Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Pearl blew on the warm red mug she had cupped in her hands, paint faded and chipped and steam rising from its surface to create little curls of wispy clouds in the air. She was sitting in a cozy, plush armchair with a lovely hand-knitted quilt in blue and black draped over her lap, watching B thread mint green yarn through deft hands and crochet hooks into a round shape slowly beginning to resemble that of a moth. He was humming some loose, meandering melody as Pearl brought her mug to her lips, drinking in a rich, well-spiced blend of tea that B had offhandedly mentioned once that he made himself.

It was a weekend, and while there was always work to do on the blog, meaning Pearl never really gave herself a break day, per se, she would often lighten the load on weekends for a chance to meet up with her new neighbor at one of their apartments to chat over hot drinks and sometimes watch a movie.

Pearl was always more of a coffee person. If the winds blew such that the pair of them ended up at her place rather than B's, she would usually pick something out from her curated collection of probably far too many coffee blends, and that would be the drink for the morning, afternoon, or whenever else they hung out.

But right now they were in B's apartment, and so Pearl was subject to his latest experiment out of the hoarder levels of homemade teas he owned.
…Which, as a matter of fact, was quite good. Tea might not have been her drink of choice most days, but the comforting glow of friendship had a way of making it a lot more appealing.

The swift, well-practiced motions of the crochet hooks stilled, then stopped.
"...Hey, Pearl?"
She tilted her head slightly with a soft one-note hum, prompting B to continue. Beneath a layer of fine-tuned glamor, her head wings fluttered slightly, alert.
A smile spread across B's face, lighting up eyes crinkled with fondness as he spoke.
"Just… thanks for everything, these past few weeks. You've helped so much with getting the shop set up and organized, and you've kept me company, and you've just been such a great friend…"

Pearl laughed, caught off-guard by such kind words, and waved a hand at her friend's praise.
"No, no, it wasn't a problem! You know me; when I saw someone new move in, I just had to go snooping around! Really, I should be thanking you for putting up with all my shenanigans!" she insisted, tone tinged with humor.

And it was true! B had been so welcoming to her, so cheerful, so kind, during a time when, yeah, she could face it, she had desperately needed a friend.
Not that she was starved for connection, not by any means. Grian and Jimmy, Doc and Etho, Gem and Impulse, they were all great–they were, really!–but they'd been busy lately. They had their own lives, their own jobs, some their own partners; they were moving on. And so they didn't have as much time as they once might've had to spend on Pearl.
That was okay. It was. She'd made peace with it.
…But, she couldn't deny the tremors of loneliness that always managed to claw their way into her heart, no matter how hard she fought them off.

"Maybe so, maybe so, but you didn't have to stick around! You could've done your nosing around and then just left me alone after that! But you didn't. You helped me open the shop, you always come to see me on the weekends, sometimes you even bother me on weekdays, even while I'm at work! I can't get rid of you!" B exclaimed, but his tone was warm in the way that Pearl knew meant he was exaggerating.

"Of course not! I'm always watching, y'know!" she crooned in an over-the-top, creepy voice. She and B laughed together for a short while, her heart lifted by the soft warmth of company she'd been missing, before falling back into a comfortable silence.

Ever since B moved into her apartment complex, Pearl had been swept up from her wearisome life of work and tedium into a bright world set abuzz by the electricity of amity. She also finally had an outlet for her organizational tendencies, which Grian was sure to be appreciative of, considering how he loathed her lectures on cleanliness.

The two of them met up on weekends for the aforementioned hangouts, but Pearl also had a habit of dropping by B's yarn shop on sunny afternoons after her agency work to help with the pre-closing cleanup or occasionally just to do the same audio and editing work she'd do at home. Being in the presence of a friend always helped with her motivation, and she suspected it helped B get through the slower, more exhausting days of retail work, too.

If it were anyone else, one of her family or friends, she might feel guilty about how much time she was taking up. How she was keeping him away from a partner or a passion or something else of the sort.
But B was new here! He was new to the city, as he'd explained on the very first day they met, and he… didn't really have any friends yet. Pearl was happy to be his first, of course!
…And if it made her feel just that little bit better about how clingy she was being, then that was between her and no one else. B had never responded negatively to her overt attachment–if anything, he'd just been expressing how much he valued it!
If, one day, that were to change, then it'd be okay. Pearl would make peace with it.
Just like she always did.

"You talk about your brothers sometimes," B mentioned offhandedly, not looking up from his crocheting project.
"Do you three not spend much time together? Or– don't you have friends in the city you could be hanging out with?"

Pearl's breath caught in her throat, caught on years of self-imposed isolation, of years of distancing away from the people unlike her. The humans. The danger.

She took a slow sip of tea, and reminded herself that she was safe here. B posed no threat to her. Whether or not that would change were she to bare her wings to his face, to the open air of the safe space they carved out of lighthearted jokes and joy was–
Unimportant. Her fingers tapped uneasily against the worn ceramic of the mug.
"Brother. Singular. Or, twin, I suppose, but that's not terribly important. Jimmy's our little cousin." She didn't know why the distinction mattered, not when the three of them had spent so many years with nothing but each other to rely on. Jimmy might as well have been another sibling to her, and yet…
Cousin. A degree of separation, something to stand out by. Cousin. Small. Golden. Precious.
A whole lot of words that all meant the same thing, in the end.
Protect him.

Pearl forced herself to smile before B could say anything else, adding,
"Besides, what're you trying to guilt trip me for? I like hanging out with you, y'know! We're a pair! A dynamic duo! The nosy neighbors!" she declared, the delightful little epithet coming to her suddenly in her time of need. B grinned at her before going back to his crocheting, and that was that.

Pearl tried not to think about it.
…But it was hard not to reflect on everything that had changed between them.

She used to spend most weekends, and indeed, most weeks in general, with Grian and Jimmy. They'd meet up after their respective jobs and trade banter as easily as they breathed over a board game or a documentary or whatever else might've entertained them that night, and then they'd get together on weekends for preening sessions.

It was almost like a twisted mirror to their time in the depths. The danger was still all around them, just wrapped up in a pleasant facade of sunshine and normalcy instead of the looming threat of shadows and fear.
The people here were just as eager to hurt them, to break them as those poachers below the bedrock.

But that was the thing. Were.
Pearl and her family were doing everything to change that reality. To shake, take, break those assumptions right back. Grian, with the flashy alter-ego he assumed by night, Pearl with the contentious blog and podcast she ran, bringing up questions some people had never thought to ask, and even their shy, passive little cousin had some strings he could pull behind the scenes in his journaling job.

And so, they became busy. Grian couldn't show up to their meetings as often, because surprise surprise, it wasn't easy to run a side gig as a moonlight vigilante while already keeping up with a full-time job. He still came to preening sessions when he could, but all in all, Pearl began to see less of her mischievous twin, of that spark of energy that matched hers so well.

Pearl and Jimmy still saw each other often enough. Their jobs were similar enough that they'd go to networking events together, and they had plenty of chances to see each other, even outside of that. A little slice of sunlight in an otherwise gray life, a flash of gold in unending darkness. The very thing he'd always been hunted for.
Not that it mattered. That treasured piece of radiance was all Pearl's now. She'd promised to protect it, after all.

But as the autumn leaves changed and fell, even that connection became sparse. Jimmy became hopelessly enamored with the blue-haired boy next door, next floor, rather, the jeering journalist, the bane of Pearl's whole career–
Or, yeah, just Scott. If you wanted to be boring about it.
Point being. As Jimmy–and later Grian, struck by his one weakness, an incompetent, endearing fool–fell into love, fell into relationships, fell into everything they'd always dreamed of, that left Pearl.

Of course it did. She'd always known that she didn't want what they had, that love to last a lifetime. That devotion in the most dire of disasters.
She didn't need that. She was happy with her friends, with her family, with her work.

She'd always been strong enough for herself. Always needed to, because she'd always needed to be strong enough for the others, too. Strong enough to put everything on the line in a breath, in a heartbeat, no matter the odds.
In a dingy alleyway in the darkest of depths.
In a city of sunlight and purpose, where to be a rose you're forced to hide your thorns.
…Even in a lonely apartment room, fighting not to check on them for the hundredth, thousandth time.

"We– we do. See each other a lot, I mean. Grian and Jimmy and I. I love them more than anything." Pearl answered belatedly, suddenly uncomfortable with the idea that it had ever been called into question.

B gave her a long look, brows furrowed. He seemed to be fishing for the right words to say for a moment, before sighing and stating slowly, as though to not frighten her,
"You know Scott's a regular at the shop," well, know was a unique way to say has a history of getting into heated verbal and occasionally physical arguments at the shop with, but yes, sure, "he's come with Jimmy a few times. Just a couple, mostly in the early stages when you wouldn't come over as much. I think at some point he decided that knitting was Scott's thing and he wasn't getting involved in it. Anyway, you'd told me about him, about him being Scott's boyfriend, all of that, so I recognized him. We talked a few times, and he… he'd always bring up you. You or Grian, anyway. I can tell how close you three must be."

He let the words hang in the air a moment, let them stifle the friendly atmosphere they'd been fostering for so long. Pearl masked her reaction in another sip of tea, waiting to see where B was going with this. She wasn't sure she even wanted to, but what was she supposed to do? Blow something up? Dramatically break a window and fly off into the sunset?
Heh, Grian would get a kick out of both of those, actually. Maybe she should; he'd be so jealous.

