The Hessian - Chapter 6

From the personal journals of Mikanostinocolai, timelord

Chapter 6

The next thing I remember was waking up in the Green Room in my TARDIS. My mind was still fuzzy from what had happened and from the effects of the regeneration. I looked at my hands... there was the ring on my finger, just as he had placed it. Then it all came back. I sat up, perhaps a little too quickly, for my head spun for a moment. I then looked down at my clothing; it was tattered and dirty and covered in dried blood, my blood. I hopped off the bio bed and looked at my reflection in the mirrored walls of the room. I didn't look any different. But I was whole again, all my insides in perfect condition and healthy.

Slowly I stumbled from the Green Room towards the control room, stopping long enough to change into some clean clothing on the way. The first thing I did was switch on the scanner. Immediately I sensed that something was wrong. The clearing had changed. There were more buildings visible where before there had been nothing but trees. Then I spotted a woman approaching, bearing flowers in her hand. I watched as she placed them before a small gravestone. Something about her looked familiar....

I opened the TARDIS doors and stepped outside. "Greta," I said quietly to the woman.

Shocked, but not totally surprised, the woman stood and turned to face me. "Mika?" she said uncertainly. "You said you'd return, but how..."

"Never mind that. What has happened? What year is this?"

"1799," she replied, puzzled. "You 'died' twenty years ago... today."

"Damn," I muttered, squeezing my eyes shut and cursing the timelords. This was all their doing. "Tell me, what of Wilhelm?" I asked, knowing full well the answer.

She lowered her eyes and shook her head. "He waited, like you said, for days on end. He wouldn't leave for anything. I had to bring him food or he would surely have starved. Days turned to weeks... before long it was springtime. I guess by then he had given up. His regiment was assigned to sail to the Colonies to help England keep tabs on the Americans. He changed though," her voice lowered. "He became cold and sullen. Even the people who used to jeer at him were afraid to even do that anymore. Last I heard, he had become infamous for raging into battle and chopping off people's heads much as his father did. I heard he lost.. lost his own head that same year."

I lowered my own head, knowing this story already. So not only had I not prevented it from happening, but I had actually been the cause. Still, I knew that if it hadn't been me, something else would have done it. At least this way (and this point had been brought up to me in a later talk with old Runcible...) he had a few short weeks of happiness in an otherwise empty and tragic life.

I turned to go... I had to return to Sleepy Hollow and see what I could do there... then I caught sight of the gravestone. It had my name upon it.

Seeing my questioning look, Greta nodded towards the stone. "He had that placed there, right before he left for America ." Then she noticed the ring on my finger. "You still have it," she remarked.

"Yes," I said quietly, looking at it and fighting back the tears. "I would have liked to have married him. I did love him. I still do.”

"I know," she said simply. "And never before have I ever seen a man love so much as he loved you. If only you had returned sooner..."

"I know. But there was nothing I could do. Thank you, Greta, for everything." I hugged the woman and stepped back. Without a further word, I took my leave, the TARDIS' usual whining, grinding sound echoing through the forest one last time.

**********

The first thing I did when back in the TARDIS was try to go back twenty years. Of course, it wouldn't let me. Damn the Timelords. Why couldn't they make allowances just this once? So I set the coordinates for Sleepy Hollow, spatial only. I had to see what I could do to at least break the curse that had been placed upon my Hessian and put his spirit to rest.

So I returned to Sleepy Hollow just in time to witness the final confrontation between the headless horseman and that young constable, Ichabod Crane. I stood by, watching from the forest as he wrestled with the blonde woman for the skull of my beloved, the boy standing near brandishing a large branch. He whacked the woman on the head with it as Ichabod snatched up the skull and tossed it to the horseman.

We all watched, transfixed in fascination and terror as he tossed the girl aside and placed the skull in its rightful spot and it re-fleshed itself before our eyes. Then he stood to his full, commanding height, and turned to face us, his head restored. He was much as I remembered him, though his eyes were even wilder and he had filed his teeth down to points. I could resist no longer, but stepped forward from the forest.

He had begun to head for his horse when I called out. "Wilhelm, wait," I called. He froze in his tracks and turned slowly. Funny how a ghost could look like he'd seen a ghost... I took a step forward. He took a step back. "Oh, Wilhelm, what have they done to you," I said softly as the others looked on, stupefied. But the horseman only continued to back away from me. "Don't... don't be afraid," I held out my hand, the ring he had given me so long ago glinting in the pale moonlight.

He looked from me to the ring, and let off a low growl. I wondered if he could even talk in this supernatural state. I tried moving closer, and this time he did not retreat. "I said I'd be back, only I didn't know how long it would take. I'm so sorry, Wilhelm." He merely looked at me in continued wonder as I drew near. I ventured to reach out to touch his cheek.

"Don't," he rasped. So he could talk... "I am cold and reek of death... I am not the man you once loved..."

"And still love," I added. "And I don't care..." We stared at one another, his eyes questioning, mine pleading. Finally, I put my arms around him and held him close, cold and deathly though he was. "I love you, Wilhelm, I always will. Not even death will ever change that," I whispered in his ear.

Suddenly, he gave me a tight squeeze then pushed me away. He shook his head and began to back away. "No, there is nothing left for me now. I am dead and doomed to haunt these woods forever. I am a murderer, just like the townspeople always said... just like my father..."

"No..." I began, moving towards him.

"No, Mika... it's finished. You'd do best to forget about me.." With that he leapt upon his horse and galloped off to disappear within the tree of the dead.

The woods around us were eerily silent as we stood and stared at the tree. Then Ichabod looked at me. "Who, pray tell are you, Madame?" he asked.

I waved my hand and made for the grave at the base of the tree. "Never mind. Help me. We must put an end to his wanderings for good." They all stared at me as if I was insane. "Unless you want to risk the chance of other people digging up the skull and setting him loose to murder again...."

