The weather report had promised a beautiful day in Beach City. Clear skies and shining sun. With not be a gray cloud in sight it was a day sure to be enjoyed by all. Well, almost all.

While the vast majority of Beach City residents were happy to begin yet another glorious day in their happy little beachfront paradise, there was one person in particular who would have much preferred that the sun had never risen that day. In the darkness, Quentin Moon slept deeply on a couch wrapped in an old, worn blanket. With a large, empty glass bottle clutched in his hand, he slumbered seemingly dead to the world. Only when the light of the early morning sun began to shine on his face, through the open curtains behind the couch, did he begin to stir. He cracked his eyes open briefly before slamming them shut tightly and hissing in discomfort.

He rolled to the side to shield his eyes, falling off of the couch and onto the hard wooden floor, the empty bottle clattering to the ground next to him. "Ohhh," he groaned in pain as he struggled to force himself back onto his feet using the couch to keep himself steady.

Slowly picking himself up from the floor, he felt a wave of nausea overtake him as every muscle in his body screamed out in agony. Finally, on his feet, he blindly climbed over the couch and closed the curtains before collapsing back onto the cushions. For a long while, he sat there in a daze, wondering where he was and how he had ended up like this.

Sitting there in his faded blue robe and underwear he forced himself to open his eyes. He saw that he was in a library of some sort. Directly across from him and the couch a large bookcase filled with books took up the entirety of the wall and wrapped around past the edges of the adjacent walls.

Directly in front of the bookcase a single armchair, with upholstery that matched the couch, sat empty. In front of the chair a simple, gray laptop sat on a small desk, and directly to the side of the chair stood a small side table with a lamp and a small stack of books.

To his left, an old, dust-covered upright piano stood up against the wall with a stone fireplace taking up a large portion of the wall to the right. An old, worn-out-looking teddy bear rested on the mantel next to a small clock. Directly above them, a large portrait frame hung empty on the wall.

That was one question answered; he was home in his living room. As for the other question, the answer came once he spotted the empty glass bottle on the floor by his feet.

"Oh. Right," he said as it all started to come back to him.

Slowly, feeling like he was either going to throw up or pass out, he laid back down. He contemplated just closing his eyes and going back to sleep. He could probably sleep the whole day away and no one would miss him.

"Oh, my head."

However, given his current situation, it was unlikely that he would actually be able to sleep at all. He needed to do something about that headache. He needed to get up.

"Alright, you can do this," he sighed to himself, struggling to get back to his feet again before slowly making his way to the bathroom.

"Dear God," his reflection in the mirror was quite the sight, "I look like Hell."

And he did. He looked horrible; like he was either dead or at least, very close to it. Pale skin, bloodshot eyes, complete with dark rings to go with them, and it appeared that he was also drenched in sweat.

His eyes briefly flitted down to his open robes, before he quickly pulled the robes closed tight. He wasn't in the right headspace to deal with that right now.

"Oh come on, man. You have a job today. You need to pull yourself together."

He did what he could to clean himself up, barely making much of a difference, and made his way to the kitchen. He had really only two options; A, sit around in misery as he waited for the pain to stop, or B, take something to help alleviate the symptoms. He chose, sensibly, to go with option B.

"No, no, no, no. You cannot be serious!" He said as he searched the cabinets. "Is there seriously no coffee? Well, that's just great."

Before long he was dressed, in clothes that in all honesty probably should have been washed days ago, and was heading for the door. He paused for a moment as he checked his pockets, and made a detour back to the living room. Scanning the room briefly, he spotted what he was looking for straight away and grabbed a little, red notebook from the side table by the chair, and resumed his journey to the front door.

Blinded by the bright morning light, he put on his sunglasses to ease his discomfort as he quickly surveyed his surroundings. The woods surrounding his home were as quiet as they ever were.

After he was certain that the door was locked, and the cabin secure he climbed into his old jeep and turned the key. The sound of the engine sparking to life felt like a hammer to his head, but he needed to keep going.

"It won't be long now. You've got this." And with that, he started down the winding dirt road through the trees towards Beach City.

Later that day

Bumping into Pearl at the Big Donut was an unexpected, as well as unwelcome, surprise. It was, however, more surprising that she didn't have some kind of snooty or condescending comment to send his way.

Encounters with her, while always civil, were hardly ever friendly. It was fairly obvious to him that he wasn't her favorite person in the world. She made it clear that she disproved of his lifestyle and overall attitude, just as he wasn't too fond of her overbearing tendencies and her overall pretentiousness. It always felt as if she were casting silent judgment as she stared down her nose at him as if she were so superior to him in every way possible and he was nothing. No, less than nothing. He hated that; he got more than enough of that in life without her help. Fortunately today there were no arguments. But even if there were, it wouldn't have made much of a difference; Quentin was about to stop by one of his favorite places in town.