"I've never seen you with them. Never seen you texting them, never caught you at a time when you're off visiting them. And yet half the time we talk you're retelling some hilarious childhood tale of your exploits with them, or telling me about some time you had to get them out of trouble, or– or just–" B sighed, putting his crochet hooks and the now more complete crocheted moth on a side table. Uh oh. This must've pinged him as a serious topic. Pearl, averting her eyes to stare intently at the now lukewarm and mostly empty mug of tea in her hands, began to desperately think of ways to inject some levity back into this conversation. They shouldn't be having a serious talk about her! She was good! Maybe not well adjusted, but certainly adjusted enough! Grian and Jimmy had both gone through far more than her, Jimmy with trauma reaching its roots all the way back into childhood, and Grian enduring prejudice and peril every single night!
In contrast, Pearl just got lonely sometimes. Acted clingy when she shouldn't, on occasion.

"We spent almost every waking moment together, as kids. We were so close. Not that we aren't, still! We're just busy now, we're all adults. They both have jobs, and they both have boyfriends." Pearl argued, feeling unfairly put on the spot.

"You have a job, two actually, and you still find time to hang out with me." B pointed out. It wasn't accusatory so much as it was inquisitive. A gentle question. If Pearl were truly uncomfortable with his line of reasoning, she knew he would stop.
That would be admitting she was uncomfortable, though. That she hadn't really made peace with the situation.
Though it was often overshadowed by Grian's whining or Joel's abrasive behavior, Pearl could be quite stubborn when she set her mind on something.

"They have their own lives now. I don't want to inconvenience them; they'll reach out when they want to. They… don't need me to protect them anymore." she reasoned, with the very same logic she used on herself. She turned back toward B with what she hoped was a reassuring expression, expecting to see him looking more at ease.
What she didn't expect was an unambiguous frown of concern.

"Pearl… it shouldn't be about protection. It's about the care you have for them, and more importantly, the care they have for you." he spoke evenly, comfortingly, but a shade of worry hung ever-present over his words.

Pearl… had no response. Everything she thought she might say became lodged in her throat, anger and anxiety and confusion all coiling up into a singularity.

"You have so much care for them. Haven't they ever given you that in return? Hasn't there ever been a time where they've been there to protect you?"

…

A memory surfaced.

Chapter Text

Pearl usually skulked among the dark, the dust, the cold, on her own. Wings as black as shadow made for a decent enough cover in case she were to end up in a bad situation.
If it were any other day, she'd be on a solo mission, nicking whatever she could off ghast clans and bat covens and the occasional blaze-born pyre, whether that be a scrap of meat so burnt it was practically ash or, if the stars blessed her, maybe even an entirely intact loaf of bread that someone threw out because it was oddly shaped or moldy.

She'd leave Grian back at home–a secret, secluded little crevice in between a collapsed wall and the ground, only barely big enough for a young, malnourished avian to fit through–so that he could protect Jimmy. Neither of them were particularly suited for sneaking around in the darkness with their bright, garishly colored wings, especially Jimmy, whose plumage practically painted a glowing target on his back. It was just how things worked out; Pearl handled the food, Grian handled the security, and all Jimmy needed to handle was staying alive, which was hard enough on its own for him. She'd protect them, she'd promised them that long ago. Pearl was many things, but never a promise-breaker.

Which was especially important now. It was winter, the depths plagued with an eternal chill and hunger that could rot away even the purest of hearts.
Everyone needed something to eat, and unfortunately, stumbling across a tiny, vulnerable avian with hair and feathers as gold as the sun was a quick and efficient way to a payday.

On any other day, things would've gone to plan. Pearl would've gone prowling around corners and clinging to walls, tailing anyone she could in hopes of finding even the most meager of fare, and Grian and Jimmy would stay safe and hidden.

But their tentative peace couldn't hold forever, nothing in the depths ever did.
A couple nights earlier, or at least what Pearl judged as a couple nights by her internal clock, an earthquake had hit the under-city. Not a huge one, nothing catastrophic, just some tremors. Still, down in the depths, most buildings didn't have any kind of stability, most foundations left cracked and weakened from years of neglect.

Their home, that crevice they dared to call theirs out of some desperate kind of necessity, was no more. It'd been buried under rubble. In all honesty, Grian and Jimmy were probably lucky that they got out in time to survive, but there was no time for them or Pearl to dwell on that now.

They didn't have a safe space anymore. They were exposed, and in winter, no less.

So the three of them trudged, weary and on edge, tense as anything, towards the unknown. Towards salvation, or more realistically, towards devastation.

Pearl led the brigade, Jimmy sandwiched between her and Grian, both hovering a bit closer than necessary. A wily enough poacher could take advantage of any free space, as the trio learned quite traumatically when a bat hybrid quite literally swooped in from the darkness to snatch Jimmy.

They were all hungry and tired, and by the stars were they all cold, freezing in their threadbare clothes against frigid stone with nothing but shadows to use as blankets.

So Pearl felt justified in taking her brothers down the out-of-the-way, seemingly empty alleyway they happened upon, justified by the pain and the fear and the overwhelming exhaustion, the need to get them out of the way and to do it as soon as possible.

The piles of fabric scraps, pale imitations of beds, should have been the first sign of danger, but Pearl was committed to this idea of safety, to this awful pipe dream borne of desperation and misfortune, and by the stars could she be stubborn when it mattered.

She wouldn't sugarcoat it. They were found. It was her fault.
The pair that came across them, likely the current occupants of the alley, weren't poachers. They weren't the sleazy, sneaky type, if anything, they didn't look that much older than Pearl and Grian and Jimmy. Young teenagers, at best.

One was a glare mutant with long, curly hair that spilled past her shoulders and glowed a brilliant silver in the gloom of the depths, as did her eyes against her gaunt, dark skin. She was clad in nothing but an oversized, dirty raincoat, its cheery yellow hue having faded to dullness over what was surely years of wear. The hood hung loose over her small head, trying and failing to contain her whole head's worth of iridescent curls. She was only a few inches taller than Pearl, clearly just as bony and starved as every other gutter rat trying their best to make it through the night.

Her companion, standing in front of her with a protective scowl that seemed too mature, too war-weary for his thin face–was that how Pearl looked, protecting the others?–wasn't a hybrid or mutant that Pearl recognized, at first. His hair was a chin-length, unruly mess atop his head, a violent shock of blond so yellow it tapered off to orange at the ends and almost seemed to shine in the low light, skin tan and freckled, with unnatural undertones of those same oranges and yellows that thrummed in faintly glowing veins. His eyes were the same unnerving gold as his hair, pupils thin and slitted like a cat's as they closed in on his prey. Beside the normal bruises and scrapes that everyone in the depths always had a few of, his glare friend included, his face was marred with scars of all kinds, the most notable one a long claw slash running from the side of his nose up diagonally across his eyebrow and forehead, as though it had only narrowly missed his eye. He was clearly tall and awkward for his age, wearing a frayed, too-small tank top that exposed gangly arms just as freckled and scarred as his face, and a pair of too-tight sweatpants torn roughly at the knees from a harsh fall or ten. A whip-thin tail lashed furiously behind him, dark and opaque claws roughly clenched into fists–

And then Pearl realized. He was a blaze-born. What had thrown her off was his distance from any nearby pyre–she'd never seen a blaze-born by themself before–and the complete lack of any blaze rods circling around his unguarded head, along with the fact that his hair was distinctly not aflame–though, looking back, the orange ends did seem to have a kind of flicker and crackle to them that she would liken to smoldering. Had there been more time, she might've reflected on that detail, on the blaze rods, on the few pyre elders she'd caught glimpses of in the past who all had crowns of ten or sometimes even more, and she may have made some connections about blaze-born life even before she formally met Tango.

As things were, though, the one thing she was laser-focused on was that she, Grian, and Jimmy were trapped in a confined space and danger was rapidly approaching them. She flared her wings out wide, trusting Grian to hide Jimmy from view, even though she was sure the two threats had already seen his priceless plumage. She backed up a few steps, a low, rumbling caw building in her chest as though she might intimidate her enemies with it, as though she weren't a mere child. The glare and blaze-born were staring fiercely at each other, caught in some kind of argument spoken too quiet and too quick for Pearl to hear anything except for the smallest of snippets.

"You saw!– … that canary boy, he– … we need–"
"But– … what if– … weak– Eli, are you sure?–"

Pearl looked around, hands shaking, breaths shallow, looking for something, anything, a weapon, an escape, just something to do with herself. A broken box with the nails all pried out, presumably to be used in some sort of makeshift machine, was that something. She grabbed a loose board, ignoring the splinters and sawdust digging into her bare skin, and brandished it in front of her, ready to take on the world or die trying.
The intruders took this to mean it was time to fight.

Pearl held the board out in front of herself, waiting for the others to make the first move, unwilling to leave Grian and Jimmy by themselves.
Suddenly, she was blinded, the whole world a haze of far-too-bright, white and silver emanating from every direction. She swung around wildly, cutting off a sharp, frustrated keen from leaving her lips, barely even processing that it must've been the glare's doing; some exceptionally strong glamor work meant to stun her into inaction. A deer in the headlights, so to speak, only Pearl was a raven and she wasn't going to freeze up now.

