The Littlest Woman
The city- overlooking the gorgeous beaches, namesake of the people- glittered resplendently in the late afternoon sun. There he sat, kicking up sand and bits of shell, just a boy, or maybe he was already a man. To them, he had already grown so much- such that they almost couldn't tell anymore, but he'd always be their little troublemaker. Clouds of silt stirred and rose above his coarse, black locks, dusting him in a fine layer of creatures and landscapes long past, born again into sand and dust. He rose slowly, shaking his stout little form to escape his newfound prison of mild discomfort. A laugh echoed from the little boy, resounding from the walls of the cliffs, of his little house by the sea. A song and dance were always to be had with him- never a dull moment. Wading into the cool waters of the ocean, he scrubbed the sand from his hair with flowing water wedded to coarse salt. Rubbing water out of his eyes, he looked up to see three of his very best friends standing over one another- just below the boardwalk, and the rest of his little town, the sun setting merrily opposite their almost glowing, powerful frames. Steven was running along the sand now, blue jeans plastered to his legs, sand wedging itself stubbornly in between his toes. Gasping for breath, he finally made it across the vast expanse of sand that rested between him and his destination. He took a moment to catch his breath, hands resting firmly- albeit shakily- on his thighs. As the sun sank below the waves in the distance- setting the ocean ablaze from within, its final, feeble rays illuminated four little people walking across a vast desert, towards their little home on the rocks. A screen door shrieked violently in the darkness, disturbing some nearby waterfowl. Soft shuffling and suppressed laughter emerged from the little bungalow- followed by the sweet, jovial sounds of the littlest ukulele. A chorus seemed to emanate from every crack, every hole in the little home- an unspoken oath of contented fellowship; a promise of intimately respectful friendship. The moon, slowly rising to take the place of her eternal counterpart, glowed dully in the inky expanse above, casting shadow and light upon the glittering expanse of glassy sand. The sounds of merriment and joy slowly faded, sadly and inexorably. But there would be more tomorrow, he was promised, laid to rest in his bed on the perch opposite the couch. The three feminine silhouettes glided swiftly to their respective spaces, residing within the deepest recesses of the cliff face, among the magic and the memories and the slumbering souls waiting for them within. The town's lights quickly dispersed, replaced by the thick void of the night. There was no light in the little pizzeria, there was no light in the single car wash, and there was no light to be found on the boardwalk, carnival rides resting grotesquely in the silvery glow of the moon. There was nobody to be found who dared to be conscious in the face of solemn drowsiness. A few cicadas began their shrill serenade, and even fewer lucky reptilian scavengers lay unhappily in the darkness, crushing the abdomens of their six-legged meal in their mouths. Thus, none of any immediate importance were able to bear witness to the black tides, depositing a still, awkward figure onto the darkened sands of the beach. It rose and fell with the tides, pushing it further onto the starry expanse of sand. Sensing that whatever it was was not quite dead yet, the lizards and the snakes nipped at its ears, before slowly moving away, uninterested. Moving slightly, in a pretty sorry state, his eyelid fluttered, and a steady trickle of water and blood began to exit his mouth, lungs bleeding and rasping, red iron and azure water streaming together brilliantly. He lay there that night, under the stars, the vast, terrible tesseract of stardust and galaxies and matter unseen, waiting to die.
