Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A low and steady buzzing filled the still, humid air inside Lars’s cell.

There was once a time when the prisoner would desperately cover his ears in hopes of having a moment of relief from its constant, unending presence. He had long given up on that technique, however. Instead, he’d settled on retreating into his dreams, which he’d assumed would provide a much more effective method of escaping the irritating noise.

Unfortunately, his assumption had been incorrect… though that didn’t mean that spending decades—no, centuries—on end dreaming wasn’t greatly preferable to facing the cold, pitch black reality of his situation.

Lars was sitting on the floor, back pressed up against an especially mossy section of the cell wall opposite to the door. Vines had grown into his enclosure from little cracks between the gray bricks lining its walls, wrapping themselves up and around his legs and torso. While many would likely be bothered by the plants’ presence, he found something about them… comforting, warm—almost familiar(?). He didn’t like to think too hard about it.

In Lars’ hand, tucked away at his side, sat a lone, unopened Fanti diet grape soda. Its tab had been unconsciously fiddled with a few times over the uncountable years, though he wouldn’t ever so much as dream of actually opening it… would he?

Fast asleep, he suddenly brought the can into his lap, where he began to unconsciously fiddle with its tab once more. Per usual, however, he failed to crack it open, though that didn’t stop him from slowly, almost triumphantly raising it high into the air with one of his pink hands. He then began to let out a noisy, guttural snore, though it was swiftly cut off by an ear-piercing, violent smash against the cell’s front wall.

Lars shot awake in a matter of seconds, and he was immediately greeted with the sight of the wall opposite to him tumbling to the ground, landing just before the soles of his bare feet. In its wake, it left a massive, blinding cloud of dust which immediately sent the man into a coughing frenzy.

“Wooowie!” a squeaky, accented voice suddenly penetrated the chaos. “Bubba, get over here; I found a living human! Can you believe that?”

Lars, still attempting to clear dust from his lungs, flicked his eyes toward the source of the noise. Through the curtain of grime, he could make out a large, pink fist, which quickly shrunk and uncoiled back to its silhouetted owner’s side. The figure was fairly tall, quite spindly, and had a pair of tidy pigtails behind their head. A shorter, bulkier, and much harrier quadrupedal figure soon padded up to the prior one’s side, letting out a bestial grunt as it did so.

As the dust finally settled on the floor, dim, pink-tinted light flooded into Lars' cell, coating every possible surface sans the back wall which he was sitting against. He could finally make out the features of the two previously obscured figures, the latter of which he immediately identified as a pink, resurrected panda bear. Considering that the species had been all but extinct prior to his imprisonment, he concluded that it must have hailed from the Pink Garden.

As for the other figure, a gem, he was struggling to come up with any kind of identification. Surely, if he’d met her before, he’d remember such a distinctive feature as the pink, upside-down, heart-shaped gem which sat at the center of her chest. Not only that, but she was wearing a large, green eyepatch over her left eye.

“Helloooo human!” the gem spoke in a patronizing, child-like fashion. She stretched a pink, glove-like hand in front of his face. “We come in peace.” She shapeshifted her hand into a peace symbol, then using her other hand to point toward herself. “My name is—”

“I still remember how to speak,” Lars dryly interrupted before letting out a series of coughs.

The gem stretched her hand back toward herself, using it to rub at her chin. “A human who’s both alive and remembers how to speak?” she questioned. “What are the odds!? I thought any human would revert back to their primal, animalistic instincts after being in a small, dark cell for…”—she rapidly darted her eyes around her surroundings before landing them on a small, flickering panel which had been previously sitting above the cell’s entrance—”one thousand and eight years!” she read aloud.

Lars went wide-eyed. “One thousand and eight years?” he repeated, taking in a deep breath.

“That and some change, big guy,” the gem confirmed, shooting him a finger gun.

Lars slowly exhaled as he sank down further to the ground, snapping many nearby vines in the process. “I need a moment to lie down.”

“Lie down all you want; Bubba and I’ve got more searching to do,” the gem shrugged. “Say, you’ve been in this place pretty long. You wouldn’t happen to know if a Laramie Barriga is also being held here, by any chance, would you?” she questioned as she straightened out one of her pigtails. “Y’know: tall, pink; has these weird, loopy ears. I’ve also been told he usually smells like yams—whatever those are. Of course”—she snickered—”he probably wouldn’t smell like them anymore after this long, but—”

Lars dramatically cleared his throat, putting an end to the pink gem’s tangent. “Uhhh…”—he slowly leaned his face out of the shadows and into the dim, pink light—”speaking.”

The gem let out a long, breathy gasp as her eyes went wide and her pigtails, in a similar fashion to a dog’s ears, shot straight up. The panda, in tandem, also seemed to let out a gasp of sorts, with it coming out of the beast as a low groan. There was then a short moment of silence before the gem began squealing, bouncing in circles around her pet as she did so.

Lars’ eyes patiently followed her as she frantically hopped and danced around the outside of his cell. He had no idea what he was supposed to think or do; nothing that had taken place within his wildest dreams could have ever possibly prepared him for the gem’s fantastical, squeak-filled display.

Her celebration came to a grand conclusion as she flattened her body, zigzagged along the floor, then popped up a few feet in front of Lars. Leaning down to make eye contact with him, she squealed, “Ooooh, the crew is gonna be so happy!” She tightly embraced him, wrapping her arms around him several times over, to the point he could barely breathe. “Our millennium-long search is finally over!”

Lars wheezed, gently attempting to push his liberator off of him. “With all due respect, uh…whatever your name is, I have no idea who you or your ‘crew’ are or why you guys would ever search for me for that long.” He was then sent into another coughing fit, indicating to the pink gem that she should release him. As he watched her stretched-out arms retract and slither back to her side, he muttered, “Uh… thanks for saving me ‘n’ all, though. I, uh, owe you one, I guess”

“You don’t recognize me at all, huh?” the gem asked as she delicately brushed grime and plants off of her arms. “Does ‘the gem who tried destroying your planet with a giant, pink injector’ ring any bells?”

Lars hummed in thought for a moment before ultimately shrugging. “Maybe? I was never really, uh, filled in on all the details of that.” He scratched his head. “Man, those were a wild few days. I think I remember going to a concert at some point? Wait, didn’t Steven fuse with his dad at that?”

The gem huffed, dramatically crossing her arms. “I also took care of the Pink Garden for around a thousand years. You made a little visit there with Steven and Connie’s lion one time, remember?”

Lars gave a strained smile as he was struck with a memory of a soaked Lion frantically attempting to pull himself out of a pond. “Yeah, I do remember that.” He gave a breathy chuckle. “‘Don’t remember you being there, though.”

The gem began impatiently tapping her foot. “We met at Steven and Connie’s wedding, for stars’ sake!” She projected an image onto the cell’s ceiling using her gem.

The photograph depicted a severely inebriated, dazed-looking Lars holding a half-empty bottle of vodka to his chest. One of the pink gem’s arms could be seen loosely slung around his shoulders, with the hand at the end of it being used to intrusively prod at one of his cheeks.

Lars cocked his head. “Your gem can take pictures?” 

The pink gem lightly exhaled as the photo faded from the ceiling. She then started to giggle before slapping a hand to her face. “You know what? It doesn’t matter,” she murmured. “I guess I was just hoping that you’d maybe remember me after I spent all this time helping search for you, but… it’s fine.” She took to leaning against her pink panda. “Truthfully, I barely even remembered who you were a little over a millennium ago,” she explained, pulling a comb from her gem to brush at her pigtails. “Oh! But where are my manners?” she smirked, pushing the toothed instrument back into her gem. “My name is…”—she performed a few elegant, ballerina-esque twirls—”Spinel!”

“Nice to meet you, Spinel,” Lars greeted, weakly outstretching a hand, which was quickly, eagerly shook by the gem. “Well, formally, that is.”

“Nice to meet you too!” she beamed, eagerly bouncing up and down in place, with her feet making a distinct squeaking noise as she did so. She then pointed toward the panda bear beside herself. “And this,” she began, scratching at the creature's head, “is Bubba! She’s my best friend.” She began scratching at the bear's stomach, prompting it to roll over onto its side. “Aren’t you, you big fuzzball?” she continued as she buried her face in the beast’s stomach. “To you, though,” Spinel, with a face full of fur, spoke in a muffled manner, “she’s ‘Gummy’; only I get to call her ‘Bubba’, just like only she gets to call me ‘Spinny’. It’s a ‘best friends’ thing.”

Lars gave a single, strained blink. “Right, well…”—he cleared his throat—”now that formalities are out of the way, it’d be cool if you explained exactly, uh, why you’ve spent the last thousand years searching for me.”

Spinel lifted her face from Bubba’s belly. “Let’s see… the last thousand ye— oh, right!” she snickered, hopping back up onto her feet. “I’ll, uhm, explain everything on the way back to the docking bay.” She glanced over her shoulder, where a thick layer of fog was obscuring a long, dimly lit, heavily dilapidated prison hallway. “I wanna get outta this place already; it’s kinda giving me the jeebies.” She spun on her heel, beginning to make her way down the passageway alongside Bubba. “You can follow me!” she called behind herself.

Lars attempted to stand up, though he quickly found himself facedown on the floor. He attempted once more to a similar, slightly more expected result. He swiftly concluded that the grape soda in his hand was somehow the problem, so he attempted to shove it into his hair. To his surprise, however, the soft drink collided with his head rather than being transported into a pocket dimension. Setting the soda on the ground, he made one last, grand attempt at swinging himself up onto his feet, though the back of his head had met the floor only moments later. “Spinel, I think we have a problem…” he called down the hallway, prompting the gem and her pet to turn back around.

Standing over the man, Spinel muttered, “So you don't remember how to walk, huh?” She poked one of his feet. “I remember finding another human with a similar problem nine odd centuries back…” She tapped at her chin. “She tried stabbing me.”

“Well how am I gonna get to the docking bay without functioning legs?” Lars inquired, “Are you gonna carry me on your back or something?”

Spinel guffawed obnoxiously, slapping her knee. “No, silly, but Bubba sure is!” She then greatly enlarged her hand, using it to grab the ex-prisoner and place him on the panda’s back. “Comfy, huh?” she remarked as the three of them began to embark down the passageway together.

“I, uh, guess,” Lars replied, gripping onto the animal’s fur with one hand and holding onto his unopened can of diet grape soda with the other.

Fresh out of a cell and riding a large, pink, undead beast, Lars would be lying if he said he wasn’t getting a little deja vu. Something that greatly differentiated from his past experiences, however, would be the post-breakout presence of that damn buzzing.

Despite how he was far away from any possible sources of antimagic, with his cell’s system having been presumably destroyed by Spinel’s fist, he could still hear the unending, irritating noise clear as day. It wasn’t loud, but it was there—present, and that was all that mattered to him…

Lars scrutinized his reflection in a nearby, heavily cracked window as he, Bubba, and Spinel passed by it. A moderately long, notably shaggy pink beard was growing from his chin, and his hair was, to say the absolute least, in desperate need of a trimming. All kinds of grime and plant matter had also found its way onto his notably pale skin over the prior millennium, making him desperately yearn for a shower. He did wonder, however, how he was going to be able to take one without functioning legs. He supposed that it didn’t matter at the given moment, though.

What did matter was making his way to the docking bay, where he’d presumably finally be able to escape the godforsaken prison which had acted as his personal Hell for nearly half of his life.

Finding his reflection hard to look at—not because he couldn’t pull off a beard—Lars brought his attention back forward. An expansive, foggy, seemingly endless hallway sat before him. Other than the mysterious plants and flowers which invasively grew out of each and every possible crevice, created by the prison’s growing age and seeming negligence, there were no signs of life in sight. 

The whole scene sent a chill down Lars’ spine. He was used to seeing all kinds of abandoned gem structures, but the difference between those and the prison which he was traversing was that he had never once seen them in their prime, filled to the brim with gems.

He remembered walking the opposite direction down the same hallway he was in then, bound with antimagic shackles, over a millennium earlier. Hundreds of guards had been lining the walls, and he and the prison’s warden, Moss Agate, had been arguing over how effective his cell would be. She’d thought he’d spend at least the next one thousand years in it, while he’d thought he’d be out of it within the week of his containment. Needless to say, time had certainly proven her correct; Lars had to give her that.

“So, uh…” he began, anxiously tapping at the soda in his hand, “what the hell happened to this place? It was in perfect condition when they locked me up.”

Spinel hopped over a large piece of rubble. “Homeworld’s government kinda collapsed right after you were thrown in the slammer,” she nonchalantly explained. She then began kicking a rock along the floor. “It all happened so fast. The crew and I hadn’t even found out you’d been arrested yet! How would we have? You were wiped from all of the prison databases as if you’d never even existed!” She booted the stone as far as she possibly could into the distance, with it eerily disappearing into the fog. “Anyway, good ol’ Homeworld abandoned all its prisons. The prisoners with shorter sentences were all released, while the ones with longer sentences, well…”—she let out a shaky breath—”they were just left to sit in one place and rot for the rest of their miserable lives.”

“Yeesh…” Lars cringed, thinking of all of the other prisoners out there who weren’t, or wouldn’t be, as fortunate as to have people looking for them.

“But… on the bright side of everything, that also means you’re cleared for all your crimes,” Spinel remarked.

“Huh, I hadn’t even thought of that,” he smirked. His expression fell rather quickly, however, as an uncountable number of questions suddenly swarmed his mind. “But, wait… how did Homeworld, the largest empire in the entire damn galaxy, fall”—he attempted to snap his fingers, though he was long out of practice—”just like that?”