At that, young Masbath and Crane moved to assist me. The grave was still open, and the skull had reappeared inside, in its rightful place. I told them to wait while I went to my TARDIS, secreted nearby. When I emerged, I had a bottle of holy water, and a headstone I had replicated inside. I scattered the holy water around the gravesite, in effect making it hallowed ground. Then I placed the gravestone at the head of the grave. It read 'here lies my beloved Wilhelm DerRighur taken mercilessly from this earth Christmas Day, 1779'.

I then pulled his sword from the roots of the tree and lay it in with his bones. Then I recited the usual burial rites as were customary for the time, tossing a handful of dirt into the grave.. ashes to ashes, dust to dust.... Crane and the lad did likewise, as did the young Katrina Van Tassell.

Then we set about filling the grave. When it was done, I produced a small bunch of violets from beneath my cloak and knelt by the grave. I placed them by the headstone and wondered if there would be some sort of sign. I knew that a 'proper' burial usually laid these sorts of ghosts to rest... but I wondered if maybe I had left something out.

I motioned for the others to leave me alone with him and my thoughts for a while. Maybe it just needed time. Or maybe there would be no indication. I thought of how cold he had been, and how warm and full of life he used to be. As I remembered the love we had shared and thought of what he had become, a tear escaped and rolled down my cheek, landing in the freshly turned soil of his proper grave.

Suddenly, I felt a cold breath of air and a presence looming before me. I looked up to see my Hessian warrior standing before me, but his clothes were no longer tattered and timeworn, his eyes no longer holding the hellish fire of insanity that they had before. "Wilhelm," I gasped.

He reached down and took my hand, drawing me to my feet. "Mika, my darling. Once again you have given me hope where I had none. No more shall I wander these woods. But for your love, I now shall find peace."

I couldn't say anything. His voice was now clear and softly deep, as I remembered it from before. He reached out and brushed the tears from my face. Then I fell forward and held him in a tight embrace. He was no longer cold nor smelled of death. But I could feel him fading, losing all corporeality.

"I love you Mika... remember that..."

"I shall, my precious, so long as you remember that I love you...."

He leaned down and kissed me one final time. "Good bye, my love.. the only thing good that ever happened to me...."

I stood, motionless, tears streaming freely down my face as he stepped away and smiled, then faded from view. Then all was silent. It was over.

I fell to my knees and remained there with my tears for I don't know how long, until the Masbath lad shook me out of my reverie. I nodded and rose, and thanked them all; assuring them that there would be no more beheadings in the Western Woods. Then I disappeared myself into the woods, entering my TARDIS and leaving for good.

And thus ends my tale of Sleepy Hollow and the headless horseman.

::sigh::

The Hessian - Chapter 5

From the personal journals of Mikanostinocolai, timelord

Chapter 5

Some weeks passed, and the love that Wilhelm DerRighur and I shared blossomed and grew with such a passion as I had never known. We spent as much time together as possible, but away from the town, usually in the woods or by the lake on the other side of town. Whenever we walked to and from our meetings, small pockets of boys or drunkards would invariably take to following us and hurling hateful jeers and rocks or snowballs at the unfortunate son of the murderous executioner. Wilhelm took it all in stride, having lived with it all his life. I, on the other hand, tried my best to do as he did, but I couldn't help it. It made me so angry that people could be so cruel. After all, he'd never done a thing to harm them.

Then one day, Greta awoke me with the message that my 'fine soldier' had stopped by very early and bade her tell me that he would be by later with a surprise for me. I could only wonder what it could be, but I had my suspicions. I had a mind to accept as Greta helped me to dress. She brought me some breakfast as I took up my vigil in the front window of my room.

A little before noon , I spotted him coming down the street from the end opposite as usual. As was often the case, there was a small band of men following behind him, apparently bombarding him with jeers and taunts, but still he ignored him. There were clearly other things on his mind.

Now this day, the group that decided to give him grief was composed of five men, one a little more drunken than the rest. Unsatisfied that the 'devil himself' refused to acknowledge his insults, and unbeknownst to me, he pulled out a pistol and waved it at Wilhelm. I had already begun my flight down the stairs to greet my noble Hessian, anticipating the joy in his face when I answered the question I knew he was going to ask with a resounding yes.

I appeared in the doorway just as Wilhelm turned to say something to the man. Alcohol reeking on his breath, he leaned forward and muttered something incomprehensible and waved his pistol right beneath Wilhelm's nose. Angered, I stepped forward and shoved the pistol up to the sky, then shoved the man back into his compadres. As I turned to usher Wilhelm inside, I heard a shot and smelled something burning. I was going to turn and see what it was, but I couldn't move. I felt myself fall forwards into Wilhelm's arms, wondering what was happening. I looked up into his face, terror and despair in his deep blue eyes. That's when I knew, and when the pain registered with my brain... I had been shot in the back.

Everything happened so fast, yet I remember it all as if in slow motion. I fell into Wilhelm's arms as he turned to confront the man who had fired the pistol. At the same time, the drunken man who had the gun dropped it and turned to flee. Three of the other men followed suit, while the fifth stood and gazed upon us with horror. He tried to stammer out an apology, but I was finding it difficult to understand him.

I supposed that the close proximity and the primitiveness of the weapon caused more damage than I thought. I could feel that two of my hearts had been damaged, as well as my lungs and several other obscure vital organs, indigenous only to the Ecturian race. I knew I didn't have long left to me. I had to get back to the TARDIS so I could regenerate.

"Wilhelm," I gasped. "I... you have to take me... to the clearing. I can ... heal, but I have... to go to the clearing... now...."

He looked down at me, a puzzled look mixing in with the shock and anger. "You must ... take me to the clearing.. now... please!" I begged of him. "Please?"

With a single powerful move, he scooped me up into his arms, like I was no more than a small child, and took off with his long stride towards the woods and our little clearing.

"I'll be back," I was trying to say as I struggled to hold on to consciousness. "Promise me you'll wait for me... promise..."

