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“What stars are those, father?”
Michel smiled at the girl’s ever-inquisitive voice. They sat on the front step of their home; he had been out late with a patient and returned well after midnight to find Lisa waiting, stubbornly refusing to go to sleep without his kiss goodnight.
“See those stars there, there...” He guided her hand to point out each star along the constellation. “...and there? It’s shaped like a man holding a giant snake if you look closely. That’s Ophiuchus. It’s named after Asklepios; he was a hero in mythology who became a god of medicine.”
She nodded seriously. “I read about that in your books! The staff with the snakes, right?” Clapping a hand to her mouth and looking away, she mumbled with embarrassment. “..ah….mother said I wasn’t to go in your study so much, I’m sorry…”
“It’s quite alright, there’s much to learn in there.” He hugged her to his side. “You’re in no trouble at all. What other constellations do you want to know?”
Lisa reminded Michel of himself at her age, though with a stubbornness he swore he never had (Claire swore otherwise; arguing jokingly about the source of Lisa’s fire was a yearly occurrence for the young parents). He was in awe of the tiny girl; only eight years old and she could recite the names of every medical tool in his kit and hand them to him with eagerness when she and Claire joined him on his visits to the hospital. She read incessantly, almost to the point of worrying her mother, but in the end they both did all they could to encourage her. Michel couldn’t imagine anything on earth that could make him happier than answering her questions for hours.
Noting the silence, Michel realized Lisa had dozed off with her head on his knee some minutes ago. He shook his head, covered her in his cloak, and picked her up to carry her back into the house. Perhaps the stars can wait for tomorrow night.
“What stars are out tonight, Silver?”
Rey’s voice was faint and broken, his eyes somewhere far away. Silver shifted Rey’s body to a more comfortable position where he sprawled against the ruined doorstep. He tried to focus on the sky through his panic. The bleeding from the deadly cavern newly torn through his friend’s chest wouldn’t slow despite his desperate, clumsy attempts to stifle it.
Stars.
The sky was clouded.
“You can—you can see Ophiuchus, and—and—”
Rey’s strangled, heartbroken laugh cut him off.
“Rey, I—”
“He was—he was struck down for saving too many lives, That was his only crime, too much healing…” Rey babbled almost inaudibly between ragged breaths.
“He was innocent...innocent…”
Silver’s mind was cloudy as the sky above them, but Rey’s words reminded him of another night, another man without so much blood on his hands sitting on this doorstep, whole and well, the voice of an enraptured child begging him to tell her of the cosmos. He wished he felt more horror at the distant realization that the hand pleadingly clutching at his shirtsleeve was the very hand that had silenced that joyful voice, but for now all he could see was Rey’s wide eyes begging him for forgiveness.
Rey, his friend. His savior when he had nothing and no one.
Rey, the twisted monster wearing the disguise of a man who had ripped away his family and dragged him through oceans of blood.
Silver—Michel—whoever he was now willed himself to look away from the face of the man shuddering in his arms once again and started listing more constellations, unable to keep his tears from staining Rey’s collar, face, hair...Hold on, just hold on, whatever you’ve done, don’t leave, don’t leave, don’t go...
Rey’s hand slipped from his.
don’t...
He covered Rey gently in his cloak and wished in vain that his still chest would begin to rise and fall beneath it.
Silver forced himself to survey the ruins of Michel’s home one last time. After an eternity, he turned to leave. This place was home only to ghosts now; the ghosts of almost everyone he had loved. He left it and them in care of the eternal stars.