Whenever Quentin came to town, he always made a point of stopping by the pier. The sound of the seagulls in the sky and the waves crashing against the ships in the water accompanied by the smell of the salty sea air always helped to put his mind at ease. So it only made sense that one of his "regular customers" for his odd jobs in town would be one of Beach City's local fishermen.

Quentin breathed deeply, taking in the briny scent, as he worked helping Yellowtail pack up his catch of the day.

"Quite the productive day you've had, huh?"

"Muh, Mumumuh." The fisherman mumbled in agreement.

To some people, it might appear that Yellowtail could not speak. But this is false. While Yellowtail was not the most coherent of speakers, he did have a very keen grasp of the English language and enjoyed having long, in-depth discussions of many topics (usually concerning either fishing or his frustration at his eldest son not wanting to be a fisherman like him). What sounded like a series of indecipherable mumbles was really nothing more than a thick accent. An accent that, after years of talking and listening, Quentin could understand with crystal clarity.

"Oh, yes. Quite the catch," Quentin said as he put the lid on the cooler. "There we are. All finished."

"Mumumuh," Yellowtail patted Quentin on the back to signify a job well done. He stepped to the side and picked up a small canvas bag from the floor.

"Oh, what's this?"

Yellowtail simply smiled as he offered for Quentin to take the bag.

"What? Oh, no I couldn't."

"Mumuh," Yellowtail extended his hand out further.

"Well, alright. If you insist." Quentin smiled lightly as he took the bag from his extended hand. "Is this herring?" Quentin asked softly as he peered inside the bag. "Oh, I haven't had herring in ages. Thanks, Yellowtail."

Quentin tied the bag closed and prepared to climb onto the dock before Yellowtail stopped him.

"Muh, Mumumuh?"

"Pardon? Your radio? Well, I suppose I could take a look at it. But I'm not making you any promises. I haven't done any wiring work in a while now.

Quentin drove through Beach City towards his storage unit, with the bag of fish tucked safely away in the back of the Jeep next to Yellowtail's old marine VHF radio. Quentin wasn't entirely sure if he would be able to fix it, but Yellowtail had insisted that he at least take a look at it anyway. Fortunately, it wasn't an emergency. Yellowtail had a backup radio that he could use but wanted it fixed anyway for sentimental reasons. Having no definite deadline for it to be done, Quentin had agreed to take it home with him and see what could be done with it.

The only real problem was that he was not familiar with this particular model of radio. He would need to do a little research to see what repairing it would entail. He was also fairly certain that he didn't have the equipment required for this job at the cabin, so he would need to pick up a few things while he was in town. After a brief stop at the library, where he managed to find and print out a copy of the radio's instruction manual and schematic, he was now on his way to U-Stor.

Just as he was pulling up to the door of his unit, he noticed something odd. Everything around him seemed to have changed color. He killed the engine and took a look around. He didn't notice when it happened, but now it appeared that the entire area was being bathed in an unearthly red glow.

"Okay, now that's odd," he looked up to the sky and saw something off in the distance. "there wasn't supposed to be an eclipse today was there?" He opened the glove compartment and pulled out a pair of binoculars, stepping out of the jeep to get a better view.

"Yeah, now that's definitely not normal."

It definitely was not an eclipse. Up in the sky was what appeared to be a gigantic, eyeball hurtling towards Beach City. In a daze Quentin stared, bewildered at the sight.

"It can't be real. Can it? Am I dreaming?"

He set the binoculars down on the hood of the jeep and stood at attention. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply before slapping one of his hands across his face with as much force as he could manage.

"Ow!" He winced in pain, "okay, so not a dream," he said as he looked back to the sky. Eyes locked on the eye in the sky he pulled a silver flask out from his jacket pocket. Holding the flask in his hand, he swirled the contents a bit and estimated that it was still mostly full.

"Damn, I'm definitely not imagining this," he said before taking a quick sip from the flask and stuffing it back into his pocket. He sighed as he ran his fingers through his hair.

"A giant eye in the sky. That can't be good, now can it? No, that's definitely not good," he felt his heart begin to pound as his breathing became shallow.

"Okay now, stay calm. Just stay calm."

Suddenly he noticed something else in the air. Quickly picking up the binoculars, he took another look and saw what looked like a person flying towards it at an alarming speed before bouncing off of it and falling back down to the earth below. He couldn't be certain at this distance, even with the binoculars, but it looked like Amethyst.

"The Gems," Quentin muttered in mild annoyance, "of course it would be them." If living in Beach City had taught him anything, it was that the Gems were never far away when something strange or weird happened, and even though, after nearly two decades, he had learned to always expect the weird, he still didn't care for it. "It's as if they don't have anything better to do than to give me anxiety," he grumbled. "I don't have time for this."