"I... I promise," he muttered, his voice shaky and distant. He couldn't believe this was happening. I was already beginning to lose him. Damn the timelords. They knew this would happen. I should have known better than to try to mess with time... but still, when I think of how happy we had been these last few weeks, if even for such a short time, I thought it all worth it. I only wished I could prevent what I knew was to happen. But I was losing all hope for that as well.

He continued to carry me towards the forest, the one sober man tagging along, as did Greta, who had come out when she heard the shot. She tried to get Wilhelm to let her look at my wounds, but he refused to let anyone near me. He was afraid to even let go of me... so frightened he was of losing me. We seemed to gather more and more people, curious lookers-on who wanted to know where their favorite pet whipping boy was going with the wounded girl.
We finally reached the clearing and I summoned up enough strength to point to the stone bench by the door of the little 'shack' as where he should put me. Of course it hadn't been there before; it was the TARDIS' way of preparing for my regeneration. I just had to say my 'goodbyes'.... somehow I knew I wouldn't get another chance.

He laid me down carefully upon the bench, cradling my head in one huge hand. I could see the trail of reddish violet blood that I had left in the snow as he carried me. I couldn't hold on much longer, but I had to. I didn't want to leave him....

I looked up into his dear face, a face I had grown to love very much. I reached up with a trembling hand to wipe away the tears that were flowing freely down his cheeks. I couldn't bear to see him sad, but there was nothing I could do. I just hoped that my regeneration wouldn't take long.

I forced a smile as I caressed his cheek. "Don't cry, my love, I'll be back. I promise you that. You'll just have to wait for me. I don't know how long it will take, but I'll be good as new. You'll see....." I began to cough and I could feel the hot blood running down my back... it wouldn't be long now.

"But how...."

"Shhhh," I placed a finger against his lips, as I had often done in our short time together. He grasped my hand in his and closed his eyes, bowing his head as if to plead for my life. "Keep a brave face, my sweet soldier.... I... I promise I'll be back... you said...you had a surprise?" I tried to keep his mind off the inevitable.

Slowly, he raised his head, his startling blue eyes swimming in tears. "Yes, I..." he reached with his left hand into his waistcoat pocket and drew out a ring. "It.. it was my mother's .. and hers before that. I was going... " he choked on his words, trying to keep his composure. "I wanted to ask you to marry me..."

My remaining hearts fell as my suspicions were confirmed. And I would have accepted too. But I now knew that it was never meant to be. The Timelords would never allow it. He had to live on and bring about a folktale by meeting a horrible end in some distant foreign land.... I would have given all my remaining lives right then to prevent that... but it was impossible.

It was getting more difficult for me to speak, and my vision was beginning to fade. I summoned my strength and merely held out my left hand. Tears spilling anew, he placed the ring on my finger. "I love you..." he whispered, almost afraid to say it. I could hear the sound of Greta sobbing nearby, as did a few of the women from the town who had followed us to the clearing.

"I... love you too, ... Wilhelm...." I managed to squeak. "I always will.... don't ever.. forget that...."

"I won't, Mika, I promise I won't... I..." but he couldn't say anything more. With the last of my strength I reached up and caressed his cheek with my fingertips. Then I could hold on no more. My eyes closed and my hand fell limply by my side as I succumbed to my injuries and faded from view, to be reborn again in the TARDIS.

The Hessian - Chapter 4

From the personal journals of Mikanostinocolai, timelord

Chapter 4

The next morning dawned bright and clear, the sun shining brightly, the storm the night before but a pale memory left in the snow. I put on a pretty black and white striped dress of the period and left my hair in dark ringlets. Greta came in greeted me with a stifled yawn, at which we both giggled like schoolgirls.

"Do you plan to see him again today?" she asked, anxiously, as if she were the one whose heart was in question.

"I hope so," I answered, his strange parting words still echoing in my mind. "I'll wait here for a while, maybe he will come for me." I really had no idea what to do. I knew much about him, but not where to find him. Greta nodded and we went down to breakfast.

I waited most of the day, but there was no sign of my strong, Hessian soldier. It was nearly teatime and still no sign. I was growing restless. What if he had really meant what he had said and that last night was goodbye? I couldn't stay around here any longer... I'd go crazy with worry. I took up my cloak and announced that I was going for a walk in the woods. As I made for the door, several patrons watched me, one even chancing to warn me of the ghosts that lurked therein. Superstitious nonsense, I huffed and took my leave of the cold warmth of the hostelry.

The snow was not very deep and crunched beneath my feet as I trod towards the woods where I had left my TARDIS, the sun having melted the surface just enough to form a thin crust. I approached the dilapidated looking shack and took out my key. Looking around just to make sure there was no one about, I inserted the key and disappeared inside. 18th Century Germany was all well and good, but sometimes I just need to be around good old-fashioned modern technology.

Having ascertained that the TARDIS was all right, I went back out into the snowy woods and headed deeper into the forest. Sometimes I just lose myself in thought and lose all track of time. The sun had begun to set when I decided I had better head back. Then I looked around and nothing seemed familiar. Great. Here I was all alone in a strange forest with the sun about to set, and me with none of my clever gadgets to help. I began searching the ground, looking for my footprints in the snow so I could follow them back. That's when I noticed the other set that weren't mine. Odd, I thought, for I had heard nothing. I shrugged it off and soon found my way. Patting the TARDIS as I passed, I looked up to the rising moon, and quickened my pace. I bet Greta would be worried sick. And if DerRighur had shown up I'm sure he'd be wondering where I was as well.

**********

Well, I was right about Greta. She greeted me at the door with a hot cup of tea and a worried expression. When the sun had started to set and I had not yet returned, she said her father was about ready to send out the guards to see what had become of me. Not that he was worried, but that I had not yet paid for the room. And besides, it wouldn't do for a lodger of his to be found murdered or something out in the woods. "It would reflect poorly upon this establishment," he had said.

