Chapter Text
Dani is a gardener.
She wasn’t always, of course. It was more of a recent hobby. Something she picked up after she arrived at Amnesty Lodge. When she first crossed over to Earth, she stagnated. Her forced egress from Sylvain had not been without its trauma, and Mama had told her in no uncertain terms to take all the time she needed. To just relax, and recover, at her own rate. Not to push herself. So, she didn’t. She spent what felt like years in her room, leaving only to use the spring; only while the night was at its darkest, and only when she was sure she wouldn’t encounter anyone else. Her sleep was fraught with nightmares; or, worse, dreams of the pleasant life in Sylvain she had left behind so suddenly, one she would never have again. Sleep was no relief from her racing mind, and her waking mind wasn’t much better. She would have left her room, but Dani was afraid; she did not want to talk about any of it, not Sylvain, not the reason she was exiled, not her arrival at the Lodge. She was sure someone would pry into her history, and she was also sure that if they did, she would break down. So, she just…stayed in her room. This cycle continued until the flower.
The flagstones around the spring were cracked and lifeless. With no dirt filling the cracks, there was nothing for plants to take root in. At least, that’s what Dani had thought. One night as she climbed out of the spring, she saw it. A tiny bud, vivid green, barely the size of one of her elongated Sylvan canines. It was a fragile little thing, trembling furiously in the gentle night breeze. Dani laid on her stomach on the cold flagstones, close enough that her nose almost brushed against it, every breath bending it. She considered it, for a while, letting her mind go blank. It was cute, she thought detachedly as she walked back to her room. A pity it won’t survive long here, where it’s not meant to be.
Despite herself, Dani found herself visiting the spring a bit more often than was strictly necessary. The water just felt nice, was all. And she was starting to get to the point where she would do anything to get out of what felt like ever-shrinking wood paneled walls of her room. And maybe while she visited the spring, she started splashing some water on the little bud. She monitored its growth because it was her only real reference point for the passage of time. It wasn’t like she necessarily cared for the little Earth plant, but it wasn’t its fault it got stuck growing in such an unfitting place; it wouldn’t hurt to help it out a little.
The moon was bright and full on the night the flower bloomed. The flower blurred as Dani laid down in front of it, raising a hand to her eyes to find with surprise that she had started crying. She couldn’t tell why. Maybe it was because the flower had bloomed, which meant it was approaching the end of its life cycle. Maybe it was because, even without fertile soil, it had become something beautiful; it had forced itself into belonging. Maybe it was just because it was a beautiful flower. The flower itself was pure white, delicate and perfect. It had only one leaf, broad and wrapping itself almost completely around the stem.
Dani was suddenly struck by a feeling; one she couldn’t name. She could see herself laying in front of the flower as if she were five feet away, lit only by the moonlight and the dim, flickering exposed bulb over the door behind her. She saw her dingy flannel, baggy sweatpants, her lifeless hair, the dark circles under her eyes. When was the last time she had actually bathed, beyond just soaking in the hot spring? She had spent all of her time on Earth in a haze, unaware of time passing but for the growth of the flower.
Dani rolled onto her back and looked up at the stars. There weren’t as many here as in Sylvain, and they were different. She didn’t know these constellations. Maybe that was a good thing. They didn’t know her either. Dani could be anyone here, under a new sun and a new night sky. And what had she done with this new beginning? Nothing but sit alone in a room that barely felt like hers. Dani sat up, wrapping her arms around her knees. Tomorrow, she thought. Tomorrow, I can be new.
The next morning, Dani went to Mama with a request, her voice rusty with misuse. Mama smiled, returning later that day with a book, Wildflowers and Trees of West Virginia. While Mama was gone, Dani showered. She put her hair up for the first time in weeks, a simple, loose French braid. She put on a t-shirt and jeans that Mama had bought her and opened the windows in her room.
When the book arrived, she flipped through its pages, putting bookmarks in the pages that looked like could be her flower. Dani almost went to the spring in the daylight, but she was getting close to too much, too fast. She still didn’t want to talk to anyone yet, still afraid of being questioned. She’d wait until midnight, like always.
