She regrets the one real act of rebellion she's ever committed, that little sneak of a glance through the lattice by Her Diamond's throne.
It pales in comparison to what she's now seen, true - but then, there are few things that don't. Certainly none she can imagine herself ever even attempting. But there, precisely, is the problem - she looked, and now she is imagining, and every rotation of this soon-to-be colony in the long, long line of Her Diamond's conquests only makes it worse. She is only a pearl, of course, and knows very little of anything, but she is ready to believe there is something about the atmosphere of this particular planet, something about the moisture in the air, perhaps, or the yellowness of its star, that toys with Gems and makes them forget their place.
She knows her place.
Blue Diamond prefers to be kept apart, prefers her pearl to be kept apart, as well, and above all prefers silence in her court. Her pearl isn't even sure what her own voice would sound like, if she tried to speak up. Isn't really sure she has one anymore, or if she ever had one to begin with. Inevitably, the thought arises: could it ever sound like… hers? The way it echoed through the arena, shouted challenges to the Diamonds themselves, loud and clear and insolent, unthinkable and utterly inappropriate and astonishing.
She thinks, and remembers, even as she knows it's the last thing she should do. But it is irresistible, and delightfully unpunishable - she finds herself feeling thankful for the cover of her hair, working in her favour for once. She thinks of the dangerous, terrifying, deadly renegade-
Would her hands be ungentle? Has she been gone long enough to forget the delicacy and poise with which every pearl is supposed to carry herself? Would the swordfighting have affected her physical form at all? It was so far from what she was meant to do, surely it must have - how could anyone adapt to something like that, let alone a pearl-
And yet-
And yet she catches herself slipping further, and she thinks of holding a sword herself even though she's never even come near one, and, inevitably, thinks of the renegade, there to guide her hand, her arm, her posture, her movements, all with touches that are firm and decisive but never, ever unkind, even when she slips up or fails to perform to expectations.
And sometimes… sometimes the renegade isn't behind her, hands moving along her shoulder, instructing and helping her get her blade into the correct position, no - she is standing right in front of her, tenderly brushing the blue curtain of hair away from her face, voice toned down to an almost-whisper, but still unmistakably the voice that made Gems tremble in fear of a pearl. "You don't have to be what she wants you to be, not anymore."
It is a wild, wild turmoil that feels like every single drop of real and imagined disobedience in her long life of service running together, and it seems ridiculous that all it took to break down this dam was a glimpse; a tiny, tiny offering of unlikely possibility. She wonders; then she wonders how many other pearls wonder.
It's a horrible, traitorous notion, but she can't help but think it a great pity that, inevitably, the rebels will be captured and shattered. The quartz will be thoroughly interrogated before execution, of course, Blue Diamond will see to it personally, as is her habit, but the pearl-
The pearl will simply be disposed of. It's such a shame that nobody will ever, ever think to ask her why.
Would she? Would she dare to ask for an explanation if given the chance, alone in some small enclosed space with the renegade?
She shushes the little voice in the back of her mind that quips- she was there, she was right there, going after the sapphire, and she didn't even look at you, you are as nothing to her as you are to everyone else, and perhaps less, even, because she'll never own you or show you off in your new dress or have any use for you at all.
But if nobody cares about pearls, shouldn't it follow that they have to care about each other?
It might be a gamble, but it's hard to call it that when she has nothing to gamble away. She could try to derive pride from her position, but her attempts so far have always rung hollow - whatever was supposed to trickle down to her simply never seemed to make it. Her life and her death both belong to Blue Diamond, so does she really have anything to lose? She decides, in the end, she would rather be a thief, and steal herself - then marvels at how quickly she came to make this choice.
The next time the rebels attack, when she sees Blue Diamond lean forward, hands clenched into fists as the bizarre, colourful fusion of a ruby and a sapphire takes down several amethysts, she moves to press her face against the lattice that is supposed to keep her safe, and catches the renegade's eye.