She remembered their war well- how could she have forgotten the havoc she wrought, the dismay she sowed, the pleading, tear-riddled faces of her comrades and enemies crushed underfoot to make way for her crippling offenses. She remembered the howling, eerie winds that filled the time between death-cries and sobbing. This world was much unlike the one she knew in the moments of excruciating conception that brought her being into the world once more, and then once more. It was always that way since she met her greatest foe head-on in the wrought-iron, reckless throes of mortal combat. Blades drawn, stance wide. She aimed to kill Rose over and over, amongst what was left of her battered forces. No. Not just to kill Rose. To shame her, utterly, to ruin her irreparably. To mar her body, to violate her spirit, to terrorize her soul. To dismember the glowing, beauteous image of the infamous Rose Quartz and crush the rebellion. To show her world how cruel Rose could be, how she left Aquamarine with nothing more than her barest, most intimate form, pulsating violently, weeping oceans, spitting curses. A faint crack had etched itself into her very essence after that battle- ruining her in her entirety. She wanted more than to hurt Rose, she wanted to play with her emotions, toy with her boundless love. She wanted to break her- without leaving a scratch. These burning desires all stemmed from the first time they clashed- Rose had given her warning- and Aquamarine had gravely accepted the challenge- around and around they danced, a frightful fit of exacerbated expression and bloodlust, of a true devotion to a single cause- to survive. To live. To prove to the other side that they were wrong- that even though they were so much more than human beings could have ever dreamed, their world must be excised to make room for the beings who would make the most of it, or maybe it was that humans had just as much a right to live as everything else did? One side fought for sanctity of life, the other fought to preserve it. Two sides of the same coin- twin shamshir, delicately wicked, brought down onto a single, mighty straight sword and shield. Rose staggered under the shock of the twin blows, heaving great gasps, although she had no need for breath. Aquamarine used to hate Rose for trying so desperately to fight, to be something she would never have the capacity to understand or emulate. She struck a glancing blow upon Rose's left flank, slicing "flesh" from her arm. Aquamarine smirked as Rose's lapdog, that snivelling Pearl, raised her milky spear towards her, hands shaking, eyes wide, willing to do anything for that wretch of a Gem. She was so young, still. Only a few hundred thousand years in. She still had so much to learn. A swift double cross dismantled Pearl's defense, and she fell to the ground with a soft thud. All around them, the soft roar of battle engulfed them, as Gems struck each other down mercilessly. Rose flinched in pain when any one of them perished, only their sworn weapon marking their life before the fighting, long before the conquest. Visibly shaken, Rose trembled as she rushed to Pearl, and Aquamarine smiled a sniggering, snide smile. This would have to do. She doubled back around Rose to plunge her eager blades within Rose's creamy pink gem. The twin fangs rose and sang through the wind to find their mark, and finally quell the uprising. A deafening, blood-curdling, inhuman screech arose from the orgy of decimation and battle. Aquamarine stepped back, dazed and confused. Rose, weeping rivers of grief, could only offer
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Please, let me help you. I'm so sorry."
as Aquamarine looked down at her own lifegem, and found a gruesome, shallow scratch running along the length of the beautiful, multi-faceted, blue beauty that was Aquamarine. Unable to retain a physical form any longer, she howled in abject horror and rage as her form washed away into the ether. All that remained was her ragged, defiled core, even her beautifully curved twin shamshirs, embedded in Rose's arm, raised in a final defense, melted away unto an abject pool of water lurking innocuously on the scorched earth of the battlefield, soaking into the sands. Seeing their legion commander reduced to nothing, the rest of the offense shrank in abject terror and fled to their ship, away from the she-daemon brandishing the legendary sword and shield that was merely an aching, ragged woman named Rose.
He loved being out there in the badlands with nothing but his friend, the good tidings of his mind, and his military-grade, weathered black cap. Well, he supposed his friend couldn't really be considered his best-ever friend, all things considered. He had heard the story many times before, a silly little boy with dark brown hair and the loveliest pair of dark brown eyes anyone had ever seen, who was too serious for his own good- went about romping in the meadowland outside of his town and returned to streets of chaos and riot and seething, unmatched rage. He was whisked away from Oceantown that day, its people turned in on themselves, a dying organism trying desperately to rid itself of a poison of its own callous creation. Thinking back on it, things were never as they should have been in Oceantown, families always distraught, children always bawling, the mayor found happily laying on a park bench with eyes that never closed and dormant veins that would never again purge the needle. Oceantown had never existed, formally, and so, in a way, the little boy was finally pleased, in a strange sort of way, that he could finally claim his own reality. The man carrying him out of the searing wreckage asked his name, and received no response. The child had yet to be named. The bigger fellow asked the child, "Where do you think we should go?" The boy looked at William for a moment, and wondered aloud- "I quite liked the beaches. Maybe if people lived well together they would learn to love the beach. Maybe we should all live on the beach, and be a big family." William, never one to ruin a child's dream, promised him a life on the beaches he loved, and the meadows he ran excitedly through, until the day the little boy lost his friend, only to find himself falling madly in love.
