Steven was on the verge of telling himself that the only reason their unpacking in Beach City was quicker than the unpacking back in the capitol was because his friends were helping him.
But during the time from the local Día de Los Muertos festival in the church his father's friend went to until the day when the biggest protest in awhile started, what he felt confirmed what he thought from the start.
He'd missed this place, through and through. And it wasn't simply because he was living in a place that most people in the country only thought of as a place to dutifully spend their vacation days. And it wasn't just for the waves in the back, privatized, that his father taught him how to ride on with a boogie board when he was a kid. Neither was it for the hot dogs he swore came from above, or for the street performers that seemed to only come during the summer and scurry off to God knows where during the fall. It was for something more buried in his subconscious, something more along the lines of how he experienced his mother.
She was there. There in the way the air tasted here, the way the breezes blew at his armful of black hair, at banners, at beards, the way they passed by his cheek and told him, in their own voice, that no matter what he did, he would still somehow be the same Steven he always was. She was there in the way others would laugh, the way they sounded more golden, more honey-coated here than they did anyplace else.
And she was there...there in the arresting, the lucid, the always ecstatic sunset.
And finally, she was there in the way his friends were, the way his father had instructed him to paint when he was younger, how he told him never to go against the grain. How his father told him later that, in some things, it was alright, it was even the right thing to do to go against the grain. How that was, in some part, what Steven was.
She was there in the way that Spinel thought she was in Steven. There in the way her eyes exploded with light when she looked at him.
"Greg, Pearl!" She whipped back, let the screen door hiss and close. A memory flapped, as it always did, in Steven, to a day the door was just installed when he was barely 4, how he screamed when it first made the noise. "Everyone! He's back, he's back!"
"Woah, chill out there, Spinny, who's-"
Amethyst was the second one to go to the door. She opened her mouth, was at the cliff's-edge of saying something, anything, but covered her mouth. She looked like she was swallowing something. "Steven, I didn't think you'd ever-"
Greg was the third, with Pearl just on his heels. Greg was the one to burst the door open, his eyes with a mixture of pure, love-imbued joy and disbelief, the thought that this was all surreal as he burst out and hugged his son.
"My grown-up son, right here" was all he said.
Pearl was a little more reluctant, but was still the one to let Steven in before everything she'd been hiding and holding for the past months folded in on herself and out towards Steven. The way it always did. It was alright, wasn't it? Steven had always held her tears, and everyone's, the way he did now.
It was just the way things were, wasn't it?

November 3rd was not only filled with packing bags; it was also filled with group after group of people who had a fire inside, people who figured it was better to curse the darkness than light a candle when it came to their opinions on things. People who seemed that the Gems were out to kill them, people who thought it was best to kill them back, or people who thought it was mercy that they didn't kill them back.
People who ended up etching the word "mutt" on the front door while Connie and Steven were sleeping. They hadn't even had a proper bed set up yet. Connie and Steven were content to pull out a few of the blankets, go to the living room, be paired with nothing softer than each others' hair and hands.
"Mutt". A single word all but erased that memory.
"Connie, I don't-"
Connie sprinted to the storage room. She took the sander, sanded the area that the horrible word had spread across. Before she went to the store to buy a decent shade to paint over the area, she glanced back at him.
"Mutt". That was the word for people like him, as far as he knew. He'd heard it a little in the capitol, but had heard it tossed around like an ill-timed bag in the waves shortly before he left Beach City.
"Mutt". A mutt wasn't human or alien.
A mutt was worse.
He considered picking up the phone, calling Greg, Pearl, Spinel, his friends. But he couldn't. He saw the way Greg smiled when Steven did, the way Spinel's laugh timed in almost-perfect sync with Steven's. He saw the warmth in Pearl's heart when he allowed her to help him out, the way he allowed her to be a mother again the way he did all his life.