Spinel stretched her arms to grab four nearby flowers: a pink one, a blue one, a yellow one, and a white one. “It was the Diamonds’ fault,” she disclosed, glancing down at the small, colorful bouquet in her hands. “I used to be their pretty, little lapdog back in the day, but I left them to go searching for you.” She offered Lars the pink flower, which he graciously accepted. “With me gone, they no longer had anybody small, cute, and pink to keep them distracted. They couldn’t even find Steven to make another… pathetic attempt at begging him to stay with them.” She gripped the plants tightly. “So… they lashed out; they attempted a hostile takeover of Homeworld’s government”—she thrust the flowers into the air—”and… well, it was a complete and utter failure.” She, one by one, popped the flowers off of their stems, then she watched them flutter down to the ground. She tossed the plants’ remains behind herself with a smirk. “Homeworld gems had over a thousand years of peacetime to get to know each other—to become more… unified. So when the Diamonds attacked, they formed massive fusions”—she briefly stretched herself to appear much taller—”and struck them down in a matter of minutes…”

Lars stuck the pink flower behind his ear as he asked, “Wait, so the Homeworld gems won? Then why did the government collapse?”

Spinel shushed him, stretching a hand up to press a finger against his lips. “The story isn’t over yet, silly,” she explained with a whisper. “Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah!” She pretended to clear her throat. “The Diamonds were struck down and poofed .” She flailed her arms around as she made explosion-like sound effects. “But even though the Homeworld gems were victorious, they had become wary of having a single, big ol’ government. So”—she threw her arms up in the air—”bye-bye Homeworld! All gems spread far and wide across the galaxy, settling on all sorts of different planets and moons!” She glanced up at Lars. “Even humans got in on all the action! A whole bunch of ‘em moved off of Earth, kinda like Steven and Connie did.”

“Hm…” was all that Lars could muster as he processed everything. It was hard for him to believe that what he’d been told was actual reality and not some made up, fantastical story. He was quickly jolted from his thoughts, however, as Spinel and Bubba suddenly bounded over a large, seemingly bottomless pit in the floor. “Jeez…” he began, glancing toward the gem at his side, “talk about one hell of a butterfly effect.” He rubbed at a well-faded scar on his neck. “I can’t believe I’m right next to the gem who’s responsible for the collapse of the largest empire in the galaxy.”

Spinel’s cheeks flushed. “You flatter me, but… I’m afraid you’re giving me a little too much credit,” she chuckled. “Those… clods were completely unstable. They would’ve lost their little toy no matter how things played out.” She brought a hand over her eyepatch. “If I hadn’t left when I did, then I’d eventually have been…”

Lars heard a lone sniffle from the gem, causing him to glance her way. What he saw was her lifting her green eyepatch from her head, revealing what resided beneath it: a completely scarred-over eye, having been replaced with many crack-like lines which streaked up and down her face. He sharply inhaled at the sight, prompting her to cover it once more.

“That’s, uh, definitely damage only a diamond can do,” Lars murmured. “I think I remember seeing something similar back when I used to run my bakery on Earth.” He ran a hand through his hair. “There was this pearl who’d always come into my shop to see me. She was also missing an eye, but I, uh, think it was her right one. She told me that she used to belong to Pink Diamond.” He glanced toward Spinel, briefly meeting eyes with her before she looked away. “Uh, anyway, I’m, uhm”—he coughed—”sorry you had to go through that.”

Spinel nodded in acknowledgement, clasping her hands and blankly staring at the ground as she walked.

“What gave you the strength to break free?” Lars then suddenly asked.

The gem immediately met eyes with him once more. A somber smile slowly spread across her face. “Your crew did,” she answered.

He quirked an eyebrow. “My… crew?”

Spinel chuckled. “Yeah. They were all so welcoming and kind, and when I heard that they were searching for their missing captain…”

Lars went wide-eyed in realization. “You joined them,” he finished her sentence.

She nodded in confirmation, wiping at her eye. “I didn’t know anything about your guys’ past—I still don’t know everything—but I saw a chance for a fresh start, and so… I took it.” She giggled, “It’s worked out pretty well for me so far.”

Lars smiled at the gem, though it faded rather quickly as he was hit with another sudden realization: “Wait, does that mean that the entire rest of my crew is here right now? Like, at the docking bay?”

Spinel chuckled, breaking into a skip. “Yeah! Normally all of us look up and down every prison together, buuuuut they were worried about the”—she made air quotes—”‘structural integrity’ of this one.” She narrowly dodged a chunk of the ceiling which fell beside her. “I really don’t get what they were all so scared about,” she shrugged. “We’ve also got the good ol’ Sun Incinerator here! I’ve made a few upgrades to it over the years; I hope you don’t mind,” she snickered. “You may, uhhhh, also wanna consider getting the nose on that thing replaced. Let’s just say that I’m not the most… delicate of captains.”

The man grinned at the thought of finally reuniting with his crew before being struck once more with a sudden realization: “You’ve been captaining my ship this whole time?”

Spinel shot him a finger gun. “Good luck fixing your seat settings, pinkie.”

Lars chortled, leaning down from Bubba’s back in an attempt to ruffle the gem’s hair. He returned to his spot after nearly falling off of the panda’s back, however. “You aren’t half bad, Spinel. Thanks for helping my crew look for me.”

The pink gem’s face flushed once more. “Really, it’s nothing. We only had to search one thousand and two hundred of Homeworld’s three thousand and eighty-six prisons. All things considered, we got pretty lucky.”

The ex-prisoner chuckled. “You can be my co-captain once we get back into the swing of things, alright?”

Spinel went silent for a moment before repeating, “...’Swing of things’?”

Lars’ smile fell from his face. He blinked a couple of times. “Yeah,” he confirmed.

The buzzing returned to his attention.

“Y’know, like…”—he cleared his throat, beginning to sweat—”plundering booty and, like… living off the grid ‘n’ stuff.” His heart started to race.

The buzzing increased in volume.

He wiped sweat from his forehead, feeling his throat begin to clench up. “That’s what my crew and I have always done.” He was feeling dizzy, and his body had started trembling. He gripped onto the grape soda as tightly as he possibly could.

The buzzing was all he could hear.

Spinel crossed her arms, returning her attention to the ground. She could feel her pigtails beginning to droop against her back. “Sounds…”—she stopped in her tracks for a moment, clasping her hands together, standing very still—”great.”

After what felt like hours of traversing down the same, foggy hall, Lars, Spinel, and Bubba finally reached its end. They were emptied out into a gigantic, cylindrical room with many other adjoining corridors. At its center sat an abundance of metallic chairs and tables, which had all been progressively overtaken by plantlife over the prior millennium. A large, detailed, flickering hologram depicting the prison’s floor plan floated high in the air above the presumed meeting area, giving outdated statuses on all of the prisoners sans Lars. The docking bay was clearly labeled on the map, located at the very, tippy top of the prison’s central, tower-like structure.

Lars watched as Spinel stepped on a small, slightly off-color tile near the edge of the room, causing the slab to briefly light up pink. Moments later, a spiral staircase protruded from the walls, leading up to a hole in the room’s ceiling.

As they ascended the steps, the gem led the way, with Bubba and Lars following closely in tow. Spinel had offered the man her hand in case he didn’t have confidence in the panda’s stair climbing abilities, though he’d politely declined it.

“So…” the pink gem began, running a hand along the cold, stony wall as she climbed the staircase, “how did you manage to not lose your mind after all this time?”

Lars coughed into his hand. “What do you, uh… mean?” he questioned. His voice echoed all throughout the enormous room.

“Y’know”—Spinel briefly broke her hand away from the wall to readjust her eyepatch—”you were all alone in the dark for over a thousand years with nothing but your thoughts.” She glanced over her shoulder toward the man, taking note of the grape soda in his hand for the first time. “How are you still, like…”—she stretched an arm behind herself to poke the center of his forehead—”all there—sane. Shouldn’t you be… arming yourself to teeth and swearing vengeance on your captors? Or, I don’t know, suffering from any kind of memory loss?”

“Well, I did forget how to walk… and… maybe how to use my powers, too?” Lars scratched at his forehead. “But… I don’t know. I feel like I maybe kinda did lose my mind a little.” He could feel the buzzing returning to his attention once more, though he attempted to ignore it. “I spent almost every second of the last one thousand years asleep, dreaming. For a while, I was just constantly reliving parts of my life, almost as if my brain was just… playing everything on repeat. Maybe that’s why I still remember everything so clearly.” He knitted his eyebrows. “For the last… I don’t know, one hundred years or so, though, things just got… strange. It was like my brain just… ran out of stuff to dream about. I’d be reliving a weird, slightly different version of my past, but then… everything would go dark, and nothing would be left except…”—he glanced down at the soda in his hand, then he presented it forward—”this stupid thing. I, uh, requested it as my ‘last meal’.”

Spinel took the soft drink into her hand for a brief moment before returning it to the man. “That… carbonated, sugary beverage? It appeared in your every dream for the last one hundred years?”

Lars sighed. “Yeah. It and that… damn buzzing from that antimagic crap, but that’s always been there, ever since they first locked me up.” It became increasingly difficult for him to ignore the irritating noise as he talked about it. He gripped the grape soda. “Gah! And I just realized that they’re both still here right now!”

Spinel shot the man a puzzled glance over her shoulder. “Weird, I don’t hear anything,” she remarked. “'Must be in your head.”

“I could’ve told you that much…” Lars muttered.

“But, wait,” the gem began, spinning around to face her two friends and ascending the stairs backward, “if the buzzing was in every dream… and so was the beverage…” she pondered, tapping a finger at her chin, “then… how do you know that you aren’t dreaming right now?”

Lars groaned, slapping a palm to his face. “That’s the worst part: I don’t!” He flopped his entire front side down onto Bubba, attempting to bury his face in her fuzzy neck. With a muffled voice, he mumbled, “I’m probably just gonna wake up in that cell again right before we reach the docking bay… I won’t even get to see my crew again…”

Spinel rubbed at her chin for a brief moment before snapping her fingers. “If the purple drink was—is?—in every dream, then why not…”—she threw her arms in the air—”get rid of it? Out of sight, out of mind, right? You could chuck it across this room right now; you’d never see that puppy again!”

Lars took a moment to ponder her words before nodding. He smirked, winding up to throw the grape soda, though he felt himself lose his confidence in a matter of seconds. He sighed, bringing the drink back toward his chest and defeatedly dropping it between his thighs.

“Well if you aren’t gonna gotta get rid of it, why don’t you at least drink it?” Spinel quizzed, crossing her arms.

“I thought about it a few times while in my cell, but…”—he traced his finger along the can’s rim—”I think the prison kinda wins if I do. Plus”—he cleared his throat—”it would probably taste like dirty sock water; it’s over two thousand years old.”

Lars, Spinel, and Bubba briefly passed through a small, dome-shaped room as they continued to ascend the spiral staircase. An observation orb sat at its center, presumably once used by the warden to keep watch over the prisoners from afar. Though, the device was long broken, having been severely overwhelmed by unusually thick vines.

Just as Lars could feel his fuzzy ride’s legs begin to tremble, the stairs finally came to an end at a pair of fogged up doors. Spinel swung them open without a moment’s hesitation, revealing the overgrown remains of what, at one point, was the garden which provided the human prisoners their food. Without maintenance, the place had grown to resemble a thick, unruly jungle.

Bubba and Spinel had trouble traversing through the greenhouse, with most of the paths having been completely blocked off by supernaturally large vines and trees. Thankfully, however, the gem and her pet had already previously passed through the place, so they vaguely understood where they were going. Just as the three of them had spotted the exit, though, the garden’s sprinklers automatically activated, dispensing a pink liquid which caused the plants to further increase in size. Fortunately, the three of them were able to make it out before things could get dicey, though they were immediately presented with another colossal spiral staircase.

“We’re in the home stretch!” Spinel enthusiastically informed, hopping up onto the first step. She then offered Lars her hand once more, stretching it out toward him.

Staring at the gem’s open palm, the man hesitated for a moment. Though, letting out a dry chuckle, he eventually took it, and not because he didn’t feel safe on Bubba’s back. As the pink trio then began to ascend their second, and final, set of stairs, he eagerly squeezed her hand, knowing he’d very soon reunite with his crew. There was a nagging part of his mind, however, which was telling him that he’d wake up in his cell at any moment, but he did his absolute best to disregard it.

Lars rubbed at his nose before asking, “So how has the crew been holding up without me?”

Spinel glanced back at him. “Not terribly, but also not the best,” she answered concisely. She could tell that the man was itching for more details, however, so she decided to elaborate: “They, uhm, kinda lost hope in finding you a while back,” she began, bringing her free hand to the back of her neck, “but… I always try keeping their spirits high. I tell them jokes or… funny stories from my time with the Diamonds.” She chuckled, “We’ve also done karaoke a couple of times; they always love doing that.”

Lars gave a tender smirk. “Sounds like you’ve been doing a great job as captain,” he remarked.

Spinel’s cheeks briefly flushed at the compliment, though a frown found its way to her face soon after. “I don’t know…” she mumbled. “It's never enough to stop them from…”—she searched for the correct phrasing—”coming apart.”

“‘Coming apart’?” he repeated.

The gem released his hand to cross her arms. “The Rutile Twins have been fighting,” she began, “Padparadscha has been having strange visions, Rhodonite can barely keep herself together; and Fluorite, well…”—she inhaled through her teeth—”she’s been taking things the hardest. She even split apart into two separate fusions one time; their names were Olivine and Beryl. They, uhm, weren’t getting along very well, but they made up.”

“Jeez…” Lars started, “I feel so bad for them…” He scratched his neck. “Have they been like that the entire time?”

“Almost…” Spinel sighed. “At least, ever since we contacted Steven and Connie. They checked your, uhm, hair dimension thingy; they told us you’d been locked up again.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “They knew nothing else? Not even how I was arrested?”

“Nope…” the gem answered simply. “They told us that before Homeworld’s, uhm, collapse, they had been suspected of being accomplices of yours in one of your… previous prison breaks; you know which one. Information about the empire’s prison system kinda stopped coming their way after that.” She put on her best pouty face before looking at the man over her shoulder. “Thanks for leaving evidence at the Pink Garden, by the way; Homeworld also suspected me of being an accomplice.”