I thanked Greta and removed my snowy things to sit down to the dinner she had waiting on me. When her father sufficed to leave us alone for a moment, I took the chance to ask her if there had been any word or sign of my friend. She looked at her hands sadly and shook her head, knowing I would be disappointed at the lack of news. I sighed and ate my meal in silence, as I wondered what I should do. It was too late to do anything tonight, I thought, but perhaps I could take the initiative tomorrow. When I was done, I headed up to my room, my hearts heavy. I took up my vigil by the window, on the off chance that perhaps he would walk past again. But something inside told me I was wasting my time. Yet something else, deeper, stronger, told me to keep on. I sighed and kept watch.

***********

The next morning Greta came in to find me still by the window, my head propped on one arm, snoring soundly. She woke me up and helped me dress, saying that today was another day and not to give up hope. Then she suggested that perhaps she should take a message to him.

I looked at her incredulously. "You know where he lives?" I asked. It had never occurred to me to ask Greta. Of course, I'm sure everyone knew where he was. Sometimes I could be so dense.

"Of course," she grinned. "I know, I'll make a picnic lunch, and you write a note asking him to meet you somewhere and I shall take it to him."

"That sounds like a wonderful plan," I grinned.

Things were beginning to look a little brighter. So she fetched me some paper and ink and a quill pen, and I wrote out a short note, asking him to meet me in the clearing in the woods at one o'clock sharp. Then I folded it, sealed it with wax, impressing my thumbprint to secure the seal. Funny, I mused at this point, how we would be doing much the same thing some 600 years from now, only the wax would be replaced by a data chip on a PADD.

Greta tucked the note away in her skirts and donned her cloak, telling her father that she had to go out on an errand. Before he could protest or ask what she was up to, she was out the door and off down the street. I watched her go from my window perch and wished her Godspeed.
It wasn't long before she reached the dingy hovels that marked the more seedy side of the town. Just in time she spotted DerRighur coming out of one of them, carefully locking the door behind him. She steeled herself and approached him, the note in her hand.

"Please, sir, I .. I have a message for you. From the Lady Mika." She held it out as he looked at her in puzzlement. Without taking his eyes from Greta, he took the note in his gloved hands and carefully removed the seal, preserving my thumbprint. He quickly read the note and looked away, as if weighing something heavy in his mind.

"Tell her I can't possibly..." he began. But somehow he couldn't bring himself to speak the words sending Greta and me away forever. "Tell her I'll be there," he sighed, softly. Greta nodded and began to hurry off, then she stopped and turned back.

"Sir," she spoke to him, timidly. "I... Mika is right. You are not a monster. You are a kind and noble man, who has been wrongly judged by all of us. I for one would like to say that I am sorry. I only wish that the others could see you as we do."

Wilhelm seemed floored by her sudden outburst and did not know what to say. Greta smiled and gave a small curtsey. "I hope that someday you can find it within your heart to forgive me," she added, then turned and hurried off to deliver her message.

[note: I know what transpired here because of what Greta related to me upon her return.]

*************

I took the simple meal of cold meat, cheese, bread, fruit and wine that Greta had packed into a basket and headed for the little clearing in the woods. I spread out a hand pieced quilt upon the ground and began to unpack the goodies. I know I was a little early as it was not yet half past noon . But I was anxious to see my strong Hessian soldier again. I longed to see him smile and to know he was happy if even for but a brief moment. I tried hard not to think of the fate that was to befall him. I still wondered if I could prevent it or if the Timelords were right and no history, no matter how small and insignificant, could be changed.

Anxious and nervous, and still having time to kill, I ventured into the TARDIS to warm up a little. I fiddled with a few calculations, projections and such on the TARDIS computer, then piddled about with the database until the one o'clock hour grew near. I then switched on the scanner and kept a watch out for any sign of my guest.

One fifteen came and went and still there was no sign. I was about to give up when I caught a movement on the edge of the screen. It was he, astride a large dapple mare. I was so relieved and happy that I almost rushed out of the TARDIS/shack at a full run. But I steadied myself and took a deep breath, and casually emerged from the building just as he had dismounted and was securing the horse's reigns.

"There you are," I smiled, looking him over from head to foot. He was tall and powerful, resplendent in his black breeches tucked into tall, black riding boots, black brocade waistcoat, and white linen shirt, his black cloak billowing behind him. His shock of short, black hair stood out at all angles giving him that slightly wild look. I could see the blue of his eyes from even this distance. The sight of him nearly took my breath away. "I was afraid you wouldn't come..."
He looked down at his gloved hands. "I wasn't going to."

"Why not?" I walked slowly towards him, wanting nothing more than to take him in my arms and never let go.

"Because... because I am the last person you should have in your life. I am a curse, a pariah. You don't want to know me... " he stated quietly.

I crossed to him quickly and placed my fingers gently against his lips. "Don't talk like that. You are no such thing. And I am proud to know you. If you must know, I sought you out purposefully. And I'm glad I did. You're a wonderful man, so strong and handsome..."

He took my hand and examined it. It looked so small and frail in his. "You are a strange one, Mika. I would never in a thousand lifetimes have described myself as handsome. But... thank you..." He brought my hand to his lips and kissed it gently, his eyes closing as if savoring the sensation.

I could tell he was struggling inside. It was as if his heart was battling his head... he wanted to be with me, but knew that it wasn't the best thing for me. I didn't care what other people thought. I wanted to be with him, no matter what. Sensing his trouble, I took his hand and led him to the quilt where I had laid out our meal. He helped me to sit down then sat across from me.

I set out the crystal goblets that Greta had packed as Wilhelm removed his gloves and opened the bottle of wine. With a grace belying his size and power, he poured out a measured amount of the sweet Beaujolais for each of us.

I held up my glass and, never taking my eyes from him, proposed a toast.

"To us," I said.

"To you," he countered, "The most foolish yet wonderful thing to ever enter my life."

A chill ran through my body as we sipped our wine, each of us absorbed completely in thoughts of the other. I took my glass and his and set them upon a nearby tree stump. Then I leaned in close and touched my fingertips to his cheek. Wordlessly, he took my hand in his, touching it to his lips. I then leaned closer and replaced my hand with my own lips. I could taste the lingering sweetness of the wine in the kiss.

