The day Green Diamond was born, Yellow and Blue seemed truly happy. The pain had receded like eons falling from their faces as she howled with existence. Even in her first day, she was so verdant and teeming with life.

Yellow had become pregnant once Blue forgave her. After what had happened, after what White had done, after what she had lost, she spent so long holding back her tears. Yellow would find droplets on the equipment, water on the keypads, unconsciously dropped from her beautiful eyes.

Blue would visit, likely having finished crying about Pink Diamond, herself. She knew what it was like to lose someone in a pop of shards and be haunted by it.

In a state of freshly dried tears and newly choked sobs, Blue would hold Yellow, or Yellow would hold Blue. Eventually, they made Green, who grew like a flower in the garden of Yellow's womb. Blue would embrace her with such hunger, standing behind her, hands wrapped around her stomach. She wanted it to be hers, so perfect and global. She wanted Yellow's glow, radiating from her even in sorrow.

Those eyes of hers, even beneath the smear of ruined mascara, sparkled. She was beautiful, sobbing in jealous Blue's arms, weeping as she thought of her dead daughter, cursing what White had done.

They met that way countless times, laying in bed, weeping, passing out, making love. It was the same when Green was born. Blue held Yellow as she threw her head back in anguish and hollered. It had been so long; it was just like the first time, every moment as treacherous until Green cut the air with her own screaming and stole the show.

The right color this time, Blue brought her to Yellow, crying of happiness. Yellow did too. There wasn't a dry eye in the room.

They decorated her room with things they hadn't the first time, commissioned toys and a court of plush gems. They had books made for her, consisting of colorful pages and cute drawings.

Gifts surrounded Green as she unwrinkled in her crib. As her face became fuller and white hair sprouted from her head, the items multiplied. They replaced them when they fell apart. They gave her everything.

Yellow had taken time off to feed and hold her. She would sit in her chair in the corner of the room, stroking Green's soft little head as she cooed or screamed. It didn't matter. Yellow was there to comfort her, to sing to her, even though that was hard. As much as Green would cry, Yellow would too. Sometimes nothing would happen at all; they would only need to sit together and unconscious tears would manifest. There must have been so much in that deja vu, but Yellow fought her way through it because she's so, so strong. She wanted to love again, and she did.

Green was such a thing of beauty that White tried to worm her way back in. She called their palace countless times to apologize, though she couldn't speak coherently. Yellow, generously, would answer, guarded, but listening, as Green babbled away in her arms. "Yellow, I'm—" then White's blubbering would start.

White would weep during the calls, but had started long before she selected Yellow's picture on her device. Choking, gagging, she would pull herself together only to make it seconds before falling apart again. She was always so dramatic about it, trying to appear presentable despite looking like a worn sack.

Yellow wouldn't tolerate this long, but when she did, she never let White realize her pity party. As if she's the one who deserves sympathy.

"Oh, Yellow. I can't rest. Even when I'm working, she haunts me. I'll never forgive myself. I'm so sorry—" she would start, pathetic as she hid her face in her hands. "I can't live with what I've done."

If she made it as far as, "I only dropped her," Yellow would hang up. She didn't want to hear it. No one did. It's doubtful White even wanted to say it, but no matter what she said, Yellow wouldn't allow her near Green. She protected that girl as if she were made of glass, cradling her in blankets, treating her like a treasure White was unfit to view.

It was Blue who suggested letting her in. Green was sitting on the floor between them, playing with her dolls, chatting to herself. Flowers had grown in her hair, because it was summer. Five-petalled, multi-colored blooms grew in polka dots atop her head, resembling a cap.

"You have every right to be angry with her," Blue started, "but don't you think White should see her? She'll grow up to be a part of the authority. Won't it be odd if they never talk?"

Yellow, in response, stared at Blue, but still listened because she's generous.

