Night Practice

-May Swenson

I

will

remember

with my breath

to make a mountain

with my sucked-in breath

a valley, with my pushed-out

breath a mountain. I will make

a valley wider than the whisper, I

will make a higher mountain than the cry;

with my will breathe a valley. I will push out

a mountain, suck in a valley, deeper than the shout

YOU MUST DIE, harder, heavier, sharper a mountain than

the truth YOU MUST DIE. I will remember. My breath will

make a mountain. My will will remember to will. I, suck-

ing, pushing. I will breathe a valley, I will breathe a mountain.

xXx

"But—"

"I think you can make an exception." The voice is familiar. General Washington?

"The rule states only family is allowed to stay overnight. And I'm sorry, but it's pretty clear she's not related to him, by blood, anyway, and I don't see any wedding rings." I do not know this second voice. Female.

I attempt to open my eyes. They do not obey.

I try to move my body. It does not obey.

I can hear. The voices are not always distinct.

I can breathe. Each breath is a labor.

What has happened?

"He has no family. She's the closest thing to family he has." He pauses. It's not Washington. "And I seriously doubt you'll be able to persuade her to leave his side." Captain Irving. Yes, that's who it is.

Twenty-first century. Of course.

The fog closes in on me, and I fight the cloying blackness holding me immobile, holding my eyes closed. I want to see, to sit up.

I want to remember who "she" is. If she is as close as family, she must be very important to me. Her name, her face are just out of reach.

The female voice sighs, exasperated. "Fine. She can stay. I'll let the other nurses know. However, you have five minutes. Then, visiting hours are over."

Visiting hours? Where am I?

What I can feel… feels painful. My inability to move is likely a blessing.

I must remember to breathe. In. Out. In. Out.

The only source of comfort is in my right hand. I feel a soft warmth there. Occasionally, the warmth tightens.

"Mills, call if you need anything. Jenny sent you some supper; make sure you eat something," the Captain's voice, nearer now, speaks to someone. Mills? And the other name… Jenny… it's familiar.

Lieutenant Mills.

Miss Mills.

Abbie.

Miss Jenny.

Abbie.

"Mmm-hmm." A soft murmur beside me, near my head. Familiar.

"Don't stay awake all night," Irving's voice is farther away now.

"Mmm-hmm."

Silence. Listening has drained what little energy I have.

In. Out. In. Out.

I drift.

xXx

My hand is cold. It startles me back to this peculiar form of consciousness. The soft, comforting warmth in my hand is missing.

I want it back. Very much.

Breathe.

In. Out. In. Out.

Perhaps it will return. If I could will my hand to move, to search out that source of comfort, I would.

There's a sound. A distant, watery whoosh that is vaguely familiar, though I cannot quite place it.

Then, a door and soft footfalls.

The soft warmth returns. It is a hand. I can feel slender fingers wrapping around my hand, clasping it tightly.

"I'm back. Sorry I was gone. I hope you didn't miss me."

I know this voice. Abbie. My dear, dear partner. It is her small hand in mine, her small hand that is my only lifeline.

Captain Irving bargained with… a nurse… to allow Miss Mills to remain at my side.

I must be in hospital.

Why?

I try to move. I try to open my eyes once again. I try to speak, though I know it will be futile. I try with everything I have.

Something begins to emit a beeping sound, and I hear Miss Mills gasp in alarm.

I stop trying, and, once again, return my focus to breathing.

In. Out. In. Out.

"Crane, I'm gonna call the nurse, hang on." Miss Mills' voice is urgent. Worried. "Stay with me, Ichabod. Please…"

I will stay with you, Miss Mills. I will.

In. Out. In. Out.

"Excuse me, miss, I need to check his line."

She slowly releases my hand.

No. Don't…

There is too much commotion. I drift again.

xXx

"Crane, I don't know if you can hear me, but I need you to wake up. Please."

A soft, female voice rouses me from my oblivion. Katrina? Yes, it must be Katrina.

No. Katrina would call me by my Christian name.

Then, I remember. Katrina died some time ago.

This is Miss Mills. She's still here. Yes. I feel her hand in mine.

How long has it been?

"I can't do this without you, Crane. The world needs two Witnesses, not one. Wake up. Wake up and I'll let you have all the doughnut holes you want. I'll teach you to drive. I won't complain when you make fun of the History Channel. I'll… I'll let you teach me ancient Greek… Aramaic… anything…" her voice sounds strange. It's hoarse and thick with emotion. I feel a shift beside me.

I can smell her now, a sweet, familiar scent. It's so close.

My breathing is easier, and I take a moment to inhale her essence. I feel a sense of peace wash over me, and I let myself drift a moment, surrounded by it. By her.