But he made a halfway-strategic call, making sure to call Garnet before calling Amethyst so his family wouldn't know. Before long, the both of them were at his house, Connie arriving a few minutes later.
"Good idea, Steven. This would've taken all day with just you and me."
They made more trips to the store, set up ladders, painted over the "M". They decided to take a break after each letter, although Connie found her arms were shaking after the "U". So Steven stabilized her shaking arms as she painted, although she told him she was fine after just a few seconds.
It took an hour, quick as the quicker-than-lightning the town usually had, for them to finish.
"So…" said Amethyst, her hair matted with paint, "why didn't you tell Mom and Dad?"
"What?"
"Greg and Pearl. Sorry."
"They're not my- alright. But you know why. You saw the way they looked at me, didn't they?"
Amethyst nodded. "I guess I'm just...not really used to how things are going. Everyone else has been used to Spinel being here, y'know? I mean...I call her Spinny, but that's it. She's the one who started calling them Mom and Dad. Ah, God, this is turning into a therapist session. You don't mind me putting it out there like this, right?"
"No, not at...not at all, Amethyst." His default response.
"Alright. But more than her, I guess I miss...y'know...you."
"I'm right here. You took ten minutes to walk here, didn't you?"
"I know. I know. I just-"
Steven knew what she was "just". She just wasn't used to his feet , no matter how little or how big they were, not pattering on the floors. She wasn't used to the way he wouldn't be walking down the stairs. She wasn't used to the way how he wouldn't be the one to take the Santa hat during Christmas time. The list went on and on, but all he did was reconcile it in a breath.
"Hey. It's just been two months since I left, right, Amethyst?"
She nodded.
"It'll be fine. You'll get used to things."
Things flashed through Steven's head. Things like him and Connie ducking on the apartment floor while the bullets wrecked the pantry door.
It's just been 2 months.
And I'll get used to things.

November 4th was Election Day.
"You going out, Steven? We're running low on food…"
He stared at the signs blaring at him posted on the neighbors' backyards. People who'd left him notes that still kept him up at night.
"Not the best idea."
They went to the couch, put on some movie or another, settled into each other.
"This is a better idea."
And Connie laughed, and oh, God, if only Steven could hear that forever...

November 5th to November 9th, Spinel had her first cold. She shared the joys and sorrows, the whoops and the whips of what it was to be human. She went through the hoops Steven went through, but at a younger age. Steven thought it would be better to go out today, to go to the store and get a few extra soups. He fired the stove, made one, went back over to his home. His real home.
Pearl took the soup, placed her fingers on her temples. "I forgot how sick humans can get." She laughed. "One time, you ate three cans of this stuff. You didn't ask for anything from The Big Donut the whole week!"
When he walked into her room, her self wasn't bouncy or taut anymore.
"Steben?" She blew her nose.
"Yeah?"
She tried to swallow, coughed it out instead. "I can't breathe. I think I'm drowning."
"Yeah, I know." He patted her shoulder. "It'll be alright, sis. Just wait. It'll get better. Sometimes, I feel like that too."
He smiled. Good ol' Amethyst. She'd rubbed off on him at just the right moment.

November 10th, Connie fiddled with a chunk of drywall coming off. "I'm tired."
"You need a nap? I bought another sheet to warm you up last week."
"No, not like that."
Steven knew it was best for him to sit down and shoo away any other plans for the hour.
Since then, him being somewhat of an intragalactic vigilante had slowed down in lieu of him trying to take care of tensions between Gems and humans. That one word, "mutt", had given him a new pace. But that wasn't to say he wasn't going at least three-fourths of the pace he was before. But it was still nothing short of a wonder that he was able to watch a movie with Connie on occasion, or able to make his sister soup during her first time sick. Now, he had about a half an hour before he left to help settle a trade dispute on an eastern part of Kepler-62f involving a 62-foot tall, sky-blue lizard who could swallow up the whole eastern seaboard if he wanted to. He let Connie know of this fact; she nodded, but nothing more.