"No, no, no! Not now!" he heard someone shout from the other side of the garage. Curious, Quentin walked around the building to see what the commotion was. He was surprised to see Greg Universe behind the wheel of his old van, in a panic as he turned the key in the ignition with the van only giving a sharp clicking sound in response. His son, Steven was sitting in the passenger seat next to him looking equally as anxious.

"Well now. Hello, there you two," Quentin said as he approached the van.

"What? Oh, hey Quentin." Greg answered as he continued to try and fail to start the van.

"Hi, Quentin!" Steven waved through the window. Quentin smiled briefly and returned the wave before turning his attention back to Greg.

"What's the matter? Engine trouble?"

"Yeah, I just can't get this thing to start," Greg said, desperately turning the key in hopes that there was enough power to start the engine just once.

"Hmmm," Quentin hummed in thought as he listened carefully to the clicking noise coming from the van, "sounds like your battery. Hold on a second, I've got a set of jumper cables in the jeep," he said disappearing around the corner.

A moment later he pulled up alongside the van in his jeep and in just another moment had the jumper cables hooked up to both vehicles. Quentin started his jeep and after he was sure everything was running smoothly he shouted over to Greg, "Okay, try it now!"

Greg took a deep breath and uttered a silent prayer as he turned the key. Once the van roared to life he breathed a sigh of relief, while Steven cheered.

"Thanks, Quentin," Greg sighed in relief, "We owe you one."

"Hey now, no worries. We'll talk about it the next time I bring my jeep in for a wash, alright?" Quentin said as he disconnected the jumper cables and put them back in the trunk.

"Ha ha ha," Greg laughed, "You got it buddy!" and with that, he put the van into drive and began to move forward. It was then that Quentin first noticed the electrical cord tied to the back of the van leading back into the open storage unit. Nearly the entirety of the unit's contents ballooned out before falling to the ground in a heap surrounding a large pink object.

Quentin stood, transfixed, as he watched Steven and Greg load the thing onto a small red wagon, which immediately gave out under the weight. The pair waved goodbye as they drove off with the wagon trailing behind them, sparks flying out from the broken wheels. Quentin absentmindedly returned the wave as he watched them disappear down the road.

"Now what the heck was that thing, I wonder?" Quentin pondered to himself aloud. "Maybe an old prop from Greg's rock 'n' roll days? No, no of course not. I would have seen that thing years ago if that were the case."

His musing was cut short as his attention returned to the giant eye in the sky. He sighed tiredly to himself before returning to his storage unit. He didn't have time to worry about Greg and Steven's antics. He had work to do.

Pearl and Garnet stood on the Beach as the Red Eye got ever closer to the planet's surface. A wave washed Amethyst back onto the shore after her most recent attempt to stop the Eye.

"Throw me again, I think I'm cracking it," she said as she got back to her feet. Just then she heard music playing. It was one of Greg's songs that he wrote for Rose. Just then Greg's van came into view, with Roses laser light cannon being pulled behind it. "Is that...?"

"Hey, guys!" Steven called out through the open van window.

"He really had it!" Pearl Gasped in shock.

"We're saved! Amethyst cheered.

Suddenly the earth started to tremble as the Eye's gravitational pull began to affect the city, ripping roof tiles off of the beach house and knocking over the sign of Mr. Fryman's restaurant.

"We have to use it now," Garnet ordered.

"I don't know how it works, it was Rose's!" Pearl panicked.

"Dad, how do we use it?" Steven asked his father, getting only a shrug in response.

"Steven," Pearl said grabbing at his shoulders, "this is serious! The gem. You have Rose's gem!"

"That's it!" Amethyst shouted as she picked up Steven and started rubbing him against the cannon. "Ahhh, come on!"

"Stop that," Garnet commanded.

"It's no use," Pearl said hopelessly.

"Fine, forget it. Throw me again!"

"That's not going to work," Pearl argued.

The gravitational pull of the Eye increased in strength as it began to pull the van and the cannon towards the water. Greg untied the cannon from the van and tried to stop the van from moving, but was unable to make a difference, as he was dragged behind it.

"Please work- unlock- activate- go- please!" Steven pleaded still clinging to the side of the cannon as he hit his hands against its hard surface desperate to make it work. "Everyone's counting on you, you can't just be useless! I know you can help."

"It's okay, Steven. We'll figure out something else, something even better." Greg said still being dragged behind the van.

"R-r-r-right, if every pork chop were perfect, we wouldn't have hot dogs."

Suddenly the cannon began to glow with a pink light. The top of the barrel opened, pushing Steven off, who fell down onto the sand.

"It's working!" Pearl shouted.

The hinges of the cannon unlocked and the barrel fell to the ground. Steven rushed forward to try and lift it back up to aim it at the Eye but was barely able to budge it on his own. Fortunately, he was not alone.

"Steven!" Pearl called out as the three Gems and Steven started to lift the cannon barrel.