Slowly, he responded, our kisses ever deepening. I could sense the fervent passions which lay deep within this strange and tragic fellow. If I could only find a way to get him to let them go.

"Do not be afraid," I whispered in his ear as I held him close, my cool cheek pressing against his. I could feel his heart pounding within his chest, and knew that he could not help but feel mine. I pulled back and took his face in my hands, losing myself in those deep blue, almost turquoise, eyes of his.

"I... I am not afraid... anymore," he said softly at last.

I drew close and, eyes shut, brushed his lips with mine. Suddenly, he took me in his powerful arms and kissed me with a passion I had never known before nor have known since. The sheer force knocked us over and we lay upon the quilt, in the clearing that dim winter's afternoon, entwined, and lost in each other's embrace.

Letting our deeper feelings take command, we hardly noticed the chill in the air as we made mad, passionate love, steam rising from our sweaty, naked bodies. By the time we had exhausted ourselves, the snow for several feet around us had melted away, exposing the bare, dormant ground beneath.

As I lay atop my Hessian warrior, I drew his cloak over us, and then crossed my arms across his heaving, smooth chest, resting my chin upon my hands. We looked at each other as if spellbound, contented smiles resting comfortably upon both our faces.

A gentle breeze rustled our hair, then first one, then another snowflake fell, pausing for a moment in our tangled hair, or melting upon contact with our hot skin. I remember the effect was quite enchanting, as I continued to place small, wet kisses upon his chin.

Wilhelm ran his hands up my arms and across my shoulders, bringing them to rest for a moment around my throat. For a single instant, my mind flew back to twenty years from now and the bone chilling sound of a horse's thundering hooves and a deadly sword being drawn from its scabbard, signalling certain death for anyone unlucky enough to be the Horseman's next victim. I thought how easily this powerful man could snap my neck. But the thought passed as swiftly as it had been summoned, as he moved his hands up into the hair on the back of my head, entwining his fingers in my soft, dark curls.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered. He pulled my head forwards and planted a kiss upon my forehead, his lips soft and warm against my skin. "You are the only thing in my life worth living for. I don't know what I would do without you. And yet, yet I am fearful for you... fearful that the townspeople will treat you as they do me..."

"Hush," I said, touching my fingers to his lips. "I care not for what those people think. You are all that I care about." Then it slipped. "I love you..." I found myself saying... and meaning.

Wilhelm froze, the smile fading from his face. "Wh... what did you say?" he asked in shocked disbelief, as if his ears were playing him false.

I smiled and said it this time as if I meant it, because I really did. "I said I love you, Wilhelm. And I always will."

He looked at me in silence. Then he wrapped his arms around me and held me so tightly, as if he would never let go.

"I ... I love you too, Mika," he stammered. "Only I was ... afraid to... afraid you might not feel the same... and afraid what others would do to you if...."

I shook my head and looked him squarely in the eyes. "I don't care what other people do or say, so long as it doesn't harm you. I can look after myself. It's you I care and worry about. I love you, Wilhelm, and I don't want to see you unhappy ever again."

Having declared our mutual affection for each other, we talked some more then dressed and returned to town. He saw me to my hotel then headed back for his own lodgings, leaving me to my thoughts, light and yet heavy at the same time. Of course, Greta wanted to know all about our rendezvous. I happily related all that I dared, letting her share in the ebullient joy that I was feeling at that moment.

The Hessian - Chapter 3

From the personal journals of Mikanostinocolai, timelord

Chapter 3

I struggled into my cloak as I hurried past the revellers, out of the hotel and into the street. It was dark and windy, and the cold stung clean through my heavy clothing. Still, I come from an arctic planet and actually enjoyed the sensation. I paused beneath an oil lamp, trying to get my bearings and see where the man could have gone. I spotted him some ways up the street and ran after him. As I saw him round a corner I stopped. I had an idea. I turned down an alleyway, hoping to cut him off. I slowed my pace and put my head down as if sheltering it from the biting winter wind. It was in this manner that I deliberately "accidentally" bumped into him.

"I beg your pardon, ma'am..." he began. Then I looked up and smiled, the hood of my cloak blowing away from my face. "So it is you again."

"I'm sorry, sir," I said. "I wasn't watching where I was going."

"Yes, this wind. Well, you had better get out of it or you shall catch your death." He began looking for somewhere to put me, I gathered. "Here, this will do." He took me by the arm and ushered me through a door into a small eatery. There were only a couple of people here and the barmaid didn't seem to even notice us. He found us a small table in a dark corner and left me to procure a couple of drinks at the bar.

"What the devil do you mean by going about after dark? Do you not know that it is dangerous here?" he admonished me as he set the glasses down on the table.

I merely smiled and slowly removed my gloves, dropping one in the process. Instinctively, he reached down and picked it up. Our hands brushed as he handed it to me. "Your hands... they are so warm," he marvelled. "Who are you? And why do you keep following me?" He was perceptive too.

"My name is Mika. And I am... interested in you. The girl at the hostelry says you are dangerous and evil. But I don't think so. I wanted to find out the truth. Is that so wrong?" I gave him my full 'innocent' look.

"You should have listened to their warnings," he scoffed, taking a big swig of his lager. I politely sipped the brandy he had ordered for me. It was actually quite good.

"Why?" I asked. "You have been nothing but kind to me. Why should I fear you? Do you want me to?"

He looked at me with those deep blue eyes of his. "No," he said quietly. "In spite of what people say, I mean them no harm."

I smiled sweetly. "I know. Now, I can't keep calling you 'sir'..." I hinted.

The man actually chuckled. "Wilhelm... My name is Wilhelm DerRighur. But it is a name that is best forgotten. I wish I could forget it..." his voice dropped to almost imperceptible.