—
It is Steven's effort with the Centipeetle that prompts the visit, or maybe it was simply long overdue - the first one in well over a decade, the first one since… well. Best to focus on getting to the room and avoiding Garnet. Even though she'd understand - as much as it was possible for anyone to, anyway - and certainly wouldn't mind.
Hope is a powerful, and dangerous thing - a weapon that can work both for and against the one attempting to wield it, Pearl knows this better than most. And yet she can't help but hold onto this ray, as unexpected as it is. Steven has achieved the impossible merely by existing, so who's to say he won't be able to undo what none of them - not even Rose, magnificent, brilliant, unparalleled Rose - could begin to in all the thousands of years since the end of the war?
The bubble is a pale cream yellow - one of her own. Both Garnet and Rose had been on that particular mission with her, and they'd understood enough to give her a moment with the gem after the monster's defeat. Pearl isn't sure, peering through the muddle of feelings that form most of her recollection of that day, if she ever thanked them properly.
She turns the bubble around and around in her hands, and it's ridiculous, and senseless, and increasingly frustrating that she came all the way down here only to find herself speechless. She stares at the round gem floating peacefully in the bubble, so like and yet so unlike her own pale oblong one, glistening in the reddish illumination of the lava pool, and tries not to think of the form the corruption had taken. Tries to focus on anything but how horribly, horribly unfair it was that after everything they'd all done this particular story ended in silent captivity anyway.
But perhaps, perhaps, not an ending, not just yet.
The surface of the bubble rests lightly against the pads of her fingers, and Pearl clears her throat. "I'll… I'll see you soon," is what she manages, rather anticlimactically - an awkward, confusing start, though the implication of a promise bears some weight.
There is no reaction - of course there isn't, and Pearl scoffs at herself for even entertaining such a childish, fantastical notion. The stasis effect of the bubble is something she could explain at great length and in great detail, but the tiny tingle of hope remains persistent, making her play tricks on her own mind.
Still… it couldn't hurt to try, could it?
Pearl sits down on one of the slightly raised ledges, bubble raised to eye-level, and shuffles her feet awkwardly before speaking. "I'm sorry I've taken so long. Things have changed a lot since all of you… left, you know. It's been quite the experience, and I'm not exactly sure what to make of it all, not yet - I don't know if I'll ever be, really. It hasn't exactly been easy, but, well, when have we ever done easy, right?"
She bites her lip in her attempt at a smile, and swallows back the tears that always seem so, so eager to burn behind her eyes. "But we have Steven now! You'd love Steven. I'm certain it's perfectly impossible not to love Steven, he is… entirely wonderful. A handful, but a delightful handful. In a completely different way than you ever were, too!"
The brief laugh that escapes her is not at all cheerful, but it hurts less than it could have. "I miss… a lot of things. I miss some things I know I shouldn't, but I can't help it. I still do. I know you know how that feels."
The pearl in the bubble offers no acknowledgement. It looks as pristine as ever, and the completely outlandish idea of popping the bubble and allowing the Gem inside to reform becomes so tempting it stings, and makes it clear the time to leave is approaching. "Anyway, I… I should probably go. I have some repairs to do around the house, and Steven will probably want a bedtime story tonight - it's a human ritual, very interesting, actually, especially once you grasp the fairly important concept of "doing the voices", as they say. In any case, it wouldn't do to be late, so I'll just, um-"
The bubble stays perched right where she places it, among the thousands of others she is trying not to think about too hard right now. She thinks of Steven, instead, and his games and his books and his horribly inaccurate movies, and the way his face lights up when he realises the entertainment of the day includes an account of the Crystal Gems on some wild adventure.
"Steven does love his stories!" Pearl proclaims uncomfortably loudly to the empty-but-not-empty room. "I'll tell him about you one day, you and all the others, and I'm sure he'll love you, too."
She is almost at the door when it becomes too much, and she can't help but cringe at herself. "Not yet," she amends, defeated. "I… I don't think I'm brave enough yet. But I promise I will."
There is no reaction, and no reply, just like there never has been. "I'll see you soon," Pearl repeats, subdued, as the Temple door closes behind her.