"She didn't do it on purpose," Blue continued, "and she feels terrible. She's felt terrible for decades." A pause. Yellow looked to Green. "I spoke to White and she promises not to pick her up. She said she wouldn't even touch her, if you prefer, but she does want to see her, at least. She said she loved St—"

"As if either of you ever cared!" Yellow shouted. Green gasped. "If White loved her, where was she the day she was born? Where was she when she was crying because her stomach hurt? Where was she when I sent pictures and no one, neither of you, had a word to say?!"

Green had started to cry, alarmed by Yellow's anger. Yellow opened and closed her mouth with words that never knew life, and hid her face. She was gorgeous even swallowing her tears.

"Oh, Yellow. She was shocked. We both were, but neither of us wanted what happened. She was such a sweet baby."

Blue had picked up Green and held her in a joint embrace.

"White told me she wanted to watch her grow, and teach her to sing, and tell her about our history. Now that she's no longer here, she wants to do these things for Green—"

"Please, stop."

"Mama," Green said, having calmed. "Don't cry."

Days later, she called White, and listened to everything. There was the typical bullshit about how sorry she was, what a mistake she had made, how if anyone was shattered it should have been her; boo hoo, but then she went on with, "Blue has shown me pictures and Green is so beautiful. I don't know what she's told you, but I'd love to meet her, I promise I won't touch her, but if I could see her in person, it would ease the pain. She looks like such a happy child. She must be so sweet." White gasped in more breath than she would ever need. "I thought we could go to the beach together, on Sigma 5. Perhaps the flowers in her hair would like some sun."

"Fine," Yellow said, "but I don't want you touching her."

"Thank you—"

She hung up. White's image tore from her office like a gem bursting on the floor.

They boarded one of White's enormous ships, built for pleasure. Like White herself, it was large and mostly useless. It had one room for the four of them to stand in, drift to the corners and stay away from one another. Perhaps she had thrown a party there once, during a time when she would leave her room more often. Now it was odd to see her there, the lack of guests only widening the gap between her and the others. White stood against the furthest wall, watching.

Green didn't notice her. Even when set down on her little legs, she focused so intensely on the passing stars and wide canvases of colorful space, she didn't notice the gigantic, weepy woman in the back. Green, hands on the window, said, "Mama, what's that?"

"Those are stars," Blue answered.

"What's that one?"

"That's a star too, but it's bigger than the others."

Green's breath fogged up the glass, she stood so close to it. White leaked tears in the background as no one paid her any mind.

Sigma 5 resembled a marble. Purple ocean in the south and peach sand in the north, it was all beach along the equator.

Green bounced with excitement up to putting her feet in the water, the others following. White trailed the furthest behind, even though she had brought gifts. As if that would make anything better. She carried them to where Green had sat and dug a hole, maintaining her distance. "Excuse me," she said above the waves, crashing louder than her resolve.

Yellow and Blue turned.

"I brought Green something. I was hoping she could open it."

The silver gift gleamed so brightly beneath the sun, she could use it to signal for help. Yellow and Blue squinted, but Green ran forward, too short to be affected.

Standing at White's feet, she didn't say a word. Her big, blue eyes were wide open and glimmering, looking at that absurd present. Slowly, White lowered it for her. She knelt into the sand, careful not to brush against Green. Her movements were deliberate, lagging with Yellow and Blue staring ceaselessly at her.

"This is for you," White said. "Will you open it?"

Green didn't answer, as she had caught White's gem, refracting a rainbow. Of course, no one told her that White was a baby killer. Green was captivated by White's overly black lips, by her ridiculous lashes, even though either of her mothers were easily more beautiful.

"Please."

After a pause, Green nodded. Hesitating at first, she tore apart the gaudy paper and unlidded the box. White had gifted her commissioned beach toys—a shovel for her tiny hand, a bucket for sandcastles, plastic flowers.

Without prompting, Green said, "Thank you!" and ran into White, hugging where she could. She caught all of one side, a skeletal arm. White nearly patted her on the head, but stopped herself. It wouldn't have mattered anyway. Green had already run back to her mothers.

"That old Diamond gave me a bucket!"

Blue actually laughed, though she hadn't meant to, and they started a sandcastle as White stood. She never took a step closer, a fixture in the background.