VI The Infinite Shining Heavens
The infinite shining heavens
Rose and I saw in the night
Uncountable angel stars
Showering sorrow and light.
I saw them distant as heaven,
Dumb and shining and dead,
And the idle stars of the night
Were dearer to me than bread.
Night after night in my sorrow
The stars stood over the sea,
Till lo! I looked in the dusk
And a star had come down to me.
xXx
"What's that one?" Abbie asks, pointing to the sky. Crane and she are sitting side by side on a bench by the lake beside the cabin, unwinding after a day of chasing this week's Boogeyman.
Crane leans over, aligning his head with hers and following her finger. "Ursa Major, the Great Bear," he declares. "The, um, rump and tail comprise what you likely know as 'The Big Dipper'."
"Yeah, that's the one," she answers, nodding. She wasn't surprised he knew astronomy. He knows nearly everything, especially now that he's mastered the internet and has instant knowledge at his fingertips.
"The legend states that Hera discovered Zeus was having an affair with Callisto and turned her into a bear. Zeus put Callisto into the sky along with their son, Arcas, who became the Little Bear," he explains.
"Ursa Minor?" Abbie guesses. He nods. "Where is that one?"
"Ah... just there," he leans down near her again and points. "Polaris, the north star, is the end of his tail."
"Oh, okay," she nods, then turns to look at him and slightly startles. He is very close.
"Forgive me," he mutters, sitting up straight again, her sweet scent clinging to his nostrils.
"What, for being right next to me?" Abbie says, smiling. "I think we're well past using 'company manners', Ichabod," she adds, using his first name to drive the point home. She playfully nudges him with her elbow.
He smiles and looks down at the water, wishing there was more of a moon to provide some light. The waxing crescent above them does not illuminate much. It makes it easier to see the stars, but more difficult to discern his partner's always-fascinating facial expressions.
"I read somewhere that a star is so far away, by the time its light reaches us, the star itself may be already dead," Abbie says.
"Interesting," Crane answers. "Though, a tad disheartening, particularly if one wishes on a falling star. Logic would suggest the star fell ages ago." A slight frown crosses his face.
"What do you know about wishing on falling stars?" Abbie asks, grinning impishly at him. "I thought that kind of thing was reserved for, oh, 12-year-old girls..." She chuckles at his scowl, which bears a hint of unintentional amusement. She leans into him, bumping his upper arm with her shoulder.
"You certainly have the hair for it," she adds, reaching up to flip his ponytail with her finger. "Sorry, I couldn't resist."
"Have you finished, Miss Mills?" he asks. He raises an eyebrow at her, but the twinkle of good humor remains in his eyes.
"For now," Abbie says, chuckling. "I don't get many opportunities to tease you, Crane. It's fun. And, it's good for you. Builds character."
He makes a derisive huffing sound. "Character is a quality of which I have an abundance," he states.
"This is true," Abbie allows, quirking her head to the side.
"This is not to say that you do not possess a plentiful amount of character yourself, Lieutenant," he clarifies, smiling down at her.
"Ah, well, that just comes from the crazy-ass life I've lived," Abbie answers. "So," she continues, ready to move on, "falling stars. Wishes. What does your big ol' brain have to say about them?" She looks up at him, interested.
Crane looks down into her large brown eyes for a moment before answering, turning to gaze up at the sky again before speaking. "According to my reading, Ptolemy wrote that when bored, the gods would spy on the Earth, causing a rift in the heavens. Stars would escape, becoming visible as shooting, or falling, stars. It is said that these same gods would grant wishes during this time, since they were, as one might say, 'in the neighborhood'."
"Sounds about right, considering what I know about Greek gods and their attitudes towards humans," Abbie says, chuckling. She swings her legs, brushing the ends of the grass with her boots.
"There are other legends, of course, likely one for every ancient culture," Crane says. "It is a nice thought, I think. A simple idea to give one hope."
"Like Santa Claus," Abbie says, nodding.
"Indeed," he agrees. "Have you never wished upon a star, Miss Mills?"
"Sure, I have," she admits. "Wished for my mom to not be crazy. For my dad to come back. For what happened in the woods to just disappear." She looks up at him and dryly adds, "You know. The standard things for which every teenage girl wishes."
