I'm back! Took a little longer than I wanted, but I told you guys I'm writing every day! I got stuck a couple times, so I made sure that I took my time with this chapter so it didn't seem rush or lacking in any way. Now, a really quick note before you begin reading;

This entire story was first created during a hiatus between SU episodes in 2017. Since the show has changed so much in the time since then, I have to say that this story doesn't follow really anything from the show's canon (except a few special instances, albeit brief). I'll clarify a lot more in my next story in this universe when the time comes. Let's just say this universe takes place immediately following the episode "That will be all." Just saying.

With that out of the way, let's get right into it. Enjoy!

""We need help, the poet reckoned."" Tis true, help we do need, but tis not the help I question, but who it comes from and what their true motifs are."

—Edward Dorn

"Shoot me. Shoot me. Shoot me. Shoot me." John Lennon whispered through the bluetooth speaker on the counter while she was washing the dishes. Once the next verse came, she joined in on the singing.

"Here come old flat top, he come grooving up slowly, he got joo joo eyeball, he one holy roller, he got hair down to his knees...got to be a joker, he just do what he please." She could sing really well, so she's been told by a lot of different people in her day. That was a long time ago, though. No one heard her sing anymore, she didn't have visitors. Last time she had people over, it ended in disaster. They all left, and she never heard from them again.

"Come together," she sang, "right now...over me."

Was she doing it right? Would Pearl approve of how she did the dishes? Or would she shout at her for doing it in the "wrong order" like she always did?

"No no no! How many times have I told you, silverware first! Then cups, bowls and the pots and pans last!"

"I'm sorry, ma'am! I just thought—"

"Don't lie to me! You weren't thinking, you couldn't have been! Move. I'll do them myself."

"Fine! You do it then! Then with hesitation, she added It's all you Pearls are good for, anyway!"

That didn't end well. She's regretted her words ever since. Ever since then, she made a point to do it exactly as Pearl as instructed. It was her way of keeping her former mentor here with her still. It was hard living in the same house

(You couldn't keep them together. You failed them all)

where her friends and family lived. The war took a toll on them all, but one thing they lost was their patience for each other. Before the war, if anyone had a hard time with something, they had everyone there to help them through it. Afterwards, they just fought instead of working through their problems. Makes sense really, the one person who would help them the most just left. For reasons that never reached her understanding, he couldn't be in Beach City anymore. He couldn't even give her an honest answer why. Even his goodbye was shitty.

I'm sorry. I can't be with you. I have to go.

Good riddance, motherfucker.

She finished up the dishes, turned off the speaker spitting out Beatles lyrics. All done, Pearl. Did I make you happy? She didn't really care. Even if she did every dish just like she asked, Pearl would never come home. None of them would.

Why did he leave? She could care less why they left, she was there for that part. But why did he leave? He didn't even know how bad things were for her. She knew exactly what she had, it had a medical term and everything, but did he know? He had to. They all had it to one degree or another, that's the interesting thing about humans and gems; they were each a completely different species, but they had as many similarities as they had differences. Sure, one could live thousands of years while the other had a much shorter lifespan, and maybe a few physical deviations and abilities, but take away all that and gems are basically people. You'd think that with all their powers and wisdom from literal centuries of experience that they'd be more in touch with their emotions and smarter in their actions. She knew better. They could fight entire intergalactic wars and come out somewhat alright, but God forbid if one difference of opinion with another, or if a teenage girl doesn't do the dishes in the right way.

There were times she wished they would all disappear. They'd fight over the smallest of things day after day, it seemed like they were doing it for sport, like whoever would storm off first would lose and whoever left standing was the victor. Last man standing.

Last man standing. How ironic. They traded one version of that game for another. At least one kept you alive. Ironic, indeed.

She was no different. The daily arguments and bickering and pettiness were Hell for her, especially given her own issues she got from the war, and she prayed—literally got down on her knees and prayed (to who, she had no clue, as she denied Him as He denied her)—that they would all just disappear somehow, vanish into thin air, be snapped into dust and be blown away in the wind like what that one purple guy did with his special glove, and then she'd be free. Now she would do absolutely anything to have them back. This house was the birthplace of so many good memories, it shouldn't be this empty and quiet. She thought the constant clamor of their arguments was unbearable, but the endless silence was a hundred times worse. It was driving her mad (she was already mad, she knew it. To be more accurate, it was dragging her deeper into madness). She traded a Loud Hell for a Silent one. The irony seemed to continue.