The board connected with something and Pearl heard an ever-so-soft hiss of pain, something lower than Grian or Jimmy could produce, and so she chased down that win and struck again and again, hoping to take down what she thought was the blaze-born with raw ferocity and a dream. She kept herself somewhat at arms-length, wary of the blaze-born bursting into flame at any moment, and as such she was surprised when she got clocked in the face by a powerful fist and pushed to the ground with skinny but powerful arms, claws now digging into her skin along with the wood of the board she was holding onto, her one lifeline. She scuffled with the blaze-born for a while, disadvantaged due to her younger age and shorter stature but able to use her board, her makeshift weapon, as leverage, especially with the added punch of glamor-boosted strength when she could manage the energy for it. The blaze-born in question was… strange, opting not to use any glamor at all and going fully physical, though he was holding his own plenty well regardless. Pearl could feel his skin growing hot in the exchange, but he hadn't deliberately flared to burn her yet. Were she not in the throes of an intense battle, she might've stopped to question it, but there was no time for that now.

She had no way of telling whether she was succeeding or not, too full of adrenaline and fear to really think, but it all grinded to a halt when she heard an abrupt keen in Grian's voice. Pearl whipped her head around wildly in search of her brother, quite irrationally given the light still blinding her wherever she looked, giving the blaze-born just enough time to wrench the board out of her hands and drive her into the ground, holding her down with claws that were surely drawing blood from how firm their grip was on her.

The light wavered, and then faded, treating Pearl to a view of Grian and the now very winded looking glare–likely from the extended use of glamor–thrashing about as the glare did everything in her power to make it to Jimmy, who was cowering at the end of the alleyway, having found no way out of the exchange. He looked terrified, looked so much like a little kid that it gave Pearl whiplash; this wasn't the Jimmy who had survived kidnappings and poachings and every attack under the sun, this was just Jimmy, her traumatized little cousin who never deserved all of this.

Grian's eyes widened seeing Pearl's immobile form, and she cursed herself. Cursed herself for bringing them here, for getting knocked out almost immediately, for failing to protect them, for just being so, so stars-forsaken stupid! The glare almost had Jimmy, Grian was injured–she could now clearly see his eye swollen shut with an ugly black and purple bruise–and Pearl was useless, useless, useless–

"W-Wait!" Grian called out, though with his voice accustomed to silence it was more like a broken rasp. He glanced at Jimmy for a moment and the two locked eyes, even as Grian was still struggling with the glare, her hood having fallen down to let vibrant silver curls illuminate her and Grian like a spotlight.

"Stop, stop– don't hurt her!" he gasped, watching as the blaze-born tightened his hold on Pearl, a clear threat with eyes narrowed razor-sharp.

"I'll give you Jimmy, you can have him, just let her go!" Grian pleaded, tears in his eyes, and Pearl was so overcome with fear and emotion to register the obvious falsehood there, to process that he must have some plan, so she wailed as loud as she would let herself, considering the still very present dangers of the depths, and seethed, and struggled, and did everything in her power to get out of the blaze-born's powerful arms because she would not let Jimmy be taken under any circumstance!

But she was weak, too weak, a pathetic promise-breaker and a fool, and her punishment was that she was made to watch as Grian apprehensively stepped back, trembling, and let the glare roughly haul Jimmy up by the arm. The canary in question stood with resignation, apparently in on Grian's scheme, and Pearl wanted to scream, because why would they let this happen!? For her, no less! She was the protector, she was the strong one, and they weren't letting her do what she did best! Protect them! Why couldn't they just see things from her point of view? Why!?

It felt as though she was watching in snapshots as Jimmy walked forward, head down, legs weak, and that faraway feel probably wasn't helped by the hot tears running down her cheeks. Crying because she was scared was a luxury that wasn't allowed in the depths, and yet here she was, bawling her eyes out.

In the end, her distress was probably a good thing. It distracted the blaze-born just that little bit, put him just the tiniest bit off-guard, so that as he released Pearl, gracelessly pulling her to her feet and shoving her towards her twin brother as the glare approached, confident that Grian was being sincere in his deal, he couldn't react fast enough as Grian grabbed Pearl's hand, dashed forward with a speed they couldn't have known he possessed, and yanked Jimmy towards the two of them. They rose up, up, up, aided by what little glamor he could spare for strength, purple sparks and pinpricks dancing up his arms as he flew, flew, flew, counting on Pearl and Jimmy to flap their wings in turn, which they did, even though, as far as Pearl knew, he was flying them straight into a wall.
It didn't matter. She'd say that she'd trust him with her life, but that comparison felt a little unfair; she trusted him with her life practically every other week.

Grian was, in fact, not flying the three of them straight into a wall. As he and Jimmy would explain later, they spotted a ledge jutting off an awkward point high up on the alley's wall, and came up with the bare bones of a hostage trade plan while Pearl was standing her ground, hyperventilating, and stealing box boards. They landed in a heap on the unstable surface, taking a breather before Pearl's head wings fluffed up in sudden rage and she exploded on them.

"What was that for!? Jimmy could've been taken, or– or maimed, or killed!" she whisper-shouted, still wary of her volume despite feeling as though she'd never been this angry in her life. Grian stared at her, too exhausted to truly be exasperated, breathing heavily and hugging himself for warmth as he mumbled tiredly,
"We weren't gonna leave you behind…" And why not, huh!?
Pearl saw red she seethed, she felt ready to push her beloved twin off the ledge that had been their savior and watch as he fell onto cold stone and broken dreams, but when she looked back up into his eyes, where hers were filled with unbridled rage, Grian's were just… haunted. Tired. Scared. Jimmy's were too, though his traded some of that bone-deep weariness for an ever-present anxiety that pervaded his mind wherever he went.

And Pearl breathed, and her hands shook, and her eyes stung with tears. She wasn't mad at Grian. She would've never pushed him off that ledge, she just–
Needed an outlet.
Really, Pearl was angry at herself, for letting this all happen.

Looking down into the depths, into the blood-spattered scene of the fight, Pearl looked down at the figures of the glare and the blaze-born. Their eyes were just as haunted. Their frames seemed tiny, insignificant from where Pearl sat, cold and tired and nursing claw wounds peppered all over her arms and back.

It was unfair, really. Unfair that they'd been pitted against each other, that they needed to harm each other to live. None of them wanted to fight, Pearl could recognize that even as a child. It was inevitable. Those two needed an out, and Jimmy was it. All there was to it.

Pearl watched them for a bit. The glare was saying something, gesturing around, at herself, at the blaze-born, then putting her hands on her face as though she didn't know what to do with herself. Her roots were beginning to fade to a rich, dark brown that appeared black in the cavern's poor light, the rest of the silver curls losing their luster as she talked. Pearl didn't get a clear view of her eyes as she paced around, but she thought they might be settling into some shade of blue or purple. The day cycle would be upon them soon.
The whole time, the blaze-born didn't break eye contact with Pearl.

Eventually, the two of them left. The blaze-born lingered just a moment and blinked slowly, sharply, looking directly into Pearl's eyes, into her soul.
It felt like remorse, just the hint of it. Agreement. Solidarity.
This really was unfair for everyone.

Pearl, Grian, and Jimmy stayed in their alleyway perch for a little while, tending to their wounds with whatever pieces of cloth they could spare from their threadbare clothes, comforting each other, huddling for warmth in the winter chill. Pearl knew they wouldn't hold a grudge against her for her enraged reaction. She wouldn't hold a grudge against them for making such a stupid, last-minute, poorly thought through plan just to save her. There was no time to linger, to hold onto fleeting emotions, when any day could be their last. The whole ordeal would be forgotten by tomorrow in favor of figuring out the best way to last the night.

Life went on, in the depths.

And the three of them had no other choice but to live.

Chapter Text

Pearl drained the last of her tea and set the mug on a side table mostly covered in a chaotic assortment of yarn and unfinished projects. She would have to reprimand B about the disarray later, but that wasn't important right now. Her head wings pressed in close to her face, guarded and uncomfortable, not that B could see them.

"Did you," B said finally, tentatively, after a long and tense pause, "need to protect them a lot?"
The question was loaded. Pearl recognized that he was asking so much more about her childhood than he would ever know, that there was so much beneath the tip of that iceberg, beneath that layer of bedrock, than would ever come to light in this conversation.

Still. She felt like she owed him something. B had always been so friendly, so open, that Pearl felt as though she could afford to give him the slimmest sliver of light, the smallest crack in a door he would never be able to walk through.

"...Yes." she answered eventually, picking at a thread of her quilt. B seemed to understand that was all she was going to say on the matter, as he just hummed thoughtfully and lapsed back into silence.

Struck by a sudden need to have something to do with her hands, something to ease her churning mind, Pearl got up, neatly folding her quilt to drape over the back of her chair, and began to sort through the previously noticed jumble of yarn on the side table.

"Someone has to keep things clean around here," she voiced as an afterthought at the disconcerting feeling of B watching her, trying to uncover some hidden meaning from the way she held herself, the stiff motions of her hands.

"Are they… making you feel like you can't go to them anymore?" B angled, clearly trying to approach what he thought was the root of whatever problem he suspected Pearl had. She wanted to snap angrily at him, to insist that neither Grian nor Jimmy would ever say anything like that to her, but she recognized that he didn't necessarily mean directly.

