If you would like to see more movie 'slash' please tell me. ^_^

<Part 1>
 

    Ichabod Crane stood at the window of his town house, looking out upon the city of New York. Once it had been home to him but now. . . fate was being cruel to him. Catrina Van Tassel had proven to be as fickel in her attraction to him as any other woman of stature. He had brought her to New York and she had gladly embraced the life he had never been attracted to.

    Now she had gone. Leaving him only doubts about himself and his fellow man.

    "Sir?"

    He turned and forced a calm look upon his warring emotions, "Young Masbeth."

    "A letter came for you sir." He held out the paper and waited for the constable to take it. "It's from the hollow."

    Ichabod stiffened at the mention of that place but he opened it anyway and glanced over the contents. "It seams the people of the hollow are in need of a new notary."

    "You, sir?"

    "If I would accept."

    "It is a comfortable possition sir, but the Hallow. . ."

    "I know, masbeth." Ichabod sat the letter aside, "For now I must be off to work. I will think upon this carefully."

    "Sir?"

    "Yes."

    "If you go back to that place sir, I . . ."

    "If I do it will be alone." He smiled, "I know how ou feel about it and lady Katrina will have more use for your services here."

    "Thank you sir."

    "Goodnight, young Masbeth."
 
 
 

    Below the tree of the dead, in a vast space held up by the roots, the hroseman lay on a pile of furs. The tree's lower chamber, a sort of nuetral space before the otherworld's gates, had been his home and prison for a long while, but never before had he felt the entombment as he did at that moment. He could come and go as he wished yes, but he always returned. Always.

    He sat up and surveyed the area. Time and Space bent to his will here. He could make it be anywhere he wanted. Now, as for the past years since his head had been restored to him, it was a large garden, the flowers blooming all around him and bit of dandilion fuzz floating on the breeze. It was a scene from a dream he had witnessed. The dream of the human who had freed him of the witches hold.

    //Porciline skin, hair as dark, wild and untamable as the night. Strong build and lithe body.// He smiled to himself, //and an annoying tendancy toward feinting.// He had been unable to forget the human boy. His boy, he called him in his mind.

    How many years had it been since he came to the hollow looking for science and finding spirits? The question was one he asked himself frequently, "In one week it will have been a year."

    ~You miss the child who released you~ The spirits around him sang. Spirits of the tree, the dead, himself, he wasn't sure anymore.

    Unwilling to sit while the voices taunted him, he wiped his cloak around him and called to his horse, vanishing in a gurggling parting of blood filled wood and flesh, into the mortal realm.

    All around him the woods spoke. To him and through him all living things in the forest touched him. He was now their guardian. The one who frightened away the hunters and men with their axes. The forest was his domain, and the people of the Hollow would not anger him by harming what was his. They weren't that stupid.

    He dismounted in an old field near a rotting scarecrow and knelt to touch the ground there. This was where he had first seen his boy. The memory was dulled by the witch's spell but only to the moment he had finished his task, then all became clear, and he saw an angel lying on the leave strewn ground. How well he recalled it.

    The horseman turned back to the field. His job had been completeld but something was calling to him, something too pure to be a part of the black witch's power. He returned to the place where the magistrate's body lay, and there, spread out upon the ground was the most stunning human that he had even seen.

    Carefully approaching he searched for injurry, afraid that in his spell bound state he had injurred the boy. It wasn't until he noticed the boy's breathing that he realized what had happened. //He feinted!// The novelty and humor of the situation was not lost upon him, but took second place to the feelings corsing through his viens. Fire. Need. Things he had not felt even in living.

    His hand lightly traced the slightly parted lips and the man/child groaned softly, the breath upon his thumb freezing the horseman with surprize. He hadn't barganed for this, but what a sweet shock it was! Only the voices of the village people made him leave, he couldn't take the boy with him, not yet, but he would watch him, and damn the witch if she thought she might do him harm!
 
 

    Ichabod walked through New York's most shadey district, looking for something to do, some crime to solve that would, for a while at least, stop his mind's treaturous thoughts but fate seemed against him this night. All was quiet.

    "Crane! Constable Crane!"

    "Yes."

    "You are wanted at the station."

    //And this night has taken another turn for the worst.// Ichabod knew what was coming, it had been since he returned from the Hollow with two children and talk of a headless, sentiant, corpse. This hadn't sat well  with his superiors. "I have been fired, haven't I."