A thought came to her, one she had often but was never prepared to answer; what if Steven came home one day? That was easily her greatest fear. What if he just showed up at her door out of the blue? He'd be looking for his family, the gems, and he would have questions that she would have no answers. She wouldn't even have a good enough excuse for him, and then there would be what she was afraid of. Sadness, confusion and surprise most definitely, but most certainly, disappointment. Disappointment leads to judgement and judgement leads to anger. She'd never truly upset him

(There's a reason he shut you out. There's a reason he cut the connection)

but she knew that would change and there was no telling what he'd do to her. She didn't have a clue, but her nightmares had an idea. But that's for another time.

Time. She looked at the microwave clock. Ten after nine. She might as well call it a night, she had her first day of work in a few days. She went to turn off the single light illuminating both the entire kitchen and living room

(Why does it look so much like an eye?)

and went to the bathroom for a shower. While she disrobed and started the shower, she stopped and looked at herself in the mirror. It had been a good while since she had done that. It was bizarre for her to remember what she looked like when she felt normal. It had to be when she was thirteen, so twenty four years ago. She had so many different problems with herself at the time that took over her world that seemed so silly and insignificant now. At that time she worried about when her boobs would grow in, she'd squeeze her flat chest together to make them look bigger, fearing that she'd be flat as an ironing board for the rest of her life. Now her breasts were fully developed C-cups, boasting proudly from her chest, which she would have been happy to have had if she still cared. In her youth, she was frail and not a very physically fit person per se, and now she had muscle that was strong but toned, so even though she was much more agile and fit than she was at the time, she still retained her original body type, thin and petite. She was a woman now, though she never really thought about it these days, it just wasn't important. That scar above her navel was her proof.

Her hair was no different, though maybe it was a little shorter, just past her shoulders. Even in her loneliest days, she loved her thick black hair. It was a connection to her Indian heritage, and more importantly, to her parents. It reminded her of her mother. She missed her. She mentally kicked herself for not visiting her more often. Her father, too.

Of the many beautiful and terrible and important things she knew, among them was what she looked like. She was beautiful. It wasn't a thought born of egocentrism, she knew most people found her easy on the eyes, she just saw no benefit in it. Who was she trying to impress? She had makeup but no need for it. She showered, washed her face, brushed her hair every day, and that was it. She'd be breathtaking if her face wasn't always showing a look of indifference or completely devoid of expression. That wasn't quite how she felt, she always felt something. She just lost her ability to express how she felt, a learned memento of her fighting days. It wasn't exactly a mask she was wearing, either; she simply didn't need to bring emotion to her face. Why should she?

When she couldn't stand to look at her shell anymore, she stepped into the shower and was instantly met with the relief of hot water enveloping her tired body. She closed her eyes and let herself be lost in the shower's warm embrace. It was one of her last safe places in the world. As the water cascaded down her brown skin, a daydream formed in her mind, one that came to her often. Warm arms wrapping around her from behind, pulling her in, comforting her, his head resting in the crook of her neck. An unconscious, genuine grin formed on her face.

The nightmares couldn't get her here.

"What do you want to do with your life, Connie?"

The question had come from her mother. It was the morning of Connie's thirteenth birthday. Connie hadn't even gotten out of bed when her mother asked her question.

"What?" Connie inquired. She wasn't expecting this.

The woman in question was rummaging through Connie's closet, looking for something presentable for her daughter's big day presumably, and she didn't turn around when she spoke.

"Have you decided on what your college major will be in?"

"College!? I haven't even finished middle school! Why would I be thinking about college?"

Priyanka sighed, a clear sign of her classic disappointment, making Connie shrink under her covers. "Connie, when I was your age, I knew exactly what I wanted to be when I grew up. I wanted to go into the medical field, what colleges had the best programs to suit my interests, and what AP classes I needed to take in high school to get on track early. Do you mean to tell me that you have no clue as to what you want to do with your life?"

"Well...I mean, I have one thing…" Connie began, but she was startled when her mother whirled around and practically jumped into bed with her.