"I'm tired of all of this bouncing around, back and forth. There's part of me that wants to be normal."
If Steven voiced himself now, said how he wanted to be normal along with her, it would be selfish, wouldn't it? Childish at the least. A very tiny part of him boiled at the fact, but, thank God, was just a simmer. Barely noticeable.
"This is all empty air. But I just want to be someone…a teenager who just graduated high school, who likes space, who's trying to apply for colleges. I...I want you, by all means. But I...maybe want a different lot in life."
She smiled. But he could tell that tears were simmering in her own eyes, and one trailed down. In a flash, he saw map after map of Sri Lanka, shown to him during their childhoods in Connie's bedroom, a teardrop just a few hours' flight away from where she lived.
"But I'm not going to get something just because I want it, don't I? That's the point of all this. The point of all- ah, nevermind, Steven. It's almost time for you to go, isn't it?"
"Nono, keep on going. It's fine."
"The point of all the tension. One wants something, the other side wants another. The humans want the planet to be safe by not having Gems, the Gems want the planet to be safe by having Gems. Or for themselves to be safe from the Diamonds. Except both sides- although I'm sure the humans are more of the guilty party in this- aren't aware of something that might change what they want, or at least make them realize that what they want isn't all that's cracked up to be."
She took a breath, and all of Steven's world was compressed in that breath.
"And I'm realizing that- I don't want to leave, don't get me wrong- but I'm realizing that this wasn't all that was cracked up to be."

Steven didn't think about it then until Veteran's Day.
They always kept it quiet in Little Homeworld, with all of them congregating instead to Steven's house. There, Gems from every background would pour their souls out onto the ground and tell their stories, and some of the ones whose minds weren't too shattered reenacted some of the more important battles. Although it was by no means Steven's favorite day when he was a child, his age giving him his more pacifist beliefs, it was always something for him to look forward to.
"There was a war while I was gone?"
"Yes, Spinel." Pearl whipped together a batch of piezoelectric devices, the closest the Gems could construct to be instruments. They were made of crystals, nonliving, scraped from the planet's ground, and simply pressing on something made electricity, which in turn, made sound.
"I'm sorry."
She took the instruments. Squeezed them closer to her chest. Stared at the water. Stared at the floor when she realized she was staring at the water the same way she'd always see Rose doing at the end of every bad day.
"So am I."
For Greg, it didn't stir up too many memories. It was impossible for him to have memories of anything that happened before the mid-seventies, after all. But, if he could ignore the crushing weight of his wife inviting him to come out and celebrate the war he'd barely studied, let alone been a part in, he was just left with this feeling of dread. This feeling that some year, somehow, someone would make it so all of this couldn't be celebrated.
But he was the first one to notice how a middle-aged man with a black beard and almost ivory-white skin went to the edge of the property line, peeked, shouted back, ran back, and all was still.
And he was the last one to forget.
Connie was the first one to come, almost bouncing with delight when asking what she could do. Her parents, very understandably, didn't want to send their child to one of the largest Gem celebrations in months, especially with its theme.
Four hours later, Steven was greeted with something the Gems liked to call "oprajmozc"- something familiar, but elaborate. There was Pearl and Greg together in the kitchen, making a mix of jalinky and barbeque. But Steven's mind flashed; he remembered spending hours when he was 8 trying to somehow get off the mark that had been left on the table by the barbeque food's heat.
There was everyone in the living room, a cohort of ten or so Gems who knew Steven the best, showing off Bismuth-swords made for the day, obviously made of plastic. They jumped in sync, the chaos of piezoelectric violins and drums playing in the background, and snarled the Crystal battle cry. They all then came together and exploded in festivity.
But Steven's laugh was a little more nervous.
Because the entire time that they'd done their demonstration, made Steven feel that forbidden feeling of being a child again, he noticed someone toeing the property line.
