The Swamp

Chapter Two: A Woman From the Storm

Shrek woke up in a cold sweat. He stumbled into the bathroom to splash water on his face, and walked out to the smell of burning eggs as Garfield attempted to cook breakfast. Shrek promptly went to the living room to open the window.

"Good morning!" Garfield shouted from the stove. Shrek returned the greeting, walking back into the kitchen and wrapping his robe together around himself. He watched as Garfield unskillfully flipped a few eggs and simultaneously tried unsuccessfully to not completely blacken two slices of toast. Garfield looked back, streaks of softening butter throughout the fur on his face, and laughed. There was a familiar twinkle in his eye, unmistakable. Shrek's content smile faded a little, but he tried to remember what Garfield had said. That they were gonna get through this. Together.

Garfield finished cooking and they ate together before going back to work to finish cleaning the house. It continued like that for a while: strange dreams, waking up to breakfast that got a little better every day, that cheerful smile; slowly, it started to feel...comfortable. He just couldn't get over that strange sense of unease deep down that seemed to linger in the pit of his stomach, gnawing away, reminding him of everything that used to be. Could it all really change?

Room by room, they fixed up the shack Shrek called home. They installed actual flooring in every room, boarded up the ceiling as best they could. It took weeks, but by day five they stopped counting and just made the best of it all. After it was done, they stood and basked in the glory of it, and it felt amazing.

"I told you, didn't I?" Garfield said.

Shrek didn't respond. It didn't feel complete. "Something's missing," he murmured under his breath. He looked closer over the living room, which was basked in a gray glow from a storm brewing over the swamp, that had been for a few hours but which had not yet broken into thunder quite yet. They say in a thick silence only broken by a low ribbit from a frog outside.

Garfield tried to retain his glow of satisfaction, but he couldn't stand to see Shrek so upset. Shrek stared out the window, almost longingly.

Shrek, what's wrong? Talk to me. I can help, I swear."

He sighed. "It's... it's not you. I'm not sure what it is. I know I should be proud, but... it's like nothing changed. At least not inside. Am I...broken?" He turned back to look at Garfield, but was surprised when Garfield had already crossed the room and now appeared directly in front of his face.

The cat put his paw on Shrek's shoulders, straining on his tiptoes to reach. "You're not broken. Frankly, it breaks my heart that you think that way, that you were, I don't know, conditioned to think that way. You're perfect, Shrek. You're whole. You don't need to be anything more than you already are."

The two embraced. Garfield felt warm in Shrek's arms. He felt home. It was wonderful.

"I have an idea," Garfield said, face still pressed against the ogre's chest. "We should start a garden."

"What? Why?" Shrek pulled back, gently, face flushed.

"We've been eating like shit here, man. You have the yard space for it. If you get enough crops going, you can even start selling them. Make a little business for yourself. It could be good for you, in the long run."

"I don't know... it sounds like a lot of work."

"I'd be right there to help you! C'mon!" Garfield held out one hand, smiling wide. Shrek took it, and was led out the door to the market in town.

They returned that afternoon to an intense downpour showering over them. Hand-in-hand and giggling like children, they ran to the door, baskets full of gardening tools and seeds swinging wildly.