"What is it?" Her mother was uncharacteristically excited, almost giddy smiling from ear to ear. "Go on, tell me what it is!"

Feeling more confident in herself, Connie said "I want to pursue a career in space exploration!"

The look of happiness in Priyanka's face dispersed almost immediately. She walked away and slumped against the wall on the other side of her room, her hand to her face, pinching the bridge of her nose. She didn't take it well.

"Mom? What's wrong?" Connie braved. "I thought you'd be happy. Space exploration is a very distinguished career—"

"Yes yes, I'm aware." She couldn't bring her eyes to meet her daughter's. "Normally I'd be very happy with your career choice...if I didn't know why that was your choice."

Connie's face went hot. Her mother was right of course, but she didn't want to admit it, even to herself. How did she know? "Mother, what do you mean? Space has always interested me—"

"No, he has always interested you." Priyanka crossed her arms, a visual dare for the girl to deny it.

Connie still tried to deflect it, to work around her mother's accusation. "It's not just Steven! The gems are the reason to begin with. They're literal aliens, and I want to do whatever I can to show the world that there's a whole universe out there, waiting to be discovered!"

Priyanka sighed. "Connie, I've seen your library book check-outs. You knew about...them...before you met these Crystal Gem. They're all throughout history, they just don't come around much these days. Not since the World War."

"Cause they're afraid! There aren't many of them on Earth to begin with, and we kind of turned on them at one point. Think about it, mother. I'm really the only human outside of Beach City who has interacted with them. I could help bring our planets together!"

"You aren't being realistic," her mother spat.

"And you aren't listening to me!"

Connie immediately shut her mouth, while Priyanka's fell open. Connie never raised her voice to her mother, and now fear gripped her tight like the covers she hid under.

But instead of yelling at her or grounded her with that stupid abacus again, her mother smiled and came over, sitting down next to her.

"That's enough for now," she said with a sweet smile. She didn't even seem angry. "We don't need to worry about this right now. Today's your big day. I'm sorry, sweetie." She leaned in and kissed Connie on her head.

Connie wasn't expecting the sudden change of behavior, but she was happy with her mother's gesture and returned it with a warm hug. "I'm sorry, too. For raising my voice."

Priyanka chortled. "It's okay." She looked back over to Connie's closet. "Say, you have some nice clothes, but...none of them seem good enough for today."

Connie's happiness faltered. "What do you mean?"

"It's just...none of them seem to be right for a beautiful, bright young woman like my daughter." Priyanka playfully tapped her chin, pretending to ponder the situation before giving her a knowing look. "How about we go look for a new dress before your party?"

Connie was ecstatic. She jumped from her bed into her mother's open arms. "Oh, mom! Thank you thank you thank you so much!"

"Anything for my favorite daughter," Priyanka whispered in her ear before releasing her from the hug. "But we have to be quick. Steven and his family should be her soon. Hop into the shower and get ready for the day fast if you want to be here when they get here."

"Yes ma'am!" Connie leapt to her feet and dashed to her closet for a pair of clothes.

Priyanka made her way to the door, and before she stepped out, said "I love you, Connie."

Connie smiled and gave her a little wave. "Love you too, mom!"

When she woke up the next morning, she felt happy. She couldn't figure out why, but for some reason she woke up and for the first time in years, she was looking forward to the day. She had no plans, she didn't start work for another two days, and since she was rich with no financial issues whatsoever, she took it upon herself to do something with her time other than fall into visions or sleep to avoid them. It was a bright, sunny day, the perfect weather for a picnic.

She inspected the contents of her refrigerator. It was fully restocked with foods and beverages. It seems Carlos, her grocery guy, had stopped by sometime during her afternoon nap the day prior. Being the recluse she was, she had hired him to pick up all her grocery store needs so she never had to leave the house. They had known each other for years, but it didn't bother her that she didn't know a single thing about the guy. Being close meant being vulnerable. No thanks. She grabbed a pitcher of lemonade and grape jelly

(I wonder if he still eats jelly)

then fetched a loaf of bread, peanut butter (as well as butter knives for the sandwich), a big bag of Doritos and a red solo cup from the cabinets. She threw the contents, as well as a paper plate and napkins into a canvas bag she had and made her way to the door, bag in one hand and the pitcher in hand, not even bothering to change out of her pajamas. She took two steps outside and her chest was quick to alert her that the sunshine was there but the warmth certainly was not.