Crane somberly nods, a sympathetic smile on his face, then reaches over and takes her hand in his, gently holding it.
"I used to think the stars were the souls of loved ones who have passed," he quietly says, turning his face skyward once again. "I would gaze up at them and wonder which one was my grandmother, my grandfather... which one was my beloved dog, Snowball."
Snowball? Abbie smiles at the name, but doesn't comment. She watches him looking up and wonders if he is trying to decide which star is Katrina. Though she didn't really turn out to be a "loved one" in the end, she grimly thinks.
Change the subject. "Is that something?" Abbie points with her free hand. "Those four stars make a square."
He leans over and looks again, not releasing her hand. "I believe that is Hercules."
"Hercules is a constellation? I thought he was a dude."
Crane chuckles. "He is both, apparently." He points at the sky. "His arms and legs extend from the corners of the square." He snorts a sudden laugh.
"What?"
"The constellation Hercules has no head," he remarks. "It struck me this very moment."
Abbie laughs. "Maybe we should rename it then. Though 'Abraham' doesn't sound as cool."
"Indeed not. And, he deserves no such honor, though his ego would have vehemently disagreed with my assessment," Crane says.
"Is there a 'Horseman' constellation?" Abbie asks, looking up at him.
Crane thinks. "Well, there is Centaurus, which is a 'horse-man' in a very literal sense."
"Yes, I know what a centaur is," she comments, chuckling again.
"I assumed you did, even if only from those Harry Potter books," he nods, taking his turn to tease her.
She nudges him in the shoulder again. "Yes, everything I learned about mythical creatures is from Harry Potter," she says sarcastically, laughing. "I didn't go to school or anything."
"Merely helping you build character," he returns, looking sideways at her, his lips curled in a slight smile.
"Shut up," she laughs. "So, where is that one? Centaurus."
"It cannot be seen in the north," he says.
"Of course you would have studied constellations you can't even see," she says, rolling her eyes.
"Anything worth doing is worth doing well, Lieutenant," he smugly answers, unconsciously squeezing her hand.
Abbie merely shakes her head, resigned. "I don't see Orion. The only constellation I can actually find, and..."
"The Hunter is better seen in the winter months," Crane points out.
"Oh," Abbie answers dumbly. She sighs heavily and leans against him.
"We should retire before it is too late. You still need to drive home," he softly says, the slight weight of his partner on his shoulder warm and comforting. Reassuring.
Pleasant.
"Ugh, don't want to think about that," she says. "Remind me why we moved you into this place way out in the sticks."
"It was free, available, and provided me with a rustic setting in which I could be comfortable," he helpfully provides. His thumb absently rubs the skin on the back of Abbie's hand.
"It's also a 20-minute drive," Abbie complains. She sighs. "Gonna sleep on your couch, I think."
"Of course. You are always welcome in my home," Crane answers with a nod. Abbie has slept on his couch several times over the years.
"Yeah, I know. Thanks," she replies, smiling up at him. Without thinking, she scoots a little closer to him, settling her head more comfortably on his shoulder.
"Are you cold?" he asks after a moment of quiet.
"Not yet," she answers. "Oh..." she breathes, suddenly sitting up and pointing.
"Speaking of shooting stars," he says, bringing forth a small smile. He looks over to see his partner's eyes closed. He knows she isn't sleeping. She's wishing.
I wonder for what she now wishes. Our success in defeating Moloch, perhaps? Crane's eyes track her familiar face, a face he knows as well as his own, a face he could describe with perfect accuracy and precision, but not without using adjectives like lovely and flawless and sublime.
Abbie's eyes remain closed, and Crane impulsively decides to throw both caution and propriety to the wind, seize a wish of his own, and take action. He leans over and brushes his lips across hers in a feather-light kiss. A caress.
Her eyes fly open in surprise, but she does not look angry or upset. His face hovers, inches from hers, and he looks anxious as he awaits her reaction.
Her lips part slightly, her breathing shallow. "Do that again," she whispers.
Crane's eyes drop to her lips for a fraction of a second, then return to her eyes. He leans forward and kisses her once more, pressing a bit this time, more like a proper kiss.
Abbie's parted lips entice him, and his tongue slides forward just enough to flick against her upper lip before he pulls away.
"Maybe there is something to wishing on falling stars," Abbie sighs, smiling.