“Lying under such a myriad of stars. The sea’s black horizon. He rose and walked out and stood barefoot in the sand and watched the pale surf appear all down the shore and roll and crash and darken again. When he went back to the fire he knelt and smoothed her hair as she slept and he said if he were God he would have made the world just so and no different.”

“When he went back to the fire he knelt and smoothed her hair as she slept and he said if he were God he would have made the world just so and no different.”

“He woke before dawn and watched the gray day break. Slow and half opaque. He rose while the boy slept and pulled on his shoes and wrapped in his blanket he walked out through the trees. He descended into a gryke in the stone and there he crouched coughing and he coughed for a long time. Then he just knelt in the ashes. He raised his face to the paling day. Are you there? he whispered. Will I see you at the last? Have you a neck by which to throttle you? Have you a heart? Damn you eternally have you a soul? Oh God, he whispered. Oh God.”

“He was so pale the freckles stood out on his face the way they did when he was upset or hadn't slept. She thought they might be telling her something if she could only understand the language of freckles.”

“He shrugged. "I was...thinking.""About what?""The fires of purgatory."She had to sit down. He wasn't making any sense now. "What does that mean?" she asked."Patrick told me he would walk through the fires of purgatory if he had to in order to please his wife."She went over to the bed and sat down on the side. "And?" she prodded when he didn't continue.He stripped out of his clothing and walked over to her. He pulled her to her feet and stared down to her."And I have only just realized I would do the same for you.”

“I love you," he said.She looked up at him, her eyes shiny and black, then looked away. "I know," she said.He pulled one of his arms out from under her and traced her outline against the couch. He could spend all day like this, running his hand down her ribs, into her waist, out to her hips and back again.... If he had all day, he would. If she weren't made of so many other miracles."You know?" he repeated. She smiled, so he kissed her. "You're not the Han Solo in this relationship, you know.""I'm totally the Han Solo," she whispered. It was good to hear her. It was good to remember it was Eleanor under all this new flesh."Well, I'm not the Princess Leia," he said."Don't get so hung up on gender roles," Eleanor said.”