"Why?" I asked simply. I reached out with my ungloved hand and placed it lightly upon his. You would have thought my touch hot as coals the way he reacted. Clearly, here was a man unused to kindness in even the smallest form. I looked into his eyes as he fought in his mind for what to say. He knew that others would scorn me for associating with him, yet he wanted me to stay and talk... he craved that which those 'others' had denied him for so long.

"Why do you not hate me like the others? Surely they have told you my story?" he said at last.

"I have heard what they believe. Now I would like to hear the truth from you." I sat back and sipped my brandy, waiting for him to speak.

It was some time coming, but eventually he told me his sad tale, and it was much the same as the innkeeper's daughter had told me. The cruelty with which the townspeople had treated him angered me with every incident he related. He had grown up alone on the streets of the town, no one daring to take him in even if so-inclined, such was the mutual ostracization of this poor fellow. So it was with great hardship and fortitude that he had grown up at all. No wonder, then, that his heart had hardened toward his fellow man and he had turned to soldiering. He was an officer in the Hesse-Kassel Corps and would eventually be sent to fight alongside the English troops in the Colonies in the American Revolutionary War.

When his tale was done, I remarked how noble he must be to have managed all this time on his own, succeeding in spite of all the townspeople had done. Then I asked, "Why did you not leave this town for another, and perhaps found more favour there?"

He seemed to consider this carefully for a moment. "I don't know. Perhaps because I did not know any better. Perhaps I had always hoped that some day the people of my own birthplace would accept me. Perhaps I just wished one of them would kill me and get it over with."

"Don't say that," I gasped, reaching again for his hand. This time he did not pull away. "Life is precious, we must..." I began, but I didn't get to finish. Just then a troop of soldiers burst into the pub, struggling to shut the door behind them, so fierce had the cold winter wind become. They were loud and boisterous and Wilhelm regarded them with an icy stare.

"Wench! Wench!" the Captain of the guard shouted, banging a heavy fist upon the bar. "Ale for me and my men!" His men gathered around him at the bar, accepting the hastily-drawn mugs of ale that the flustered barmaid handed them. Then one soldier turned and surveyed his surroundings. It wasn't long before he spotted us.

"Well, look what we have here, men," he sneered in our direction. "If it isn't our old friend the chopper's son. Chopped any heads lately, old man?" he laughed disgustingly.

I eyed my companion, the hatred flaring in his nostrils and his eyes. I'm sure he was quite used to this by now, but that didn't make it any easier to withstand. I strengthened my grip on his hand to stay him. Fighting was not the answer. My eyes said that I thought it best if we left.

"What's wrong, Chopper?" another drunken soldier sidled over. "I see you finally found ye a wench. Does she not know about your father, Satan?"

DerRighur stood suddenly to confront the man, the fire that I had seen back in Sleepy Hollow burning ferociously behind the blue of his eyes.

"Stop it," I shouted to the soldier, silencing everyone in the place. "Leave him be. He's done you no harm." I waited to see what they would do. Making eye contact with the man, I subliminally persuaded him to go away and to take his comrades with him. Being drunk, it wasn't as effective as I would have hoped, still, he at least staggered off to rejoin his compatriots. Quickly, before anything else could start up, I took DerRighur by the hand and led him out.

We traversed the snowy, windblown streets in silence, heading back to my hotel. The hour was late and the lobby was quiet, only a single drunken guest was passed out on the bench by the door. We made our way to the corner where there was a small sofa in front of the fire. I stoked it and added some wood then removed my cloak. I sat down and beckoned DerRighur to join me.

"Why did you defend me?" he asked, genuinely stupefied that I would do such a thing.

"Why not?" I replied. "They were drunk and in the wrong. They had no right to treat you like that."

He shook his head and stared at me. "You are a strange creature, Lady Mika. But you are the only person in my entire life that has shown me kindness, and for that I am most grateful."

His words touched me to no end. I smiled then turned to stare into the fire. Where was this going? I had hoped to set things right and prevent him from becoming the monster that haunted the New York countryside some twenty years later. But was it the right thing to do? Was it even possible? I had always been told that history could never be changed, only participated in or observed. But I was far from merely observing these events. Did that mean that I was a part of it? Would my attempts succeed in preventing the tragedy? Or would they be the cause? Either way, I had to keep going to find out. I decided to follow my hearts.

***

We spoke at some length that night. We talked of the past, of the present, and even of the future. I learned much about him and he learned as much about me as I dared to tell. Only the clock chiming the late hour told us that it was time to be going. He rose and took my hand, kissing it gently as any other gentleman would. I started to see him to the door, but he shook his head and smiled, beckoning me to stay seated where I was. He wanted to remember me just as I was. Then, with a flourish of his cloak, he was gone.

I sat for some time alone by the fire, watching the embers as they died out one by one. What had he meant by wanting to remember me? Surely it wasn't goodbye. Not yet, not when we had so much more ahead of us.

A small sound behind me rousted me from my thoughts. I turned to see Greta, the innkeeper's daughter and serving girl, her finger to her lips approaching me from the darkness. She was dressed in her nightgown and cap and had apparently been awakened when we had come in, only she had waited until DerRighur had left before making her presence known.

"Father would skin both of us if he knew that man was in here," she began. I started to protest, but she stopped me with a grin. Placing the candle she carried on the mantle, she bent to stir the embers, coaxing the last bit of heat from them. "But don't worry, I won't breathe a word."

"Why not?" I wondered curiously.

"I saw you together. I heard his gentle voice and his sad story. He is not a monster as everyone believes... and I am ashamed for listening to them." She sat next to me and took my hands. "He is a kind man after all and I fear we have done him grievous wrong. But I shan't anymore. You may consider me a friend to you both. Ask anything of me and I shall comply. It is the very least I can do. I only wish the entire town could see him as you and I do." I thanked the young girl with full hearts and a grateful smile. "But now we must be off to bed. 'Tis nearly time for father to rise and for me to begin my chores. It would not do for him to find us both up and gossiping."

I agreed and bid Greta goodnight, carefully ascending the stairs so as not to wake anyone. I readied for bed and lay there, sleepless. I had much on my mind and in my hearts.

