Written for Dannymay 2021 Day 15: Nature
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"Danny," said Sam, "what's wrong?"
The question was, really, far too vague. Many things were wrong all the time, especially with Danny. Part and parcel of being what he was, living where they were, and doing what he did. Although she was more comfortable with it all than Tucker, she could acknowledge that things were… bad. That the world was messed up. That, although people could be horrible to each other on their own, the monstrous beings lurking under the fabric of reality did not help.
But Danny had been in especially low spirits for the last few days. She'd almost say he was depressed, but she was hesitant to apply mental health disorders to someone who wasn't even entirely human anymore. He'd also been unusually quiet, but he had admitted some time ago that he was having progressively more difficulty 'finding words,' so that could be the reason instead.
If she could find out why he was upset, maybe she could cheer him up. Or at least support him.
He made a face, one hand covering his mouth as he talked. "You remember that time, um, when Clockwork… The gifts?" He touched his wrist.
"Yes?" said Sam, prompting him to continue.
Danny glanced down the otherwise oddly-deserted school hallway. "It's… He had me eat with him. Sort of. Ever since then, my teeth have been…" He paused his hand now firmly pressed to his face.
"Weird?" suggested Tucker, voice low.
Danny nodded. "I had – I was venomous, in the Dream, I don't—" He faltered.
"Do they hurt?" asked Sam.
"Mhm."
"Do you think biting into something might help?" asked Sam as she swung her backpack off her shoulder and rummaged in it.
Danny's eyes seemed to glaze over as he considered the question. Finally, he shrugged.
Sam found what she was looking for. "Here," she said, holding out the shiny red apple. "Try this."
Danny examined the apple, careful and silent. The fruit was reflected, vividly, in his eyes. Once. Twice. Three times? No. Danny had two eyes. Two perfect, insightful, soulful eyes.
Delicately, he took it. He still didn't remove the hand over his mouth.
"We've seen worse, man," mumbled Tucker.
"Not when I'm being human," protested Danny. Gingerly, he removed his other hand from his mouth and brought the apple to his lips.
When his lips parted, Sam could see what he was talking about. Those were definitely, clearly, fangs. Sharp, smooth, and white. They sparkled even in the flat overhead school lights. Something bluish and clear glistened at their tips.
Was Danny venomous?
(Why did that excite her?)
They crunched into the apple. Danny held it there, still and tense, for a few seconds before his expression melted into absolute bliss.
"Feel better?" asked Sam.
"Mmmhmm," said Danny, eyes half closed.
"Guys?" said Tucker. "We should probably go now. Before they kick us out."
"Huh?"
"It's the end of the school day. School's been out for half an hour."
Sam frowned. Was it? She… Did she… She did remember going to all her classes. She shook her head, dismissing the momentary lapse.
Danny regretfully disengaged from the apple, blinked, and swayed. His outline wavered. Sam grabbed his wrist, and a jolt ran up her bones, making her teeth hurt as if she had just bitten down on ice. He stabilized again.
"Thank you," he said.
He did not notice that she had taken the apple.
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She set the apple on her desk, and the color stood out vibrantly against the dark-stained wood and her black, goth-themed knickknacks. The color, which was a different than what it had been when she had given the apple to Danny.
The neon blue skin was cold enough to gather condensation and smooth under her fingers. There was otherwise little evidence that Danny had bitten into it. The holes had sealed over, leaving only small depressions.
She knew what she wanted to do. She knew what she shouldn't do.
Danny said she couldn't die. That he had destroyed her death, among others. She trusted him.
But it was always good to be prepared.
She set up a text on a timer. If she wasn't able to cancel it in the next ten minutes, it would go out to Danny and Tucker.
The bed would be the best place to do this. She sat down on the edge, feet firmly planted on the floor.
She bit into the apple.
For a few seconds, she was disappointed, but then.
Then.
She let herself drop back onto her bed, the springs creaking slightly and the covers gently fluttering. She exhaled. Inhaled. Exhaled. Blinked. Closed her eyes. Opened them again.
Everything. Everything.
It was like seeing for the first time. The world was as thin as rice paper. The light was shinning through. It's true nature.
And all the people. Everywhere. Everyone. Connected.
She—
Everyone.
Beyond the rice paper they could see and touch and feel, the false veil above the truth they couldn't look at directly, but Danny could and, oh.
Was this what he saw all the time? Was he always filled with this sense of—
Of charity? Of- of—
What could she call this? Care? Empathy?
Could she call it love?
(She could. He was. Because he was loving. But his understanding of love was overwritten and subsumed by his understanding of Love. There could be no other way.)
(To love was human. Love was divine.)
If everyone could feel like this…
Sam knew how much people could hurt each other. She knew how terrible the world was.
(Her grandfather had only died a few years ago. He'd been born in Germany.)
She knew how stressed Danny was about hurting others, even when it was his mere existence that was harmful – And Sam wasn't so sure that it was harmful. If Danny hadn't just internalized the vitriol and hate that his parents practically consisted of.
If everyone could feel like this…
They'd had a conversation, back when they'd connected the others to cults, about whether or not cults were a natural result of the others' presence, or if they were actually encouraged by the others. Maybe it was a combination of the two, but Sam now had good evidence for the former.
This. This was natural. This was right.
And she would work hard to make everything else right, too.
The feeling faded after another few… minutes? Hours?
Minutes. It had to be minutes. Otherwise, Danny and Tucker would be here.
The timer.
She fumbled her phone open just in time to cancel the text.
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Sam was tempted to take another bite of the apple, but she knew that she had to be careful with her resources. She had her vision. Her goal. Her plan to make the world a better place.
It started here.
She leaned on her shovel and checked the depth of the hole in the ground. Good. Good. Room enough for the apple and room enough for the fertilizer.
She used her fingernails to slit open a bag of the latter and then placed the apple reverently on top of the small pile. A shadow passed over her. It didn't seem like quite enough, did it?
Perhaps… an offering? She emptied the contents of her pocket. Coins. A six-sided die with a bat in place of its 'one' pip. A caramel and a strawberry candy her grandmother had given her that morning. A small picture of herself, Danny, and Tucker. A safely pin.
She arranged them carefully around the apple. The safety pin gleamed in the light.
Staring at her. She stared back.
Maybe…
She picked up the pin and squeezed it to free the sharp end. Then, before she could hesitate, before she could have second thoughts, she drew it over the ball of her thumb. Blood welled up from the small wound, and she let it drip on the soil surrounding the apple.
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The tree grew into a sapling overnight. The next day, it was taller than Sam. On the third, the trunk was thicker than both her wrists together. By the end of the week, it had burst into bloom.
Sam made sure to water it every day.
Danny, meanwhile, continued to have problems with his teeth. He spoke less, his words slurred and lisping around his still-growing fangs, but that didn't matter to her and Tucker. After the years they'd spent together, they could read each other pretty well.
Sam maintained a constant supply of apples for him to bite down on. Most of the time, he ate them afterwards, which she couldn't really begrudge him, but sometimes he'd leave them on his desk or on the table or just out and Sam would put aside her next afternoon for experimentation.
Before she knew it, the tree was bearing fruit. Rose-red and perfectly shaped, not a trace of scale or insects. Sam knew exactly what to do with them.
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"Hey," she said, as her parents walked in, "I made an apple pie. Tell me if it's any good."