Lars knitted his eyebrows. “Did you guys ever try reaching out to them again? They’re, like, a few of the most powerful, well-connected people in the entire galaxy. They had to have had some way of figuring out where I was: some contact, or… maybe Steven could’ve… I don’t know, possessed my body again, or… something! ”

Spinel snickered, “We all thought the same thing.” She twiddled her thumbs. “We tried reaching out to them again about a year later, but…”—she shrugged—”no response. We even tried visiting their creepy moon house, like, a bajillion times over the millennium, but nobody was ever home.”

The ex-prisoner felt the buzzing returning to his attention. “Steven and Connie are… missing?”

The gem rubbed at her chin for a moment. “Yeah, I guess. I’ve never really thought about it too much, but…” she continued to ramble on about something, though it wasn’t heard by Lars.

All that he could focus on was that damn buzzing. It was all he could hear, growing in pitch and intensity by the second. It had begun to consume his each and every thought.

“Laramie…”

He brought his attention to the grape soda in his lap.

“Laramie…!”

He picked up the carbonated drink, turning it around in his palms.

“Laramie!” Spinel shouted, stretching her hands back to shake the man’s shoulders.

Lars was jolted from his thoughts, with the buzzing fading into background noise once more. “Huh? Wha—?”

“We’re here!” the pink gem enthusiastically shouted, throwing her stretched-out arms into the air.

Sure enough, the trio were standing right before an empty, hexagonal door frame which had been conveniently labeled “docking bay”. The door’s two metallic sliding panels sat at their feet, heavily dented from how Spinel had presumably blasted them inward earlier that day. The gem and her pet took no time stepping over them.

Entering the docking bay, Lars found himself inside a massive room filled to the brim with abandoned Homeworld police ships. Sitting amongst them was an out of place, familiar, yellow ship which he quickly identified as the Sun Incinerator. Had it not been for its distinct hue, he, admittedly, would not have been able to recognize it.

A near uncountable number of upgrades had been made to the vessel’s exterior over the years, with it notably sporting a few enormous, new thrusters. Its nose was also dented and bent beyond repair, as he’d expected from an earlier conversation with Spinel. One of the most peculiar additions, however, was a detailed piece of art on the outside of the docking bridge. It depicted every crew member, including Spinel and Bubba, in a highly stylized fashion. It appeared to have been professionally done, with a signature reading “PMU” sitting at its bottom corner.

Just as Lars leaned forward in hopes of scrutinizing the artwork further, the piece disappeared, with the docking bridge flying open. Moments later, his entire crew sprinted out of the vessel at once, practically tripping over one another as they headed toward him.

A wide grin, soon followed by tears, spread across the man’s face as he and, by extension, Bubba were embraced by a group of sobbing gems. Not a single word was spoken for minutes on end; everybody was too choked up on their own tears. Spinel also joined in on the group hug after being beckoned in by Lars, wrapping her arms around everybody several times over.

After innumerous tearful “welcome back”s and “we missed you so much”s were issued, all of the gems and undeads began making their way to the Sun Incinerator to finally, hopefully get out of the abandoned prison. While Lars’ entire crew was focused on him, afraid he’d disappear if they so much as blinked, he had his attention set squarely on the grape soda in his hands.

He gently rolled the drink from one palm to the other, attempting to psych himself up to finally get rid of it… once and for all. He suddenly brought the beverage into the air, and, with all his might, he proceeded to chuck it as hard as he possibly could.

The soda traveled halfway across the room before colliding with the side of a dusty, abandoned ship. Rather than offering a grand, purple, liquidy explosion, however, it, in an anticlimax, simply thudded to the ground, undamaged—unresolved.

Something about discarding the beverage felt… off to Lars, though he supposed that he shouldn’t feel too broken up about it considering he had a six pack of the long-out-of-production soft drink still stored in his hair from long ago.

With the soda gone, however, the buzzing still continued.

After all, it always would…

Wouldn’t it?

Chapter Text

A serene chorus of chirping birds could be heard all throughout the Pink Garden. The undead avians’ harmony would be occasionally interspersed with the joyful trumpeting of an elephant, tranquil howling of a wolf, mighty roaring of a tiger, or a variety of other exotic animal noises. Amongst them was a lone red panda letting out gentle squeals in hopes of communicating with its similarly-pink-hued kin. Swiftly picking up some kind of response, the critter carefully descended the side of the young sequoia tree it had been perched atop and scampered out onto the garden’s central walkway. It then inched toward the two groundskeepers, one of which was hard at work while the other lounged against the back of a panda bear. The beast was munching on a stalk of bamboo, which it very quickly offered to share with its fuzzy, approaching friend. In no time, the two of them were huddled up together, snacking as they listened to the nearest gardener grumble to herself under her breath.

“Stupid Diamonds…” Spinel muttered, kicking her feet back and forth. She brought a hand up to the severely cracked, scarred-over half of her face. “It’s like I’m just some… some little toy to them…” She let out a drawn-out sigh as she readjusted the position in which she was lying against Bubba, turning to face her friend—acquaintance? Co-worker? Come to think of it, she’d never really been too sure what her relationship with the gem actually was.

Paying little attention to the pink gem, Peridot flipped a pair of goggles down over her visor and reached into her toolbox. She felt around the container’s inside for a moment before turning her sights toward the brooding gem a dozen or so feet from her. Pulling up her protective eyewear, she questioned, “Have you seen my blowtorch?”

Spinel slowly, leisurely pulled the requested tool from her gem, then she tossed it to Peridot, who failed miserably at catching it. She proudly smirked. “I nabbed it from your toolbox when you weren’t looking yesterday.”

The green gem took a moment to retrieve the instrument from where it had crashed into the ground. “Uhm…”—she squinted—”thanks.” She flipped her goggles back down before nonchalantly activating the device. She then used it to start welding together part of a large, green orb sitting in her lap. “Just adding the finishing touches…” she whispered to herself, steadily bringing the flame upward. “Aaaaaand…”—she deactivated the blowtorch, tossing it aside before pulling up her eyewear—”done!” she shouted. She then triumphantly raised the fruits of her labor above her head.

Spinel brought herself into a sitting position, with Bubba and her red panda friend quickly mimicking the gem’s actions. The three of them perplexedly tilted their heads at the spherical device in the green gem’s hands. “Sooo…” she began, tapping at her chin, “what exactly does it do again?”

“I’ve already told you nine times,” Peridot huffed, “but…”—she smirked—”I’d be more than happy to explain again! I call it…”—she gently set the device down before tapping a button on its side. It then burst to life, shooting four legs out from its underside—”the Garden Robonoid 1.0! It’s programmed to water the plants, clean the pathways, pick up after the animals, trim the bushes—!”

“Aren’t those our jobs?” Spinel interrupted, stretching a hand out to prod at the device.

“Exactly!” Peridot beamed, patting the top of the robot. “It can do everything that we can do, but—and this is the best part—at approximately six times the speed!” She gave the device a slight nudge, causing it to start vacuuming up stray leaves from the path at incredible pace. “Just look at it go!”

The pink gem’s expression grew increasingly uneasy as she watched the green ball zip along the tiled walkway. “And this is…”—she brought a hand over her missing eye—”a good thing?”

“Well… yeah!” Peridot informed, hopping up onto her feet. She paced back and forth as she explained, “With this place now effectively running itself, we’ll finally have the time to do other things! For example, between coming here every day and attending my biweekly meetings with the Department of Agriculture, I’ve had almost no leisure time”—she briefly crossed her arms—”but now I’ll have loads of it to finally catch up on all the shows that Lapis has been begging me to view for the last eight centuries!”

Spinel pulled the red panda into her lap, where she began inattentively stroking at its bushy, striped tail. “And what about… me?” she asked, scratching at the creature's head. “What am I supposed to do?”

“Well, what do you usually do when you aren’t here?” Peridot queried as she began gathering her various apparatuses from the ground.

The pink gem scratched the lesser panda a little too roughly, causing it to scamper out of her lap and into some nearby bushes. She sighed, “Play with the Diamonds…”

The green gem sharply inhaled through her teeth as she kneeled down and began carefully placing her tools, one by one, into her toolbox. “Then maybe…”—she hesitated, bringing her free hand up to the back of her neck—”you could use your time to try and find some new friends.”

Spinel leaned against the side of Bubba, who proceeded to lick her up the side of her face. “You think I should… replace the Diamonds?” she asked with a brief flick of her eyes toward a specific, distant spot on the walkway. “Like, that I should… abandon them?”

Peridot, with a sigh, slowly twisted to face her co-worker. “Spinel,” she began, making eye contact with the gem’s single remaining eye, “those… clods mistreat you”—she pointed at the fractured half of her face, causing her to reflexively cover it up—”and you don’t owe them anything. It wouldn’t be the same as when Pink Diamond…”—she broke her gaze away from the gem’s—”you know.” She slammed her toolbox shut and brought it with her as she stood back up.

The pink gem brought a hand to her chin in thought, pondering the green gem’s words. She then gently, defeatedly exhaled and buried her face in Bubba’s neck.

“It’s your choice, though, and those are just my thoughts,” Peridot reminded her as she began pacing toward the garden’s large, pink central structure. She came to a sudden stop in her tracks, however, before jogging back to Spinel and returning her toolbox to the ground. She opened the container for a brief moment to grab a small, sloppily wrapped box which she then proceeded to extend toward the pink gem. She mimicked clearing her throat. “I almost forgot: I brought you a gift.”

Spinel, with a sharp gasp, shot up from Bubba’s side to snatch the offering from the green gem’s small hands. “Oh, Peridot, you shouldn’t have!” she beamed as she began to fiddle with the present’s unruly wrapping.

“Really, it’s nothing,” the gem reassured, cheeks faintly flushing. “You can think of it as something of a ‘parting gift’: just a little something to remember our work together by.” She watched as the pink gem impatiently threw the box’s lid over her head. “Oh, and, uhm, don’t take it as some sort of… commentary on your appearance; I could just tell that you wanted—”

“Oh my stars! ” Spinel noisily interrupted as she hastily pulled her gift out of its box. “Thank you so much for the…”—she paused, holding up some kind of spindly, green clothing item—”thong?” she guessed.

Peridot, flushing furiously, knitted her eyebrows. “It’s an eyepatch! You know, something you use to cover up a damaged eye.”

“Ooohhhh,” the pink gem snickered to herself, “that makes much more sense.” She brought the cloth covering behind her head, where she pulled her pigtails through it. After taking a brief moment to twist it into correct positioning, she then snapped it over her fractured eye. “Whadda ya’ think? Do I pull it off?”

The green gem grabbed a tiny, rusty pocket mirror from her toolbox. “Take a look yourself,” she suggested, nonchalantly flipping open the device and tossing it to Spinel.

The pink gem effortlessly caught the looking glass, which she then brought up to her face. She slowly blinked as she noiselessly took in her new appearance. She felt as though she wanted to say something, though she found herself at a complete and utter loss of words.

“By the way, I modified it to tether to your gem so long as it’s on your face,” Peridot explained, “so you won’t have to worry about losing it if you’re ever poofed.” She picked up her toolbox once more. “Of course, tethering clothing isn’t exactly my area of expertise, but it was nothing that Bismuth couldn’t help me wi—”

Spinel cut off the green gem with a sudden, crushing hug strong enough to have poofed a less resilient gem. “Thank you,” was all she could muster. She wiped a tear from her eye with one hand and sneakily reached into Peridot's toolbox with the other.

The green gem blushed, wide-eyed. “Well, Spinel,” she began, attempting to wriggle out of the pink gem’s arms, “I have business to attend to back on Earth, so I, uhm, have to go. You know where to find me if you ever need me.” She successfully broke free from the embrace, nearly tripping over her own feet as she did so. “You can keep the mirror; I haven’t used that thing in centuries.”

Spinel, after offering a small wave goodbye, brought the pocket mirror back up to her face. She paid little to no attention to Peridot as she made her exit via warp pad; she was solely fixated on her own reflection. A soft smile slowly made its way to her face. “So… new friends, huh?” she muttered to herself. She flipped the mirror shut and shoved it into her gem. She then twisted around to face Bubba, who blankly stared back at her. “How would a gem like me even go about looking for those?” she questioned, crossing her arms.

The panda let out a gentle squeak and waved her paw up toward the warp pad behind the gem. The small action caused the beast to clumsily tumble onto her back.

Spinel briefly glanced over her shoulder. “You’re right…” she grumbled, falling onto the bear’s belly, “I’m not gonna find any new friends just… laying around here or the Palace.” She rolled over, gazing up at the stars and planets above, and she gradually stretched her arms out. “I’m not too sure how I’m supposed to just… pick up and leave home, though…” she murmured defeatedly. Her eyes soon shot open, however. “Wait a second!” she beamed, snapping her fingers and bouncing off of the panda’s stomach.

In no time, a plethora of books were laid out before the gem’s knees as she sat beside Bubba. They had all been collecting dust in her room in the Palace for a little over a millennium, and she, truthfully, wasn’t even too sure why they had ended up in her possession in the first place. All Spinel remembered was a vaguely familiar, pink-skinned teenage girl showing up to hand them over one day, with all the teen had said being, “grandpa thought you’d like them." Looking back, the gem realized she probably should’ve questioned the girl on their origins rather than just mindlessly discarding them, though that was neither here nor there.

“These human texts should have everything I need to know about leaving home!” Spinel exclaimed as she grabbed the first novel in the series. She blew a layer of grime off its cover, revealing its title: The No Home Boys. She then flipped it open to its first page, where the book’s three prior owners had previously written their names: Steven Universe (2015), Priya Maheswaran-Universe (2039), and Stella Maheswaran-Universe (2062). After having a brief moment of realization, she pulled a pen from her gem and wrote her own information within: Spinel (3123). “Let’s get started, shall we?”