They stayed together for a long while, William and the boy. Will had never found the conviction within himself to go about naming the boy, and the boy was content with not having a name. They had followed the beaches for days, stopping to pinch some food and water off of freight cars stopping at the rail depot a little bit further inland. Sometimes they even rode the trains, getting off whenever they liked. The little boy seemed to have a healthy appetite for wandering off, and often William found it extremely difficult to not lose his temper after searching for him in a distressing state of panicked frenzy. But the boy was never lost, at least not in his own mind. He lived in his own mind, sometimes. William was always concerned now about finding a new place to settle down. The boy didn't much understand his worry, as the two rode the freight train quite a lot, and surely the train didn't deliver freight to nowhere. Well, maybe it did- the boy didn't know a whole lot about trains. He always thought hard about what he'd want his city to look like, a little town on the beach, maybe with a ferris wheel and an ice-cream store. It grew and grew in his mind, and he always made mention of any new developments to William, who sometimes nodded seriously and sometimes laughed and said that no self-respecting town would have a novelty ten-foot-tall playing card. They were discussing how the houses of their town would look charming and also be very comfortable and homely, and how families would be happy to be together, when the train screeched to a halt at a water station. Will began to panic again. The conductor would have to walk past the boy and himself to get to the water car, and he would surely run them in if he found them. William hissed at the boy to get off the train, pushing him off the car, into the gloom. The boy, frightened, ran away before stopping to tremble in a little ravine. He heard the conductor let out a shout, and the people who worked the dials and switches in the train came running out to see what all the commotion was about. The conductor had Will by the arm, and was now discussing at length with his crew what to do with him.
"Ah, I say we let him off at Beach City. Not enough folks there yet to care about the sorry state of him, they'll just be happy to finally have someone else there."
"Yeah," chimed one of his mates. "They've been growin' real slow-like over there- they need some new blood around those parts. And by the looks of him, he needs some food and rest. A little honest work should get 'im where he needs to be goin'. Hell, maybe he'll even make something of himself one day. How's that sound, you bum? Pretty good, I'll say."
William Dewey, not sure how or what to tell the boy, stood silent and still, his heart beating a million miles a minute in his chest. He managed to choke out a gasp, just before he was herded back into the car and the door shut. The little boy, still waiting silently in his ditch, finally peeked his head over the edge long after the train had left- nothing but a faint rumble to mark its passing. The little boy, chest aching with worry and tears and the grit he had been breathing, finally got up, and ambled sluggishly off into the night, a trail of water pooling on the ground behind him, soaking into the darkened sands, swallowed up by the earth.