The Hessian - Chapter 2

From the personal journals of Mikanostinocolai, timelord

Chapter 2

At cockcrow, by which was meant sundown, I turned from my vigil of watching the street below at a small, timid knock at my door. "Come," I called, knowing full well it would only be the serving girl. The door opened slowly and the girl entered, bearing a pot of tea and a small supper of meat and cheese and freshly baked bread.

"Thank you," I smiled and offered her a seat. Normally, I suspect she wouldn't have accepted my hospitality, but I think perhaps either the situation, or the fact that I simply was not like 'other folks' put her at ease. I was more a peer than a superior to her. I often have that way with people. "Now," I said as we both nibbled on the victuals she had brought. "You said you had some information. What do you know of the fellow that rescued me from that runaway carriage today?"

I poured her a cup of tea as she choked down a bit of bread, almost starved she seemed. Clearly she wasn't used to food this good or this plentiful. I wondered how people survived this time period. It seemed so dirty and primitive to me. Still, I have seen worse.

"Ma'am," she began. "My father is right, that man is dangerous... and evil. He'd just as soon lop off a man's head as talk to him."

"Nonsense. I'm sure it's just a lot of silly superstition cooked up by the local townspeople to cover their own ignorance. Now, tell me what you know. Just the facts, save your superstitious beliefs for your more gullible guests."

"Well, from what I have heard, he's the son of the local executioner. Well, he was. You see, serious crimes such as murder and adultery are still punished by beheading, as your own country still does. Only we don't have the fancy machine you French use... we have a man who does all the work... the town executioner. Well, the one we had several years back got drunk one night and murdered his wife. Chopped her head clean off he did. So, he was executed the same way. That man had a son and with no one to take care of him, he took to living on his own in the streets..."

Here I interrupted her. "No one would take care of the child? Why not? How old was this boy?"

"Would you want the son of a man who made his living chopping off people's heads in your family? Especially when he had done the same to his own wife?" I merely stared at her incredulously, making her a little nervous. She looked away as she got back to the story. "I think he was six or seven at the time."

"So this small child was shunned and treated as an outcast just because of what his father had done?" I repeated for emphasis. I suppose that now that she thought about it, it did sound rather ridiculous, but she continued to defend the actions of the superstitious townsfolk.

"The bad apple doesn't fall far from the tree," she quoted. "At least that's what my father says. Anyway, he grew up on the streets and everyone fears him. He is mean and evil. Did you not see his eyes? They are the very eyes of Satan. And it is rumored that he beheads people just as his father did."

"Humph," I snorted, rising and peering absently out the window. "He didn't seem evil to me. Sad, yes. But not evil. You people are just closed-minded and superstitious. Have you ever seen him kill anyone?" I whirled on her, our noses almost touching.

"Uh, well, no, not exactly..." she stammered.

"I thought as much." I returned to the window, this new information spinning about in my mind. Then I saw him. A large, black-cloaked figure, walking purposefully down the street. He crossed it and was heading in the direction of my hotel. "It’s him," I muttered, grabbing up my coat and making for the door.

"Wait, milady!" the girl rose and called after me. "Don't go out there! It's too dangerous."

"I am not afraid of man nor beast, but of the ignorance of man. He is fearful of that which he does not know and so seeks to destroy it. I won't let that happen to the Hessian. Not if I can help it."

The Hessian - Chapter 1

From the personal journals of Mikanostinocolai, timelord

Chapter 1

People have often asked me how I came to require my first regeneration. I usually just tell them I wanted to see what would happen, or it was nothing... But that's not the truth. The truth is that I am reluctant to speak of what happened for it is quite painful. Not so much the event that led to the necessity of regenerating, but the circumstances surrounding it. But now nearly 2100 years have passed and I feel that I owe it to those who have known me all this time to tell them the truth. It's really pretty silly, I suppose. But maybe that's another part of why I have remained silent for so long.

Now, I'm sure that most everyone knows of the Legend of Sleepy Hollow... that quaint little story written by Washington Irving about the schoolteacher, Ichabod Crane, who was frightened into disappearance by a local boy dressing up as the supposed Headless Horseman.

Cute.

Only that's not the real story. Late in 1999, a film producer named Tim Burton came forth with his own version ... which turned out to be more like the real story. In 1799, Ichabod Crane was a police detective in New York City who was sent to investigate several murders in the upstate village of Sleepy Hollow, just north of North Tarrytown, mostly because his strange gadgets and unorthodox 'scientific' procedures were getting on his superiors' nerves. There, he learned of the legend of the evil Hessian soldier who had been captured and beheaded some twenty years hence, and who has since been purported to have risen from the grave to behead people in the village. Crane eventually discovers that this legend is actually fact, and that the horseman is bound to do the bidding of whomever holds his skull.

It is this legendary Horseman with whom my own tale lies.

I had visited the Sleepy Hollow of this time and observed Mr. Crane in his investigations, while maintaining a low profile. The Legend of this Hessian intrigued me, and I must admit, stirred my compassionate soul. I had begun to ponder just what could have made this fellow so enraged that lopping off people's heads had become his life's… or death’s ambition? Being young and foolish, I decided to find out... and to see what I could do about it. Surely the history of one relatively insignificant fellow could be changed. Alas, this was my first hard lesson in the immutability of history and time...

It was the winter of 1779. I had landed my TARDIS in Hesse-Kassel, what would now be considered modern-day Germany, after determining that whoever the unfortunate Hessian soldier was, I would be able to seek him out. I needn't have bothered. In that quirky way that time and fate have of playing things out, he found me.

I was trying to traverse a busy thoroughfare in the heart of Kassel, when I was nearly run down by a runaway horse and carriage. I saw it coming but was uncharacteristically frozen in my tracks as the snarling horse barreled down upon me. At last I tried to move but my feet became entangled in the long hem of my period dress, so unaccustomed was I to wearing such cumbersome things. I watched in fascinated horror as I pondered what I would look like when I regenerated, when suddenly, I felt two strong hands grab me by the arms, and lift me out of harm's way.