"Oh fuck that," she declared, and quickly retreated before coming back out wearing her hospital coat. Now dressed appropriately for the occasion, she made way across the beach and up the hill behind the beach house/gem temple. There was a light breeze sweeping through, making the grass sing, the grass that was cool and felt so good on her bare feet. She felt at peace. She had slept nightmare-free and that was a blessing in its own right. It was a cause for some kind of celebration, and in this world that was monochrome nearly all the time in her eyes, a picnic was perfect.

She made it to the top of the hill, where a small, abandoned structure that was just big enough to not be considered a shack, branched off to the side hanging off the cliff edge, and right next to it, a large tombstone. There used to be a white picket fence, she remembered when it was new

(You wanted to kiss him. Things would've been better if you had just kissed him then.)

but it was destroyed to make room for the artillery guns. They were pretty big guns. She set her bag down and began setting up her picnic when she looked over to the tombstone, just a few feet away. There was a name engraved in it, and next to it, some other text, but she didn't need it. She knew who was buried there.

"Hey, Mr. Universe," she said nonchalantly as she emptied her bag. She wasn't surprised when she got a reply.

"Hi, Connie." He sounded just like he did when he was alive. "Whatcha got, there?"

"Just having a picnic. It's a beautiful day, thought I'd might do something with it." All the items she grabbed before coming out here were spread out on the ground, but something was missing.

"I see. It's good you're out here, it's high-time you got out more. Being cooped in that house is messing with your mind."

Connie couldn't help but let out an actual laugh at that. "Can't argue with that." For the first time during the conversation, she looked at the tombstone. Greg Universe sat cross-legged on the space where he was buried, looking very much alive. He had that sweet, goofy smile he had on his face whenever she was around, a trait he passed on to his only son.

"You seem lost," he noted. "What's wrong?"

"I think I forgot something," she said, surveying her haul. "I just don't know what."

Greg went "Ah. There's a lot you've forgotten, isn't there?" He sounded sad.

"What?"

"Nothing." He leaned in a bit. "You sure you got everything?"

"I think. I got everything for the sandwiches. A plate, pitcher of lemonade with a cup for it—"

"A blanket?" Greg offered.

She snapped her fingers. "A blanket! That's it. Thanks, Mr. Universe!"

"No problem, kiddo," Greg said with a thumbs-up as she rose.

She started walking down when she stopped. At the very bottom of the hill, she saw a figure standing there. She saw as he raised his hand and gave a little wave to her. Her heart fell. She knew who it was.

"Who's that?" Greg asked from behind her.

She sighed. "Someone I really don't want to deal with right now."

"Yeesh. Well, good luck with that."

"Can I ask you something?" she asked.

"Of course. What is it, Connie?"

She turned to him. "Are you real?"

Greg lowered his voice, his smile going flat. "Do you care?"

She turned back to look at the figure. "Not really. I've got a visitor. See you later Greg."

As she went off, she noticed that Greg hadn't replied. She wasn't surprised.

"What are you doing here?" She was right to the point. She wasn't happy to see him, and she made that perfectly clear.

He shrugged. "I was in the neighborhood."

"My ass. I thought we had an understanding. If you were ever to show up here again—"

"There's a high probability that you'd kick my ass I know." He held his hands up in surrender, though his calm expression suggested he wasn't concerned either way.

She sighed and crossed her arms. "What do you want, Soren?"

"Well…" Soren looked past her to where she was at when he arrived. "I was wondering if I could join you."

"You want another sandwich?" She offered after making herself a second PB n' J.

"No thank you, I'm full."

"Suit yourself. Why are you here?" She took a bite of her sandwich.

Soren cleared this throat awkwardly. It was clear how uncomfortable he was. "I just had a feeling."

"You've always got a feeling," she said bitterly. "It's gotten people into trouble, your feelings."

"This one's different. Is he still closed off to you?" he asked.

She wasn't in the mood to tell him anything, but she also knew there was no point in lying. Soren meant nothing to her, anyhow. She nodded.

Soren took a deep breath and ran his hands through his shoulder-length brown hair

(He dyed his hair. Since when does Soren hide himself like that?)

And looked at her with caution in his piercing yellow eyes. "He's reopened the connection for me and him."

