pairofraggedclaws

Title: watch as they pull me down
Fandom: Midsommar
Rating: T
Word count: 1376
Characters/pairings: Gen
Summary: One year later.

Dani wakes up to the sound of a bell. Sun streams through the windows, and all around her, activity begins to stir.

In her previous life, Dani used to think about something that Will liked to talk, or really obsess, about; the idea of diminishing returns. That if you love something, the first time you have it is the best, and it’s all downhill from there. Each time, you get a little less and a little less and a little less, until it’s a faded memory of a feeling. Depending on how far she was from her latest Ativan, thinking about this could make Dani’s breath come short, her heart pound. It made the act of loving something the same as loss, and wasn’t that just like Will, who had to make everything an object of fear, had to give everything a downside. When Dani wakes up, today as all days, her first action is a smile; and it doesn’t get worse, it doesn’t wear out. Instead, it gets better day by day, a cumulative process of joy.

Dani rises and makes her bed, and dresses in the clothing woven and sewn by the hands of her community. Even in the smallest of ways, she is held.

“You know,” says Inge, on their way to the circle, “it’s been almost a year. Do you ever think about that?”

“Yeah, of course,” Dani says. “It’s amazing, isn’t it?”

Siv goes around the circle of people, passing out tokens to denote chores. One normal days this would just be a hand-written chart by the door, but this week everything has been imbued with ritual.

“I hope it won’t be a let-down, eh?” Siv says, giving Dani her token; Siv always has a little something to say to everyone, a warm embrace of words to let them know they are seen. “You were here for the biggest festival of all last year.”

“I’m sure I’ll love it,” Dani says, fingers caressing the wood token. “I’m excited to help more, this year.”

“Ah, well, maybe we’ll have a big job for you, huh?” Siv says, and winks before she moves on.

Dani looks at the token in her hand; kitchen duty. She takes a happy breath. Kitchen duty is special to her, always will be.

She kneads dough and puts it aside to rise. The first time she did this, her arms ached for days afterwards, but she’s stronger now, more capable. After everything is done, she and a few others stay to scrub the counters, brush the floors clean, and she marvels at how every stroke of a sponge or a broom can be an act of love, as if she’s anointing the very bones of the place. And it doesn’t wear out.

Dani walks down to the dirt road, through the wood where the yellow flowers grow, taking in great gulps of clean fresh air. She’s rambling, but she’s also hoping – well, Pelle did mention that he’d probably be back today.

“Dani!” comes a familiar voice, and Dani laughs and runs to Pelle, swept up in his arms for a twirling hug.

“How have you been?” she asks, and she and Pelle tumble over each other’s words, in and out of the slowly growing arsenal of Swedish she’s been amassing.

It’s good to see Pelle. It’s always good to see him. Sometimes she feels starved of his presence, just a little, not the way it was with – well, the comparison doesn’t even make sense; she and Pelle aren’t like that. “Unless Siv tells us otherwise!” Pelle jokes sometimes. He’s her friend, her love, her brother, her protector. But he’s a busy man; he’s got a talent for talking to people, and it’s a talent that’s often in demand.

Behind him is a small group of people, fidgeting awkwardly. Two women, two men, and they all look too old to be students. They’ve all got hiking backpacks, raincoats, and sturdy boots, and for three of them the gear is new and shiny and modern. The fourth, a man attempting to cover his awkwardness by affecting disinterest, has gear that is old-fashioned, shabby in a way not aimed at aesthetics but rather frugality.

“So who is everyone?” Dani says, and there’s a little shift in the group at her voice, her American accent. Comfort; and Dani smiles. Here is something she can do; help make everyone at ease, help them understand and feel the beauty that’s all around them. Pelle introduces them and then he gives her a little wink, and she gets it immediately, pulling out the little packet of mushrooms she keeps on her.

(Once, a year ago, she ran into Siv with one of the youth, a teen girl who was going into hysterics, and Dani offered the mushrooms she had happened to slip into her pocket. Siv had been so grateful, and once the girl had gotten on a higher plane of understanding, Dani and Siv had been able to make her see reason. Dani still feels proud when she thinks of that, the way she had what was needed and made a difference, and she’s carried some on her ever since. She never knows when she could need them, after all.)

The group takes them easily, except the shabby man, who lingers next to Dani, the dried mushrooms in his still-outstretched hand.

“Are you okay?” Dani asks after the rest of the group drifts away a little, following Pelle.

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” he says immediately. “I’m just...do I have to take them?”

“Of course not,” she says, and puts her portion back in her pocket. “I’ll wait with you, here. There’s no rush.”

He sits in the grass with her, and she smiles at him, but lets the silence stretch out. He wants to talk. Everyone does; they just need a chance. A chance to breathe, to relax into themselves.

“Let’s do it,” he says after a few minutes.

They toast each other, swallowing the mushrooms, and Dani says, “You know, it’s always better when you really choose intentionally. You’ll have a more meaningful trip.” She laughs when he gives her a look of surprise. “Don’t tell your friends I said that!”

It takes a moment, but he laughs too. He likes it, their shared secret of meaning – likes sharing it with Dani, and that his friends won’t get to know.

Through the fields, through the wood, down the path of yellow flowers. The sun beams endlessly.

They walk in through the arch, flute music floating on the air, and Dani feels a flash of a year ago, the grey world she was lost in. Before her mind became something winged and light, and flew across a chasm to somewhere new. And then the memory is gone, and Pelle is nudging her. They stand side by side, watching the group of four getting their welcome gifts, meeting people.

“Are you envious?” he asks, no judgement, only curiosity. “They have their whole journey of discovery ahead of them.”

She shakes her head, squeezing a fond arm around his waist. “No. I’m too happy to be envious. But…” The group is looking around, awe and hesitation and interest intermingling. “I’m excited for them.”

“The one man, the loner,” Pelle says. “He will need someone to make him feel welcome. I don’t know if his friends always do that.”

“It must be hard, if they have more money than he does. Even if they’re kind, the difference is there.” She doesn’t mention the worn backpack, the twinges of resentment he betrays towards them. Pelle will have noticed.

“So we must show him that that difference doesn’t matter for us,” Pelle says. “I think he will see that.”

A year ago, Dani stood here, in this spot, one step before she walked into what would become her home, her family. She could have turned around, but she didn't. She walked across the threshold, and she smiled.

Something murmurs within her. Or not a murmur; it’s like a shout, a faraway shout, so distant that she can’t make out the words, and maybe she doesn’t want to. She breathes the fresh air, watches the sun catch the white garments of her family, and says, “I know he will.”