"We can't bring the sun," he murmured. "You can make them grow without it. I don't even know how to give them what they need. And aging them the way I did... If I kept doing it, I would push the tree closer and closer to death, far faster than it ever should."

He knew the risk he'd taken.

He stepped closer, slowly sliding his hand over hers, pressing it close to the flesh of the fruit. Keeping it solidly in her hands.

"We can all share it," he agreed, "But I made it for you. I wanted - I wanted to show you what you've done for us. In some small way. I can't explain it. But there is life here now where there couldn't be life before. So it's yours. I hope - I hope there will be more fruit, for the three of us to taste together. But the first taste of this one is yours."