makes me think that you think I’m jealous of Katrina.” She hadn’t been sure she could say it, but she had. “Crane, I am not jealous of Katrina.”

He looked stunned. “No, of course not.” He set his coffee cup aside, and she saw his hands were shaking. “You’re quite right, Lieutenant. I apologize.”

“Crane, I don’t need an apology.” She took his hand. “I need to understand.”

“I should have realized . . .” His hand closed over hers, but he still wasn’t looking at her. “You are much too honorable a woman to have even entertained the thought . . .”

“The thought of what?” He looked up, and she saw exactly what in his eyes. “Oh . . .” She let go of his hand. “Crane–”

“No, please.” He looked away with a wry smile. “I believe it’s my turn to speak.” He got up from his chair. “It is not you who is jealous, Lieutenant. I am the one for whom our relationship has become more than a friendship between comrades at arms.”

Only Crane could describe a crush and make it sound like the Magna Carta. “Hey, that’s perfectly natural,” she said. “You came back from the dead, and I was here, the only one who believed you, the only one who could help you.” She sounded so calm and mature and matter-of-fact, she almost believed her own bullshit. “You’re a man; I’m a woman.”

“Yes,” he said, smiling. “You are most assuredly that.” He put a hand on the back of his chair. “And I am a married man.”

“Yes, you are.” She got up, too. “And you love Katrina. You have always loved her.”

“Yes, I have. I know I have, and I do, but . . .” He looked at her, and she saw fear in his eyes as well as anguish. “I can’t remember why.”

The full importance of this hit the detective like a bullet, with fast, deadly force. “What are you saying, Crane?”

“Ever since she escaped Abraham and we brought her here, ever since the hospital, I have been trying to remember the particulars of our courtship,” he said.  “Abbie, I can’t.” When he said her name, she shivered. “She was Abraham’s beloved, and he was my friend. Of course I found her beautiful.”

Abbie smiled. “Of course.”

“But my attraction to her was merely aesthetic,” he insisted. “My affection for her was entirely inspired by my feelings of friendship for Abraham. He loved her; therefore, I was her advocate. I reached out to her not to form an attachment between us for my own sake but entirely for his.”

“Crane, I believe you,” Abbie said. “All jokes aside, you are not the kind of man to mack on your best friend’s girl.” He smiled. “But you know, these things happen.”

“Yes, but I don’t remember it happening,” he said. “I remember feeling friendship for Katrina, then feeling alarm and dismay on behalf of my friend when he began to suspect her of sympathizing with the colonists. Then suddenly we were in love.”

“And you were sympathizing with the colonists, too.” She was a good cop; she didn’t want to jump to any conclusions. But this sounded bad. “But hey, it was a long time ago.”

“Yes, it was,” he said. “And I have never regretted my decision to join the colonial cause.  I cannot but believe I would have done so even if I had never met Katrina. But I quite clearly remember the moment I first agreed to act as a spy for General Washington. I remember the first moment Abraham looked at me in hatred. I remember the first time I saw Franklin naked, for God’s sake.”

“That would kind of stick with a person.”

“So why can I not recall the moment when I first fell in love with a woman so dear to me, I would breach the literal gates of hell to save her?”

She wanted to go to him so badly, the palms of her hands tingled in anticipation. But that would only make everything worse, this confusion, this nightmare feeling that everything in her world was spinning out of control. They had to stay focused; there was too much at stake. “I don’t know,” she said, clasping her hands together. “But until a few months ago, you were buried in a hole in the woods, and the time since then hasn’t exactly been low stress.”

“No,” he said with a wry smile. “Though I do not regret a single moment.”

“It makes sense that things in your head could be a little mixed up.” She couldn’t look into his eyes. “For all we know, Moloch or Henry have put some kind of spell on you to make you forget the best parts of your marriage.”

“I suppose that could be possible.” He didn’t sound any more convinced than she felt. “Nor can I discount the influence of other factors.” She didn’t even have to look at him to know he was blushing. “I have changed a great deal since we met, Lieutenant, in my opinions, in my feelings.”

“No kidding,” she said, trying to make light of what he was saying so she didn’t have to really hear him. “You didn’t used to even like doughnut holes.”

“This goes beyond doughnut holes, I’m afraid. Abigail, let me speak plainly.” He moved in front of her, making her look at him. “If I were not married–”

“But you are,” she cut him off. “You are married.” She made herself look into his eyes and saw perfect understanding. No man had ever understood her so easily or so well. “And until we know how this is all going to work out, until we have hard evidence, until Katrina is away from Abraham and the two of you have a chance to work things out, there’s no point talking about anything else.” She did touch him then. She took his hand. “You said it yourself. We’re the witnesses. We’re the only ones who can stop Moloch. Nothing can get in the way of that.”

He nodded, looking down at their clasped hands. “You’re right, Lieutenant. Please forgive me.”

“Crane?” She waited until he looked back up “Just for the record? Me too.”

end of scene

Published by Lucy

Writer of gothic and supernatural horror-romance novels.

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