In the middle of a smooth, cool, June drizzle, a small figure emerged from a curious hole in the barren cliff face, terrified and awed by the magic of the water materializing in the heavens to fall back to the ground. She had never seen anything like it before. Well, she had never really seen anything before. She was just born yesterday, after all. She tore her way free of that somber sky with ease and playful energy that seemed to be present in copious quantities. The rain turned the dusty earth to mud, and she reveled in the newfound reaction between two different components. Cognizant and aware and learned in a fundamental sort of fashion, she still had a lot to learn about the world. And the fickle universe would have its way. When first she came to be, sprung from that beautiful mineral of the deepest, loveliest shade of lavender, she knew not her directive, or her progenitors, or any of those things. But she knew she enjoyed wandering the derelict ruins of the crevasse, rummaging through discarded bits of rubbish and scraping beautiful, glittering dust from the insides of the gargantuan machines, rusted out and weary. She was but a child- by their standards at least- and she spent millennium chasing a desire that was never quite there to be had in the ruins of the first conquest. She grew slowly- learned what she could understand, and finally rationalized what she didn't think she could understand. And still, she remained there, in the desert, waiting out the cold nights in her own, personal divot, shaped exactly like her, where she had emerged for the first time, those many moons ago. There was nothing left for her there- but she could not see beyond what she had known for so long. There were no more new and unique holes to be found- holes exactly like hers, dozens of them, hundreds maybe. There were no more animals to be found anymore- they seemed to have vanished over the years with the moon and stars, drowned out by faint lights on the horizon. And so it rained, and the ground turned to mud. And it shined, and the ground cracked as it baked. And so it misted, and she felt horrid as it set about her, dense as the ground she walked upon. And so she waited, for something to happen in her home, something beautiful and extraordinary and different. And she cried, and she snickered, and she shivered the days away, waiting, waiting for something, waiting for anything. Waiting for someone just like him. She saw him stumble through the grey, mottled landscape that day, trying wearily to find his bearings. She was immediately curious, but instinctive caution carried her back. He was as little as she was- but nowhere near as plump. He had been walking for a long time- signs of fatigue were everywhere- his gasping cough, his slow, unsteady step, his glazed stare. He had hardly noticed when it started raining. He was alone, walking through the remnants of the kindergarten, crushing bits of brittle stone and rusted iron underfoot. She stared intently at the little boy, and finally, inch by inch, began to make her way over to him. Amethyst stood behind a large rock- and watched him shuffle by, oblivious. Caution gave way to frustration- and she began to follow him slowly, making as much noise as she could along the way. Metal crunched behind him. Stiffening abruptly, he slowly turned, raising his arms in defense. He saw her there, a little lavender girl standing in the pelting rain, looking at him with sad, attentive eyes, and a smile as genuine as you or I.
The two became the closest of friends over the weeks, running and playing and laughing. He taught her much- how to be good to herself and to others through his words and actions, and she kept his belly full and his thirst slaked by stealing from freight cars when they stopped at the supply depot. She loved him so, that lonely little boy- and perhaps he reciprocated that sentiment- time would tell. She made every effort to be like him, much to his disdain. She forced herself to transmogrify a digestive tract so they could share meals, she contorted herself into radical shapes and creatures for his amusement, and they were happy together, two children amongst the ruins of the conquest, sharing themselves contentedly with each other. Many a moon passed, and the boy began to grow tired of life in the barren valley, and chose to strike out for the nearest town, provided he could hitch a ride on a train. He pleaded with her to accompany him, but she was still young, and knew not the earth as he did. She felt at home there, with the remnants of her family still scattered around her, lodged in the gravel. She did not want to leave the only home she could attest to having, and so she did everything she could to ensure he didn't want to either. He recognized this, and grew frightened at her apparent lack of defined morals. He still loved her like no other- and perhaps this is what scared him most. She tried everything to get him to stay- tempting his curiosity with those rusted relics in the valley. The last day he stayed in the valley was the day Amethyst was successful in reactivating a drill core, a hulking metal behemoth designed to birth new gems, sapping the life from the world itself as tribute. She wanted to show him something amazing, something beautiful. He must stay with her- she didn't know what lay beyond. It shone dully, chugging along merrily, waking from its slumber. As soon as the gleaming goliath understood that it had no more gem seeds to deposit, it did the only reasonable thing one might expect. It called for more.