    "I'm afraid so constable. All of your ranting about justic has finally upset the chief enough to face what consequences there may be."

    "Consequences?"

    "Beg'n your pardon sir, but we all know about your mother's craft, the only reason you've been kept around is for fear that you may seek unholy methods of vengance."

    "Oh for the love of God, you believe I would, or even *could* hold dark powers?!"

    "I. . ."

    "I will save myself the walk. Please inform the chief that I quit."

    "But. . ."

    "Goodday." Ichabod walked away with much more surety than he felt. With no income he would lose his home and be forced onto the street. But there was another option, wasn't there. He entered his home and without removing his cloak strode to the table where the letter from Sleepy Hollow sat still. "Masbeth."

    The boy almost ran down the stair, "Sir?"

    "Pack my belongings."

    "Sir are you. . ."

    "I am returning to Sleepy Hollow."

    He departed that morning, the ride was long and uncomfortable and as he nodded off, exhausted from his night's work and sleepless state, a dream touched him, almost a memory, but different. . .

    He stood in front of the Tree of the Dead, faceing the murdering Lady Van Tassle. The horseman was coming, time was running out.

    "Yes," The woman sneared, "Run and skip and jump. . ." She aimed her rifle at Katrina but at the last moment it was he who was shot. He heard the terrified cries of his companions as he fell and once again relived the awe of realising he was alive. This time though, it was not Masbeth who leaned over him. . .

    Grey eyes rimmed with blue stared down at him, "You're alive." The way he said it, the words were almost a prayor of thanks.

    Ichabod reminded himself that this was a dream, all a dream, and forced himself not to feint. "and you are quite dead."

    "I've noticed." The voice was thick with a german accent, and deep enough to make the earth tremble a bit as he spoke. The hint of humor in that frightful voice allowed Ichabod though, to keep calm. "This is a dream isn't it."

    "Yes." Ichabod nodded, "I am asleep in a coach on my way back to the Hollow."

    "You are coming back."

    "Yes."

    The horseman's strong arms lifted him gently and he found himself so near that a simple incline of his head and he would be lip to lip with a wild mercinary. "Why?"

    Ichabod tried to resist, but if it was a dream. . . his lips met the horseman's and he gasped in delight at the loving feeling the flowed between them.

    "I do not wish this to be a dream." The rider admitted.

    "Nor I." He traced the pale face and frowned slightly, "What is happening to me?"

    "I am not sure." He admitted, "But it is the same thing that drives me to need you."

    "I wish. . ."

    "Yes?"

    "I. . ."

    Ichabod awoke with a start as the coach slowed to a stop and touched his lips in awe. //Did I. . . that dream. . . why did I not see it before?!//

    "We're there sir."

    He nodded and stepped out into the fresh fall air. The Hollow had not changed a bit.  He strode meaningfully to the notary's house and then went to announce his arrival. With him, the eyes of those long gone followed.

    Baltus Van Tassel grinned as Hardenbrook, the only one buried outside the cemetary, took off after the lad to gather more news for the spirits traped in the churchyard. The horseman's obsession with 'his boy' was the latest gossip and now that the boy was back, all bets were off as to the outcome. But Baltus thought it was in both their favor.

    "Love and Happiness my friend." He smiled at Ichabod.
 
 
 

    The horseman woke from his startling dream with a shock and stood quickly leaping onto daredevil and entering the human world. His boy was coming back, to stay! He thundered through the forest and dismounted at it's end, walking more inconspicuously into the sleeping village.

    "Horseman!"

    He turned wary eyes to Baltus Van Tassle, wo was leaning against the church fench with a knowing grin on his face, "What is it old man."

    "Saw your boy today."

    "So he is here."

    "Moved into the notary's house, if you want to see him, he might be there now."

    "Stay out of my buisness."

    "How can I? It's so much more interesting than watching the grass over my grave growing." The horseman glarred and Baltus smiled. "I may still be a bit nervous round you, but I am not frightened anymore. I'm dead, what more can you do to me?"

    "Hn." He walked away and headed for the Notary. //I want to see him again.// He thought to himself. //Just one look.//
 

    Ichabod had placed his few belongings and scientific equipment in his private rooms and then turned his attention to the office. //What a God awful mess!// He sighed in resignation and got to work. As he sorthed and stacked the old and yellowed pages, he didn't see the eyes colored like a stormy sky, watching him through the window. Didn't see the tender smile. Didn't see the hopeless tear.

