If it had been just her body, she could have regenerated, no trouble. Even if it had been her gem, there would have been ways to fix it. But this was something else, something Steven said certain humans called names such as "soul." It was the self that existed between forms, cracks, and time. And unlike a physical form, it never forgot the hurt that was dealt it. Somehow, this thing that was the most eternal was also the most fragile. They said that's the part of Lazuli that suffered the most damage. It was what made her tired all the time, not a tiredness of the body but a tiredness of that thing called a soul.

Peridot had asked if a soul was something you could hold in your hands. Steven told her, to her disappointment, no, souls were invisible, intangible, didn't share this plane of existence. Garnet said that souls as most humans described them weren't real, and that Steven should stop lying to Peridot, but that, for the time being, they might as well say that Lapis' injury was in her soul.

"A soul is the thing that makes you laugh and cry," Steven had told her. She asked if it was a good joke versus a bad joke. "No, it's also what makes you love and hate," Steven said. "It's not the thing you laugh at. It's the REASON you laugh. It's the part of you that tells you you should laugh."

Peridot still hadn't understood.

If I could see or feel it, I'd know what it was. But it sounds like something you don't feel until it hurts.

Steven had tried to explain that it was something both real and imaginary, which Peridot found even more confusing. Her reaction was labeled a "tantrum." But what else was she supposed to do when all the information she was being given kept flying in opposite directions, contorting itself until her brain couldn't help but follow suit? And even worse, it wasn't just an abstract theory; it was the hardest data they had for a practical problem, that was, to fix Lazuli. Something about that type of problem was more compelling than the steps toward fixing a comparably broken machine. Peridot had spent a while trying to figure out why that was. She concluded that it had something to do with the cold feeling it put in her chest, almost as if there was a second brain there dictating what was most important. That lower brain had decided that there was something very important about Lazuli.

Peridot sat beside Lazuli, who slept on the sofa in the barn. Something about the rise and fall of her chest and the sweep of hair over her cheek intrigued Peridot's strange lower brain quite a lot. Objectively, she knew that these were in and of themselves not interesting or useful things, and she determined that the lower brain was, tragically, not a logical one. She hoped it would refrain from overriding her more logical brain. But during quieter moments like this, it was easier for that lower brain to say what it wanted. Listening to it talk was less frustrating than Peridot might have expected.

A strange notion crossed Peridot's mind (obviously sourced from the lower brain) that it might be nice to reach over and touch Lazuli, maybe on the hand, maybe on the face, maybe anywhere. Peridot's cheeks heated at the thought, and she tried to pretend it had never occurred to her. If Lazuli woke up and caught her, she would probably die of embarrassment. She already felt like dying of shame just for having thought it.

Besides, Peridot remembered, Garnet said that sleep will help her. Why had the more rational thought occurred second and not first? She silently scolded herself for being such a clod. Lazuli's capacity for sleep was inconsistent at best – that made it worth all the more.

"No," Lazuli murmured. Peridot's mind froze. "Please, no… I don't want to…"

"Lazuli? Can you hear me?" Peridot said tentatively.

"It hurts…"

"Lazuli, wake up!"

"Help…"

Peridot grabbed Lazuli by the shoulders and shook her. Her eyes flew open just as she screamed, "Stop!" After a moment, the look of terror on her face diminished, but Peridot still felt like it had been directed at her.

"Lazuli, you were dreaming again," Peridot explained. Lazuli pulled away from her.

"Don't touch me."

"Are you okay? Do you want to talk about it?"

Lazuli was silent. Peridot knew what silence meant. It meant you had to try harder. In training, they always said that if your superior wasn't pleased, it was because you weren't trying hard enough.

"Can I make you some tea?"

Lazuli shook her head. Peridot had to think of something better. What would Steven have done?

"I know!" Peridot clapped. "How about a hug?"

"I said don't touch me!" Lazuli dodged her.

Peridot shrank back, not feeling so good.

"Lazuli," she said softly, "I just want to help somehow."

"Not now, Peridot," Lazuli muttered, arms crossed.

"Please," Peridot implored, "What can I do?"

"Just leave me alone!" Lazuli snapped. She drew out her wings and jumped down the loft.

"Wait!" Peridot called. "When are you coming back?"

"I'll come back when I come back!" Lazuli shouted. The last thing Peridot heard besides the reverberations in the barn was the angry whip of Lazuli's wings.

Peridot sighed and sank to the floor. She felt comparable to the biological waste matter she had stepped in the other day, complete with the cavernous impression of her foot. Leaving Lazuli alone was a more difficult command than it should have been. Inaction was useless. How could she do anything productive through inaction? She was a Peridot, and Peridots were made for utility. But now, she was like the organic waste matter, not only useless but so repugnant that the best thing she could do was stay away. It wouldn't be so bad if it actually seemed to be helping, but nothing at all seemed to help Lazuli's soul injury.

I'd do anything, Peridot thought as she curled up on the floor. Her body shook. She doesn't want it, but I'd do anything.

She'd even have taken her place.

A sob wracked Peridot's small form. This sort of malfunction had been happening to her a lot lately. It had been happening to Lazuli too, but Peridot never let on that she knew. Something in her lower brain told her not to.

Peridot's foot hit something. She turned around and saw that she'd made contact with something under the couch, hidden by the wasteful strip of fabric that skirted it. With only a vague curiosity, she slid a hand through and pulled out the mystery object.

It didn't look special at first – Earth junk rarely did. It was some sort of container that made a soft sloshing noise. Then she turned it around and saw the label.

Happiness.

Peridot puzzled for a moment. She thought that happiness was a concept, rather like the idea of a soul. But then it hit her. This was happiness somehow manifest in a physical form, perhaps even the source of happiness the way a gem was the source of one's body. Whatever it was, she knew it was the key to helping Lazuli.

I'm NOT useless, Peridot thought, her heart racing.

She dug out the blue marker and one of her Camp Pining Hearts charts from behind the TV.

Lazuli, she wrote on the back, I found Happiness in a jar under the couch, and I'm bringing it to the Crystal Gems to learn how it works. I'll probably be back before you because you're always gone for a long time, but just in case I'm not, I promise I won't use any until you're here.

She felt like she wasn't saying everything she wanted to say, but she wasn't sure how exactly to word what was on her mind. It also seemed like whatever it was, Lazuli wouldn't want to hear it. So, instead, she just added, Please refrain from exerting your soul in the meantime.

She signed the note, propped it on the couch, and headed to the Temple with Happiness in tow.