I turned around to thank my rescuer, only to come face to face with the same wild visage that I had seen retreat to the netherworld some 20 years later in Sleepy Hollow. Only now his eyes were more 'normal' and his teeth were not pointed. But his hair was still a wild shock of black and his eyes were the eeriest shade of blue.

I guess he expected me to scream or run away or something. But I could only stare... and smile. I laugh now when I think of the look on his face when I did that. I guess a smile was the last thing he expected.

"Are you all right, madam?" I remember him asking me, his voice a deep, yet gentle Germanic clip. He quickly let go of my arms as if afraid he would be punished for it or something. In fact, I noticed that he continuously kept watch, almost fearful that someone would see us together. It was so noticeable that I had to ask.

"Yes, thank you," I said. "I am most grateful. You saved my life. Is there.. something wrong?" I fixed him with the full force of my deep, violet eyes. I tried to 'see' into his mind. It was all a jumble, but I could sense a deep hatred of other people.. and of other people for him. He looked at me strangely as I asked my question. "What are you afraid of?" I added.

"Afraid? I am afraid of no one. But I fear for your safety, lest the townspeople see you with me..." he all but spat the word townspeople. There was way more to this than met the eye. I had to know. Was this what had turned him to lopping off people's heads? Surely not. This man was intelligent, dedicated, and fiercely loyal, that much I could see. It would take something nearly catastrophic to him to turn him down that evil road.

I apologized and tried another smile. "Forgive me, but why should the townspeople care if we are together? You saved my life; surely they could not begrudge a lady thanking such a man?"

He looked puzzled. I could see the questions forming in his mind..."Why doesn't she scream and run and spit at me like all the others? What purpose does she have in pretending to be kind to me?" Of course, this just piqued my curiosity more. But I had to be careful of what I said, lest I be branded a witch and burnt at the stake... or whatever it was they did to witches here.

"You are a stranger here. Trust me; you do not want to be seen with me. You don't want to be with me at all." His words were spoken with a tainted rancor, but his eyes held a sadness that tugged at my very heartstrings. As suddenly as he had appeared, he started to march off. He was a tall man, over six feet, and he strode with a powerful step, the spurs on his boots jingling in the dirty snow. I hitched up my skirts and ran after him.

"Please, sir, do not leave me. I haven't thanked you properly. 'Tis no small feat to save a woman's life."

"You owe me nothing, madam," he whirled on me, his blue eyes blazing with that fire that I had seen that night that the Headless Horseman was sent back to hell. "Please, leave me be. Good day."

I watched him as he strode off; his head hung low, the tall collar of his cloak making him seem from the back like he had no head. It was quite an eerie premonition. I decided to give him time and try again later. Meanwhile, I would secure some lodgings hereabouts and see what information I could scare up from the locals.

I approached a local hostelry where the manager was out front sweeping snow from the walkway. Apparently he had seen all that had transpired. Perhaps here was a good source of information, albeit somewhat colored by superstitious prejudice as most people of that time period were.

"Here, milady. You'd best be careful o' that fellow," the innkeeper greeted me as I approached.

"And why is that, kind sir?" I answered, careful not to be too defensive at first. "He saved my life. Surely you saw that as well? 'Tis only proper to thank him."

"Aye, but even so. That man has the evil eye. Death and the devil follow him wherever he goes. Just you be careful." He followed me into the warmth of the lobby. Here, many people were gathered about the cozy fireplace, chatting and drinking and playing silly parlor games. A young serving girl asked if I would like anything. I asked for a cup of tea, to which she scurried off in search of.

"Why do you say he is evil? Surely he would not have rescued a total stranger if he was evil?" I said as I removed my gloves to sign the register. Mlle. Mika Colai I signed. (Of course later I would merely use the surname Smith if I needed one. I had not as yet met the Doctor upon my travels though.)

"Ahh, French I presume?" he asked, apparently trying to change the subject. It was clear I would get no more out of him.

"Erm, yes," I lied. "I am traveling through your fine country on my way back to Paris. I might stay here a few days though. This town intrigues me." I turned and studied the people in the room. Funny how they all looked rather alike to me. All were in the same general dress of the period, knee breeches and fat tummies, tri-cornered hats and tailed waistcoats. The ladies were all in similar dresses of varied muted colors, all very drab and monotonous. Powdered wigs were abundant, and the wine seemed to flow as easily as the ladies' favors. Not exactly the Hilton, but it would do. Besides, it was near where I had encountered the Hessian, so perhaps he came by here often? I could only hope.

I turned as I felt a tug at my elbow. The young serving girl had returned with my tea. I thanked her and slipped her a small token of my gratitude, to which she smiled and curtsied. As she took her leave, she turned and rushed back to whisper in my ear.

"I know of the man ye seekest. Meet me in thy rooms at cockcrow and I shall tell ye what ye want to know." She bustled off and I stared after her, not even noticing when a dancing couple, drunk on wine and song, bumped into me, nearly causing me to spill my tea. They apologized and I just shoved them off in the opposite direction.

The innkeeper asked if I wanted to be shown to my room. I nodded and he came around and picked up the one small bag I had brought and led me up the stairs. I continued to watch the goings on around me as I followed him, sipping my tea as I did so.

My room was small, but remarkably clean. It had a bureau, a single bed, a washbasin with towels, and a small writing desk. There was a single window that overlooked the street out front. This was perfect. Now if I saw my Hessian walk by I would be able to spot him with ease. I sat the teacup down on the desk and turned to my host. He seemed to be hovering for something. I nodded knowingly and pulled a silver coin from the small drawstring purse I had about my wrist and handed it to him. He smiled and nodded and said if there was anything else I required to let him or the serving girls know.

As he bowed out and drew the door to, he looked at me, all traces of a smile gone from his face. "Please, Mlle. Colai. Stay away from that man. He is dangerous." Then he left. Curiouser and curiouser.