//His world. Never again mine.//

<Part 2>
 

    'Notary' Crane had been in Sleepy Hollow for a week before the office was in sufficiant order that he did not feel remiss in his duties to journey away from the stagnant, backwater town and into the feral magic of the western woods.

    They were much less forbodding than he recalled them to be, almost welcoming in fact. He didn't feel the least bit faint.

    And so on sturdy legs, Ichabod Crane ventured into the heart of the woods. In search of a murdering ghost, who haunted his dreams now instead of his nightmares.
_____________
 

    The Hessian tensed as he felt someone approach. Since the death of the black witch no one had dared to enter his woods. Who now would be fool enough to come to his very resting place? Why had this human been  allowed by the wood's spirits to 'find' it?

    With a hard stride the horseman stepped through the portal and onto the leave strewn ground to face the intruder to his domain. Harsh eyes swung toward a slight sound and he spun on his heels.

    There, shivering before him, was his boy.

    He lunged forward his caught the man/child as he feinted again. The ghost blinked down at the slightly blue lips and sat up against the tree, wrapping Crane in his cloak. He studied the beautiful sleeper, and waited.

____________

    //Mmm. Warm.// Icabod currled closer into the blankets. //Smells good. Like wood smoke and rain.// His sleepy eyes fluttered open slightly and saw only black. //Still night time. Sleep.//

    "Icabod." A soft voice thick with a German accent prompted him. "Icabod, Open your eyes."

    Unwillingly he obeyed and found himself looking up into the stormy grey eyes that he had drempt of just the night before. "Hessian."

    "Ja. Don't feint."

    "I wasn't." He swallowed and blinked again, "Is this another dream?"

    "Nein Liebling, this is real. Why did you return to this place?"

    "I. . . I am the new notary."

    The Horseman smile, "I meant this place. My clearing, the tree of the dead."

    "Oh."

    "Well?"

    "I was looking for you."

    "Why is this?"

    The beautiful human blushed and smiled softly, eyes downcast, "I had hoped. . . I. . . I dream of you."

    "I know."

    "You do?"

    The ghost nodded softly, "I was there."

    "Then you knew. . ."

    "That you were back. Yes."

    Icabod sat up and across from the Hessian with a slight frown, "Why didn't you. . ."

    "Visit?" The Horseman chuckled and watched his boy flush.

    "Alright when you put it that why I can see why you didn't but the dream. . ."

    "Do you want what the dream offered?"

    Icabod touched one warm palm to the horseman's cold cheek. "I want you. I tried to forget and get on with my life but since I met you. . . you could have killed me a dozen times. Why did you keep me safe?"

    "I would never see you hurt."

    "Why?"

    The man offered no answer and Icabod nodded, "I rushed you, I'm sorry." He smiled, "I don't even know your name."

    "Kristaan. Kristaan Johan Schuldich."

    A sad look came to the Notary's eyes, "God's guilt. The name doesn't suit you."

    "But it Does. I am guilty of many things Icabod Crane. And God is guilty in connection with this,  for my creation."

    "That was before."

    "And how do you know I've changed?"

    The ex-constable surged up and pressed his lips quickly to Kristaan's before pulling away. "I . . . just have a hunch." He said, looking beautifully flustered.

    "Do you now?"

    "Yes."

    "You are un guter Junge. A good boy. You don't need me complicating your life."

    "You're wrong."

    ". . .?"

    "I have discovered that I need you very much indeed."

    "Ah?" He leaned closer and looked Icabod squarly in the eyes before catching his lips for a much longer and deeper kiss than before. "And what methods of deduction brought you to this conclusion?"

    "Trial and Error."

    "Really?"

    "Only surface studies."

    "Care to inspect further?"

    "I. . . OH!. . . um. . ."

    Kristaan sat back, "I apologise, now it is I moving to quickly."

    "Would you. . . the Notary's home is very large. . . do you need to stay in the tree?"

    "Nien. But. . . do you know what this is you ask?"

    "I. . ." Icabod collected himself and nodded, "I want to understand you, and to get to know you."

    Both men stood and the Hessian looked down at the shorter man intently. "Why?"

