"CRANE!" Abbie screamed into the trees. The sun wouldn't rise for another 4 hours, and Abbie seriously doubted he'd last that long out here alone. There was 6" of snow on the ground, more in the drifts, and it was melted up to her knees and packed into her boots. But Abbie didn't feel the cold. She was sweating from running through the snow and still high on adrenaline. After exorcising the demon from the animals and trees of these woods behind Corbin's cabin, she and Crane had gotten separated. She didn't like not knowing where he was in the station, let alone in the middle of the woods at midnight in zero degree weather when he very well may be injured.

Abbie stopped in her tracks to listen to the eerie silence of the woods, panic making sweat prickle her brow anew. She dialed his cell phone again and cursed colorfully when it went unanswered. She could count on one hand the times he'd used the damn thing in the six months since she'd given it to him. Abbie had the brief thought of tagging him with a GPS chip, like they do to dogs, but highly doubted he'd agree to it.

The snow in front of her was fresh and undisturbed. From here it was a crapshoot. So she took off running to her left, and shouted for him again, but her voice was swallowed up by the trees, the snow and the darkness. Nearly sobbing, Abbie called his phone as she ran. She distantly heard a shrill ringing and stopped to identify the direction. With the trees playing tricks on her, it took some running in circles, but finally she spotted his cell phone wedged in the snow. And there was Crane, 100 feet away, sitting in the snow leaning his back against a tree.

"Crane!" Abbie shouted, her voice breaking as she ran to him and hit her knees next to him in the snow. He was unconscious, with a gash above his eyebrow that had bled down the side of his face and neck and frozen on his collar. His hands were cold to the touch.

"Crane?" Abbie shook him gently, "Ichabod please wake up!"

His eyes drifted open sleepily. "Ah, there you are, Miss Mills," he said, his cold lips slurring the words, "I've been looking everywhere for you."

Abbie sputtered a laugh that was equal parts relief and hysteria. If his sense of humor was still intact, maybe he'd be ok.

"Come on, we need to get back to the cabin. Can you walk?" she asked. He nodded stiffly, and she helped him stand. Slinging one arm over her shoulders, Abbie wrapped her other arm around his small waist to support him. He limped on his left leg heavily.

They trudged through the snow for ten minutes in what Abbie thought was the direction of the cabin. As Crane leaned on her more and more with each step, she began to panic again.

Then she saw the soft glow of the lights through the cabin windows, filtering through the trees. It was the warmest, most welcoming thing she'd ever seen. She nearly cried in relief.

"We're almost there," she told Crane, whose chin had dropped onto his chest.

Once inside, Abbie dropped him onto the couch, where he collapsed, immediately unconscious. She rushed around the cabin, gathering as many blankets as she could. The fire was low from when they'd stoked it before venturing out, and she threw two logs on it.

His wounds weren't the threat at the moment. Abbie was most concerned with the way he was shivering. She yanked his boots off his feet and managed to roll him enough to get his wet coat off his arms and toss it away. She covered him in four layers of blankets, and then shoved him toward the back of the couch to make room for herself to lie in front of him.

Abbie was even more disconcerted to find nearly no body heat emanating from him. She took both of his hands in her own, rubbing and blowing on his icy fingers. She wedged one of her legs between his, rubbing her small, warm feet against his.

This movement woke Ichabod briefly.

"Miss Mills," he murmured in protest, words still slurred, "what are you-this is highly-"

"Sh," Abbie said gently and he fell silent again.

He continued to jostle her and the couch with his shivering, but was quiet so long Abbie thought he'd drifted off, until he spoke.

"You produce a remarkable amount of heat," he said, his teeth chattering, "for so small a person."

Abbie chuckled, "Thanks, I suppose."

After a few more moments, Ichabod relaxed deeply into the couch, shivering only intermittently. Abbie's head was tucked beneath his chin, and he rested his cheek on it. No longer panicked for him, and drained from the events of the day, Abbie nearly fell asleep too.

It was rather an intimate position, and she nearly forgot that they were the Two Witnesses, partners in a war, and not a couple entwined after a home-cooked dinner and two glasses of wine. When that particular thought sent an unpleasant stab to her chest, Abbie shifted to get up, intending to see to Ichabod's cuts.

Ichabod made a sleepy sound of unhappiness, throwing his arm around her to keep her in place. That sent another unpleasant stab to her chest.

"Ichabod, I need to look at your head," Abbie said softly. He harrumphed again, eyes still closed, and released her. As he drew his hand away, his palm and fingers drug across the sensitive curve of her waist. She rolled quickly off the couch, landing hard on her rear and was thankful for the painful distraction.

Abbie gathered a few first aid supplies quietly and cleaned and bandaged his head without waking him. With a cloth and warm water, she cleaned most of the dried blood from his face and neck, but the rest would require a good scrub. She made them both sandwiches and brought glasses of water to the coffee table. She'd have let him sleep if she didn't have cause to believe he had a concussion.

"Ichabod," she said gently, shaking his shoulder. His eyes drifted open wearily. "Can you sit up? You should have some water." He nodded and Abbie helped him sit. His coordination was off, and he listed to one side before righting himself. Abbie handed him a glass of water and watched him tip it slowly to his lips to drink. He handed it back to her, half empty.

"You called me Ichabod," he said dreamily, not really looking at her. Yep, definitely a concussion. Usually when Ichabod was talking to you, he was looking you dead in the eyes, either trying to intimidate or gauge your reaction.

"Yes, I did," she said, setting the glass aside. "Do you want something to eat?" He shook his head, which threw off his balance and he tipped to the side. He caught himself on his hand and righted again, blushing slightly. Abbie would have laughed, it was so damn adorable, if they hadn't just been through the wringer.

"Go ahead and sleep," Abbie said, eating her own sandwich. Ichabod lay down again and appeared asleep immediately. But after Abbie had set the dishes in the sink, she heard him call her.

"Miss Mills," he said quietly.

"Hm?" she answered, coming to stand at his head.

"I believe I'm still a bit chilled." He didn't open his eyes or look up at her, but his words were clear. It was a lie, and Abbie knew it. He wanted to have her close to him again. That thought pierced her chest so hard she nearly lost her breath.

"Move over then," Abbie said and he complied, opening his eyes briefly, but not meeting hers as she slid under the heavy blankets and into his chest. He placed his arm over her carefully, splaying his wide palm over her back.

She was infinitely glad to keep him within her sight for a good while. After losing him in the woods...she didn't want him to stray more than 5 feet from her for the next ten hours or so.

"You smell like lavender," he breathed into her hair as he drifted asleep. Abbie fisted her hands in his 250-year old tunic and leaned her forehead against his collarbone, fighting the wave of affection that threatened to drown her. Being pressed against him from shoulder to ankle was the most dangerous thing she could think of, and yet at the moment she felt safe. She'd never quite fit this way with anyone before. For this brief slice of time, it felt like nothing else mattered.

Under the weight of Ichabod's arm, and the warmth that cocooned them, Abbie slept better than she ever had.

thanks for squealing in delight with me over these ichabbie feels, you guys. 3