A slumbering, pink lemur was rudely awoken as the thin branch it was perched atop was snapped at its base by a pink hand. The small, fuzzy creature quickly bounced into a different, nearby tree, letting out an irritated squeal.

“Oh, sorry Julian!” Spinel called as she pulled the offshoot to her side. “I kinda need this; I hope you don’t mind.” She grabbed a small rag from her gem, laying it out on the walkway. She then placed Peridot’s blowtorch—she had, while hugging the gem, once more stolen it—into the cloth before tying it around the end of the stick. “It’s perfect!” she beamed. She then slung her creation over her shoulder. “I’ve got the bindle; now all I need is to leave home, solve mysteries, and… run away from the fear within myself or…”—she shrugged—”something—I don’t know; I skimmed On the Run.” She began pacing toward the garden’s central structure, with an exhilarated smile spreading wider across her cheeks with every step she took. “I can already picture all the new friends I’m gonna make! This is so exciting!”

Bubba, closely following the gem in tow, let out a desperate series of squeaks and groans.

Spinel halted just before reaching the first set of stairs leading up to the warp pad. “I know, I know, I’ll miss you, too,” she cooed. She set down her bindle to bring the bear’s large, poofy face into her hands. “But… it's time to turn the page, meaning I’ve gotta leave everything behind, just like the No Home Boys and…“—she became dead silent for a moment—”Pink Diamond…” Her eyebrows knitted and her lip began to quiver. “No…” she muttered, slapping a hand to her face. “No! This is all wrong! Peridot was wrong!” She grabbed her bindle and violently snapped it over her knee. “The No Home Boys were wrong! Pink Diamond was wrong!” Tears began streaming down her cheeks. “I’m just like her, aren’t I?” she sniffled. She brought her face inches from Bubba’s. “If you could speak, that’s what you’d be saying, wouldn’t you!?”

The panda huffed before tackling Spinel in a mighty, encompassing bear hug, messily licking her all the way up her face.

“Ew, yuck! Bubba!” the gem coughed, prompting the beast to roll off her. She then wiped saliva from her cheeks as she pulled herself into the fetal position. She let out a long, exasperated sigh. “I’m losing my mind, aren’t I?” she muttered. “I was just about to leave my best friend in the same garden I was left in all those millennia ago…” She glanced at Bubba, who met her gaze. “And… and even though they… hit me, I still can’t bring myself to just… leave the Diamonds…” She felt the crack on her face begin spreading even further, slowly creeping its way out from beneath her eyepatch. “What’s wrong with me?” she questioned. “I’m just… stuck… and I always will be unless… unless I somehow meet some new friends…” She sighed, falling onto her back and splaying out across the walkway. “But how am I gonna do that if I can’t even bring myself to do so much as leave here or the Palace? It’s not like new friends are gonna just come… warping right in here!”

The warp pad abruptly chimed and lit up, prompting Bubba and Spinel to shoot up onto their feet. The gem hurriedly attempted to brush leaves, tears, and saliva off herself in order to look somewhat presentable.

“Hello, and welcome to the Pink Garden!” the pink gem greeted as four figures of varying sizes came into view. She took a few steps back to get a better look at the visitors, finding that they were all, similarly, gems: a padparadscha, a two-headed rutile, a rhodonite; and a large, unidentifiable fusion which she had never seen anything like—or maybe she had? Come to think of it, all the gems seemed oddly familiar to Spinel, almost as if she’d somehow briefly met them before. Perhaps it had been at Steven and Connie’s wedding? “I assume you all have some kind of invitation,” the gem guessed, “because otherwise, I’m going to have to politely ask you to leave; this is private property belonging to the Maheswaran-Universe family.”

“Oh,” Rhodonite began, pulling Padparadscha to her side, “we don’t have an invitation, but we promise we won’t be long.”

“We just have a question for you,” Fluorite slowly, steadily added, clasping her two pairs of hands together. “We’re sorry to show up so suddenly.”

“Has a ‘Laramie Barriga’ visited here recently?” Rhodonite asked. She pulled a framed photo from the pearl on her chest, tossing it down to Spinel, who effortlessly caught it. “He’s our captain; he’s been missing for days! We have no idea where he could have possibly gone!” She sighed, bringing one of her four hands into her hair. “He told us that he was taking a quick trip to Earth, but he never returned. We figured that he may have ended up here somehow…”

“He talked about this place a lot”—”quite often,” the Rutile Twins informed, hand on their hip.

Spinel, narrowing her eyes, studied the picture. It most prominently featured a familiar, pink-skinned man with a scar over his left eye. His four crew members were all sitting closely behind him, laughing at a joke he had made.

A toothy grin crept its way up the pink gem’s face, and she took to leaning against Bubba. “I haven’t seen him recently,” she informed, shoving the photo into her gem, “but… I think I could help.”

Chapter Text

“Never change, Lars.”

As the ex-prisoner took his first shower in over a millennium, the simple phrase echoed all throughout his very being. He remembered feeling exhilarated when it had first been spoken to him uncountable years prior; as steaming hot water dribbled down his body then, however, just the thought of it made him feel nothing but… exhausted. Things would get better, though… right? He’d bounce back. Forgetting how to walk, use his powers, and… have non-nightmarish dreams were nothing but minor setbacks in the grand tale of Lars Barriga: the greatest space pirate to have ever lived.

The man groaned in agony as the buzzing suddenly spiked in intensity. He curled up into a ball on the floor of the Sun Incinerator’s shower, feeling tears prick at his eyes. He shot back up into a sitting position moments later, however, as he heard a polite knock at the bathroom door.

“Is everything alright in there?” the muffled voice of Rhodonite asked. She’d been assigned to keep watch over him as the rest of his crew piloted the ship toward the nearest inhabited planet.

“Peachy,” was all Lars could think to offer in response. Glancing down at his hands, he noticed his skin beginning to wrinkle, so he reached for the faucet.

Rhodonite heard a distinct squeak which was quickly followed by the shower’s pitter-pattering coming to a stop. “Do you need any help getting out?” she questioned, her bottom pair of hands patiently clasped. Out of the corners of her eyes, she could make out the rest of the crew looking back at her from their respective stations.

Lars placed his hands onto a nearby towel rack. Using all his non-existent strength, he then attempted to pull himself up onto a small, metal stool which Spinel had found in the ship’s storage. “It’s…”—he huffed—”okay! I’m…”—his hands slipped, causing him to smash face-first into the bathroom floor—”fine…” he grumbled.

“If you say so,” Rhodonite stated with knitted eyebrows. She then sighed, pressing her back up against the door and crossing both pairs of arms. “Lars…” she began, “you know, if you need anything, you shouldn’t be afraid to ask us…” She glanced at the rest of the crew, who all, sans Padparadscha, nodded in unison. “We’re all here for you, and we always will be… no matter what.”

The small, orange gem nodded.

Lars slowly pulled himself up onto the stool, flailing his legs around as he did so. “I’ll—” He violently coughed into his elbow, still attempting to clear the dust from hours prior from his lungs. ”I'll keep that in mind.” After tugging on a pair of underwear, he grabbed a small, pink knife from the counter—his crew hadn’t had a razor he could use. He then took to carefully, steadily trimming his facial hair with the tool, praying the ship wouldn’t encounter any sort of turbulence.

Following just a few minutes of pruning, the man called for Rhodonite’s assistance exiting the restroom. To her and the rest of the crew's surprise, they found that he’d largely kept his prior millennium’s worth of beard and hair growth, having only slightly cleaned it up. While they were all highly accepting of his new look, nobody seemed to enjoy it nearly as much as Spinel.

“Lookin’ sharp!” she remarked, shooting two finger guns in his direction. She was lying on the floor beneath the ship’s front window, feet leisurely kicked up on Bubba’s back. “Hey, you know what would really complete the look? A ponytail!” she suggested, receiving unanimous agreement from every other gem in the room.

“I don’t know…” Lars muttered as Rhodonite gently set him down in the captain’s chair. “Don’t you think that’d be a bit much?”

“C’mon, big guy, give it a try!” Spinel encouraged. She pulled a rusty pocket mirror and a hair tie from her gem, tossing them into the man’s lap.

Sure enough, Lars found out, the pink gem was correct: he could, indeed, pull off a ponytail. Toying with the immensely fluffy collection of hair, he absentmindedly chuckled to himself, “It kinda makes me look like Stevonnie.” Just like that, the man’s thoughts, as well as heartbeat, were abruptly sent racing…

Stevonnie… Steven and Connie… where were they? They wouldn’t have just up and left their house for absolutely no reason, would they? What if something terrible had happened to one of them? Or what if, possibly, their departure hadn’t even been willing? After all, Spinel mentioned them disappearing within a year of Homeworld’s fall…

The buzzing increased in volume and Lars began sweating beads. “Is it hot in here?” he mumbled, though nobody seemed to hear him. He reached for a non-present grape soda, feeling his throat clenching up. When his hand came back empty, however, his vision started to blur. The last thing he saw before passing out was his entire crew rushing to his side.

Lars would be lying if he said he wasn’t fully expecting to wake up within the confines of a familiar, pitch black cell. To his surprise, however, his eyes fluttered open to the sight of blinding sunshine. He was curled up on Bubba’s stomach, located just beneath the Sun Incinerator’s front window. Shooting up into a sitting position, he immediately met gazes with Spinel, who had been keeping close—maybe a little too close—watch over him. She was also, notably, the only gem in the ship with him.

She immediately informed him about how half an hour following his loss of consciousness, they’d landed on their destination: a small, extremely remote, Earth-like exoplanet named “Habor”, known for their export of an alien fruit called “shogui” which, when consumed, induced similar cognitive effects to marijuana. The place bore little civilization but a few tiny, quaint villages, one of which they’d purposefully landed just within walking distance of. Apparently, he’d been told, the planet didn’t even feature a galaxy warp, which, Spinel remarked, “would greatly limit their plans while he learned to walk again.”

When Lars had questioned where the rest of his crew had gone, he’d been told that they went on a supply run, also hoping to locate a physical therapist for him. He finally breathed a sigh of relief with the knowledge that everything was okay. He then, with a little assistance from Spinel, tugged himself up onto the captain’s chair, where he took to pulling up the ship’s messaging system and sending concise, highly inquisitive texts Steven and Connie’s way.

His crew arrived a few hours later, all sorts of supplies in hand. They took no time informing him of how they’d found an orange spodumene who had mild experience as a physical therapist. They’d apparently, on spot, signed him up to meet with her up to five times a week, hoping to have their captain in tip-top condition as soon as possible.

To the crew’s frustration, however, two months went by with little progress. While Lars had briefly stood up a few times, he still found himself completely unable to walk. In the meantime, he’d been given a hovering wheelchair of sorts to traverse around on. His favorite feature of the device was its ability to link up with the Sun Incinerator’s messaging system, allowing him to send his daily, unreturned texts to Steven and Connie without his crew seeing.

After another two months had passed, Lars was capable of traversing using a walker. Around the same time, his powers also came back! Well, at the very least, one power did. He, Padparadscha, and Bubba had been making their way through town one evening when they’d decided to come to a stop and watch a street performer: an old woman playing some kind of strange, tuba-like instrument. Wanting to take a brief rest while enjoying the show, he leaned against Bubba's upper back, though he suddenly fell partially through the bear’s fur and into the Pink Dimension.

Conveniently, the beast’s respective hill had been located right beside Connie’s, allowing him to use the opportunity to scope it out and look for any potential leads on her and Steven’s disappearances. To his surprise, however, he couldn’t spot any items of importance on it—not even the woman’s signature, pink-bladed sword. He ultimately decided he’d regroup and return to the pocket dimension once he was more physically capable of traversing through it. Until then, he was just going to have to put up with only sending his daily, increasingly-desperate-sounding messages, all the while the buzzing increased in volume and intensity…

Four months of extremely intensive physical therapy later, Lars was capable of walking using nothing but a cane. As he stepped into the Sun Incinerator with his staff for the first time, he was greeted with a surprise party—it had apparently all been Spinel’s idea. “You’ve come so far!” an overhead banner read. His entire crew whooped and cheered as his face flushed immensely.

Most of the celebration was spent eating shogui pie—apparently that was a thing—while everybody took turns telling stories. Lars detailed a few of the more light-hearted dreams he’d had during his imprisonment, while his crew recounted endless tales of all the hijinks that had ensued while they searched for him. Truthfully, the ex-prisoner felt himself growing slightly jealous for having missed so many thrilling sounding adventures.

As Lars and his crew, who’d shape-shifted organs, felt the drug-like effects of the pie they’d ingested starting to kick in, they lit a massive bonfire just outside the ship. Gathering in a circle around it, they then all played a hectic, intoxicated game of truth or dare. At one point, one of the Rutile Twins had dared Spinel to kiss Padparadscha, both of which happily complied, resulting in Lars wheezing so hard he needed half an hour to recover.

As the sun began to rise into the sky, everybody relaxed in the tall, alien grass and shared what they were most looking forward to. Majority of the answers had been extremely predictable—”leaving this middle-of-nowhere planet”, “finding some more fusion partners”, “meeting some new friends!”—until the spotlight had landed on Padparadscha. She’d beamed, “Oh, I cannot wait for captain Lars’ legs to feel better! We’ll finally be able to return to our pirate adventures!”

Immediately upon hearing the orange gem’s words, Lars hopped up onto his feet, eyebrows knitted, buzzing consuming his every thought. “I’m gonna go, uh, take a leak,” he informed through a fake smile, receiving a hum of acknowledgement from Fluorite. He made his way around to the other side of the ship, where he leaned against its side. Groaning, he then pulled a pack of cigarettes from his hair. When he reached for a lighter, however, he came up empty-handed. “Great…” he muttered to himself.

“Need a light?” Spinel suddenly inquired from beside the man, briefly startling him. She had a blowtorch in hand.