Peridot intercepted the request for more gem seeds on her way back to Homeworld. Astonishment gave way to suspicion, which gave way to annoyance. She had received an executive order to investigate the cause of the signal- which meant she had to travel to Earth. A strange, otherworldly cesspool for most Gems, but Peridot hated it more than most. Everything about it seemed too dangerous and alien to warrant further investigation, but she had her orders. Her vessel heated slightly during re-entry, but superb heat shields took care of most of it. She was to travel to Kindergarten 11-A, find the cause of the disturbance, and report back. Any interlopers were to be captured, not killed, for later interrogation. The higher-ups were too suspicious this time around to just order trespassers killed. Peridot broke through the flimsy cloudbank covering the valley, only to spot a little human child and a very young gem standing around it excitedly. Good. Nothing to be worried about. The ship descended, and the two little figures began to run for cover, as the craft touched down, soldering rock and metal. Peridot stepped out, a thin, chartreuse Gem with something of a superiority complex, and a curiously short temper. She advanced on their position, and rounded the bend angrily to find the two huddled together, arguing about this or that excitedly. The little purple one gasped and fled with the other. This wasn't supposed to be this hard. Peridot sighed miserably, pointed her gauntlet at them, and shot the fleshy one. He collapsed to the ground, limp. Amethyst, unsure of what to do, simply stood, in shock, as Peridot bent down to retrieve him. He was merely immobilized, unfortunately. The human nervous system was a curious thing. By the time she looked back up after struggling with his slight weight, the purple gem was gone. Shrugging her shoulders, Peridot decided it wasn't worth the effort. What harm could a stunted, scared little Gem do? As the bay doors to her ship closed seamlessly, and the vessel took to the stars, a little lavender gecko lay at the rocky valley floor, licking its eyes to moisten them. After a little while, it drunkenly crawled away in the direction of the train tracks, intent on following them to the end of the line.
She wanted to forget- she knew others now, Pearl, and Rose, and Garnet, and Greg. She loved them all so very much. She found that she also loved the world- so much to be, so much to take in all at once. And they loved her too. Romping and playing and laughing and whining the days away was so lovely. Watching TV with Greg, whispering with Rose, being whatever she wanted to, be it ugly or lazy or gorgeous or adventurous. It had been so long since she lived together wit- He didn't know much about anything these days, only that he had to keep moving. He had to find her. She would know what to do. Too many days, too many months spent in agony, as it scratched at his mind, asking to be let out again. He didn't know if he should or shouldn't. Maybe it knew best. He was so tired of being tired. He was always terribly frightened of being brought back to that table in that peculiar chamber of that lonely starship. Hated Peridot. Hated Rose. Who was Rose? Maybe she would know. He had to fin- She was so sad, so sad when Miss Quartz gave herself up for her little star- Steven Universe. She couldn't see Rose. She couldn't feel her. But Steven, he carried her. He loved her. He was Steven, but he knew Rose. He was almost. Almost. She didn't know what to feel, so she felt sad and worthless. It was too easy. Infantile Steven almost never smiled. Why would Rose leave them for this? She could see it in Pearl's eyes, too, that contempt, that bubbling anger, and that frightened Amethyst. She decided she would protect Steven. She would learn to love him like Rose could. Garnet knew. She understood what it meant to love. She knew that she still loved hi- A queer feeling, having a cold stone methodically inserted into the cavity where his eye should be. He supposed he should move, try to run, but whatever they had pumped into his veins was delicious. He didn't care. Didn't want to try to care. The fibers connecting his eye to his brain- digitized, crystallized, radicalized. He felt it then, softly pulsing. He was disgusted. What was this? Who was this intruder? Every fibre of his sedated being shuddered as it looked him up and down with his other eye. He started to cry, shaking and scared. It was confused, taken aback. He wanted to see her, to throw himself into her embrac- Watching him grow up was beautiful. Steven had so much laugh in him, so much light. She saw herself in him, as he bounded up the steps in his little overalls. Sweeping him up into her arms, eating secret candies past his bedtime, running from Garnet when she caught them, screaming and laughing all the way. She knew now, how precious having a friend was. She needed to be more for Steven. She needed to be better for him- but she didn't know how to begin. He asked her what was wrong one day when he saw her staring at the water, eyes glazed. She started to cry, but struggled to smile, and said to him- What was this power? It showed him a history of decimation, of carnage, of war. It tempted him with ability beyond measure, with elemental, raw energy. It whispered to him late into the night, as he lay on the cold, metal floor, awaiting a new series of tests in the morn. It always whispered to him, and when it told him that she was just like him, that she spent hundreds of years waiting to find Rose. A small glimmer of hope emanated from his spirit. Could it be? Could she just want a friend like him? He let her, let her into him, let her into his fingers and his toes and his chest and his legs and his feet. They moved gracefully, reservedly, almost dancing, dancing and twirling, and he laughed with her until he saw his hands cut down the pilot and land the ship. He screamed, but she just laughed. He understood now. It was she, and she was it, and it was she and she was him now. She would never let him go. He saw what she wanted to do to Rose- he screamed again. He couldn't feel anything but what she felt. Was he him anymore? He felt himself moving, walking, but the bruises and scrapes did not register. She told him stories, of her life before the war, showed him what Homeworld looked like, but he did not want to see. He did not want to look at her, what she wanted to show him. He knew she hated him, was repulsed to be forced in here with him. But now she needed him. Did she? There was a time, once, when she called upon her vast reserves of power incarnate, bending the boy's frame to her will, drawing the waves apart and thrusting them aside as though they were tangible, malleable, walking through the path they left between. To her, this was all too natural.