She froze. The bolus of her food in her mouth felt like a stone when she swallowed. "What?"

"I know. It's weird, isn't it?" Soren questioned, It was then he glanced over at the tombstone, began reading it, then shook his head and returned back to her. "After all these years, why would he open up to me?"

"Yes." She rose, her hands clenching and unclenching into fists, anger coursing through her being. "After all these years, why would he open up to you?"

Soren got to his feet as well, a bit uneasy by her reaction. He took a step back

(Soren's afraid of me. Oh my God, Soren Spessartine is afraid of me. Damn right.)

in obvious concern for his well-being and safety. "Connie…"

"Don't you call me that! You have no right to call me that, don't you fucking dare!" She was seething. Her monochrome world was now a deep shade of crimson. She took a step towards him.

"Why did he open up to you! Of all people, of all people, he chose you. You're a murderer! A cold-hearted killer!"

As careful as Soren was, he was getting upset, too. "You listen here—"

"You're a fraud!" She wasn't finished. "You're nothing more than a shitty gem experiment that failed...Commander Spessartine."

That was it for Soren. He let out a frustrated shout, which revealed a small gemstone the size of a medallion on his tongue, and from it summoned his scimitar, his personal weapon from his war days. In his rage he dashed and held its tip mere centimeters from her throat.

"Oh, you wanna pull a blade on me again?" she asked, though it was more of a taunt than anything else. She whipped her hospital coat off and yanked her T-shirt up just below her breasts, exposing her belly, and in doing so, her scar. The very same scar that Soren had given her.

"Go ahead, do it!" Then for good measure, just to really get in his head, added "Finish the job! Don't fuck up this time!"

She knew she had him there. In the past Soren made it very clear how remorseful he was for his actions when he fought on Homeworld's side before defecting, and he'd done all he could to make up for it. He might have earned the trust of the rest of the Crystal Gems, including Steven, but never had he earned hers.

And with this in mind, Soren calmed himself down a bit. He sighed and brought the sword away from her before returning it to his gem.

"I'm sorry. I should have never pulled my weapon on you." There was real sincerity in his words and his ashamed expression. "I didn't come here to fight. I came here to talk."

Still not letting her shirt down, still revealing his past mistakes on her body, she asked "Why did Steven reopen his connection between you two?"

"He told me three things. The first thing he told me was to keep an eye on you."
"Well that's sweet,

(If Steven really cared, he'd reach out to me instead of using this cocksucker as his personal message boy. The nerve.)

but I don't need your help. I've been doing just fine on my own, thank you very much." It didn't sound convincing, even when she told herself that lie, but she figured it was a start

Soren shrugged. "That's a lie. I know cause he told me otherwise. His exact words— well, thoughts, I guess would be more accurate— were, "Keep an eye on Connie. She won't admit it to anyone, but she's in a terrible place. Which, given the company you keep…" He motioned towards the tombstone. "He may have a point."

She let her shirt fall, crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm fine. And don't call me that."

"Whatever. There was something else he said." He paused. "How long has it been since he left Beach City?"

She frowned. "Hold on." She began counting backwards, then forward, then scratched that and when backwards again.

"Let's see. The war started in two thousand seventeen, and it lasted for four years. That means it ended in twenty-one, and that was when Steven left. The gems left the same year…" Her mind went blank. "Soren, what year is it?"

Soren blinked. "What?"

"What year is it?"

He was struck with disbelief. "You don't even know what year it is?"

"The fuck do I need to know the year for?" Just another thing that didn't matter to her.

"It's twenty thirty-one."

Wow. Time really flies when you're drowning in oblivion. "Huh. I guess that means it's been…" She stopped. "Ten years.

"Well, it's gonna stay at that."

She got curious. A little hopeful. "What do you mean?"

Soren straightened up. "He said he's on his way." He took an excited breath.

"Connie...Steven's coming home."

Told you guys the chapters would get longer as the story progressed. There's a lot to unpack with this chapter, but I'll leave that up to you guys. Expect another chapter within a week's time. With that being said, I hoped you enjoyed the chapter. Be sure to drop a review for questions or comments, and if you liked what you just read, feel free to favorite this story and follow it for weekly chapters in the future. That's all from me, take care everybody. Lazuli out!