Collecting himself, Lars breathed, “Oh, hey Spinel. Uhm, sure.” He pulled a lone tube from the paper container, sticking it between his lips, then he allowed the gem to bring a flame to its end.

“Aren’t those bad for humans?” she questioned as she pushed the tool back into her gem.

“Yeah, but I’m fine; my body heals, like, twenty times faster than a normal person’s,” he answered. He took a drag from his cigarette, then he looked down at the pack in his hand. “Hey, you wanna know how I was arrested?” he questioned, feeling the buzzing returning to his attention.

Spinel shot him a dry glance. She sighed, “Sure…”

Lars cleared his throat. He then took another drag from his cigarette, attempting to push the buzzing to the back of his mind. “Okay,” he began, “so I took a trip to Earth by myself. I’d normally bring the crew with me for backup, but I, uh”—he knitted his eyebrows—”don’t want them to know I smoke.”

The gem quirked her brow.

“Anyway”—he cleared his throat once more—”I was buying this pack of cigarettes.” He held up the paper container. “It was at some middle-of-nowhere refueling station; I was wearing a disguise. While I was handing the clerk some cash, though, he somehow caught a glimpse of my skin.” He crossed his arms. “Normally that wouldn’t be a problem—I’d just portal away before the cops could be called—but, lucky me, this guy was a former marine." He took yet another drag of his cigarette. “He jumped over the damn counter and tackled me, and he held me down until Homeworld police showed up.”

Spinel gulped, anxiously tapping her foot. “That’s… all it took?” she asked through shaky breaths.

“Yep,” Lars confirmed with a small nod, staring into the distance. “Just one stupid, tiny slip-up and there went one thousand and eight years of my life.” He flicked his cigarette butt to the ground, where it landed in a small puddle. “But that’s just the life of a pirate, I guess…” The buzzing became impossible to ignore.

“If ‘the life of a pirate’ has mistreated you, then…—”Spinel hesitated, taking in a deep breath—”then why don’t you leave it?”

The buzzing suddenly became much more subdued. “‘Leave it’?” Lars repeated the gem’s words.

“Yeah,” she immediately confirmed. She then smirked. “You don’t owe it anything. You could call it quits at any time.” She pretended to clear her throat before playfully crooning, “You can make a change.”

The buzzing became the most subdued it had been in months. “You think I should just… quit pirating?” he asked, flicking his eyes toward the gem. “What would the crew think?”

Spinel pulled a framed photo from her gem and handed it to the man. “Laramie,” she began, “the other guys will always, no matter what, be there for you. Don’t you remember what Rhodonite said all those months ago? Y’know, right after we rescued you?”

Lars stared at the photograph in his hand. It depicted him and his crew, having been taken by Steven over two thousand years prior. Everybody was laughing at a joke he had made—he couldn't recall what it had been about; it was all so long ago. He confirmed, “Yeah, I remember…”

“Then what’s really stopping you?” the gem questioned, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

“I…”—he concentrated for a moment, scratching at his head—”I guess… I’ve just been a pirate for almost as long as I can remember.” He sniffled. “If I just… quit being one, then I don’t even have the slightest idea what else I'd do…” He sighed, crossing his arms once more. “It’s not like I’d wanna exactly go work in a donut shop again…”

“There’s plenty of stuff to do between ‘selling pastries’ and ‘plundering oligarchs’, Laramie,” Spinel dryly chuckled. She then looked the man in the eye. “I’m sure you’d figure something out, just like I did…” She gulped. “We could all help you.”

For the first time in over a millennium, Lars could swear he couldn't hear any buzzing. The moment of solace didn’t last long, however. In fact, the noise’s intensity increased tenfold as he broke eye contact with the gem, sighing, “Ugh, this is all way too much to think about right now.” He slid the framed photo into his hair. “My head feels so fuzzy… I wish someone could just, like… tell me exactly what to do.” He reached into his locks, searching for his lighter once more. Instead, he pulled out a familiar, old book on how to read Gem Glyph which he still hadn’t gotten around to reading. “Someone like Connie or Steven! Those two always know what to say and do…” He pushed the novel back into his hair, feeling the buzzing intensifying. “I wonder what they’re up to right now…”

“Why don’t you go check up on them?” Spinel nonchalantly suggested. Immediately after she spoke, Bubba came hobbling around the ship and up to her side. “You can basically walk now, right? Go pop outta’ Connie’s hair—I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.” The pink gem then pondered to herself, “Actually, maybe she would mind… I’ve only really met her, like, four times, so"—she shrugged—”I wouldn’t know.”

Lars hummed in thought for a second or two before offering a solemn nod. Moments later, he was stepping through Bubba’s fur and into the Pink Dimension, cane in hand. The gem shot him a brief thumbs-up just before he fully vanished within the beast’s hair.

It took the man a little under a minute to trudge over to Connie’s respective slope. While he was tempted to just immediately go popping out of the woman’s locks, he ultimately decided he’d take some time to investigate the contents of her hill beforehand. He made his way up toward her spindly pine tree, taking note of every item he saw along the way: an old watch, a bomber jacket, a few scarves, a book, and an assortment of writing utensils. Overall, nothing particularly caught his eye—that is, nothing but a lone, red glow bracelet which sat wrapped around one of the evergreen’s branches. He was tempted to touch it, though he had a strong feeling that the woman would like if it was left undisturbed.

As he paced back down the hill, he took a brief moment to gaze out into the far distance. Amongst a sea of endless, thriving, pink trees were a few lifeless, barren snags, many of which he wouldn’t have been able to put a name to from such a distance. He figured he’d take his time to scrutinize them further a different time, having already gone through enough emotional whiplash for one day.

After stepping into the pink grass at the foot of Connie’s hill, Lars took a brief moment to ready himself before dropping to his knees and thrusting his face downward. Rather than tumbling out of the woman’s hair, however, his head simply collided with dirt. “That’s… strange,” he thought to himself. He then once more attempted to exit the dimension, though he was swiftly met with the same result as before. He shrugged, chalking up the oddity to Connie simply being fused with Steven at the moment, which, he recalled from past experiences, would temporarily cut her link with the pocket dimension. He opted on just returning the next day and trying again…

To his dismay, however, he was once more met with the exact same result. He was tempted to start panicking, feeling the buzzing growing in volume, though he was successfully able to calm himself: “Okay,” he thought, “I guess they’re just fusing for longer than usual—nothing too out of the ordinary…”

Four months of daily attempts went by, however, with the absolute same result. Lars had even, at some point, started taking pictures of the items on Connie’s hill during his trips, watching for if anything would move—even if it was only by so much as an inch. That route, too, had seemingly come up fruitless, though…

In the hope of having potentially missed something important, he was pouring over the collection of pictures for a third time as he made his way back from a physical therapy session. He sighed as he, with a gentle movement of his head, scrolled from one image to the next on the hologram before him. Coming to an abrupt pause, his eyes suddenly shot open at the sight of an anomaly in one of the photographs: a blurry, red object near the bottom of the frame. The buzzing quieted immensely as a toothy grin spread across the man’s face. He immediately broke into a sprint toward the Sun Incinerator. In his excitement, he didn’t even notice that he’d dropped his cane.

“What in the world?” Rhodonite gasped as she watched a figure race over the horizon and toward the ship. She beckoned the rest of the crew over near her, where they observed in similar astonishment. “It’s… Lars!”

“Guys!” the man shouted from a distance, hands up in the air, “Guuuuys!”

“Oh, I have the most wonderful prediction!” Padparadscha beamed. She clasped her hands together in awe. “Captain Lars’ legs will work again!”

The collection of gems cheered as the ex-prisoner rapidly approached. All of them were clapping profusely—at least, all but Spinel, who offered slow, forced applause with a strained smile.

“Guys, guys!” Lars exclaimed as he finally met up with the group. He bent over to catch his breath for a moment. “Guys!”

“You don’t need your cane anymore”—”staff any longer,” the Rutile Twins muttered in disbelief.

The man absentmindedly glanced down for a brief moment. “Oh yeah, I hadn’t even noticed,” he chuckled, “but that doesn’t matter right now!” He tapped at a device on his wrist, causing it to project an image of Connie’s hill before his crew. “Check this out! The picture is different from the rest I showed you guys; it has this red thing in it!” He pointed near the bottom of the photograph. “I don’t know what it is, but it’s finally a sign that Steven and Connie are alright!”

“Oh, well that’s wonderful news!” Fluorite steadily beamed.

Rhodonite exclaimed, “And on the same day that your legs start working again, too! It seems like things are really looking up for us!”

Spinel silently stood in place, hands clasped. She was closely examining the image with narrowed eyes. Tilting her head, she found herself about to speak up about something, though Padpardscha opened her mouth before she could.

“Oh no…” the small gem mumbled. She slowly stepped forward, hands clasped. “The image that captain Lars will show us… I predict that his foot will be in it!”

“My…” the man murmured, bewildered, “foot?” He glanced down at his feet, where he was wearing a pair of old, bright red sneakers. All joy instantaneously fell from his face, and he felt the buzzing return at full force. “Oh…” He crossed his arms, feeling his stomach starting to churn.

Rhodonite knitted her eyebrows. “It’s okay Lars,” she reassured. She paced toward the man then set a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure they’ll show up eventually. Those two are born survivors.” She smirked. “Remember when they were stranded on that jungle moon for two whole weeks as kids? They turned up without a single scratch!”

“That’s true…” He gave a strained smile as he ran his fingers through his hair. “Maybe I’ve been all worried over nothing this whole time…” he muttered.

Rhodonite, as well as the rest of the Off Colors, grinned. They then glanced between one another, wordlessly coming to some kind of agreement. “Maybe it’s time we finally get off this planet and go find some excitement,” the fusion suggested.

Lars, after taking a brief moment to collect his thoughts, offered a curt nod in agreement. Spinel, meanwhile, began uneasily twiddling her thumbs, feeling her pigtails drooping against her back.

The Rutile Twins then took turns speaking as they informed, “We’ve been watching our radars”—”and a morganite will soon be flying nearby”—”so how about we start there?”

“Great idea, you two!” Rhodonite beamed. “What do you say, Lars? Are you up to go plundering an upper crust?”

The man’s eyes shot open. “No!” he shouted, instantly decimating the short-lived aura of excitement amongst his crew. “N-no…” he repeated, sniffling. All eyes were on him as he straightened his shoulders and took a deep breath. “We need to find Steven and Connie. They… they’re basically like family to me, and”—he felt a tear roll down his cheek—”I-I can’t just pretend like everything’s alright any longer. They could be locked up in a dark cell somewhere by some Homeworld loyalists! O-or they could be stranded on some… middle-of-nowhere planet without any way to escape, with nobody out there even looking for them!” He wiped his eyes, which were growing increasingly teary. He then began pacing back and forth along the side of the Sun Incinerator. “We need to figure out some sort of plan. There has to be somewhere we could look or… I don’t know, someone we could talk to…” He suddenly brought his attention toward the abstract design on the outside of the ship’s docking bridge, specifically honing in on the signature reading ‘PMU’ at its bottom corner. He took a brief moment to clear his mind before questioning, “This is, uh, a bit out of the blue, but I’ve been meaning to ask: who painted this?”

Spinel’s hand abruptly shot up. “Oh, oh, it was Priya! She did it a few centuries back!” she eagerly informed. “I commissioned it as a gift for the crew for being such fantastic friends!”

Lars brought a hand to his chin. “Priya?” he questioned. He then crossed his arms. “Like, ‘Priya Maheswaran-Universe’ Priya?”

“You’ve got it,” the pink gem confirmed. “She used to paint at the Pink Garden a lot! She said the place helped her ‘clear her mind’ or something like that.”

“Wait…” the ex-prisoner came to a sudden realization, “so you’ve met up with her recently? Did she tell you anything about her parents?”

Spinel snickered, “I wish! I could barely even get her to speak about herself! I think I’ve only ever heard her talk, like, three times.” She fiddled with her eyepatch. “I don’t know if you remember, but she isn’t exactly the, uh, speaking type.”

“Well she’s bound to know something about where Steven and Connie are,” Lars stated. The buzzing began to fade as he then snapped his fingers. “I could pay her a visit! Her and her brother and sisters!”

“That’s a wonderful idea!” Fluorite exclaimed, with the Rutile Twins nodding in agreement.

“I don’t know…” Rhodonite mused. “Do you really want to go all by yourself?” She apprehensively crossed her arms. “Aren’t you afraid of something going wrong without backup? I mean, you haven't seen these people in centuries! You don't know where they are, what they'll be doing, or who they'll be with."

Lars opened his mouth to speak, though he was swiftly cut off by Spinel, who enthusiastically hopped in front of him. “I could go with!” she exclaimed through a toothy grin. “I haven’t seen Grace, Lisa, and Gregory in millennia! I bet they’re just itching to see their ol’ pal, Spinel, again!” She rolled into a handstand. "Whaddaya' say, Larsie? Can I come?"

The man smirked. "Hmm…” he playfully hummed to himself while gazing up at the sky. “If it'll make the rest of the crew happy, then sure, why not?” he shrugged before joking, “I'll babysit you."

The pink gem squealed with joy, bouncing back onto her feet. She then pulled a pair of old, tacky sunglasses from her gem which she proceeded to slide onto her face. “Then let’s get this show on the road, why don’t we!?” she beamed. As she then bounded toward Bubba, she questioned, “Oh, oh, who will be good cop and who will be bad cop? Actually, nevermind, I wanna be bad cop!”

“We aren’t cops, Spinel,” Lars emphasized, pacing toward the panda with his hands in his pockets. “These are our friends, remember? Actually, they’re kinda like family to me, but… you know what I mean.” Placing a palm on Bubba’s back, he then reminded, “I’m just their cool, space-faring uncle; you’re just a gem who changed their diapers once or twice, okay?”

“Aye, aye, captain!” Spinel intonated, saluting the man. “So who’s gonna be first on the visitation list?”