So she took a deep breath, unclenched her jaw, and really, seriously thought about it.
She hadn't been spending much time with her family, as of late. It wasn't that she didn't want to see them; sometimes she yearned so badly for their company it made her heart ache.
They were busy, though. They never reached out to her, and she would never inconvenience them. She was there for them, never the other way around! She was strong enough for herself; strong enough for them, strong enough to be the shield they needed.
A shield shouldn't have wants, needs of its own.

"They have their own lives now. I shouldn't… be getting in the way of that, right?"
It was more a plea to herself than to B.

"You really don't think their lives would include you? You said it yourself, you spent so much time together as kids. You don't think they care about those memories as much as you do?" B reasoned, still staring directly at Pearl with those awful, troubled eyes.

She sighed, and spun a pile of yarn back into its skein, and tried to wind herself back together in much the same way.
"They're in relationships now. They've moved on. It's okay." she responded, repeated, reasoned right back, a broken record who could only scratch out the same out-of-tune melody over and over and over again. She could barely even process the words anymore, but what mattered was that she had a branch to cling onto in the raging river of rue and doubt and fear, and she would cling onto it for as long as she could.
A shield gluing its shattered pieces back together with nothing but tears and dissonant thoughts.

It's okay, it's okay, it's okay. There was no other choice, than for it to be okay. Pearl's never had another choice but to just live, to breathe, to keep going.

B gave her a piercing look that suggested that he had thoughts on her blatant dismissal of it all, but he chose to stop toeing that line, at least for now. Instead, he went for placating, waving a hand disarmingly at her as he offered,
"Well, that's… that doesn't have to be the be-all, end-all. Them having partners and them having you don't need to be mutually exclusive! You don't talk much about Scar, but it seems like you two'd get along just fine, and…"

Pearl stopped everything she was doing to stand up straight, cross her arms, and shoot B a withering glare.

"Scott." she spat, in lieu of an explanation. B sighed and took a long breath before shooting back with a look that read as pure exasperation of the most bone-deep kind.

"Pearl. I know you better than that. You wouldn't let your petty feud–" at Pearl's squawk of indignance, his look became even more frustrated, somehow, "as I said, petty feud, get in the way of your relationship with Jimmy. It's just Scott. I've seen you two be downright civil with each other when needed."

Pearl scoffed, as a way to stall more than anything else, and cursed it all. Cursed B for being so– observant, and– and stubborn, for having the nerve to care this much at all, cursed Scott for being so insistent and infuriating and having the audacity to date her innocent, sweeter than anything, heart-rendingly fragile little cousin– to– to make him so happy, and…

"Maybe I'm a lot pettier than you think," Pearl retorted petulantly, sulking back to her chair and collapsing into it facing away from B. She realized it was immature, it was dumb, but it felt like the only recourse she had at this point. How was she supposed to explain any of it to B, how Scott was so awful, so despicable, so perfect for Jimmy despite all that…

She could feel B radiating confusion, even without seeing his face. That was fair, Pearl supposed; she wasn't usually this touchy about Scott, even on her worse days.

"Did something… happen? Between you two?" B asked after a moment, voice gaining an uncertain, alarmed quality. It felt like damage control. Like B was trying to apologize for something that he wasn't sure even counted as his fault.

Pearl threw her arms up before letting them flop to her sides, because sure! Why not! This one was a story she could tell him that didn't contain anything sensitive–that she couldn't cover up, anyway–so why not explain that whole ordeal to him! Maybe he'd finally get it! Maybe he'd finally get enough sense to leave her alone!

"Did something happen." she drawled sarcastically, aware that she was speaking with perhaps more passive aggression than was necessary, but she was at a point where she didn't care.

She sighed, letting her head drop sideways into one of her hands. She gazed out the window thoughtfully for a moment. The orange fire of the sky was being drowned out by the blue mists of night, leaving star specks of silver ash in its wake. She hadn't even realized she'd been over for so long.

"You remember, a couple weeks back… when I had to go to the hospital? Well, that all started with…"

Chapter Text

Pearl raced past skyscrapers and cracked sidewalk tiles, bag slung hastily over her shoulder and long hair whipping in the wind, sure to become a frizzy mess by the time she stopped.

It didn't matter though. This was it. A rift had opened up not two blocks from the agency she worked at, and she knew for a fact that Cute Guy would be at the scene. (This was during that golden hour where Grian had just gotten off work, but Pearl was still at her job. She did not share this insight with B, of course.) Hot Guy as well, most likely, but she didn't care about him. He was old news. What mattered was that she would get a front and center audience with the mysterious masked vigilante all the news stations were desperate to speak to. Even besides that, it was an opportunity for her to ask questions for a podcast episode! Cute Guy was sure to have plenty of fascinating commentary for her to tear apart for her fanbase, so that they could all really gain a better understanding of the enigmatic world below the bedrock.

(Pearl, of course, knew intimately just how much her brother could offer; tidbits and tales of the cruelty that went on in the darkness, information that she couldn't share herself without garnering suspicion. Not that she would give that detail to B.)

Recently, she'd had plenty of time to throw herself fully into her work, bringing together as many reports and theories on the heroes and under-city as she could think of. She'd always have a cause to work towards, minds to change, even if she didn't always have Grian and Jimmy, nowadays. She still had her work, had this one thing she was good at.

The agency's cameraman had insisted he'd follow her as soon as he could, but preparing and hauling around filming equipment was a lot more difficult than the simple notepad and pen Pearl needed for her part of the job. As it was, she was running solo, at least for now. Her agency knew about her need to be the first to a scene; they pretty much let her do as she pleased. After all, she always brought back great reports.

As she rounded the final street corner, she skidded to a halt, finding herself directly in front of a rift far more massive than she could've anticipated.
A rift which bird-men were already beginning to soar and crawl out of at an alarming pace.
Okay, alright, maybe her ambition for an ideal interview was a bit of a curse, sometimes.

She immediately turned a full circle to backtrack and press herself against the hidden side of the corner she'd just rounded, hoping that she'd gone unseen by the horde of horrors. She trusted herself to evade a single monster decently well, but there was no way she could survive being mobbed by an entire flock of them, and she wasn't willing to test her athleticism by trying to outrun the nimble beasts.

Were Pearl a smart reporter, she would flee the scene and return for Cute Guy at a later time to avoid the imminent danger staring her straight in the face.
Unfortunately, there was another threat looming overhead, one with hair an excessive shade of blue and one who was surely sprinting to the scene just like Pearl had, as desperate to catch a glimpse of pink and black feathers as everyone else.

Pearl refused to let him get there first. She was and would always be the most stubborn person she knew.

So instead, she clung to the faded bricks of an insurance office that would hopefully ensure her safety for the indeterminate amount of time she'd be standing just out of view of a harsh reminder of the clawing chaos that lay just beneath her feet.

(The chaos she'd only just narrowly escaped by the many strokes of luck she'd gotten in her most vulnerable, formative years.)

The city heroes didn't tend to loiter. It wasn't like she'd be waiting for an especially long time; but that brief consolation didn't do much to ease the growing feeling of dread that came with all-too-clear memories of torn wings and flightlessness.

(She hadn't been there when Joel had been attacked. This was a notion she frequently guilted herself over already, but something about the listlessness in his eyes, the paranoia he experienced for months after the incident, the way he still hesitated when he had to visit the mid-levels, even to this day… it haunted Pearl more than any display of violence and viscera might ever have. She'd seen a lot more violence in her youth than any kid ever had any right to, after all.)

The worst part was that she could hear their cries. Their mocking, cawing cries that rang out in a cacophony, alerting everyone to their inhumanity. Exposing the under-city's teeth to the blue sky and ignorant masses everywhere.

(To those who would hear that dissonant birdsong and think of avians like her, think of everyone the council wanted them to equate with those monsters.)

Luckily, Pearl didn't have to stand still–gripping her notepad and pen like her one lifeline–for too long. Soon, amidst the din of ornithic clamorings, the sound of bullets and screeches of pain resounded prominently. Even more luckily, Pearl could tell it was Cute Guy that had arrived first to the scene–the pink shots of energy he weaponized left a distinct, lingering sound of crackling, like pop rocks.

(The way Doc explained it to them when they were younger was that using glamor bullets was like turning the energy into fireworks, which led to Pearl and Grian discovering they could make the bullets explode in much the same way, which then led to a heated competition on who could create cooler looking ones, which they of course roped Jimmy into despite his protests. Tango was their judge.)

Peering out from behind her brick bastion, Pearl spotted Cute Guy darting about in the air like an acrobat, firing bullets at the bird-men who tailed him like they were all in some sort of elaborate dance… Pearl noted that line down for later, that was a good one.

The vigilante didn't seem to have seen her, though, which was probably a good thing. The last thing Pearl needed right now was a lecture from a grown man in pink heels and thigh highs.

(She still got a good laugh out of that every time Grian showed up to a preening session right off one of his patrols, wearing the ridiculous costume. It was certainly an effective disguise, but perhaps also one of her most effective pranks to this day.)