Bloodroot. Her flower was a bloodroot. She laughed at the name, a little bitterly. She wanted to see if the stem really would ooze crimson like her book said it would, but she didn’t want to hurt it, so she decided to just take the book’s word for it. The book also said that bloodroot had healing properties, which made her smile. Capable of curing pain and some skin conditions, the flower was not simply pretty, not simply existing for the sake of it. It helped those in need, in what little way it could.
Dani started exploring around the outside of Amnesty Lodge when she went out at night. On one of her nightly strolls, on the eastern side of the building, she found a large square plot of dirt, raised over the surrounding land and boxed in with wooden sides. Weeds grew unchecked, tangles of vines carpeted the dirt. It looked as though someone had tried to keep a garden here long ago, but it had long since fallen into disarray. Looking around, Dani found a rusted gardening tool half-buried in the dirt and, without really stopping to think about what she was doing, she began clearing the mess out of the garden box.
The next morning, she asked Mama for seeds. She faltered when Mama asked if Dani would like to go with her, unsure. “What if I don’t get the right seeds? I need you there to show me what to get, I’m horrible with plants,” Mama said. To her surprise, Dani found herself nodding in agreement. Mama drove her to the Kepler General Store, and Dani kept her head down as she walked inside, sticking close to Mama’s side. She picked whatever struck her fancy, mostly vegetables with a few flowers. She felt the gaze of the shopkeeper on her, but luckily he didn’t say anything to her, and Dani made it back to the truck safely, clutching her plastic bag of seeds to her chest. Mama didn’t comment on Dani’s anxiety.
“You gonna grow us some fresh greens for the kitchen?”
Dani nodded.
“Barclay will appreciate that. It’s been a minute since he had time to keep that garden up. He probably knows where all the other tools are, if you wanna ask him.”
“Thanks, Mama,” Dani says in reply. Mama smiles and turns back into the Lodge’s parking lot.
It took a few minutes to work up the courage to ask Barclay about the tools, but with the promise of beginning her garden in front of her, Dani managed it. She started right away in the garden, not waiting for nightfall to be out and about. She worked with a single-minded focus, sectioning the garden into rows and then making tiny holes with her fingers to place the seeds in. She was sweating by the time she gently watered her little dirt mounds. Her hands were covered in dirt, which had found its way into every line on her palm, every crease of her knuckles, and under every nail. She wiped the sweat off her brow, leaving behind a smear of soil. She was delightfully sore, her back aching from bending over so much, her knees cramping from kneeling. Dani felt alive in a way she hadn’t felt on Earth yet. She stood with a huff, muscles protesting, and surveyed her garden. She needed a shower, so she carefully carried all of the gardening equipment to the little shed, barely more than a lean-to, that was tucked up against the side of the lodge. As she walked through the main room of the lodge, she kept her eyes down, hair falling across her face in a protective curtain, feeling the curious eyes of other Sylvans following her across the room.
That night, her sleep was heavy and dreamless, and she woke fully rested for the first time since arriving at the Lodge.
It takes a few days for the first buds to push through the soil, but when Dani arrived at the garden that morning, she jumped up and down in excitement. She leaned down and gently touched the leaves, still dusted with the soil they had pushed their way out of. She didn’t know someone was behind her until they spoke.
“Whatcha so happy about?”
Dani whirled to see… one of the Sylvans, she couldn’t remember his name. His wild blond hair was restrained by the straps of a ski mask and his coat was vibrant almost to the point of garish. His hands were in his pockets and he had an easy smile on his face.
“Oh… the first buds just emerged,” Dani said softly, not looking at his face.
“Cool!” he exclaimed. “What are you growing?”
“Well… these here are carrots, and that row is okra…” she pointed out various rows. “And the tomatoes are those ones over there. The rest haven’t germinated yet.”
“Hell yeah, I love carrots. You growing these for the Lodge?” he asked.
Dani nodded. “I know it won’t repay them for taking me in, but it’s something, at least.”
He cocked his head, his eyes unreadable behind his reflective mask. “You know you don’t have to repay Mama, right? She isn’t doing this for money.”
“Yeah, I know, I just…”
“Needed to do something? Needed something to make you leave your room?”
Dani nodded, smiling faintly. “Speaking from experience?”
