Serendipity

{Chapter two}

Ichabod grumbled in frustration as he tried to fasten the top button of his coat.

"What's the matter Mr. Crane?" Miss Crowley asked, looking up from where she poured his coffee.

Ichabod huffed himself back into the seat in defeat. The button simply wouldn't fasten.

"It's nothing. I assure you I am perfectly fine" Ichabod said, reaching for his coffee from across the counter.

Miss Crowley was the owner of a small bakery located to the far north corner of Sleepy Hollow. She was almost like a mother to Ichabod some would say. Not that anyone could replace his original.

"Well, you are always so cheery dear, I'm afraid I'm simply worried, that's all" Miss Crowley said, a worried expression taking place of the usual cheery demeanor that she held.

Ichabod sipped his coffee, "It's just work" He paused. "There's a new partner, I will say that even though she appears to be quite good at the job, I do not fancy her presence."

Miss Crowley frowned. "Is it perhaps annoying that she is just as good as you?" She asked, leaning against the counter.

Ichabod frowned. Of course not, he wasn't competitive, not really. "Perhaps not, I just work better alone" he answered, setting the empty cup down.

"Well, I best be off, I would surely like to be there before she-" Ichabod paused, standing up to grab his things, "Before I'm late" He finished, walking towards the door.

"Goodbye dear" Miss Crowley said, shaking her head.
_______________________________________
"Good morning Mr Bailey, have you prepared the autopsy room as usual?" Ichabod asked, briskly walking in.

Mr Bailey shook his head. "No Mr. Crane, Miss Brooks has already done it for you" He smiled, not looking up from the book he held.

Ichabod frowned and scoffed irritably before storming to the back room. The door busted open and Ichabod jumped a bit, not realizing how hard he had kicked it.

"Christ! What on earth was that for?!" Roslyn yelled, leaning up from her very tedious work on the victim. "I nearly cut the wrong way!"

Ichabod ignored her, laying his things down, he went to grab a lab coat.

"You know, If we are ever going to work together you could at least act like you don't hate me, ever heard of pretending?" Roslyn asked, at least she was trying.

Ichabod rolled his eyes. "Plenty of reasons why we never have to talk to one another" He snapped, slipping his hands into a pair of sticky rubber gloves.

Roslyn sighed, no wonder he worked alone before... She reached over to grab a knife, preparing to make an incision.

"What's the back story of the victim?" She asked, carefully making the cut. Finding this last bullet was becoming more and more challenging.

Ichabod sat down at the desk behind her, pulling out the file that was written on the woman. "Says here that she was found behind the pub, she was middle aged, forty-five to be exact" Ichabod sighed. "She is survived by her only son, who is now being taken care of by protective services" He finished.

Roslyn frowned, poor kid. He would remember this for the rest of his life. The bastard who took her life needed to be locked up.

After a few long hours of researching, surgery, and tedious hand work, Roslyn and Ichabod were finally done with their job. Now the rest was up to the law, who they both knew would look over almost every detail that they had pointed out. It was how the system worked.

"Well, goodbye then" Ichabod said as he grabbed his bags. He carefully slipped the key into his hand, preparing to lock up. "Are you leaving or not?" He asked, waiting for Roslyn to pack her things.

"No, I think I'm going to stay here for a while, maybe catch up on my further studies" She replied.

Ichabod grumbled to himself, he did that a lot. Roslyn glanced up at him and raised her eyebrows slightly, trying to urge him out, but he still stood there, almost acting like he wanted to speak.

"Yes...?"

Ichabod shook his head, "never mind, have a good night, we have more paper work to do tomorrow so, just get some sleep" He said, turning around and walking out of sight.

Roslyn frowned, confusion slipping into her mind. Was he just wanting her to be less grumpy or did he actually care? She shrugged to herself. He sure was strange...

Rounding the corner of the morgue, ichabod let out his breath that he had been holding since he had walked away from Roslyn. That woman made him so nervous, and the more he thought about it, the more he realized that he couldn't tell if it was because she was so intimidatingly good at the job, or because she was somehow the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Shoving those thoughts out of his mind, he returned home, where for the next half hour he would read before falling asleep.