That was where Pearl's luck ran out, though. One of the more eagle-eyed bird-men–who was not, in fact, a kind of eagle; Pearl thought it might've been a toucan, just based on color–recognized that the flock wasn't especially successful at catching the pink and black avian flapping about in the sky, and turned its gaze to its surroundings.
Right when Pearl was peeking around the corner.

She locked her eyes with its beady ones, regretting it immediately as the bird-man squawked a horrible, shrill screech and beat its huge wings once, diving towards her at an incredible speed.

Right, okay, time to do that evading she was considering earlier.

Bird-men were large creatures, their wings especially taking up an unreasonable amount of space compared to that of your average avian, and that coupled with the fact that Pearl was rather short and lithe meant that any small space could offer her protection, if only temporarily. Bird-men also notoriously could not see glass, often flying straight into solid windows–which still wasn't necessarily great, since they were fast and hefty and could do some real damage to a structure, even involuntarily–making enclosed buildings another safe option, as long as the door was sufficiently barricaded, as the beasts had been known to bust through locks and deadbolts through brute force alone.

Pearl figured most of the buildings near the rift had already been secured by the people within them after the sinkhole opened and the outbreak of monsters began, though, which was proven true when she tried the handle of the insurance office and it didn't budge. It seemed like it couldn't ensure her safety after all. Rip-off.

Well, with that plan out the window, Pearl ducked to the left as the bird-man rushed her, leaving it to pivot sharply in the air as she began running, scanning the area for a hiding place.

(She could've used her glamor to turn invisible, but she hadn't been confident she could uphold it for a long enough period of time to make an escape, and also didn't really want to run the risk of being seen using glamor by a random civilian looking out their window or something. It could've worked as a last resort if she'd needed it, though.)

Most of the other bird-men were preoccupied by the light show Cute Guy was giving them, which was both convenient and not, since it also occupied Cute Guy enough that he hadn't yet seen Pearl being chased down on the ground. She'd considered calling out to him for help, but distracting him while he was fighting seemed ill-advised, and besides, she could handle herself fine, at least for now.

She figured Hot Guy would arrive on the scene soon anyway. A history of her and Scott competing for the best view of riftside battles had led to far too many incidents where the longtime hero had to save both of them from surprise monster attacks, and while she didn't like relying on him, she couldn't deny that he was a lot better equipped to deal with the creatures than she was.

Pearl spotted a bus stop, one of the mostly enclosed ones with glass walls, and decided she'd try to fake out the bird-man currently hot on her tail, letting it knock itself out on the solid glass and giving her time to hopefully find a better hiding place.

This plan, considering the not unlikely risk of getting torn up by broken glass, worked out surprisingly well. Pearl dashed towards the thankfully empty bus stop–though who would be waiting for transit at a time like this, anyway?–and swung herself around the back of it and into its glass confines, rewarded for her swiftness when her assailant crashed directly into the stop's back wall and slumped to the ground with a high, wailing keen. Pearl stared wide-eyed at its collapsed form, still sort of shocked that she'd managed to incapacitate the monster, at least for the time being, and in her bafflement, she didn't even notice the shadow swooping down behind her in near silence.

Of course, she noticed it plenty well when said shadow pressed a taloned hand to her back and pushed her hard against the same glass wall that had acted as her savior, screeching directly into her face so loudly that her ears rang.

She couldn't see the figure very well, her front to the glass and unable to turn around due to the suffocating vice grip she found herself trapped in, but snapshots of dark feathers and shrill, enraged caws that only increased in volume clued her in just as well.

Bird-men weren't human. They were, however, pack animals, and fiercely protective ones at that. Mess with one, and you mess with the whole flock. Pearl had been too busy escaping the singular bird-man that'd had its eyes on her to notice that another pair of eyes had been following their exchange as well. A pair of eyes that didn't see her too kindly.

Pearl… didn't have too many options here. She struggled uselessly against the angry beast for a moment, trying to get a hand or leg in such a position that she could push back against its unyielding force, but such efforts proved fruitless.

(Black feathers. Anger. Protection. Can she really fault it, when she would've done the same for one of them?
…Pearl never did like looking in the mirror.)

She took a deep, frantic breath with what little air she could pull into her lungs, and screamed. Screamed with all she had, screamed out to the stars, the sky, to anyone who might hear her pleas.

The dark-feathered bird-man didn't take well to that. It attempted to slash clean through Pearl's torso, but given that it had to lift its gnarled, clawed hand to do so, it gave Pearl enough time to stumble to the side and only get grazed by the terrible thing's talons.

The beast didn't give in so easily, and with an affronted squawk, it attempted to claw at her again, scrabbling with its hands as she struggled and staggered in the confined space, trying to bait it into giving her an opening to run.

This… didn't go so well, especially when the bird-man from before, the toucan looking one, joined the fray after recovering from its earlier crash, cornering Pearl together with its partner.

This was rather bad, actually. Pearl could feel various scrapes and wounds bleeding all over her body, though none seemed too deep, thankfully. As things were, she was out of energy and vulnerable in a corner in front of two bird-men who were poised to strike.

She wouldn't have had the time to think of a strategy, but luckily, she didn't need to. The bus stop lit up in an explosion of pink, the two monsters shrieking awfully as they collapsed, still writhing on the ground as Pearl looked up, her breaths quick and shallow, at the form of Cute Guy hovering in the air a few feet from her.

"And stay dead!" he shouted, voice strained, the shadow over his face roiling and flickering. Pearl gawked at him for a moment, covered in open wounds, shaking, hair surely a mess from all the running she'd done…
…And then she snapped right back into the cheery reporter persona she used in the field.

A quick glance around the area showed a gathering crowd that was currently enamored with the now present Hot Guy, who seemed to have taken over Cute Guy's job of addressing the bird-men actively emerging from the rift, leaving the vigilante to tend to any endangered civilians.
…Like Pearl.

She sidestepped the pile of bodies on the floor and got out of the bus stop, fumbling for the pen and notepad she'd put in her bag at some point and gazing at Cute Guy with a grin that stretched a bit too wide over her face.

"Thanks for the save, o brave and mysterious hero! Care to answer a few questions for the press before you take to the skies again?" she asked, not missing a beat. Cute Guy just kind of stared at her for a minute, dumbfounded.

"You– what– you just–" He took a long, slow breath, seemingly struggling with the words he wanted to say, before calming himself.

"You need to go see someone. You're bleeding all over." Pearl blinked at the man, slowly, before giving herself a quick once-over.
Okay. She was bleeding a bit more than she thought. Chalk that up to adrenaline, she supposed.
Still! She wasn't literally dying! And she went through so much effort for this interview! So she tried once more, tapping her pen against the paper with an impatient air.

"All in a day's work! Don't worry, don't worry, as soon as I get some answers I will strut right on over to the local hospital and get myself checked out. But who am I to pass up such a great opportunity when you're standing right in front of me?"

The man facepalmed–actually facepalmed–with an exasperated groan, his two pairs of head wings twitching in what Pearl thought (knew) might be irritation.

"I'm not answering your dumb questions! Go! Shoo! Go take care of yourself! I've still got work to do here anyway!"

(Pearl recognized the way her name caught in his throat, the way he had to fight back the urge to scoop her up and tend to her wounds–all while bemoaning her lack of self-preservation, of course–how he had to resist dragging her straight down to Doc and Etho's doorstep and dumping her at their feet to fret over. It was a familiar routine, at this point. They'd gotten into a lot of admittedly rather dangerous shenanigans as children.)

This back-and-forth continued for a bit. A passerby might've found their sibling-like bickering odd, but if anyone noticed, no one called them out on it. Unfortunately, though, their stalemate was very rudely intercepted by a smooth, infuriatingly smug voice that Pearl knew all too well.

"I'll take her. You can go take care of everything else." Of course he would get involved in this. Scott sauntered up from behind, his normally haughty expression and laid-back disposition replaced by a concern Pearl wasn't used to seeing on his face. Which did not make things any better.

What made things worse was when Cute Guy took one look at the fiery glare Pearl was sending her mortal enemy's way and snorted in amusement, giving Scott a brief
"Great, thanks." before taking off to leave Pearl at the vain man's mercy. Betrayal.

"No thank you. I can drive myself. You don't need to haul me away like I'm on death's door." she sneered, eyes narrowed. Scott was not intimidated. He just rolled his eyes like Pearl was some annoying little kid who didn't want to eat their veggies and gestured for her to follow him as he started walking away. When she didn't, he sighed and put a hand on his hip, staring her down with an unimpressed expression.

"You look like you're about to fall over. Come on. No one cares how stubborn you are about your interviews. You'll get one next time. Ideally when you're not going to pass out from blood loss," he said, voice taking on a more careful tone than usual, and Pearl felt very much like she was being mocked. Or pitied. Maybe both.

However. She was starting to sway on her feet a bit, the world becoming uncomfortably bright and loud, and as she considered the car she'd left all the way back at the agency, having run here in a hurry, she thought that getting a ride probably wasn't the worst idea. And besides, if Scott wanted to sabotage his chances for an interview, then Pearl wouldn't stop him.

(Besides, he was the only person here who knew what "driving her to the hospital" would actually entail. She wouldn't trust any random civilian to drop her off at a rift close to the labs. Unfortunate as it may have been.)