"This is it!" Amethyst shouted as the barrel was leveled with the Eye.

"Brace yourselves!" Garnet ordered.

Suddenly a bright beam of light in the shape of a rose erupted out of the cannon and raced through the air towards the Eye. Everyone stared in anticipation in an instant that felt like an eternity as they awaited the impending collision when the light and the Eye finally met.

Glowing cracks spread throughout the surface of the Eye as the light of the cannon began to consume it. There was a bright flash as the light swelled out, fracturing the Eye into shards. Large chunks rained down to the earth below. Most fell into the ocean, but some managed to land on the beach and the boardwalk; resulting in one destroyed car and a few people running for cover.

"Steven, you just saved most of Beach City!" Amethyst congratulated.

"Sorry about that!" Steven called out to Mr. Fryman.

"What?!" Mr. Fryman called back, who had absolutely no clue what was going on.

"How did you make it work?" Pearl asked the boy.

"I just said that thing that Dad always says."

"That thing about pork rinds?"

"Hot dogs." Garnet corrected placing a hand on Pearl's shoulder.

"Rose," Greg said wiping a tear from his eye.

Later, after the Gems helped to prevent Greg's van from being washed away into the sea, Greg was busy making sure that nothing got ruined by the seawater while Steven and the Gems prepared to transport the laser light cannon back to the temple.

"I still can't believe it," Pearl thought out loud. "Greg actually had it all this time."

"Yeah," Amethyst agreed, "I really thought he would've lost or broken it by now."

"But he didn't," Garnet stated. "He came through for us, just as I'm sure Rose knew he would."

"Yeah, we totally saved the Day!" Steven cheered in excitement. "Oh, and Quentin too!"

The Gems stopped what they were doing and turned to look at him. Pearl felt as if a tank of ice water had just been dumped on her.

"What did you just say?" Pearl asked apprehensively.

"Wait a minute," Amethyst said with a smile, "Quentin Moon? Man, I haven't seen that guy in like forever."

"I just saw him this morning at the Big Donut."

"Wait, what?!" Amethyst shouted. "Man, if I knew he was going to be there, I would have gone with you."

"Wait, Steven? How exactly did Quentin "save" Beach City?" Pearl asked, her voice practically dripping with skepticism.

"We just found Mom's cannon, but then the van wouldn't start. Quentin saw we were in trouble and came over to help. If it wasn't for him, we never would've gotten here in time."

"Yep, that's Quentin for ya," Greg chuckled, "always ready to lend a hand. Or jumper cables..."

"Well, it certainly doesn't sound like he did anything too heroic," Pearl muttered.

"Hey Steven," Amethyst began, ignoring Pearl, "Why don't we ever see him anymore?"

"Well, he doesn't really get out much. I was actually thinking of inviting him over to the temple sometime. I've been meaning to have you guys hang out together for a while."

"Steven, I really don't think that's such a good idea," Pearl said nervously.

"What? Why not?"

"Because it's too dangerous..." Pearl rushed to find an excuse. "Yes, dangerous, we're always getting attacked...or other things happen...and he could get hurt."

"Leave it to Pearl to worry about every little thing," Amethyst complained. "He's been to the temple plenty of times before, and nothing bad happened. And even if it did, we'd be able to handle it. Besides, I'd like to see him again. It's been too long since we hung out."

"Hmph. What do you think Garnet?" Surely Garnet would make the right decision, Pearl thought.

"Please, Garnet," Steven begged.

"Alright."

"Really?!" Steven cheered. "Woo-hoo! This is gonna be awesome!"

Steven, practically bursting with excitement, ran over to his dad to tell him the news. "Gee, I don't know about that, Steven," Greg rubbed the back of his head uncomfortably. "I've known Quentin a long time, and socializing really isn't his kind of thing. I mean sure, he's been to parties before, but Rose and I practically needed to twist his arm just to get him to show up in the first place."

Greg looked down to see Steven's hopeful eyes looking back at him. "Then again, I know he did have a good time at those parties, even if he would never admit it, and it has been a while since we all got together. But he might not come if he thinks it's a party. Leave it to me, I'll think of something."

As Greg began to think up a plan, Pearl continued to search for a way out. "Garnet, are you sure about this, I really don't think..."

Garnet raised a hand and stopped Pearl mid-sentence. "It will be alright. I'm confident we'll be able to handle anything that comes our way. Now let's get the cannon back to the temple."

While Amethyst was laughing about Garnet shutting down Pearl's argument, Pearl groaned to herself quietly as they began the difficult task of carrying the heavy cannon. She couldn't believe it. She had hoped and prayed that her chance meeting with Quentin would have been a one-time occurrence. But now very soon not only would she see him again, but he would be inside her own home. It looks like she would be keeping her promise to Sadie after all.

"Why him?" she whispered to herself, "why him?"