In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out.

"I need you, Ichabod. Wake up. Please," she whispers. I can almost see her face on the pillow beside mine, her large brown eyes shining with tears. I want to gently wipe her eyes. Hold her and tell her I'm alive, that our task of climbing this mountain is not yet finished, that she will not have to scale it alone.

Kiss away each tear.

Miss Mills.

Abbie.

I must try.

I concentrate, and twitch a toe. Then, again.

In. Out. In. Out.

My hand, inside hers. I flex my fingers as hard as I can, and they move slightly.

She gasps.

It was enough.

"Do that again…"

In. Out. In. Out.

I obey her command.

"Crane…"

Her hand squeezes mine back, and I feel a weight on my shoulder. Her head. I can feel her hair against my neck.

"Ab… bie."

I don't know how I managed that.

In. Out. In. Out.

The weight lifts from my shoulder.

"Again." I feel her warm breath on my skin.

"Abbie."

A soft sob. Her head on my shoulder again, her face pressing into my neck. I can feel the wetness of her tears against my skin.

So warm. So alive.

I must open my eyes.

I must.

In. Out. In. Out.

"Abbie."

She lifts her head.

The first thing I see is her face hovering above mine. It is a wonderful, beautiful sight. A much better sight than the dark, dank cave to which I previously awoke.

However, I wasn't expecting her to kiss me. Her soft lips press against mine, insistent, but not too hard. Her relief pouring into me. Then, suddenly—

"Oh… um… sorry…" she stammers, pulling her lips from mine.

I am too busy reeling from her kiss, so I just squeeze her hand and manage a small smile, hoping it conveys a small portion of the relief and… joy… I am feeling.

"You're awake," she states.

I nod.

"I should call the nurse…" she moves, groping for the button with her free hand.

"No," I croak. How long have I been out?

"They'll want to know…"

"Wait," I say. I want to savor these moments alone with her before a barrage of medical professionals invades my room to poke and prod. Before they remove Miss Mills from my side.

"Do you remember anything?" She's now clutching my hand between both of hers.

"No. I heard some things… after I was here… but, why am I here?"

"A demon hurled you through a wall," she says. "You didn't wake up." Her voice wavers, and a tear falls from her eye. I try to lift my hand to wipe it away, but I cannot summon the energy. She reaches up and quickly dabs it with her sleeve.

"I'm so glad you're awake," she whispers.

"Yes, me, too," I say. I see several bags from McDonald's and many cups from Starbuck's littering the room. "Have you not left?" She shakes her head. "How long?"

"Nearly three days," she says.

"Miss Mills…"

"Save it. You would do the same."

I press her hand and close my eyes.

We sit quietly for a few moments. I can feel her nearby, my every sense attuned to her. The warmth radiating from her. Her small fingertips caress my face, skimming my beard. I manage a smile.

"If I had known I would have to nearly die to earn a kiss from you, I would have done so months ago."

"What?"

In. Out. In. Out.

I open my eyes and look at her. "Abbie." I stroke the back of her hand with my thumb.

"Ichabod," she shakily sighs and closes her eyes. "Waiting for you to wake up, not even sure that you would, it… I…" She stops, collecting herself. I feel her squeeze my hand and whisper, "I was afraid. So afraid. It was almost as if I could not breathe."

I squeeze her hand back as best I can. I wish I could hold her in my arms, but holding her hand will have to suffice for now. "Breathing… is the only thing I could do whilst… unconscious, and even that felt… laborious. Still does. But… I knew I must persevere. I had to return to you. I needed…"

"Shh…" she hushes me, seeing how even the simple act of speaking is difficult. Tiring. "Don't talk too much right now. Crane, I…" she starts and stops, closing her eyes, overwhelmed.

Perhaps it was unfair of me to show my hand so soon after waking from being incapacitated for three days.

But, life is precious and fleeting. I have had two lives. The first was taken from me and I was given a second chance. It is more than any man has been given. More than any man deserves. I will not squander this second chance. Each breath is a gift, and I will share these gifts with her.

With Miss Mills.

Abbie.

"If you would like to alert the nurse, please do so," I sigh, closing my eyes again. "I likely need medical attention."

"Okay," she whispers. I hear the soft click of the button as she presses it.

She rests her cheek against the top of my head for a moment, then brushes my hair from my forehead and kisses it just before the nurse arrives. I open my eyes and see there are two of them.

"He's awake! Betsy…"

"I'll alert the doctor, yes."

I close my eyes again, clinging to Miss Mills' hand for as long as they allow it.

In. Out. In. Out.

The breathing is easier now. Her mere presence makes it easier.

I will live. I must live.

For her, I must live.