The sylvan laughed. “Yeah. I do stunts, instead of gardening, but. Same hat.”
“Stunts?”
“Yeah, you know, like snowboarding? Skateboarding? Flips and shit. I needed something to get my blood flowing.”
Dani looked back at her garden. “I guess I just needed to help create something. Needed to help something grow.”
He smiled. “I like that. Can I help?”
Dani was startled. “You want to garden with me?”
“Yeah, why not? I’d like to get to know you, you’ve been here for a while, but we haven’t gotten a chance to talk. And I don’t know, maybe I’d like to create something too.”
Dani handed him a watering can. “You can go fill this with water for me, I guess.”
He took the can with a smile and turned towards the hose that lay coiled in the shed. “Hey wait!” Dani said. “I’m sorry, I just… don’t remember your name. I’m Dani.”
“My name is Jake Coolice!” he said with a toothy grin. Dani snorted.
“Coolice? That something you came up with?”
“Maybe!” Jake grinned. “Or maybe it’s a centuries old name, handed down through generations of Sylvans.”
“Sylvans don’t have last names,” Dani said flatly.
“The mystery continues,” Jake laughed as he turned back towards the water hose.
They spent the rest of the day watering, pulling weeds, measuring the growth. To Dani’s surprise and relief, Jake never once asked about her life in Sylvain. He told her about the Kepler Stunt Club, about the time he and Moira pranked Barclay by switching all of the sugar and salt in the kitchen. He was bright and cheerful and distracting. He was exactly what Dani needed.
It became a daily routine. Jake would meet Dani outside in the morning, ready to water and measure and weed, all while sharing stories of the life he’d created for himself here on Earth. Through him, Dani learned of the other inhabitants of the Lodge. She told him about the different plants she’d read about, plants she wanted to find for her garden. She told him about her wish to create another garden that was only flowers. Sometimes, after they finished, Dani would watch Jake show off his stunts. He tried to teach her how to skateboard. She was fine on a board, as long as it was going in a straight line. Turning was beyond her. She decided to leave the stunts to Jake. Life was good.
One night, she went to the spring like normal, only to find eight tiny white petals scattered on the ground. Dani gathered up the petals in her hand, holding them gently. She inspected the stalk of the bloodroot, still standing with its one leaf wrapped around it. From her book, she knew to look for the fruit capsule, and found it lying on the ground, tiny seeds spilling out of it and into the same crack their parent grew from. She knew that the stem and leaf would only stand for a little longer before it, too, would die. She felt numb.
Dani did not want to leave her room the next morning.
Nevertheless, when the sun wormed its way through the gaps in her plaid curtains, Dani found herself restless. If she did not water the garden… well, maybe Jake still would, but she couldn’t be certain unless she did it herself. She was still mustering up the strength to get out of bed when a knock came at her door.
Dani groaned and reluctantly stood, walked to the door. She opened it to see Jake, standing with his ski mask resting on his forehead for once, revealing tan lines that made him look like a reverse raccoon. “You feeling ok? You’re usually outside by now,” he asked, eyes soft.
Dani ran a hand through her hair. “Yeah, just. Rough night, I guess.”
He grinned ruefully. “I’ve been there. You want me to take care of the garden today?”
It was tempting, but Dani shook her head. “I’ll be out in 5 minutes.”
The garden flourished, and it didn’t take much longer before Dani brought her first harvested fruits and vegetables to Barclay. Jake had to help her, as they had grown multiple boxes of produce. Barclay was overjoyed at the prospect of once again having fresh vegetables grown at the Lodge and promised to make a fantastic meal with them. That night, Dani ate salad and vegetable soup, tasted the weeks of work she had put in. She saw others enjoying the meal, commenting on how good the vegetables were. She felt warm, like she belonged. Amnesty Lodge wasn’t her home, but it was hers. She belonged here, among these people, who had fled similar circumstances, even if she didn’t know them yet. She didn’t have to talk about what she left behind, but she knew that if she did, the people in the room were the only ones of either world who could truly understand. She could grow something new for herself, here.
When it came time to return the wildflower guide to the library, she didn’t realize she had left the bloodroot petals pressed between its pages.