The ex-prisoner placed a hand on his chin. “Hmmm…” he briefly hummed in thought, “how about Grace; she’ll probably be the, uh, easiest to talk to.”

“Oh, but Lars,” Rhodonite called out, “while you two are gone, what are we supposed to do?”

The man glanced back at his remaining crew, who were all lined up beside the Sun Incinerator. Without a moment’s hesitation, he commanded, “You guys stay here and see if you can find anything online; maybe the two have been spotted somewhere recently. Oh, and try calling the Maheswaran-Universe Foundation; they may have some info—if they still even exist, that is.”

“Got it,” Rhodonite, alongside the other three Off Colors, nodded.

Lars grabbed Spinel’s hand, setting a foot into Bubba’s fur. “And one of you make sure to go tell Orange Spodumene that my physical therapy is over. Tip her super well for me!”

“We’ll handle it”—”we’ve got it!” the Rutile twins confirmed.

The man shot the gems a thumbs-up before fully submerging himself in pink fur. Spinel gave Bubba a small, enthusiastic pat on the head just before she, too, vanished in the bear’s hair.

The pink gem’s jaw dropped as Lars pulled her up onto her feet in a vast, pink savannah. Gazing out at the many hundreds of hills dotting the landscape, she realized that she had never truly thought about just how many pink zombies were running, swimming, climbing, and flying around the galaxy. She abruptly shifted her sights toward Bubba’s slope, which she had never actually seen with her own eyes. Atop it sat a tall, girthy stalk of pink bamboo.

Spinel’s hand was suddenly yanked by her guide, who began leading her toward a specific, distant hill with a shortsword atop it. As they waded through the thick, pink grass, they passed innumerous slopes which neither of them would've been able to guess the owners of. One of the newer ones, for example, featured a massive assortment of firearms atop it. Who could that have possibly belonged to? “Surely not anybody that Steven would’ve resurrected,” the ex-prisoner thought.

They also passed a hill with a barren snag atop it which a lone, undisturbed, sticker-covered guitar was leant against. Spinel noticed as Lars’ expression grew softer and less determined at its sight. She tightened her grip on his hand in hopes of cheering him up, which, to her surprise, seemed to work fairly well.

Just as they were about to reach their end destination, Lars came to a sudden stop, having been sidetracked by the sight of a seemingly insignificant, pink palm tree. He silently snapped his fingers, being struck with a sudden idea, before dragging Spinel along to the areca’s respective hill’s base. In a matter of moments, the two of them were then diving into the pink grass at their feet.

They popped out of the underbelly of a tiny, pink calico cat, immediately falling onto a severely dilapidated wooden floor. They brushed one another off as they pulled themselves up onto their feet.

Spinel suddenly gasped, “Cat Steven!” She then pulled the feline into her arms. “I haven’t seen you in ages!” She briefly flicked her eyes around her surroundings, finding that she and Lars had ended up in Steven and Connie’s abandoned moon house, specifically in its guest bedroom. “Your owners didn’t just leave you here, did they?” she cooed.

“Check her tag,” Lars advised as he ran his fingers along the inside of a nearby, empty bookshelf. The digits he brought back were coated in a thick layer of dust. “Jeez, this place hasn’t been touched in centuries.”

“Told ya’” the pink gem remarked. She then narrowed her eyes at a large, metal label on Cat Steven’s collar and informed, “Oh, I guess she wasn't abandoned.”

“What does it say?” the ex-prisoner questioned, pulling open the bedroom’s door. Sitting in the dust coating the outside hallway’s floor, he immediately took note of a pair of large, fresh footprints.

“‘If lost, please return to Garnet’,” Spinel read aloud while scratching at the small feline’s chin.

"Garnet? Last time I checked, she was still living on Earth…" Lars remarked. “I wonder what Cat Steven’s doing all the way out here.”

“Maybe she’s just taking a stroll down memory lane,” the gem guessed, shrugging. Her sunglasses started to slide off the bridge of her nose, so she pushed them back up. “Kinda like I do whenever I visit the Pink Garden.”

“Maybe…” Lars pondered as he straightened out his ponytail. “Or…”—he glanced at the footprints—”perhaps she’s here with someone else.”

“Like… who?” Spinel questioned as Cat Steven purred in her arms.

The man shrugged, “Let’s find out.” He then motioned toward the pink gem and commanded, “Follow me.”

The two slowly crept out of the bedroom and into the hallway. Finding her surroundings too dark to make out much of anything, Spinel lit up her gem, filling up the home’s interior with dim, pink light. “I don’t see anybody,” she whispered, Cat Steven firmly tucked under her arm.

“Light up the end of the hallway,” Lars whispered in return.

The gem quickly complied with the order. Moments later, however, she and the man were shrieking as they spotted a large, menacing figure sitting at the kitchen table, hands patiently clasped.

“Hello, you two,” Garnet greeted with a smile. She then requested, “Please, take a seat.”

The pink duo took a moment to catch their breaths. Cat Steven used the opportunity to hop out of the pink gem’s arms, onto the kitchen table; and, finally, on top of the fusion’s rectangular hair.

“Is ominously sitting alone in the dark how you normally greet people?” Lars asked through quick breaths as he and Spinel shuffled down the hall and toward the table.

“No,” Garnet simply replied, smirking. As she watched the two slide into a few seats opposite to her, she then stated, “Nice to see you, Lars. Cool beard.”

“Thanks,” the man acknowledged, cheeks flushed.

“And Spinel,” the fusion began, causing the pink gem to temporarily perk up, “lose the shades.”

Lars watched as Spinel sighed and flicked the sunglasses off her face, causing them to smash onto the floor. There was then a brief moment of silence which was suddenly broken as he realized, “Wait, you’re the perfect gem to run into right now!” He cleared his throat. “Do you know where St—”

“I know why you’re here,” Garnet interrupted. “I don’t know where Steven and Connie are… at the moment; I’ll get back to you on that.” She met the man’s gaze. “But I can tell that this investigation isn’t entirely about finding them. That’s why before what I say next, I want to make it absolutely clear that I’m not here to stop you two.”

Lars and Spinel briefly shot one another perplexed glances.

“Steven and Connie are safe,” the fusion confidently affirmed.

The ex-prisoner felt the buzzing quiet for a brief moment. “And…” he began, quirking an eyebrow, “I’m just supposed to take your word for it?”

Garnet adjusted her visor. “I don’t expect you to, but you should,” she answered concisely.

Lars knitted his eyebrows, repositioning himself in his chair. “Your ‘future vision’ isn’t infallible, Garnet.” He crossed his arms. “You couldn’t predict Rose being Pink Diamond, you couldn’t predict Connie’s assassination; hell”—he sniffled—”you couldn’t even predict Sadie’s …” he trailed off.

“This is different,” the fusion stated, unphased by Lars' words. Her visor suddenly vanished, allowing her to make direct eye contact with him. “I can see them right now…” She gave a warm smile. ”They’re happy… very, very happy…”

The ex-prisoner broke his eyes away from Garnet’s. “I’ll… keep that in mind,” he muttered. He then motioned for Spinel to follow his lead as he stood up, to which she did. “Did you really come all the way out here just to tell us that?”

“You'd eventually have come here anyway; I thought I’d just make things easier,” the fusion replied. She then brought her palm inches from her face, making her visor reappear.

“Well, uh…” Lars began, “since you went through all that trouble, do you wanna join me and Spinel? We’re gonna go visit all of Steven and Connie’s kids, but I’m, uhm, sure you already know that.”

Garnet hummed in thought before answering, “I would, but Cat Steven and I have a concert to attend tomorrow night.” Almost as if on cue, the fusion’s pet then hopped off her head and padded out the home’s propped open front door. “Maybe I’ll see you two there.”

“No thanks; I’ve had bad experiences with concerts,” the ex-prisoner explained as he and Spinel followed Cat Steven outside.

“Oh, oh, I like concerts! Can we please go, Lars?” the pink gem begged as she and the ex-prisoner stepped onto the house’s front porch, from which two red suns could be seen slowly rising over the horizon.

Lars didn’t bother replying to the gem; all his attention was focused on catching up to Cat Steven. He watched as the animal bounded over the porch’s railing, dashed far into the distance, and came to a stop beneath an unfamiliar, absolutely massive alien tree. 

A few minutes later, the pink duo were finally stepping up behind the feline, who was preoccupied with staring up at the towering perennial plant. Upon hearing them, the cat flipped around and let out a lengthy, distressed sounding meow. She then flicked her gaze behind herself, toward a large boulder at the base of the overgrown tree. Massive roots were stretching up and around the seemingly insignificant rock.

“Weird, I don’t remember these being here before,” Lars remarked, scratching at his chin. “Not the tree or the boulder,” he then clarified.

The pink gem was similarly perplexed, though she ultimately shrugged, “It’s probably best not to think about it too hard.”

The man knitted his eyebrows before nodding in agreement. "You're… probably right," he murmured, attempting to quell the sinking feeling in his chest.

Cat Steven produced a soft, mildly irritated huff, then she rolled over onto her back, finally allowing Lars and Spinel access to the Pink Dimension once more. The two both gave the feline a brief scratch on the chin before, one after the other, stepping through her fur.

After popping out of tall, pink grass for the second time that day, they then resumed their trek toward the slope featuring the shortsword. Lars was quickly once more sidetracked, however, as a familiar, nearby acacia tree came into view. Upon its sight, he immediately brought himself to a full stop, mouth falling agape. 

He suddenly broke into a sprint toward the tree's respective hill, pulling a confused Spinel along behind him. Rather than diving into the grass at the slope's foot, he continued up its side, toward the withered, barren snag at its peak. Sitting at the dead tree’s base were nothing but three two-millennia-old movie tickets to Dogcopter 3D.

As Lars gazed down upon the stubs, tears pricking at his eyes, he could hear the buzzing growing louder and ever so louder...

Almost deafeningly so...

Chapter Text

Tick… tick… tick…… tick……… tick…………

Lion let out a guttural yawn as he listened to the gradually slowing ticking of a nearby, ornate wall clock. The device had been sitting in the same spot, diligently performing its duty for centuries, though the beast could tell that it didn’t have much time left. A year prior, he’d noticed its click-clacking growing ever-so-steadily slower and sparser. Since then, the time it displayed had been extraordinarily incorrect, with its erroneousness only growing worse by the day.

Gazing out at his owners through an adjacent screen door, he watched as they sparred, clashing a pink-bladed sword against a rose-patterned shield under the blazing red afternoon sky. The beast wondered if they’d ever truly noticed the clock’s gradual degradation, or if they’d lost such track of time that they’d barely ever shoot it more than a quick, half-minded glance.

The animal’s train of thought was lost as a pink, vortex-like portal, carrying an all-too-familiar chime, suddenly swirled into existence within the kitchen behind him. He paid it little attention as Gregory Maheswaran-Universe, sporting a neat beard and fingerless gloves, then came sliding out of it. The man was able to successfully grind himself to a halt inches before the counter, which he then began unloading groceries on top of.

“Hey, Lion,” Gregory greeted in a modulated, silky voice as he pulled bag after bag from his hair. He gently swayed back and forth as he listened to music through a pair of floating, earring-like earbuds. “Just looking at that old clock as per usual, huh? You the only one home?”

Lion let out a tender huff in response which was quickly followed by the sound of a solemn meow from an above ceiling beam.

“Oh, sorry Cat Steven; I didn’t see you there,” the man chuckled as he pulled one final bag from his hair and, after performing a spin, set it on the counter. He then paced up beside Lion, where he, too, set his gaze out the screen door, immediately spotting his parents in the near distance. He let out a polite “‘scuse me” as he stepped over the beast and onto the home’s front porch, then he cupped his hands over his mouth and yelled, “Mom, dad, your groceries are inside!”

The pair immediately paused their elegant, dance-like sparring upon hearing their son. “Thank you!” they simultaneously acknowledged, enthusiastically waving at him. Before the man could then portal away, however, Connie stepped forward and called out, “Hey, how about you stay and watch us for a while? Your father and I’ve been getting our practice in; we’ll put on quite the show for you.”

Gregory took a moment to mentally consult his schedule before ultimately chuckling, “Why not?” He then fell back onto a nearby wooden chair and started absentmindedly tapping his wedding ring against one of its armrests as his parents resumed their sparring. It wasn’t long before a stray shield careened in his direction, though he was able to swiftly, nonchalantly deflect it with a rose-patterned shield of his own. “Jeez, careful you two,” he murmured under his breath. As his guard then faded, he pulled a ukulele from his hair and began masterfully strumming one of his many hundreds of original songs.

Lion, letting out a yawn, listened to the man’s tune in a desperate attempt to take his mind off the nearby clock’s ever-slowing ticking. When his efforts ultimately came up fruitless, he rolled onto his back and gave the timepiece his full attention. He began to slowly narrow his eyes at the device, letting out heavy breaths as he did so…

Tick…………… tick……………… tick………………………………………

The clock suddenly went still, and the beast’s eyes shot wide open.

Cat Steven abruptly fell from a ceiling beam, failing to upright herself before crashing into the floor.

Gregory suddenly strummed a sour note, snapping one of his instrument’s strings in the process.

Connie was unexpectedly smacked in the face with an easily avoidable shield, leaving a nasty bruise on her cheek.

Lion, darting his eyes around as he watched the aforementioned events unfold, let out a bestial sigh before he carefully hobbled up onto his shaky legs. He then let out a roar, opening a dazzling portal before him, and bent his knees in preparation to make his exit. Before he had the chance to hop through the pink vortex, however, a shrill, distressed meow pulled his attention down toward his feet. Cat Steven was desperately pawing at one of the beast’s hind legs, seemingly attempting to climb up onto his back.

The big cat turned around and met the small feline’s single eye. He then leant in close and licked her forehead before tenderly nuzzling his snout against hers. After a brief moment had passed, he lifted his face and flipped back around. He then once more bent his knees in preparation for departure, offering one last glance out the nearby screen door as he did so.

