Ichabod learns to use a cell phone and is too independent for his own good. This was started before we were introduced to Corbin's cabin when I thought that Ichabod might end up camping out in the archive - hence, that's where he's moving. I tweaked it in the end to get him into the cabin though! Started as drabble to include a few things I thought would be fun but then I decided that I had to have some sort of conclusion.

No beta since I don't know how to find someone!

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Abbie hadn't thought too much about it when Ichabod had told her that he no longer needed her to pick him up at the motel every morning. She knew that she would feel awkward relying on someone for a ride every morning and Ichabod was an independent fellow. She could imagine that being ferried to and fro might start to wear on him after a while.

"Now that your captain has seen fit to provide us both with keys to this marvelous facility, I shall simply meet you here when necessary. You will no longer be required to collect me from the inn before we begin our day."

Abbie had protested - "Crane, it's like two miles away from here. Do you really want to walk that far every morning before we even get started for the day?"

"Lieutenant, when horses were in short supply I routinely marched upwards of 20 miles a day while carrying a full load of supplies. I am perfectly capable of managing to transport my unladen self two miles without any detriment to my person." He drew himself up to his fullest height, which was considerable, especially when standing near Abbie. "I think I can manage.".

Twenty miles a day? No wonder he was such a skinny fellow.

After considering all the things that could possibly go wrong, Abbie had agreed to begin meeting him at the archives. She had a momentary thought that she could get him a bike - but after having a rather enthusiastic internal laugh she dismissed the thought. She really didn't think she could handle the sight of him pedaling away, his coat billowing out behind him like some crazy male Wicked Witch of the West. He was already slightly ridiculous looking. She couldn't subject him to that. Seeing him on a ten speed would be positively more than she could handle.

While she had agreed to let Ichabod find his own way to the archives in the mornings, she had insisted on providing him with some sort of communication. That led to the purchase of the cellular phone that she gave him later that week - before she had agreed to stop picking him up at the motel. He had insisted that it was not necessary, but Abbie had been unwilling to let Ichabod loose on the town of Sleepy Hollow without being able to get in touch with him.

She drew the slim device out of her pocket and handed it to Ichabod. He took it reluctantly.

She had to smile at the ridiculous tableau now presented to her. Here stood Ichabod Crane - revolutionary war soldier and reluctant time traveler - carefully cradling a smartphone in his hand, his long fingers awkwardly touching the thing as little as possible. He held it how most people would hold a dirty sponge or a used tissue. She sighed. This was going to be loads of fun.

With some forethought, Abbie had already downloaded an app designed for children or the elderly - and perhaps Crane counted as the elderly - that deactivated the vast majority of the phone's functions. No need to tell him this, of course.

Ichabod felt supremely apprehensive holding this small device. He had up to this point studiously avoided touching anything that he didn't understand. The gun he could manage, also the flashlight - which he was readily willing to admit was superior to a lantern. Nearly everything else he avoided. He usually stood slightly apart from things with his hands clasped behind his back, happy to allow Abbie to use and manipulate the modern instruments that they encountered on a daily basis.

He believed that the safest way to not "blow his cover," as Abbie had so eloquently put it, was to avoid entirely any situations that might expose him as ignorant of basic modern technology. He spent a great deal of time trying to catalog Abbie's reactions to things that surprised him. It was sometimes difficult to tell the difference between witchcraft and automation. If she was unconcerned by something he tried to adopt the same demeanor. It had seemed to be working thus far.

Disdain had dripped from his words when he had last referred to Abbie's smartphone. He hadn't understood what a "compass app" was so he had quickly tried to illustrate his own worth. He drew on all the tracking knowledge he had gained fox hunting and scouting with the American Indians simply so that she would stop chattering on about the damned smartphone. It had worked - they had found Roanoke - and he had defeated the smartphone. Yet now he held one of the devices in his own hands.

The last time that Ichabod had started pushing buttons at random was while sitting in Abbie's car and trying to get out. It had ended well, with Ichabod having a lovely conversation with a woman named Yolanda, but when the disembodied voice had first spoken to him from the car he had practically marched into the asylum and committed himself. Or he would have, had he been able to get out of the damned infernal car, which had lead to all the button pushing in the first place..

Ichabod had no desire to draw unnecessary attention to his lapses in modern knowledge, and he was constantly attempting to avoid embarrassment. And, he thought, staring at this small contraption, this was sure to make him look both foolish and inept.

Abbie intended to make this as simple as possible. She activated only three functions - the alarm clock function, as well as texting and voice to only one number - hers. Abbie had weighed her options with the phone functions. A screen lock would complicate things but avoid any unintentional butt dialing. And as much as Abbie hoped to never have to explain the phrase butt dialing to Crane and his delicate sensibilities, she didn't think a screen lock would be a good idea.