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William is on the Island of Bees when his phone rings.
He doesn’t necessarily like being on the Island of Bees. But all dead things have to go somewhere, William has found, and that includes small buzzing insects with stingers. The island is a pretty nice spot. A paradise of spectral flowers and flora, all kinds of blooming wildlife in the middle of a void of nothingness. He’s in the middle of trying to figure out how and why bees of all creatures get to have such a nice afterlife when human souls are sent to the Empty Darkness, but when he glances down, the called ID says Dakota . So investigating the secrets of the universe can wait.
He picks up his phone on the third ring, swatting a bumbling spirit away from his face. He’s not sure how or why his phone magically has service in the spirit world, but he’ll take what he can get.
“Hey,” he says, swatting another bee away from his face. “What’s up?”
“Are you awake?” Dakota asks, voice tinny and strangely quiet through the phone.
“Um, always,” William says. He can sleep now, but he doesn’t have to. Sometimes he gets busy. Like now, investigating bees. “Why?”
“Can you come over?” Dakota asks, and William’s internal uh oh radar pings loudly at the tone of his voice. It’s too quiet, not full of energy, and slightly groggy. It’s as though he’d just woken up and the first thing he’d done had been reach for the phone and call William. And that’s never a good thing.
“Two seconds,” William promises, waving a hand and stumbling towards the side of the Island of Bees. Once he gets to the edge of it and sees that gentle, lapping black water, he waves his hand again and opens a door. “You decent?”
Dakota snorts out a laugh, but it sounds wet and congested. “Yeah,” he says, and William steps through the portal he’s made.
His eyes take a moment to adjust to the darkness of Dakota’s apartment, disorienting him slightly as he steps from one world to the next. He’s still not completely used to it, if he’s honest– going from a wide, empty world into one of walls and doors can be jarring. But as the portal closes behind him and a wisp curls into his palm, blue light spills across the room. Dakota’s space is just as bare and simple as ever, the thin mattress on the floor reminiscent of a Japanese style home. There are a few more trinkets now than William remembers there being, pictures mostly, all on one small nightstand by the bed. The bed, which has a curled up Dakota sitting in it, knees to his chest and eyes wide. His phone is still in his hand.
“Hi,” William says quietly. He hears his own voice through Dakota’s phone, and snorts a little, moving to end the call. “What’s good?”
“Were you busy?” Dakota asks, sniffling slightly. William steps forward, banishing the wisp so that they’re both in darkness again. He sits, crumpling to his butt against the side of Dakota’s mattress.
“No,” he says. “Just exploring. Nothing I won’t miss.” He’s not even lying. He’s kind of glad to be gone of the bees. Dakota shuffles up next to him, his blankets pooling at his hips.
“Okay,” he says, and the uncharacteristic quiet confirms what William’s been fearing. Dakota’s head lands on his shoulder, and for a moment, neither of them speak. Then, “Have you seen Vynce?”
“Lately?” William asks. “Yeah. I stopped by the day before yesterday. We hung out.”
“Hmmm.” When William turns to look down at him, Dakota is staring, eyes narrowed. Now that his vision’s adjusted to the dark, he can make out the suspicious look in his eyes. “Regular hanging out?”
“Regular hanging out,” William says, feeling his face heat up. “What are you even implying, Dakota?”
“Nothing,” Dakota mutters, but this time William can hear the smile. He feels a forehead bump against his shoulder, and then one of Dakota’s arms comes up around him, fingers scrabbling at the back of his shirt. William lets him, and after a second Dakota’s grip settles, fingers splayed and palm pressed tight to the space between his shoulders. William inhales slowly, then exhales, and he waits for Dakota’s breathing to slow and match his own.
“I found an island of bees,” William says into the quiet. He feels more than sees Dakota’s interest, staring out across the room as he keeps talking. “In the middle of the void, just bees. No wasps, no beetles, none of that. Bumblebees. I googled them, I think they’re buff-tailed bumblebees. But it’s kind of hard to tell when they never stop flying around. There are millions of them.”
“Sounds like hell,” Dakota says, snorting out a huff of laughter.
“A little bit,” William admits. “But it’s interesting. Why an island of bees? I don’t understand the spirit world.”
“But you’re gonna figure it out,” Dakota says. “That’s your thing. Y’know, like, investigating.”
“I hope so,” William sighs. He does hope so, but he doesn’t think he’ll ever fully understand it. It’s not really something meant to be understood, but William thinks he’ll at least get a little closer as time goes on. “Hey. Do you wanna… talk about it?”
The things they don’t talk about are few and far in between. William knows that even if he doesn’t ask now, Dakota will probably tell him later. But right now, in the dark, with the ephemeral sounds of bees still buzzing faintly in his ears and Dakota’s breathing ragged but calming next to him, William feels like he should ask.
“Mmm,” Dakota hums, shifting. He buries his head further against William, sniffling again. His breathing is calmer now. “It was the one in Deadwood. Watching you. Then Vyn. Then Tide, and Mark, and Ashe. And then the whole world split and I couldn’t save anyone, I couldn’t do anything.” His voice breaks a little, and William moves on instinct, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Dakota’s shoulders hitch. “I wasn’t strong enough.”
“Kota,” William says, rubbing up and down his arm. “You’re good, man.”
“It all fell apart,” Dakota says, and he sniffles. “And I was just left floating. In the dark. Like the spirit world.”
“I will always come find you,” William promises, and this time, he means it. “Everything’s okay. We figured it out, like we always do.”
“But you died,” Dakota insists, pulling back to glance up at him. Even in the dark, William can see his tears, glinting in the faintest golden bit of streetlight that makes its way into the room. Dakota’s cheeks are wet and glistening and his eyes are wide and William tightens his grip a little, pulling him back in for a hug.