"Where are we going?"
"To the bottom of the seabed."
"For how long?"
"As long as I wish it."
"Why?"
"Do you want to know my name, boy?"
"You are a monster. Monsters have no name."
"Then tell me. What is yours?"
They found him there, on the beach, covered in sand and shells and sea glass, a living mural. The first to spot him was the one they called Garnet. Making sure all the extraneous water was out from his lungs first, she gingerly drew him from the earth. Clutching him tightly to her chest, she hurried him inside, where she lay him down gently on the little sofa under Steven's loft. Barely breathing, Garnet sat beside him and did the only thing she could do. She worried. Violently. Pacing to and fro, waiting for the others to return from their walk. He began to stir, and she gently patted him, in hopes of letting him know that everything was going to be okay. He cracked an eye, distant and unresponsive. The other failed to open. He seemed to be seeing beyond her, beyond the house he was in, beyond the world, beyond the stars. He began to convulse then, slowly, spasmodically, frighteningly. Garnet tried to hold him down, but his strength was not his own. He slowly rose, coughing, standing on his feet. Looking down, he began to chuckle. Smiling stupidly at himself, he looked then at Garnet for the first time, the mountain of a woman, the seven-foot whirlwind of a Gem, and he asked her what was wrong. Taken aback, she told him to wait. So he did. Sitting down again, he slowly moved his fingers and his arms and his legs and his head, a grin again plastered onto his face. Laying down again, satisfied with himself, he promptly fell asleep. Waking again, he found himself staring into the face of another boy, younger now than he, with coarse black locks, curled in the sun. Not sure what to think, he asked where he might be. Steven, exploding with a million questions, forced himself to slow down and told him that he was in Beach City. The boy thought about this, and decided he'd like to have a look around. Steven was only too happy to oblige. The two walked throughout the city, and with each passing shop, home, and neighbor, the boy grew more at ease. They waved at the gulls crowding the boardwalk, they stopped to eat at a local pizzeria. They laughed at the same jokes far into the evening. Satisfied and aglow, the two made their way back to the beach. Opening the screen door for the older boy, Steven was made to introduce him to Pearl, who happened to be dusting the back of the refrigerator. More than cordial, Pearl was pleased to make his acquaintance. Tall, thin, and with an air of peculiar regality, she strode around the house, cleaning this or that, straightening knick-knacks, gently chiding Steven. The door squeaked open once more. She walked in, talking a mile a minute about her visit with her good friend Vidalia, how nice it is to finally be seeing her regularly again. The boy stopped dead in the middle of a sentence addressed to Garnet.
"Hey, Steven, who's that? Make a new friend or somethin'?"
"Oh hey, Amethyst! Yeah, Garnet found him on the beach, asleep, covered in sand and stuff. I showed him around town today."
Striding to the boy, still standing absolutely still, she gently patted him on the back. He stiffened even further. Amethyst, somewhat alarmed, said
"Oh yeah? That's cool. What's your name?"
Suddenly whipping around, not being able to bear it any longer, he saw the girl he never thought he would find.