Steven had taken to rapidly pressing kisses against every inch of Connie’s face, all the while she, through giggles, assured him that she was fine.

Gregory, meanwhile, had stashed away his broken ukulele and, instead, started bowing at a violin. His cheeks were flushed as he attempted to avert his gaze from his parents’ display of affection.

Lion blinked and let out a low roar. He then shot his sights toward Cat Steven before, with a sigh, finally relenting to her wishes. He watched as the small feline hopped atop his back, where she started absentmindedly grooming his mane. Making a gentle, affectionate gurgling noise, the beast then bounded through his portal using nearly every ounce of energy he had.

The ocean sat completely still beneath a full moon and starless, light polluted sky. Gentle ripples created by the noiseless soaring of a few large, nearby spaceships would occasionally disturb the body of water, though it, at the end of the day, would always return back to its natural, calm state.

Above the sea, a pink, swirling portal suddenly opened, which Lion and Cat Steven came flying out of only moments later. The beast effortlessly ground himself to a halt on the ocean’s surface before taking off sprinting toward the unimaginably massive, coastal city just over the horizon. The small feline on his back, meanwhile, was gripping onto his mane as if her life depended on it.

It wasn’t too long until the big cat was bounding onto a familiar, sandy peninsula which a massive, partially translucent dome had been set atop. The silhouetted figure of the Crystal Temple could be made out within the structure, and Lion took no time padding his way toward it.

Upon reaching the dome, the beast nonchalantly stepped through it, knowing full well that it was nothing but a projection—something to give the tourist attraction within it more flair. Artificial sunlight immediately hit his and Cat Steven’s faces, beaming down upon them from a cloudless, blue sky.

The Beach House and Temple hadn’t been touched in over a millennium, looking exactly as they had when Steven had departed for his road trip long, long ago. In the distance, Beach City and Little Homeworld could also be made out, offering a preview into the now-merged cities’ quaint, humble beginnings. Most notably, dotting the beach were motionless holograms depicting the Crystal Gems who aided in freeing Homeworld, all sporting their appearances from the same period in time.

Steven, Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl were running down the shore; Connie, Lapis, and Peridot were conversing at the base of the Beach House’s steps; Greg Universe and Bismuth were laughing together near an iconic, all-too-familiar van; and Lion and Cat Steven were lying on the home’s front porch. A few other, less notable figures were also strewn about, such as Centipeedle, Lars and Sadie, Nanafua, Jasper; and, oddly, a corrupted orange spodumene, which had a placard before it detailing a long, complicated timeline. Sitting at the top of the sign was a title reading “The History of the Maheswaran-Universe Family”.

It was as if the dome’s inside were a moment frozen in time, unchanging unlike the city which had gradually grown around it. Everything was abruptly brought up to speed, however, as all the illusions flickered into nothingness, draping the Temple in darkness. The surrounding dome also seemed to audibly “solidify”, allowing no more visitors within its confines.

A slender figure then suddenly emerged from within the Beach House, blue spear in hand. Her weapon immediately faded as she set her eyes on the two felines, however. “Lion?” she asked, tilting her head. She then began descending the home’s steps. “What are you doing here? And where are Steven and Connie?” She let out a sharp gasp, sprinting over to the beast. “Are they in danger!?” she interrogated, eyebrows knitted.

Lion gave the gem a blank stare.

“Oh, I just knew they’d eventually be found by Diamond loyalists!” she panicked, pacing back and forth. “Moving to that moon was always a bad idea! They should’ve stayed here on Earth where we could’ve kept them safe!”

A different, stockier gem suddenly cleared her throat from behind the slim one, making her presence known. “Pearl, Steven and Connie are fine,” Garnet stated, arms crossed. She adjusted her visor as she then informed, “They’re at home right now; Gregory is with them.”

“Oh”—Pearl wiped her forehead—”well that’s a relief!” she sighed. She leaned against the fusion’s hip as she then questioned, “But… if they’re safe, then what are these two doing here?”

The fusion hummed in thought for a moment before shrugging, “I don’t know.” She leaned in and began scratching at Cat Steven’s chin. “Perhaps this one wants to finally return to me?” she guessed, smirking. The feline, with a purr, then immediately leapt atop her head, prompting her to let out a hearty chuckle. “It’s about time,” she snickered, grabbing the cat. Feeling her expression quickly shifting toward one of concern, however, she asked, “But why? Didn’t you want to stay with Lion?”

Cat Steven simply met Garnet’s gaze, unmoving, all purring having long ceased. She then let out a solemn, distressed meow, informing the fusion of seemingly everything she needed to know.

Garnet glanced at Lion, expressionless, and immediately took note of the beast’s paler-than-usual hue and shaky legs. She then placed Cat Steven in Pearl’s hands and commanded, “Lion, you need to go… right now.”

“What?” Pearl quirked a brow. “But he just got here! Why don’t I at least go get him a treat before we send him on his w—”

“There’s no time!” the fusion interrupted as she shooed off the big cat. "Go, Lion!”

The beast’s eyes widened, and he immediately took off sprinting, feeling himself growing weaker by the second.

“Amethyst is at the Beach City Cemetery; Lapis and Peridot are at Keystone Cartoon Con! You know where to find everyone else!” Garnet called from behind Lion just before he created, and subsequently hopped through, a swirling portal.

Amethyst placed a bundle of roses against a familiar tombstone as a portal suddenly opened beside her. Lion came flying out of the vortex moments later, skidding to a halt just before her. “Oh, hey Lion. What’re you doing here, bud?” She sniffled. “‘You also paying respects to Greg?”

The beast simply licked her cheek and briefly pressed his nose to hers before bounding into another portal.

Amethyst sat still, stupefied. She wiped saliva from her face and muttered, “Uhm, nice seeing you too.”

Lapis and Peridot were pacing down a convention hall, wearing highly detailed cosplays of a few characters from a cheesy romance show they (completely, totally ironically) enjoyed. They were chatting as they brushed shoulders with numerous other attendees.

“I hope nobody recognizes me this time,” the blue gem smirked, “I can only sign so many autographs…”

“Stars, me too,” the green gem groaned, making absolutely sure her mask was pulled tight over her face.

The two gems came to a sudden halt as they came face to face with a familiar, pink big cat. They immediately tilted their heads.

“Lion? What are you doing here? Where’s Steven?” Lapis questioned, discreetly lifting her mask from her face.

Peridot followed suit with her blue companion, inconspicuously lifting her own mask. “He’s probably just here to see his favorite two gems! Aren’t you, Lion?” she beamed, scratching at the beast’s forehead.

Lapis smirked and lifted a hand toward the big cat’s mane, making rapid glances around her surroundings in search of any prying eyes. “Heh,” she chuckled, “probably.” Rather than feeling the beast’s fur between her fingers, however, she found that he had discreetly made his exit, having disappeared back into the crowd. “Weird,” she remarked.

Peridot shrugged before pulling her and her blue friend’s masks back down.

Bismuth had been helping a nephrite into a suit of wedding armor when Lion had padded into her forge. “I’ll be right back,” she politely informed her customer as she jogged over to the beast. “Lion!” she exclaimed, kneeling down to tightly hug the big cat. “How’ve you been doing? Here to finally take me up on that offer to make you a suit of armor?”

Lion rubbed his cheek against the gem’s before pulling away and hastily exiting the establishment, leaving Bismuth scratching at her head.

“Should I take that as a ‘yes’?” she called, quirking a brow. “I, uhm, kinda already made the armor...”

Lisa Maheswaran-Universe was barking frantic orders at a crew of soldiers, standing on the front lines of an active battlefield with a gigantic, heavy plasma blaster slung over her shoulder. “Get your asses in gear!” she screamed as she narrowly dodged the blade of a sizable fusion’s lance. She pointed toward a small, pale woman who seemed quite shaken by the situation. “I’m talking to you, Private Taylor!” She pulled another, much lighter plasma blaster from her short, pink hair and threw it into the frightened soldier's arms. “Cover me!”

Lisa let out a shrill warcry as she sprinted toward the lance-wielding fusion, pulling her blaster into her arms. “You damn Diamond loyalists!” she grunted, placing her finger on her gun’s trigger. “Those tyrannical assholes are never coming back!” She slid, tripping an enemy rutile in her path. “So why don’t you just leave… Earth…”—she sprung toward the fusion, summoning a rose-patterned shield—”alone!”

Moments later, a headless fusion came crashing to the ground, poofing into five separate gems which the woman swiftly bubbled and sent off. As the smoke then cleared, a familiar big cat casually padded into view. “Lion!?” Lisa shouted, ducking to avoid a sword. “Now’s not exactly the best time!”

The beast, after also dodging a sword, paced up to the woman and affectionately licked her rough, calloused hand.

“Mom and dad didn’t send you to keep watch over me again, did they?” she asked as she kneeled down to blast at a distant gem. “They should know that I can handle myself by now.”

Lion, letting out a huff, didn’t acknowledge the woman’s question. Instead, he sprinted off, disappearing into a portal soon after.

Although Lisa had many questions swarming her mind, she had little time to linger on them as another, much larger fusion began approaching.

Grace Maheswaran-Universe was sitting beside a cozy fireplace, giddily jotting down complex, detailed notes regarding a newly discovered alien species. She enthusiastically, subconsciously whispered to herself as she did so, kicking her feet back and forth against her chair.

“Mom, you’ve barely even touched your tea; it’s getting cold,” a pink-skinned old man suddenly grumbled from across the room. He was absentmindedly stroking at the back of a tiny, pink-furred, strange-looking dog.

“Sorry, honey,” Grace apologized, though her scribbling didn’t subside. “I found a new, silicon-based lifeform earlier today! It was on a planet called ‘Jambalor’, and, get this, it breathed through its butt!” she guffawed, slapping her knee. “Kinda like a sea cucumber!”

“That’s, uhm… great, mom,” the man dryly snickered to himself as he set his pet down, “but I thought we were gonna catch up. I mean, I haven’t seen you in a whole year! What have you been up to?”

“Oh, all sorts of boring things,” Grace chuckled, finally slamming her journal shut. “I’ve visited twenty different moons, seventeen planets; I’ve seen a black hole up close; I’ve discovered fifteen hundred new alien species.” She crossed her legs, smirking. “Y’know, normal stuff. How about you, Clyde?”

The old man cleared his throat, pursing his lips. “Well, Canyon and I’ve been—”

A portal suddenly, noisily opened in the center of the room, and a familiar, pink beast came hurtling out just moments later.

“Lion!” Grace beamed, throwing her arms in the air. “What brings you here on this fine night?” she questioned as the big cat shoved his muzzle into her lap. “Or are you just here because you love me?” she cooed, running her hands through his mane.

Lion didn’t even so much as acknowledge the woman’s questions. Instead, he swiftly, almost routinely pulled away and leapt through another portal.

Clyde tapped at his chin, eyebrow raised. “Does he usually visit you without grandma and grandpa?”

“Nope,” Grace acknowledged, shrugging.

Priya Maheswaran-Universe was sat on a floating chunk of land above a vast field of absurdly large strawberries, littered with all sorts of massive weapons. Her and another, much, much younger looking, pink-skinned woman were silently painting together, diligently working in tandem on a landscape piece.

A portal abruptly opened behind them, though neither of the women paid it any mind. They only looked back once Lion came sliding out, barely grinding himself to a halt before he could be sent careening to the ground below.

Letting out a bestial sigh, the big cat immediately met eyes with the two pink-skinned women, neither of which dared to speak. Instead, they gave the animal a brief, affectionate nod before turning back toward their canvas.

Lion let out a low, tender roar before bounding through another portal.

A gentle breeze blew across the slopes of a vast, barren desert. The stars—ones which the beast had spent countless years under much earlier in his life—could be clearly made out above, twinkling in a comforting, lifelike fashion.

Lion, lying on his back, let out one last, weak breath, feeling the color draining from his fur, and shut his eyes…

This would be how it would end… within the same place it began: the same place he was once born and eventually resurrected. He could rest well knowing he had brought comfort, love, and safety to those around him; it was just too bad he didn’t have the courage to let them see him in such a weakened, lifeless state.

………………………………………………………………

………………………………………………………………

………………………………………………………………

………………………………………………………………

………………………………………………………………

………………………………………………………………tick…

“Lion,” a familiar, stoic voice suddenly rang out from above the big cat, prompting his eyes to gently flutter open. It was Garnet, who stood over him with her hands on her hips. “Go to them,” she commanded, voice unwavering. “Use the last of your strength and go to them. They need it.” She readjusted her visor. “You need it.”

Lion released a breathy huff as he stumbled up onto his wobbly, colorless legs. Using every last, remaining ounce of his energy, he then let out a fierce, guttural roar, opening a massive, swirling portal before himself and the fusion.

He offered one last, cursory glance Garnet’s way before launching himself into the vortex, eyes faintly glowing, pink hue all but gone.

Chapter Text

“First day on the job,” a bulky turquoise, gem on her forehead, chuckled into an earpiece as she diligently organized her cramped workspace. She hummed along to some faintly playing, erratic jazz music as she then heard out a voice on the other end of her device. “I know, I know,” she spoke in turn, clasping her hands, “it isn’t the most… flashy occupation…”—

The gem glanced into the small, barren storefront, lined with all sorts of abrasive, holographic advertisements. Amongst them were a few large, red numbers which displayed that day’s fuel prices.

—“but…” Turquoise snickered, “I’ve gotta pay for that dream wedding somehow, right? Kunzite is already working two jobs, so, y’know, I thought I’d do my part pitching in.” She kicked her feet up onto the counter, listening as her friend replied, then giggled, “You’re crazy, Cherry, you know that?”

A sharp ding was sent echoing through the shop as a willowy figure suddenly strode through its front doors. This immediately sent the blue gem scrambling; she swung her legs back onto the floor and fiddled with her earpiece.