After what she felt was a sufficient amount of grumbling and sulking and overall pettiness, Pearl trailed behind Scott to his car, the walk there filled with as much infighting as Pearl could manage in her injured state. Squinting back at the ongoing battle, she could see Cute Guy resuming his aerial acrobatics, shooting at bird-men alongside Hot Guy, the two complementing each other well in battle.

(He had someone else to protect him now.)

Scott's car was plain on the interior. Pearl had been expecting him to be the type to have flashy decals or one too many charms hanging off the rearview mirror, but for all intents and purposes, it was just a regular car. Shame. She would've loved something else to needle him over.

There was, in the back, an electric heating pad with a cord tangled up in knots as though someone had been fidgeting with it. Pearl could guess who it was for.
Stars. Scott cared about him so much it was sickening. Terrible. Awful. Completely infuriating.
…It often made Pearl feel like she hadn't been caring enough.
Did that matter? Jimmy had Scott now. Jimmy and Scott. Grian and Scar.

She knew this would happen. She'd been preparing herself for it since childhood, since that distinct, discerned realization of her differences.

In a way, she'd been preparing for this her whole life. Her family, her friends, they would find love, and Pearl wouldn't. She'd be there, until she wasn't. Until she couldn't be. That privilege, revoked. Given to another.
…Another.

"...Why are you doing this?" Pearl found herself asking without even thinking about it, the car ride up to that point left in near silence only interrupted by soft pop music from the radio.

Scott's expression didn't change, nor did he even turn to look Pearl's way.
"What do you mean?"

Pearl swallowed, turning to look at herself in the side mirror. Frizzy, mussed hair. Bleeding wounds. Wide eyes. She must've looked like such a wreck right now.

"This. Driving me. You could've just left me out there." She wasn't quite sure what she was trying to convince him of. To not care? To justify her–if she were being fully and completely honest with herself–not entirely warranted hatred of him? To give her one constant to rely on in her ever-fraying web of relationships, even if it were as senseless as their arch-rivalry?

There was an odd silence, like Scott wasn't sure how to take her words for a moment, before he cleared his throat and he replied simply, with a touch of confusion,
"Believe it or not, I don't actually want you to suffer. Not unless you're bowling me over for an interview, that is."

Pearl huffed, crossing her arms. This was all so stupid. Meaningless pleasantries. He already had Jimmy. He didn't need to– to ingratiate himself like this.

"You don't need to pretend you like me for Jimmy's sake," she grumbled, regretting it near-instantly at the sudden, unreadable look Scott sent her way. She was losing her composure. She couldn't be projecting her insecurities like this, it'd make her look pathetic.

"Is that what you're angry about? I wouldn't say that I like you, but there's a big difference between not liking someone and wanting them to bleed out on the pavement. I'm not doing this for Jimmy." Scott clarified, sounding exasperated. He gave Pearl another look, brows creased with what Pearl might've thought to be worry if she didn't know better, before adding,
"Though it's true that he wouldn't want you to be hurt, either. You've seemed–" he seemed to reconsider, realigning some mental picture that Pearl couldn't see.
"Jimmy told me," he started, laying out the remark like a shield, "that he thought you might be lonely. You should visit him sometime."

Oh, so he really was just mocking her, then. Gloating. He has a boyfriend, and Pearl doesn't, and Pearl will never have Jimmy like he does. Making fun of her isolation. She didn't think he would go that far, but sure! Fine! Let it be known that she was the fool. She was tricked. She really thought he might've been trying to say something nice for once.

"In that case, you can tell Jimmy that I'm fine. And maybe he can give you a few tips on not snooping around in other people's business." she snarled back, raising her voice to a shout.

Scott stared at her in frustration, like he had something awful to bite back with, but eventually he just chose not to respond.

Better that way.

The rest of the car ride was left in the near-silence of the irritatingly happy pop music, until they reached their destination.

Scott asked her quietly if she would make it the whole walk on her own.
Pearl didn't respond as she got out of the car.
He didn't go after her for confirmation. At least now he was letting her make her own choices.

(On the flight down through the rift, masked by the howling winds, Pearl let herself scream, let herself wail until all the rage in her body had dissolved into nothing but self-loathing and disappointment. It seemed not even catharsis could heal her loneliness that day.)

Chapter Text

During Pearl's story, B had taken up the crochet hooks again, this time with black yarn, and had been diligently knitting away the whole time she was talking, though she knew that he was still keeping an open ear out for her whole tale, despite its length. Pearl, for her part, had continued to tidy up clutter around the apartment, feeling awkward just sitting and talking for so long with nothing else to do with herself. It was now marginally more organized around the place, though she was certain that the next time she came around B would find a way to jumble it all up once more. She'd accepted this bitter truth long ago.

Nevertheless, now that she was finally done speaking, she gazed at B with sharp, expectant eyes, hoping that he'd understand where she was coming from a bit better now.

"Well?"

B found some natural resting point in the pattern of whatever creature he was crocheting now–Pearl was reasonably sure it was a critter of some kind, those were some of his favorites to make and some of the shop's best-sellers–and looked up at Pearl with a perfectly even expression.

"It sounds to me," B began, in that slow sort of tone that people use when they're trying to figure out how to say something without hurting the other's feelings, "like Scott was trying to say he was worried, but went about it terribly because of pride, or vanity, or something," Pearl already had many objections to this notion, but out of respect for her friend she chose to at least let him finish speaking before making her offense known, "and you took it poorly because you were in a bad state of mind."

"Okay. First of all. Why would that awful man be worried? The whole point of that exchange was him telling me how much he doesn't care, and besides, he does dumb jabs like that all the time! He's out for blood! This is why we can't get along!"

She continued before B could retort with something nonsensical again.

"Second of all! Bad state of mind!? I was fine! As good as ever! The whole point of this entire debate we've been having is me convincing you that I am good and normal and doing great, and that me sometimes missing my family is equally as good and normal and great. Can we drop this yet?"

B blinked at her. Once. Twice. She returned to her decluttering, feeling put on the spot.

"I never brought up you missing your family. That's what I was trying to get at with my questions earlier, but you never gave me a concrete answer."

Pearl's hands went still. She didn't look back at B as he continued to speak, afraid of what she might see in his eyes. Afraid of the concern. Afraid to see something she'd have to leave behind, just like everything else.

"Scott… I don't know him that well, but… you said it yourself. He doesn't usually act like that, even within the bounds of whatever strange rivalry you two have going on. Is it so hard to believe that he might've noticed if you were acting off, too? If you could use some time with your little cousin?"

Pearl's hand raised up to tug at twitchy, fluffed out head wings, a nervous habit that she easily disguised by instead messing with her bangs; a way to continue to not meet B's gaze.

"Why would he care? He wouldn't… They– they've never cared– noticed– they–" She could barely even tell what words she was saying at this point, thoughts flowing freeform, she only had the vaguest idea that maybe she shouldn't be spilling all of this to B, shouldn't be burdening him, that was all she did, a shield battered and broken could only ever be a burden–

"Pearl." B's voice. Soft, worried, welcoming. Her cold hands loosened on her arms, stopped digging into the open flesh there, and when she'd started doing that she didn't know.
"Sit down?" She… obliged, if only because she was beginning to feel lightheaded and didn't entirely know what to do with herself. Took the black and blue quilt and wrapped it around herself, feeling distinctly like a child being comforted after a breakdown.

"You've been saying this entire time that these people you know have 'moved on'... that they can't care about you now that time has passed. Have things always been like that?"

…

She didn't– couldn't reply to that.

"Have you gone your entire life believing that the people you love are just going to– to leave you when they find someone else?"

Pearl laughed brokenly, a sharp, wheezing sound, and finally returned her gaze to B. He looked so– so stars-forsaken confused!
Maybe he just couldn't get it. Maybe she was wrong.

"I've told you. I'm different. I don't do… romance, at least not in the way they do," she paused to take a deep breath in and hold it, to exhale, to try and calm herself, "they do. They all do. I've seen it happen. They get a partner, and they don't have time for me anymore, or never nearly as much. It's normal. I'm the weird one. They go on with their lives… and it leaves me. And I want them to be happy! Of course I do! I've only ever wanted my friends and family to be safe, to be happy… and if that excludes me, then…"

Pearl gave B a weak smile and felt as though it was made of glass.

"Then that's okay. They're happy. They have someone better now."

Pearl glanced around the room, at a warm quilt, at a mug once filled with homemade tea, at piles of yarn meticulously organized by her own hands, at the purple glow of the coming nighttime out the window… and she knew it was all temporary. B was a friend, a good one, but she'd seen this song and dance play out before. Everyone else found people, people they loved, the ones for them, and Pearl wasn't that for anyone. She was alone, even if she had people all around her that she loved so dearly. It didn't matter when they had more important people to love.

She was the outcast. The wrong one. The odd one out. Her feelings atypical, wrong, for as long as she could remember.

She had so much love in her heart, so much care and affection and emotion for everyone she knew, love that didn't rest, love that tore with talons and screeched with rage, love that protected and love that comforted and love that soared.
But it would never be the right kind of love.
Her love was only ever useful as a shield.

B stared at her, horrified, and all at once realization crashed into her and Pearl knew she'd made a mistake. She'd bared her feelings for the world to see, and for what? It didn't matter. None of it. She would always be too different, too much, for him to understand. For any of them to understand.