He was about to excuse himself, but he knew the Gems' eyes would follow his.
"Who the heck is that?" said Amethyst, being the first to drop her sword.
The music danced in the house, spun Steven around as he tried to look.
There were five or six of them now, with three of them clambering up the hill. By the looks of it, their skin was all as creamy as his. He saw only a few that he could point out as women from here; most looked to be about his dad's age, although he saw two or three "littles", according to Greg, that held onto an older adult's hand.
He didn't even notice what they were holding until Peridot wondered what weapons they were going to use to counteract the humans'.
The dread turned into a spinning hurricane, the Gems playing the piezoelectric instruments waltzing into the fortissimo of the piece…
There was a knock on the door.
"STOP!"
Steven's throat scolded him. For the first time in awhile, Steven was looked at as, and felt as if he were an alien, even in the presence of aliens.
"Stop. I'm sorry. I'll just...go get the door."
By the time he went to the door, Greg had already beat him.
All he heard was the man's voice, and all he saw was the upside-down sign with blaring red text.
"...you're taking away our right to this day, 's if taking our jobs wasn't enough. We're celebrating our patriotic duty, but your...these things have caused us more harm than they have good! You know how many of us fought in Vietnam? Korea? Iraq? Huh?"
Everything in Steven doubled back; his eyes dilated to the point of Bismuth even asking if he was alright.
"I'm fine, Bismuth. But just...you need to leave. Leave now."
She looked to the left and to the right. The air of celebration was dying a little now. Some were drawing their stories to a close just as they got to its crucial point. She didn't know whether it was better to sheathe her sword, the only real weapon in the house, or leave it drawn.
"Alright. I believe you. But I won't be the one to spread mass panic."
He smiled. "I wasn't planning for you to."
Lapis and Peridot were the ones who were looking for Bismuth, and Steven hesitated before telling Peridot. For the first five minutes, Peridot panicked, Lapis flapping her hands and trying everything she could to get her to stop, telling at least eight more Gems what Steven had said. Steven grimaced, sucked in a breath full of air as the Gems went to him, asking if this was true.
"Yeah. Yeah, it's true. But we need to keep it quiet, OK?"
Something more from the door. "...well, we're just about TIRED of it, if you'd ask me. And we won't be pushed 'round anymore…"
So Steven made his way around the house, half sprinting, smacking his hip on the corner of the wall. He held it and winced while dodging every single "are you alright", telling them the same thing. "All of you need to leave. But keep it quiet. Out of the back door."
And by the time the protestors had moved to the back door and locked Steven out from his terrified family indoors, about 60 percent of all the Gems were safe back at home.
It lasted forty minutes.
Steven wanted, with every inch of his being, to lash out. But he was used to keeping that contained now.
But other than being a buffer, a barrier, even summoning his shield for the bigger Gem crowds, he was also the wave that was hitting the buffer. He darted into the crowd, even used his shield to shove them, too, out of the way, having insult after insult hurled at him, punch after punch being targeted at him. By the second time he did it, the words "mutt from Mars", the new phrase people thought it would be fun to call him, spun around in his head again. And he only stopped the third time when someone with glittering teeth and a faded red t-shirt punched him the same place in the nose that Spinel did. He heard a sickening, pounding crunch that turned his world into blurry lights. He stepped back, cried out. The Gems around him all gathered, made concerned half-yelps, and he summoned everything he could to let the tears fall. By the time the tears made it to the grass and disappeared, so did the pain.
"Steven."
He looked up, felt a mask around his lip from what what'd managed to bleed from his nose, wiped it.
"Garnet! Thank the Lord! How'd you get out here?"
"That giant shield you have? I'm much the equivalent of that."
"Right, right."
"Come on. We're not safe here."
"And neither are all the Gems still here."
She made the same "hmm-mmm", the same hand-tilt, that she always made whenever mulling something over. "Alright. As long as you don't keep too far out of my sight. You know how Pearl and Greg will feel if I leave you behind."
