Ebenezer Crane - Epilogue

Abbie knocks on the door of the cabin, surprised to find it still locked. At least he remembered to lock it this time.

There's no answer. That's very unusual, as he is generally waiting on the porch for her, professing to have woken with the dawn. She knocks again. "Crane?" She looks around, wondering if he'd stepped out for a morning constitutional or something like that.

A moment later, she hears it. "Abbie…" At least, she thinks she does. It is soft, plaintive.

Is he sick? Abbie digs into her pocket and grabs her keys, quickly unlocking the door and letting herself in.

"Crane," she sighs, relieved, seeing him asleep on the couch, sprawled on his back with Dickens' A Christmas Carol opened face-down on his chest. Why is he still asleep?

She steps forward and bends to touch his shoulder. "Crane? Wake up."

He jumps as though she had dumped a bucket of cold water over him. "Oh! M-Miss Mills, I…" he stops, sitting bolt upright and staring at her, his face a mask of surprise and confusion.

"You all right?" she asks. "You don't normally oversleep."

He keeps staring, his mind a whirl of images. Fleeting, blurry images, none coming into focus.

"Crane? You're scaring me," Abbie says, touching his hand now.

"Forgive me, Lieutenant, I… I fear I was up too late reading and drifted off…" he mutters, still scrabbling for clarity. He absently retrieves the fallen book from the floor. "I… I was dreaming…" he furrows his brows. "I think…"

"About what?" Abbie asks, curious, standing again.

Crane closes his eyes, scrunching up his face as he struggles. It's just out of reach. It's there, but behind a closed door. "I… I do not remember. Something to do with the holiday… perhaps…" he says, his voice awed.

"New experience for you, hey?" she asks.

"Indeed," he says. Perhaps I am not meant to fully remember. "If you will give me but ten minutes, I will be ready to accompany you to the station." He stands, and Abbie steps out of his way, glancing down.

"Oh, sorry. I tracked in some snow, so watch your socks," she warns, waving her hand at the rapidly-melting snow on the floor.

Crane stops cold, a curious tingle running down his spine, as he stands, halfway to the bedroom.

"Crane? You okay?"

He closes his eyes, willing this sense of déjà vu to manifest itself.

"Crane?"

His eyes snap open at the feel of her hand on his elbow.

"Are you okay?" Abbie asks again, slowly this time, her face full of concern.

"I…" he starts, but is unable to continue.

"Look, if you need to stay home today, that's fine…"

"No," he answers immediately. "I am… okay. Just a trifle rattled, forgive me."

"You're sure?" she asks.

"Yes. Yes. Just… ten minutes, and I will be ready to accompany you wherever you wish to go." He manages a small smile and wills his feet to move.

"Must have been one hell of a dream," she mutters, sitting on the couch.

I'm beginning to think it was, Crane thinks, stealing one more glance at Miss Mills on the couch, flipping through his book, before closing the bedroom door. I am beginning to think it was.

Crane's confused face softens into a tiny, hopeful smile. However, I do not think "hell" is quite the word I would choose.