“I got better,” William whispers, not thinking about the scar that bisects him into two messy halves.
“People don’t just get better, ” Dakota whispers back, face hidden in William’s shoulder now, getting his sweatshirt damp. “I thought I was better. But I’m not. I’m not better, William. I don’t think I’ll ever be better.”
“Dakota–”
“I think I’m going to be like this forever,” Dakota whispers, and William falls into silence.
He has no idea what to say. He just wishes he could make it all go away, a wish that beats in his chest like a warm, fiery heart. He wants to pick up all of Dakota’s pain and make it go away, open a pure-white portal and pour all of the bad emotions and problems out into it, watch them all fade into dust. But he can’t do that– he can’t even alleviate it, because none of his words are coming and even if they were, none of them would be right. He sits there and he holds Dakota around the shoulders, hugging him tight, and miserably wishing he could fix it.
After a while, Dakota shifts. He just gets closer to William, though, bringing up his other arm and trapping him into a hug. Dakota still runs warm. His skin is almost burning to the touch, like he’s got a fever, and William can remember a time not so long ago when he could barely feel that warmth at all. But now it’s here in full force, and he relishes in it.
“What do you need me to do?” he finally asks, the words scraping out of his throat and leaving it sliced and raw.
Instead of saying anything, Dakota just leans backwards.
“Oh– okay,” William says, falling gently with him as Dakota drags him back, both hands pulling insistently on his sweatshirt. They both lean until they’re flat on the bed, Dakota shuffling and dragging them around with purpose. “Sure, guess we’re doing this now.” Eventually he settles, William lying with his head on Dakota’s pillow and Dakota’s face still planted in his neck. He sighs, then closes his eyes and smiles. “Did you want me to go get Vynce at all?”
“No,” Dakota says, grip tightening in his sweatshirt again. “Don’t move.”
“Oh-kay,” William whispers. Eyes still closed, he can feel Dakota’s warmth, feel the way his breath billows on his neck. William doesn’t have a heartbeat anymore, but he does still breathe, and he can tell every time he takes one that Dakota relaxes. Proof of life, he supposes. Proof that William’s still here.
He focuses on breathing for a little while. It’s simpler that way, to just think about the pattern of his own breath. In and out in long, evenly timed intervals. He can feel his lungs inflate if he thinks about it hard enough, feel the way his muscles contract and expand to make room for them. The way his ribs shift, his sternum lifting. As he focuses, he feels his mind get sleepier and sleepier, especially when Dakota eventually starts to slow down. He can feel when Dakota’s breathing matches his own, can tell when his hands go slightly slack that his friend has all but fallen asleep.
Cautiously, William raises the arm that Dakota is sleeping on. He twists it around to rest it on his head, threading his fingers through bright raspberry hair that only looks black in the darkness.
Bees work in a hive. It makes sense that they’d seek out community in the afterlife. A ghostly flowering island, a sort of paradise for creatures whose only goals are to care for their broods and find pollen. Bees are simple enough that they’d have no concept of death, not like humans would. They wouldn’t understand what happens to their fallen comrades– the Island of Bees could just be a continuation of that. There’s no reason for them to stop working just because they died. Bees don’t know they’re dead.
“Bees don’t know they’re dead,” William murmurs aloud.
“Whazzat?” Dakota asks, voice heavy, thick with sleep. He might not even be awake at all, but William can’t help but respond.
“Bees don’t know they’re dead,” William repeats, “so they just keep living. They just keep truckin’ on.”
Dakota doesn’t answer for a minute. It’s quiet for long enough that William thinks he actually is asleep, but then: “Do you think the bee from The Bee Movie died before the lady did?”
“What?” William asks. Dakota’s head moves under his hand, shaking slightly, and William realizes with a start that he’s laughing. “Dude, that’s fucked up.”
“Bees don’t live forever.”
“Neither do we!”
“But she’s human and he’s not.”
“That’s still so fucked up.”
“You’re the one who started talking about bees,” Dakota accuses.
“I was trying to be poetic,” William rage-whispers at him. “Something about bees and how they just keep going. Like how we have to just keep going.”
“I like your poems, man, but leave the metaphors at the door,” Dakota says. He shuffles around, their legs twining slightly and Dakota getting closer. His voice is more muffled now, and William can feel himself getting tired too. He’s not sure the last time he actually slept a full night, now that he thinks about it. Might be nice to just relax. But even as he lies there, his mind whirls.
“I just think bees are cool,” he says, “and an Island of Bees is not super cool, but it has interesting implications for the rest of the spirit world–”
“William, man, you gotta shut up now so I can go back to sleep,” Dakota says.
“I just–”
“And then tomorrow you can show me the bee island.” Dakota audibly yawns. “And we can go get Vyn and bring him too, and Ashe, and we all take a trip to see ghost bees and talk about life. And then we go fight some villains and get pizza. And keep truckin’ on.”
William blinks. He looks down at the top of Dakota’s head, and then very gently, cards his fingers through his hair.
“... okay, yeah,” he says. “That sounds nice.”
“All my ideas are nice,” Dakota says, sounding sleepier and sleepier with each syllable. “I’m a certified genius.”
“That’s not– okay.” William sighs, smiling into the dark. “You’re a genius, Dakota.”
“Uh huh,” Dakota says, and now his voice is that garbled mess of sleepy slurring that’s so familiar to William by now. “I’m smartest. Of the group. Get… get… hmm.”
William waits a moment, but Dakota never finishes the sentence. Instead, a minute or two later, he starts to gently snore. William just smiles and turns his head into the pillow, fills his chest with air, and sleeps.