"Pearl and Greg?" Something tightened in him, pulled him up to the Big Dipper floating above.
"What?"
"Before, you'd always say…'Pearl' or 'Greg', not 'Pearl and Greg.'"
"Nobody told you, did they?"
"Told me what?"
She paused, acted like she was holding a whale down inside of her. "We should focus, Steven."
"Right. Right."
He pulled out his shield, still feeling the same ever-pressing tug, still doing the same thing he would have done if this had happened seven years ago.
It was midnight before this hell was completely cleaned up. The house was kept from being ransacked as much as possible, but it still took hours to clean up, even with everyone helping, with the exception of one. Greg had gotten away with only a few bruises, but the fact that he'd gotten one on his leg made it all the more pronounced. Connie, Greg told Steven, had managed to get to the van in the back and drive home in a mad dash before anyone else could even think to call her name. Keep her, Greg told Steven.
"Spinel?" Greg this time, although Pearl must've been halfway across the room when she started coming on Greg's heels. "You okay? You've been breathing like that for awhile now."
The way she was breathing reminded Steven of the rabbit that was part of the petting zoo one year during the summer on the boardwalk. He was the one to sit down, to put his hand on her far shoulder, to even brush the pigtail that flopped in his face instead of putting it behind his back after a bit.
"This…"
That was all the words they got out of her for half a minute. The other half of a minute, they found a more dutiful, newer Gem that had just immigrated a month ago and told her that the mess inside was worse than the one outside for now.
"This was what Homeworld was like."
Greg said nothing else, but it was as if a latch were unlocked to Steven. Memories of being thousands of years under their control, of the amount of riots that had been crushed with the effort of only a few Quartzes. The Gems were shattered, the shards swept to the streets like they were dust from the weapons the Bismuths forged…
Garnet turned to the Gem. "Is this true?"
The Gem turned pale, if she could, and nodded.

"Rose, what am I doing? What the hell am I doing?!"
She didn't know what the hell she was doing, either. She'd sequestered herself to one of the buildings that were closed in the summer, knowing the owner was an old woman who could do little more than politely ask her to leave, given her personality. Rose only seemed to speak to her that way- when she was away from Steven, away from the influence of anyone or anything that could affect her subconscious. That could affect the message.
But that didn't explain why she was shaking, or the fact that she'd dare to kiss him, kiss the man that she'd been, in a sense, been courting since the first day Steven was alive, even if she hadn't known it. They'd been friends, but it gave her a thorn in her chest or her side each time they did something, anything, that was similar at all to the way Rose interacted with Greg.
It was, in a sense, why she'd ignored him the first month of Steven's life.
She cried out, but only because the way it echoed across the empty shelves and poster-free walls reminded her of how strong that battle cry used to be back in the war. It couldn't be like this. Wouldn't be if she could help it. But how could she help it? Spinel hadn't been gone from the palace for even two months. She sat down, ran through the sand-pattered roads of town in her mind; the pearl on her forehead hummed, very quietly, in the dead silence. She could somehow evacuate Spinel, take her to one of the beach houses before taking her further inland and living in one of the townhouses there. But with what money? Greg would know. The fact that he was slaving at the car wash would make him especially know. And with Steven's? She couldn't bring herself to do that. Not after having lesson after lesson with him on being honest, even when it doesn't benefit you.
And Spinel would never forgive her. She'd think that Pearl forced her to be away from everyone else at the house.
Pearl shook. Shook out a breath.
"Free me from this."
That's all she had to say. The ever-seeming-to-pick-up winds blew and battered at the door.
"I don't want to be where you were."
Well, Rose seemed to say, it's not like I'm here to be what I was, isn't it?
"I know."
She lowered herself to one of the cardboard boxes left over, situated herself until she was finally comfortable.
I'm not here to be what I was.
And that was the part that made her shake one more time, and make the tears fall.