“I’ll be right back, Cher’,” Turquoise whispered before shoving the device into her gem. Next, she flicked a switch on the wall, causing the counter to project a hologram which displayed an intricate store interface. After putting on a customer-friendly grin, she then asked, “What can I do for you, er…”—

The gem paused as she met eyes with the slender individual, who had an extremely distinctive set of pink, diamond-shaped pupils. Markedly, their skin also appeared a dusky shade of pink—almost purple—albeit littered with uncountable pale scars which ran up and down their legs, neck, and face. Most notably, however, was their lack of a left arm, severed at the shoulder and replaced with some kind of modified, inconceivably advanced limb enhancer.

—“m-ma’am?” the gem finally finished, feeling her cheeks flushing. “Uhm, sorry if I was staring…” she then timidly added.

The woman chortled wholeheartedly with a silvery, almost ethereal voice unfitting of her extraordinarily aged appearance. She then pushed a lock of pale pink, waist-length hair behind her ear using her robotic arm. “It’s okay; I get gawked at all the time” —she shot Turquoise two finger guns—”and not just ‘cuz I’m one foxy momma.”

The gem, rubbing her neck, gave a strained, awkward chuckle in return.

“Yeah, humans rack up a whole lotta’ wear and tear after living for over two thousand years—who could’ve guessed?” the woman shrugged. “And especially with my profession…”

Turquoise offered a tentative grin, eyebrow raised. “Oh yeah? What are you, some kind of mechanic?” she guessed.

“Explorer,” the woman corrected without a moment’s hesitation. She then crossed her arms. “It’s a ripe time for it, let me tell ya’: millions of untouched planets, moons, galaxies all within arm’s reach.” She smirked. “ Plus, I have hundreds of contacts which pay top dollar for any crumb of information about habitable celestial bodies. Of course, I’d probably still be exploring even without the pay, but”—she winked—”it certainly doesn’t hurt.”

“Woah…” the gem muttered, wide-eyed. She pushed her elbows up onto the counter. “Is that what you’re doing right now? You’re going exploring?” she queried. “B-because that is so cool!”

"You know it," the woman confirmed with a nod. “I’m heading on over to sector twelve. There’s a little planet over there with a breathable atmosphere—Vilea 9YNW is its name. Homeworld’s old records marked the place as ‘visited’, but”—she blew a playful raspberry—”stars know those things aren’t reliable.”

"That sounds like so much fun. At least, definitely more fun than working here,” Turquoise remarked. She then flicked her sights toward a particularly scenic advertisement. “I’ve always wanted to do some sightseeing—a-and not just at places a warp pad could take me. My fiancée does too.” She met the woman’s pink eyes once more. “She and I used to do logistics together back at Homeworld. We’d sit in a small room with a bunch of screens, tapping away century after century… thinking about what else was out there. But once Steven Universe came around, worked his magic, and we were finally set free, well… then we just had other things to worry about…”

The woman’s expression softened. “Like… what?” she tenderly asked, catching the gem off guard.

Cheeks flushing, Turquoise replied, “Like time, money… love…” She deeply inhaled. “It’s… kinda hard to go explore the galaxy together when you can’t even afford a ship; furthermore, your own wedding.” She let out a prolonged sigh. “But… that’s just how things are, I guess… Nothing in life comes easy, right?”

The woman stood motionless, lost in thought for a brief moment, before finally letting out a breathy chuckle. “You know, you remind me of a much younger version of myself,” she spoke slowly, affectionately. “I dreamed of… shooting for the stars for so long. It was all I could think about ever since my uncle took me on a little ride-along into space as a teen.” She began pacing back and forth. “It seemed like my time would just never come, though. I went to college, got a desk job, got married, had three children… and I was just barely scraping by for the longest time. Sometimes I’d even have to suck up my pride and ask for my parents’ help, but… things eventually straightened out.” She snickered, “I was in my freakin’ fifties by the time I bought my first ship. After that…  I never looked back.”

Turquoise felt a tender smile spread across her lips. After shooting a quick glance toward the woman’s hand, however, her eyebrows knitted. “So then…” she began hesitantly, “what happened to your marriage?”

Taken aback, the woman’s eyes briefly widened. “You’re…”—her lips formed a strained smirk—”an observant one, aren’t you?”

“All us turquoises are,” the gem chuckled, avoiding eye contact, “It’s… kinda written into our code.”

The woman gave a half-hearted titter in turn. “Well…” she began, “all I’ll say is it’s nothing you or your fiancée will ever have to worry about.” She reached behind her back, into her hair, where she grabbed her wallet. “I won’t bore you with the details of my life story any longer, though,” she spoke. “I need my ship’s tank filled; I’m hooked up over at pump number four.”

“Got it,” Turquoise confirmed before tapping away at her screen. Moments later, a huge number popped up before her. “Your total will be five hundred and thirty-seven Tephovian credits,” the gem informed.

“Holy mother of…” The woman bit her tongue as she opened her wallet. “Antimatter prices these days…” she murmured as she then thumbed through an assortment of different-colored currencies. “Oh, but, uh, one more thing…” she started with a sheepish chuckle, meeting the gem’s eyes once more, “you guys wouldn’t happen to carry any ice cream, would you?”

“Log entry number thirty-six thousand two hundred and thirty-one,” the one-armed explorer spoke into a small, purple robonoid which hovered inches below her chin. “Day: December second—my mom’s birthday,” she commented, smiling tenderly. “Year: forty-one thirty-two,” she imparted as she strode alongside a horizon-spanning, orange-tinted bay, paying no mind to the curious, shadowy figures which, attempting to observe her, swam upshore. “Subject: Vilea 9YNW—this place desperately needs a name change—ninth planet of the Kreetztug system, located within sector twelve. I’ve been stationed here, researching for a little over three weeks, so I figured it’s time to finally make this report.”

The woman, out of the corner of her eye, watched as a four-winged, raven-like creature swooped down and landed on the head of a nearby, red-furred beast which it then began grooming.

Smirking, she noted, “The fauna here has proven particularly… friendly.” Nonchalantly, she reached down and grabbed a tiny, crab-like creature using her prosthetic arm. Moments later, the robotic limb then projected a green, gridded laser which scanned the critter up and down. “Almost too friendly…” she remarked, apprehensively tapping at her chin. “I’m yet to find a single carnivore. Hell, I’ve barely even found any omnivores.” She gently set the crustacean back into the yellow, sulphuric sand at her feet. “As for herbivores? four-hundred and eighty-nine different species, most of which have just the most… fascinating symbiotic relationships with one another.” She crossed her arms as she then pondered up at the orange, moon-cluttered sky. “Everything is like freakin’ clockwork over here; it’s almost kinda creepy…”—she shot a quick glance at her replacement arm—“but, I suppose that may just be the part of me speaking that’s used to just about everything trying to kill me. I must say, I certainly could get used to more planets like this.”

“The weather here seems quite stable. Albeit, acid occasionally rains from the sky,” the woman explained as she took shelter in a shallow cave. The claustrophobic walls amplified the outside pitter-patter tenfold, causing a couple of frightened, six-legged, rabbit-like creatures to huddle around her feet. “It’s just sodium bisulfate; nothing deadly,” she diligently informed before pinching her large, hooked nose closed. “The worst it can do is burn your skin. It sure does smell, though,” she complained nasally before letting out a prolonged sigh. “It’s at times like these I wish I’d lost my nose instead of my arm.”

“Just as prior calculations estimated, the days here last about thirteen hours and twenty-six minutes, give or take,” the woman noted as she sat atop a titanic, multi-colored fungus. A squat, notably rotund bird had perched atop her head and started grooming her poofy hair. “It’s not like you’ll be seeing a second of darkness, though, considering this place has forty-seven freakin’ moons!”

“Through my research, I can’t help but feel I’ve grown quite accustomed to Vilea 9YNW. Although its beauty may be… hard to recognize at times—acid rain ‘n’ all,” she snickered as she walked along a fathomless ravine’s edge, “I just can’t stop thinking about how much it reminds me of Earth, my home planet. With its vast oceans, unique fauna; and, well, breathable oxygen, I don’t think I could recommend this place enough for potential human habitation. If not that, it’d at least make a great vacation spot,” she tittered. “I think that about concludes this log entry, though…” she tentatively voiced, glancing down at the stony, yellow ground.

A nearby, particularly round rock caught the woman’s attention. Feeling her lips form a smirk, she made a slight detour to boot it as hard as she possibly could into the ravine.

“Actually, there’s one more thing,” she then began, crossing her arms. “I just… I don't have the slightest idea why Homeworld’s old records indicate they’ve visited here before. In situations like this, I usually end up piecing together that it was just some kind of input error, but…” she pursed her lips, “I’ve found nothing to indicate as such this time around.” Eyebrows knitted, she came to a sudden halt in her tracks. “So… I’m led to believe I may have missed something… but I wouldn’t even know where to start searching on a planet of this s—”

A thunderous, metallic bang suddenly echoed through the air, cutting off the woman’s rambling and sending her into fight-or-flight. She immediately whipped a hefty, pink-bladed sword off her back and flipped around, though she was met with nothing but her own, faint footprints.

She took a few deep, calming breaths before sheathing her blade once more, then she immediately launched into an investigation. However, it didn’t take all too long for her to locate the startling noise’s source.

Staring deep down into the ravine, the woman could distinguish a colossal, dilapidated Homeworld drop ship. Atop it sat the yellow, round rock which she had kicked only moments earlier.

“This thing must’ve crash landed here thousands of years ago if its model indicates anything,” the woman remarked as she gently descended into a hole in the aged ship’s exterior. “I wonder what a drop ship was doing all the way out here, though…” she pondered as her feet met the vessel’s tiled floor. “My guess? Training exercises. Something clearly went wrong, though.”

The palm of the woman’s prosthetic arm suddenly lit up akin to a flashlight. She then panned the beam around the room, though she located nothing but an array of dusty, defunct control panels.

“Nothing remarkable,” she noted with a shrug. “Good to know that Homeworld didn’t actually beat me to the punch, though,” she snickered before nonchalantly tossing her sword aside and flopping onto her back, “because that means I qualify for ‘explorer’s privilege’: I get to give this place an actual name!” she exclaimed, grinning ear to ear. She then stuck a hand to her chin and hummed in thought for a drawn-out moment before giggling, “Stars, I can’t think of anything. You kinda start running out of names after twelve thousand and sixty-seven planets, don’t you?” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I think… I should probably sleep on it,” she mumbled, “because stars know this ol' noggin needs a break…”

The woman threw her hair over her shoulder, where it splayed out across the floor, before leisurely rolling onto her side. She then pulled her sword into her arms, against her chest, hugging the weapon as if it were a life-long friend.

“To whomsoever it may concern, I hope this entry has proven informative. If not, well,” she chortled, “at least I had fun making it. This has been Grace Maheswaran-Universe. End log.”

“So what was that all about back there?” a squeaky, accented voice whispered.

“What was what all about?” a much deeper, male voice murmured in turn.

“C’mon, you know what I’m talking about: the running, that tree; those little paper thingies.”

The man deeply inhaled. “Don’t… don’t worry about it,” he grumbled. “Let’s just… focus on our mission…”

The juvenile voice blew a raspberry. “Whatever you say, big guy,” she shrugged. “So, uh… are we just gonna, y'know, wake her up?”

“How else are we supposed to talk to her?”

“Can’t you pinkies communicate with your minds?”

“No— Actually… well, yes—maybe…? All I know is that I can’t do it on command and neither can she. Just… tap her shoulder or something, and be careful; she’s always been a bit… high-strung.”

“You’ve got it,” the accented voice confirmed.

Moments later, Grace, who’d been covertly awake for every second of the pair’s discussion, felt a gentle prod at her upper-arm. Within milliseconds, she’d then launched up onto her feet, unsheathed her blade, and pointed the weapon at her two surprise visitors. “Who sent you!?” she interrogated, chin raised.

“He put me up to it!” the shadowy, squeaky-voiced figure immediately cried, throwing her arms up into the air.

“What!?” the silhouetted man squawked. Before he could defend himself, however, Grace had already lunged toward him. He’d soon after found himself on the floor with a sword—was that Connie's?—pointed between his eyes.

“Well? Speak!” the woman commanded through heavy breaths. “Explain yourself!”

“I-it’s…”—the man cleared his throat—”it’s me, Gracie. C-can’t you tell?”

“'Gracie'?” the woman repeated with a sneer. Moments later, her palm lit up. “Nobody ever calls me that,” she huffed before shining her blinding light into the man’s face. ”Nobody except my..."—she paused, mouth falling agape—"my uncle..."

Had it not been for the man’s distinct set of eyes—ones which Grace had studied as she sparred with him throughout her childhood—she wouldn’t have ever recognized him. As opposed to the clean-shaven face which she was once accustomed to, the man possessed a full beard. On top of that, his hair was long, unruly, and tied up into a ponytail. Most remarkable, however, was his pale, almost lifeless skin, though she was quick to chalk up the peculiarity as the results of going a millennium without sunlight.

“Surpriiiiise,” Lars murmured as he performed jazz hands.

A single tear rolled down Grace’s cheek, soon followed by countless more. Her sword then clattered to the floor as she pulled the man onto his feet and into a tentative, shaky embrace. “It’s…” she began with a hiccup and sniffle, ”it’s been over a thousand years.” She wiped snot and tears from her face before blubbering, “I never thought I’d see you again…”

Lars, teary-eyed, opened his mouth to respond. Before he could, however, Spinel had wrapped him and his niece in a crushingly tight hug of her own.

“And Spinel’s here too!” the gem then beamed, much to Grace's bewilderment. “It’s swell to meet you again, Gracie—I can call you that too, right? Last time I saw you, you were just a few feet tall! Can you believe that?” she snorted. “Say, what happened to your arm?”