"Oh, no, no, no. Who, how, I-I didn't, I never wanted-"
Exasperated and scared and astonished and happy, he stumbled over every syllable of every word. She laughed a rough, boisterous laugh.
"Oh man, what's up with this kid? He's a riot. You sure know how to pick your friends, Steve- Hey, watch it pal!"
The boy, suddenly taking hold of both of her shoulders, slowly embraced her, whispering incoherently all the while. He withdrew suddenly, stared hard into her eye with his, and she knew.
Beginning to cry, she sank to her knees and buried her head in her hair, her hair in her hands. He lowered himself slowly to meet her, and they shared a moment together in that little cottage by the sea, understanding each other again, knowing what miracle had come to be. Again, they were whole. They all were happy together. All but one.
William Dewey smiled contentedly as he sipped his coffee, looking over the sea as the sun rose behind him, casting eerie shadows over the boardwalk. He'd just gotten re-elected, his hairline had receded a little more, he was re-acquainted and forgiven for his personal shame, and now he found himself looking at that little home on the sand, squinting to see the side window, glossy sheen reflecting the light of the new day. He had grown to be quite the worrier, and seemed more animated when he found the boy again, walking down the street with the purple gem. Sporting a new eye-patch, the well of pirate jokes were seemingly endless. For his grand re-election shindig, Dewey decided to live a little and set up a lovely beach party. Everyone was a guest of honor this time 'round, and Will was determined to make it the best time anyone had ever had. The streamers, the tables, the catering, the entertainment, the lifeguards, the cakes and sweets, the RSVP's, it all had to be perfect. Secretly, Dewey was hoping to spend a little quality time with the tall Gem. He still thought that she was pretty a pretty groovy gal, despite numerous previous strikeouts. The evening rolled around, and he relished in the compliments and the pats on the back. He was feeling pretty good, and decided to amble off to go pester Pearl a little more. This was his night. He could feel it.
There they sat, kicking up sand and bits of shell, just two boys, or maybe they were already men. To her, they had already grown so much- such that she almost couldn't tell anymore. A laugh on his lips, and his hair covered in sand, he waded into the water up to his knees, deciding to remove his jeans and shirt in favor of a little yellow speedo. His mother's gleamed royally in the dying light, splaying its warm, encompassing light for all. As the last rays of the sun struck Steven, and his mother's memory began to fade again, the boy turned his head, terror struck. He could feel her again, roiling in his mind, coming to fruition once again. Not here. Please, he pleaded with her. Aquamarine knew. Through his shut eyelid, through the patch, she knew. She could feel her. And she would have her. Rage and sadness and strife unchecked burned within the boy, a burden not meant for him to bear. Beginning to cry, he plunged his head deep within the surf, hoping to drown her out. He only heard her more, her screams echoing throughout the thin shoals. She was a black tide, coming to sweep him out to sea, to drown him, to take him again. He had to get to Amethyst. She would know what to do. Stumbling, limping, crawling away from the party, he found her dozing peacefully on a towel, curled up next to a pail full of muddy sand and shells. He looked at her warm, loved form, and felt at ease. He stopped for a moment, and then she came back. Her blows sent his mind reeling, his body spasming. He fell, and cried out in pain. This is what she had waited for. Time was going so slowly for him. He saw her panicked, sleepy eyes as she stretched him thin. Whispering blasphemy, spitting curses, he heard them in his voice. His eye socket began to burn. He tore the patch from his head, and tried to frantically claw her out. It hurt ever so much. Amethyst stood, in disbelief. He looked at her, at her unwillingness to help him, and it hurt. Aquamarine could use this. Spreading dissent, raging and seething under his skin, telling lies and directing his thoughts. She almost had him. He was still just a boy at heart, but his toned frame would make an excellent vessel. Never letting up, listening to his howls, growing more primal and confused. There she sat him down, and poured herself into him, making him her, and her him, resounding fury on sadness and loneliness upon wrath, until only madness remained. She stood, shakily, steadily. Easy now. She knew Rose was here. She could feel it. Cut off her limbs, gouge out her eyes, kick out her teeth, rip out her tongue. This is all she had wanted. Was that too much to ask? To burn Rose Quartz to the ground, to eat her alive, to keep her begging Aquamarine to stop. It was so sweet, too sweet. Power unfounded at her beck and call, twin shamshirs forming from the sea glass and the water she stepped through. Wicked and jagged, meant for ripping and gouging. It would end now. Stalking towards Rose, Aquamarine could just make out her gorgeous figure, her radiant smile. A blade was raised, curved and delicious. The moon began to rise as a thick, studded tendril snaked around the boy's leg. The weight pulled out from under her, Aquamarine. rose once more, naked anger and shame resounding from her sallow cry. Amethyst stepped back, holding her whip in hand, on the verge of tears.