An overflowing well of ugly emotions spilling over the surface, lashing out and sobbing and screaming and all of it useless, pointless, meaningless!

She got up, quickly, heard B saying something in a panicked, worried voice, and she ran, couldn't bear for him to see the tears threatening to stream down her face, for him to see this awful, ugly side of her.

He wouldn't, couldn't understand it. Her. She'd hoped foolishly that she might finally find someone permanent, someone who'd care for as long as she did, and she had been wrong. She was always wrong, and yet she couldn't help always hoping like a naive, stars-forsaken fool.

She reached her apartment and buried her face in her hands, pathetically wishing she had her family. Her friends. Grian, Jimmy, Doc, Etho, Gem, Impulse, anyone…

…But she wasn't theirs. Couldn't be theirs forever. Everyone always found a way to leave her behind. If not now, then later. Always later.

She was different. She was strange. She was wrong.

And even as the love that burned in her chest and attempted to spill out in tears roiled and ached and throbbed, she knew it didn't mean a thing.
Her love was only ever just a shield.

Chapter Text

Pearl laid on her stomach on the apartment's tiny couch, wings sprawled out and head propped up on her hands as she read quietly.

It'd only been a few years since Etho had picked up her, Grian, and Jimmy from that dingy alleyway, and while she'd been highly mistrusting of him and Doc at first, she was starting to think that maybe this life she'd been promised, this safety, wasn't actually some sort of elaborate scheme.

Still. Her and Grian had come up with at least five contingency plans to escape should the need arise. They left Jimmy out of those late-night conversations so as to not stress him out. And also because he wouldn't have been much help to their plotting.

Anyway. It was starting to seem like those plans might not even be needed, as blindly optimistic as it was for Pearl to think that. Up here Grian and Jimmy were safe, she had friends, she didn't have to worry about where her next meal was coming from or whether it'd be enough, and she got to go to school! She could read now, and she was actually pretty good at it!

…Normally, on a weekend, she wouldn't be cooped up inside with a book, though. Doc and Etho worked no matter the day of the week; there were always things to be taken care of in the under-city's dysfunctional society. Pearl, Grian, and Jimmy were allowed out so long as they were with each other or another friend, but…

Well, that was the issue, wasn't it.

Grian and Jimmy were with Joel today on one of their faux-gang meetups… or whatever being a 'bad boy' actually meant… but, whatever. They did this often. Pearl was used to it. Normally, when they were doing that, Pearl would just go find some other friends to hang out with.

There was some sort of monster outbreak going on in the near-levels; whatever it was, Ren and Lizzie hadn't been at school. Pearl figured she shouldn't bother them while they were busy hunting, but she'd find time once the whole situation blew over to get together with a couple other friends and get lunch somewhere. Outbreaks tended to take a lot out of the two hunters.

So she'd messaged a couple others; Gem, Impulse, Shelby, Mumbo… for one reason or another, whether it be transportation or some previously arranged business, no one could come meet her.

Which was fine. She didn't need attention all the time–in fact, most days, she'd have enjoyed a nice, quiet day on her own. Alone with her thoughts and a book.

Just. Most days. She'd be having a quiet day inside with Grian and Jimmy, too. She kept getting to interesting spots in her book and jumping up to tell them about them, or finding herself worrying about what they were doing, or wondering when they'd get home…

Maybe there was a reason she usually sought company when they were out by themselves.

It just always felt odd, even now. Not knowing exactly where they were or what they were doing, not being relied on to protect them during every hour of every day…
It was good. It was a good thing. They were safer here. It was a weight lifted off her shoulders, not needing to stress over them, having the time to make her own friendships and find her own hobbies, but…
The spot where that weight had been, that emptiness, it was palpable.

They didn't need her as much, now. She… she wasn't used to that. She had always been needed for something, for as long as she could remember.

…Sometimes, on dark, late nights, when Pearl couldn't sleep and stared up at the ceiling, thoughts running a million miles too fast, she wondered what she was without that. When she wasn't needed. How much space had that weight taken up? Was there anything left beneath it?

…

Pearl shut her book, sighing. Maybe she'd take a nap instead.

Pearl stared down her algebra homework like it had personally slighted her–which it had–and then looked back at her phone.

Gem and Impulse had invited her out for a night of playing their very own Soup Group brand tabletop role-playing game, which didn't actually have a name. Usually, Pearl would be ecstatic!

But she was busy. Now that she was doing the acclimation program, most of her waking hours were taken up by travel, school, or homework. She was preparing for a life above bedrock, a life her two best friends wouldn't be able to join.

Well. That might've been catastrophizing a bit. Pearl could visit them down in the under-city, it wasn't as though the bedrock that separated them was an impassable barrier.

But it marked a point of change for her, for them, for their friendship. They were growing apart, perhaps not emotionally, but physically. Pearl didn't have as much time as she once did, and she knew that once the three of them grew up and got jobs, that remaining free time would dwindle even further.

There would come a point when they wouldn't have what they had now. It was something she'd never had to contend with in the past. In the depths, she could always convince herself that there was work to do, people to protect, that what she did mattered, that everything would be alright as long as she did what she had to.

This was a form of loss, as small and simple as it may have been, that hung over her head and whispered in her ear. Inevitable. Eventual. She couldn't stop the constraints of time and distance, as much as she may have wanted to.

So what was there left to do, but resign herself to them?

Pearl picked up a pencil and got to work. Maybe someday it'd be the case, she'd become resigned, but for now, she could still squeeze some time out of her day. If she worked hard, she could visit them soon.

Click. The call hadn't gone through. It seemed the connection between the bedrock was spottier than normal, today. Pearl gazed at the screen, tracing the letters of her dad's name–she had tried Doc first, who was less likely to be in the midst of a literal gang fight, then Etho–and wondered if this was her karma.

It was a stupid thing to be upset over. To want reassurance about. But she couldn't help feeling lonely, even though this was her choice. She'd known what she was getting into, living topside full-time. She'd chosen this.

She just hadn't expected it to be just as claustrophobic as living hundreds of miles below the earth.

It had been okay, at first. She had Grian and Jimmy, she always would, and they had a sort of shared solidarity in the fact that they couldn't really meet anyone else, couldn't open up to anyone without the risks that came with their unfortunate circumstances.

But they had worked past that. Found their courage. They had boyfriends now, had learned to overcome that social fear that had kept them bound for so long, bound just like the wings that had started all of this fear to begin with.

It'd been a month since they were able to meet up for a preening session. Even longer since Pearl had been able to assemble with Gem and Impulse for a patented Soup Group conference.

She just couldn't help but feel trapped, even in the open air and blue sky that spanned further than the eye could see. She was missing the people that gave that freedom any meaning.

And here she was, calling her parents because she was scared. Because she was lonely. Sad. Asking for permission to come down for a night, to let them card through her feathers and tell her she was loved. Asking. Pleading. Even though she knew she could crash through the window in the dead of the night cycle and they'd still welcome her with open arms.

There was a part of her, a part nestled deep down inside her soul, that was afraid. Afraid of rejection. She had grown up, left the nest, moved on, she wasn't theirs anymore. Their pesky bird. She hadn't called in months, had let her feelings fester, had refused to show her face to them when she felt so terrible, so did she really have any right? Any right to cry for help, to sob in their arms, when she hadn't even done the barest minimum? Did she really have a right to feel trapped when she was freer than almost everyone stuck in the dark, in the dust, in cold stone walls and a bedrock ceiling?

She held her breath. Released it.

She could do this. She was up here for a reason. If she could make it in the depths as a starving child, she could make it here.

Even if she was losing the people that had made that fight worth it in the first place.

Chapter Text

"Pearl!" B called, standing and holding out a hand as the woman bolted, leaving him alone in the once cozy apartment that had turned oppressive over the course of the evening.

Pearl was his closest friend since moving to the city. Maybe his closest friend ever, if he were to be entirely honest with himself. His days underground had been spent in fear and isolation, for the most part.

Which was why it hurt. Why it made him sad, so sad, to learn that Pearl had been suffering, had been drowning in self-loathing and preconceived notions of what she should and shouldn't be, for the whole time he'd known her. Before that, even. That she'd reduced herself, her kindness, her silliness, her overwhelming devotion for everything and everyone she held dear, to nothing more than its use to others. Her use to others.

B hadn't had a good childhood in any sense of the word, but he had been safe. Safe as he could be in the under-city, anyway. He had people to rely on. Pearl, from what he could put together, only had herself. Had to be that person, that source of reliance, for Grian and Jimmy for years.

She was so fixated on the love she couldn't feel to focus on the love she did feel, her incredible care, her loyalty to her friends and family, her selflessness.

Pearl was one of the kindest people B knew. And she just couldn't see that, couldn't see how lovable she really was, no matter how hard B tried to convince her.

…Which was why it hurt. Why it hurt, knowing that he couldn't promise her all of that in return. That he couldn't be truly honest with her, lay himself bare as she had, couldn't guarantee that he'd always be there when she needed him. He couldn't promise he wouldn't be swept beneath the tide, be found out, be tossed back into the darkness that the city so fervently believed he belonged in.

Pearl was doing so much for him and his kin with her blog, with her work, without even knowing it. It made him feel sick, knowing how much she cared. Cared even for the people living underfoot that she couldn't see, couldn't know, and yet still chose to go against the grain, to insist that there must be more to them than met the eye.