    Icabod blushed and met those amazing eyes, "Because I believe. . . I am falling in love with you. And I need to know if this is real."

<Part 3>
 

    Once again Icabod woke from a strange dream. He had thought he'd gone back to the Hessian's clearing and told him of the awakening love he held for the spirit. He drempt that he had asked the ghost to return with him and let them both explore the new ground they found themselves traveling. But then, nothing. And he had awakened here. Alone.

    //Did I dream it all? I was sure a went into the western wood. How did I get back here?// He tried to sit up and found he couldn't. His chest hurt horribly and he began to cough.

    "You should not have gone out with no jacket. It is not summer anymore."

    Icabod jumped and turned to see the Hessian. "You. . . you're really here!"

    "I told you that I would come back with you. I did not think it would be literal. I carried you home. Do you remember anything?"

    "I thought I had dreamed it again."

    The horseman, Kristian, smirked, "Nein. No dream this time."

    "Will you stay then?"

    He nodded and offered Ichabod help to sit up. "You are in no condition to fend for yourself in any case. You caught a chill."

    "Thank you."

    "Nein. Thank you. What happened to the white witch? I thought that the two of you were to wed. I was sure that I would never see you again."

    "Ah, Katrina realised that is was not me whom she loved, but the life the city offered. She left only some days after we returned."

     "Stupid girl."

    Ichabod blushed and the Hessian sat on the bed beside him and enfolded him in great, strong arms. "I am glad that she left." He blinked nervously and when he realised that Kristian was not going to pull away or rage at him, the notary Crane allowed himself to relax and fall against the strong body.

    Kristian ran his large, calloused hands over the other man's naked back, "I am also glad."

    "Would you be offended if I said you were beautiful?"

    "Nein. Would you if I said the same?"

    "No."

    The Hessian smiled a true smile and Crane felt his heart melt into it's light, "Ichabod."

    "Yes?"  The room was hotter. And it seemed so small now. Intimate.

    "Would you let me to kiss you?"

    His eyes slid shut as he leaned into the warm hold and he could feel Kristian leaning in as well. "Yes."

    Their lips met softly, but fire passed between them. Dead and Living, Light and Grave, found an equal ground in the kiss and a bond like a red hot brand was sealed between the two men. "Mein Gott. Ah, mein susser. Einfach wunderschon."

    "I can not understand a word of what you just said but I like the way it sounded." Ichabod smiled.

    "How did it sound liebling mine?"

    "Like love."

    "Ah. Ja, maybe it did. Does that fighten you?"

    "No. I find myself feeling very safe in fact."

    "You aren't feeling faint?"

    Ichabod snorted amusedly, "No."

    "Good." Kristian grabbed him up into another kiss and Ichabod gasped into the other's sweet mouth. He burried his hands in the shaggy hair at the base of the hessian's neck and pulled him closer, opening his mouth wider to the ghost.

    "Mmm." The human smiled and burried his face in the ghost's neck, "I liked that. Very much."

    "I too."

    "I would like more than that."

    Kristian pulled back in shock, "Ichabod."

    "I want you Kristian." He admitted, "I want to know what it feels like to be taken. To be yours. I need to feel that."

    "You are ill."

    "Kristian. . ."

    "Nein. Wait until you are well again. Then if you still want this, I will give it gladly."

    "Promise?"

    "If I say yes will you get some sleep?"

    "I can't. . . I have to work. . ."

    "Lie down!" He order harshly.

    Ichabod immidiatly complied. This wasn't Kristian telling him to lie, it was the Hessian in all of his glory. Even scared as that made him he couldn't help the flash of arousal.

    As if he felt what Ichabod did. The horseman grinned. "Later Meinguter junge. We have time."

    "What about my work?"

    "Sleep now. I will bring some of it up to you when you've rested."

    "I do. . ." Ichabod yawned largely and gave a sheepish grin. "I do feel a little sleepy."

    "Then sleep."

    "Will you be here when I wake up?"

    "Always."

    "I like the sound of that."

    "Sleep." He ordered with mock sternness.

    "I thought when I quit the police force I was done with orders."

    Kristian kissed the hot forhead and stepped back, "Not an order, a beseechment."

    "All right. One condition though."

    "Oh?"

    "Kiss me again."

    The Hessian grinned, "With pleasure."
 
 
 

~tbc~