"Who are you?"
Snarling, Aquamarine bid his feet move. They followed directions wonderfully. Around and around the whip they went, this way and that, before a titanic gauntlet smashed through Aquamarine's defenses. Rising shakily, she roared, before stopping short before a milky, pale spear stuck itself in the sand right in front of the boy. The crowd ran like cattle in a field. Steven stood and stared, gem pulsing softly in the moonlight. The Crystal Gems, placing themselves between Steven and the boy, rush at Aquamarine. Tired now of their interference, she bid the sea move for her. It listened. When had it not? If only Lapis could see her now, her dear sister would be more than impressed. The three women, crushed under the weight of the sea, terror stricken as it advanced upon Steven, did the only thing they could. They needed strength. They needed resolve. They needed Rose. So they danced. Moving painfully under the waves, they found each other, body and soul. One woman rose out of the waves, a gargantuan warrior, angered and saddened by the attack on Steven, just a little boy. Six massive arms came crashing down upon Aquamarine, who shrugged off the attack like it was nothing. She bid the boy rise. There was nobody there to listen to her anymore.
He was destroyed. His spine smashed to pieces, his arms and legs distended, contorted to strange and unnatural shapes and postures, depressions in his mangled frame where the arms came crashing down. Alexandrite knelt, weeping, and became three again.
"YOU- YOU DID THIS"
We are the Crystal Gems
Amethyst, ragged and torn and hurting and leering, rushed to the body, then ran back, then sat, and wept, for her first-ever friend.
We'll always save the day
Steven, looking into the boy's blood-soaked mouth, saw that it was still struggling to breathe. He stepped back, stumbled, and crashed into the surf, where the sea hid his tears.
And if you think we can't
Garnet and Pearl merely looked past him, past Steven, past Amethyst, past the horizon, past the stars, past themselves, and saw nothing anymore. How could they?
We'll always find a way
He was dead. That much was apparent to Aquamarine. But she still lived for one thing- to end Rose. She saw her there, sitting right in front of her, dress still immaculate, smile still taunting. She screamed, she fought, she cursed, she writhed. Is this all she was?
That's why the people of this world believe in
"he was alive. he was my friend. i felt his back break, i felt his ribs rip through his lungs. what are we? how dare, h-how d-"
Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl
"Amethyst, he was going to kill Ste-"
And Steven
"HE'S GONE! THERE'S NOTHING LEFT. WHERE CAN I RUN TO LEAVE THIS TIME? WHERE CAN I RUN NOW? WE DID THIS, GARNET. WE DID THIS. I DID THIS. hOw couLD i dO thIs to Him? I HAt-"
And Steven
Blood soaked the water as a limp form was taken out to sea, a grotesque scarecrow of a man drifting out among the dark waters, out there where the sea reflected the stars. Out there among the vast, terrible tesseract of stardust and galaxies and matter unseen, she waited to die.
I'll think of you tonight
I'll think of you tonight
When violet eyes grow brighter
And heavy wings grow lighter
I'll taste the sky and feel alive again
And I'll forget the world that I knew
But I swear I won't forget you
Oh, if my voice could reach back through the past
I'd whisper in your ear
oh darling, I wish you were here.