She wouldn't listen to B. As sad as it made him, all of his attempts to show her the brilliance, the kindness that lay within the folds of her heart had failed. She just hadn't been in a headspace to listen.

But that wouldn't stop him. He would not let Pearl, his friend, the one who had greeted him with shining eyes and a bright smile on his very first day in the city, who had stuck with him through thick and thin, suffer in silence any more than she already had.

So he picked up his phone and scrolled down his contact list to a very particular number, one he'd gotten from a serendipitous occasion at the shop where the customer in question had bought a certain pattern and was asking how exactly to use it, leading to B insisting he could call whenever he wanted for tips.

He settled the phone between his ear and his shoulder as it rang and rang, retrieving his crochet project from earlier to work on as he chatted.

"Scott? Listen, I know it's late, and this is kind of a weird request… but I need to talk to Jimmy. It's about Pearl."

Pearl trudged home from the agency, the sky gray and overcast with a gloomy layer of clouds as though to reflect her mood. She knew she should apologize to B for dumping her insecurities on him, lashing out, and then leaving, but she wasn't sure she was even prepared for that conversation with the state she was in.

Besides, it all felt so far away. Pointless. B was just another person she'd hoped beyond hope she could keep, someone who wouldn't grow away from her and move on, and she had been wrong. He didn't get it. He was just like everyone else. Unlike her.

A shield could only become so weathered until it broke. Broke into a mess of shards on the floor, into a jaded heart, a lonely soul left to rot away on its own.

She reached her apartment complex. Climbed the stairs. Walked up to his door, hand hovering over the handle, and…

Paused. This routine was different now. It wasn't hers, not anymore. She couldn't go to B for an afternoon of tea and serenity, like she might have just days earlier.

Tea and serenity. Soup and games. Alleyways and fights. None of it was important anymore. Echoes fading into the past, things she might have once provided her worth to now left in the dust. Fading. Rotting.

So she took in a breath, let it go, let him go, and turned to her apartment's door instead. Opened it, expecting the same lonely walls and empty rooms she'd lived in for years now.

What she was met with instead was a hug so fierce it probably counted as a tackle, and an annoyed yet fond voice that she knew well.

"Pearl! Talk to us next time! D'you know how awful it is to hear that you've been out here feeling lonely and sad and none of us even knew!?" Grian cried, pulling back from the embrace to shake Pearl's shoulders as though shaking sense into her, pouting at her all the while.

Pearl blinked a few times. Oversized red sweater, wild brown hair, a mischievous gleam in his eyes… it was definitely Grian. Her gaze swept across the room, and she found the smiling forms of Jimmy, Gem, and Impulse all looking back at her.

"What– why are all of you here!?" she shrieked, quickly shutting the door behind her so Grian could let the glamor over his head wings fade–the other three already had their hybrid features out, hidden from the door at their points in the room–revealing the wings in question to be twitching slightly, a nervous tic. The other three hybrids all rushed down to Pearl to get their own hugs in, while Jimmy timidly explained,

"Well… your friend B, he called me the other night through Scott. Said you two talked, and that you'd said a lot of things that worried him, that you thought we were leaving you behind, that we didn't love you as much as you did, that you weren't useful to us anymore…"

Pearl's stomach dropped, but before she could hurriedly try to explain that she was fine, she was great, she hadn't been pathetically throwing herself a pity party this whole time, Grian interrupted.

"So that's why we're here! To prove you wrong!"

Gem and Impulse joined into the shouting, the former still clinging onto Pearl like she was something precious.

"Yeah! Because you're wrong, Pearl! We love you so much."
"You're so wrong! You're stuck with us! We wouldn't leave you even if you wanted us to, Pearl!"

And the remarks may have been simple, may have been as sassy as they were affectionate, but to Pearl, they were everything. Everything she needed, everything she wanted, everything she had secretly been hoping to hear for so long. Once Gem released Pearl from her iron grip, Grian and Jimmy excitedly took her hands and led her to the couch as Gem and Impulse ran off to another room.

"Take out your wings! We're having a preening session!" Grian insisted, already wrestling with his sweater to reveal bright, beautiful wings banded in shades of red, blue, and yellow.

"Right now?" Pearl asked in shock, already feeling tears threatening to break through the surface and betray just how much she had missed them. Missed all of them. Grian and Jimmy grinned, the latter replying cheerily,

"Yep! Gem and Impulse are warming you some soup, Doc made a pot to bring up when he heard you were feeling down–"

"You got Doc in on this!?"

Jimmy just laughed, Grian chiming in as Pearl began to feel like she might faint, might actually faint with how overwhelmed she was. Overwhelmed in the best way possible, with an overdose of love and care and warmth that she hadn't realized she had needed so dearly for such a long, long time.

"Etho too! He tried to pitch in by making a cake, but…"

Pearl cringed. Doc could make a great soup, something warm and hearty and forever comforting, though not as good as Gem's personal recipe–which Pearl mourned, but she knew it wouldn't be feasible without the autumn spices and vegetables that were sadly out of season. On the other hand, Etho's skills in the kitchen were… lacking on a good day, to say the least.

"Well, anyway, he ended up getting a cake from Joel and Lizzie's instead. We are going to have a nice dinner, and preen your wings, and watch movies, and if you ever need us to remind you just how much we love you, then just say the word. Got it?"

Pearl wasn't confident she could say anything without bursting into tears, so all she did was nod, eyes watery and a smile beaming on her face, which Grian seemed to take as a good sign.

"And we're going to do this next week, and the week after that, and the week after that, for as long as you need us to. We'll always be here for you, Pearl!" Impulse called from the kitchen, and Pearl felt silly for thinking she could actually hold back tears during this exchange, because those words were already enough to send her off the edge into full on sobbing territory, and the night had barely even begun. Grian and Jimmy were there to hold her, to wrap their wings around her and gaze at her with eyes so full of adoration she felt sick, felt like she couldn't handle it any longer.

She'd say she felt like a kid again, but that wouldn't be cutting it. When she was a kid, she was never allowed these moments of respite, of release, of everything she had always needed but always given instead.

"W-What if… you're busy? Or y-you… have dates, or plans, o-or…" she sniffled, still disbelieving of all this. That they'd go out of their way, do all of this for her sake.

"We'll always make time for you, Pearl. Even if it's hard. Even if we're busy. We're not going to let you go that easily." Gem affirmed, to twitters of relief from Pearl that she didn't bother to conceal.

And they made good on their promise. Gem and Impulse prepared the group a dinner provided by Pearl's parents, and they all dimmed the lights for movies as Grian and Jimmy preened Pearl's wings. She ended up falling asleep in a comfortable nest of friends and blankets, feeling utterly content and completely, utterly wanted.

It wouldn't be enough to fix things forever. Pearl knew that, would reflect on it in the morning when she came back to her senses a bit after the preening-induced high. She'd probably still get lonely. She still saw her differences, the way she experienced love, experienced relationships, as more of a curse than a plain fact of her existence. Maybe one day she could start working past that, with help from her friends. Still. She might self-sabotage a bit. Might convince and catastrophize herself into a pit of self-hatred and isolation, but at least she knew now that her friends, her family… they wouldn't judge her. Even when her emotions turned ugly, even when she lashed out.

And she thought that if she just let herself hope, let herself live, it might be enough to get her through the harder times. The darker times. The times where she felt like nothing.

Sometimes a shield needed to be pieced back together from nothing. That was okay. Necessary, even. A shield didn't always have to be a shield. With enough love and care and attention… it could become something even better.

…

Pearl had only ever given out two spare keys to her apartment. One to Grian–she figured if Jimmy ever needed to get in, he could just speak to him; her and Grian lived in the same complex–who had clearly used it that day to jumpstart his illicit schemes of love and affection. The other she had given to B, after an awful incident where she locked herself out of her own apartment and Grian had been out patrolling in costume and she simply couldn't get in.

With everything that had happened that night, Pearl hadn't noticed a couple smaller things. Smaller things such as, for instance, the small black dog knitted from big, looping threads of yarn that sat on the side table beside her front door, along with a handwritten letter.

Hey, Pearl! I know you left in a hurry last night, and you probably don't want to talk to me. Here's hoping that when you read this, you'll be in a better mood after Grian and Jimmy stop by. I just wanted you to know that I'm not mad. Don't feel the need to apologize, I was a lot more concerned than anything else after all that.

I know that you're scared that everyone you know could leave, could abandon you without a second thought, and I hope that you've figured out by now that those fears are just that. Fears. Because everyone you know cares about you, Pearl, and we all want you to be happy just as much as you want us to be happy.

Still, though. I can't guarantee you with 100% certainty that I'll be around forever. I want to, believe me, and I'm willing to fight to stick by you, just like you do for everyone you know, but life has a way of throwing around cruel surprises just when you least expect it. So, no. I can't promise you that I'll always be here. Which is why I crocheted you a little friend! I think her and Tilly will get along well, don't you? Even if, for whatever reason, I'm not around, you can look at her and think of me.

Know that I care about you, Pearl. I always will, no matter what happens. That's something I can promise you. So you'd better stick around too, alright? It's like you said, we're the nosy neighbors! A pair. A dynamic duo, even. Neither of us could ever abandon that.