Note: This is a sequel to accordance, which is a sequel to plurality. You should probably read those first. Won't take long, I promise.
Warning for vague mentions of slavery, abuse, usual homeworld awfulness.
Garnet finds the drive during a routine search for Malachite, in a sealed green container she had to smash with a fist. She holds it up in a big gauntleted palm.
"It looks like a missive of some kind," Pearl says, a knuckle on her chin. "We should see if it contains any useful information."
"Ooooh, I bet it's something embarrassing about Peridot!" Amethyst says excitedly.
Pearl tuts. "Don't be silly, the technology is far too outdated. I doubt Peridot would've finished her training at the time this drive was sent. She might not have even been created at the time."
Amethyst rolls her eyes. "Whatever. Read it, Garnet!"
"Hmm." Garnet quirks her lips as she inspects the drive. "It's addressed to Fancypants."
Pearl freezes. Her ears fill with loud, discordant sounds.
"Could be some kind of codename," Garnet is saying, reaching to turn the message on.
"No," Pearl hears herself cut through the inconvenient buzz in her head. "It isn't. It's… it's for me."
Garnet pauses, looking at her. But Pearl can't see her expression through the shades, and isn't very good at interpreting facial cues anyway. Then Garnet shrugs, and simply hands her the drive.
Amethyst is making faces at them. "Well, at least read it out loud, P," she says.
"No," Pearl replies crisply.
"Aw, you're no fun," Amethyst is saying, but Pearl's already halfway to the temple gate.
.
Once safely in her room, Pearl dims the lights, mostly for ambiance, and presses the drive. The hologram turns on, catching on particles of dust in the air, flickering wildly. It's very old, and very cheap. Pearl would've been able to fix up something better back at her old post, in her free time.
Shaking her head of irrelevancies, she focuses on the message, and reads.
Fancypants,
This is the eighteenth little blue single sun single moon planet I've sent this to. Hopefully one of these reaches you. Hopefully nothing else from gemkind does.
I wanna ask how fugitive life with the commander is going, but I know I won't be getting a reply. I hope you're happy with her. I like to think she really is as different from the others as you'd thought. If she isn't, I hope you were able to leave. You've done it once already.
All of us are underground. As safe as a barely functioning station drifting in a strategically irrelevant system can be. Which is pretty safe, considering. We're working on survival first, sustainability second, revolution later. But I guess maybe that's just an excuse.
They aren't coming for you, as far as I can tell. But they already have structures present at most of the big watery balls of debris I'm sending this to. I don't know specifics, but be careful.
I don't know why I'm sending this. I'm glad you left.
I guess I miss you.
Stay alive, fancypants.
.
Pearl gets up, distractedly bubbling up the drive and gesturing it away. She absentmindedly brushes her fingertips over her swords as she heads for the toothless door. She doesn't feel it, particularly. She's a little bit numb.
The house is empty, she finds. That's all right. She walks into the kitchen, aimlessly tidying up things that absolutely didn't need tidying. Arranging canned goods alphabetically in the cupboards; folding kitchen rags into earth swans; placing coasters under the cleaning agent bottles. One of the more humiliating of her residual habits. One of the hardest to drop, too.
Cleaning makes her nervous; she gets nervous when she doesn't clean. How beautifully ironic. She might not have been that ineffective a servant, after all.
But, no, that isn't the point – the point is, Pearl was always, always, better, stronger, more effective on her own terms.
And so were all the others.
She sighs and sits down on the floor by the newly alphabetized cereal cabinet, rubbing at her eyes. How long has it been, since she'd left? A few thousand years, nothing more. A few thousand choked, frantic, hopeful years with Rose Quartz. And less than a dozen without her, now.
Pearl rubs away the tears as they emerge, keeping it tidy, leaving little trace behind. There's a very mild creak as the front door opens, but Pearl jumps anyway.
"Hey Amethyst, ready to lose spectacularly to the heavyweight little league leg wrestling champion?" Steven calls happily as they hop in the door, holding a greasy bag of bits. "I brought snacks for the loser. And the winner. And also both, in case it's a tie."
Pearl stays still, and Steven almost passes by the kitchen, but then spots her and stops. "Pearl?" they ask, walking around the counter toward her. "What's wrong?"
Pearl sniffs and gives them a big, wobbly, damp smile. "Oh! Nothing! Everything's completely fine, Steven."
Steven sits next to her, smiles back. "Yeah, okay," they say easily, but don't get up. "Did you read that message you guys found?"
"I did," Pearl admits cautiously.
They perk up. "What did it say?"
She waves a dismissive hand. "Oh, just a brief note from a… an old friend of mine."
Steven stares at her earnestly. "A sad note?" they ask softly.
"I – I don't know," she stutters. How embarrassing. "Maybe a little sad. For me."
Steven looks aside, contemplative, and then holds up their bag of chips. "Do you want some fry bits?"
Pearl suppresses a shudder. "Thank you, Steven, but I'd really rather you have them."
"Okay," Steven says, placing the paper bag on the counter and licking their fingers clean. The grease must have soaked all the way through the paper bag. Pearl does shudder, this time. "Can you tell me about your friend? Do I know them?"
Pearl shakes her head. "She wasn't from this planet. She was from a very… dissimilar place," she tells them carefully. "Steven, before I met your mom, I was a bit… a bit different. I had a different… job. I had less… things to do. Less spare time, too, I suppose, in a way. And less friends."
"Does this have anything to do with all that stuff Peridot said?" Steven asks.
Pearl straightens up, managing not to flinch at all. "You could say that," she says evenly. "In any case, that message was from someone who was very special to me."
"How was she special?"
Pearl crosses her arms. "Well, as I said, she was my first friend," she answers. "And… the first person I've ever loved."
Steven nods in apparent understanding. "What was her name?" they ask.
"Oh," Pearl says, curling her fingers into the sides of her arms. "She – she didn't really have one."
"How come?"
"We just didn't," Pearl snaps. Steven looks down and rubs the back of their head, looking contrite. Pearl scrambles to her knees and leans over them, patting their shoulder. "Oh, no, Steven," she says hurriedly. "I'm sorry. Things were just very different, where I, where we come from." She gives Steven's shoulder a last awkward pat and withdraws her hand. "She called me fancypants, sometimes," she tells them quietly. "But I've never been very good at nicknames."
Steven turns to look at her, and promptly jumps in her lap, wordlessly wrapping their arms around her. Pearl smiles uncertainly, and holds them gently.
"I bet she loved you back," they say over her shoulder after a while.
Pearl closes her eyes, struggles to keep her voice even and tear-free. "Thank you, Steven."
"We all do, you know," Steven adds, squeezing harder.
She swallows convulsively. "Yes," she murmurs in response. "I know."
Steven lets go. "Okay, good," they say. "I'm gonna go leg wrestle with Amethyst. It's the same as arm wrestling, except she turns her hand into a giant foot."
Pearl hmphs. "Make sure to wash your hands afterwards. You don't know where she's been."
"Oh, I know where she's been," Steven says cheerfully. "In the garbage dump with Onion's mom."
Pearl groans as Steven hops up and grabs their soaked-through bag of fries, and then she gets up and deliberately removes all the coasters from underneath the cleaning supplies.