juice_factory | Crystal Lite AU

Ever since Steven figured out a way into the temple, he's raided the rooms for whatever small connections he can find of the ones who used to live there. Most often, he comes running home to the van with armfuls of garbage that had once presumably belonged to Amethyst. Greg doesn't mind the extra stuff too much (aside from one of the times he came back sopping wet with several swords piled into his arms), he's got the storage space for a reason. Still, between the old junk and the new, he doesn't keep a whole lot of track of what gets brought in. He focuses more on the awkward tetris game of where to fit everything in the limited space.

"I know I left it somewhere around the plastic ficus... hmm. Was it in the--woooahjeez--!"

In his attempts to shove the rolled carpet off to one side, Greg jostles an unsteady stack of boxes. The unbalanced heap falls apart, and he lunges to catch some of the more fragile trinkets before they can hit the concrete. The broken old TV's a lost cause, landing with an unpleasant crunch, but Greg manages to snatch a couple old empty photo frames and mirror from a similar fate. He's caught awkwardly leaning up against the boxes left standing, trying to lean them back into place with his arms full.

"Ahhh boy."

"Dad!! What was that? Are you okay?"

"Watch your feet, bud! Broken glass." He shoots his son a smile as he comes running from outside. "Could use a little help here, though."

It takes a lot of grunting and the loss of a box of tangled fairy lights, but the two of them get things set up right again. Only at that point, while gingerly putting them back in place, does Greg pay any attention to what he's got in his arms. He blinks into his reflection.

"Huh. Don't remember this one." He's likely forgotten about more things than he even has in his unit, but the design still manages to look outside his entirely eclectic style.

Steven leans over his father's arm to see into it. "Oh! That's the mirror I found in Pearl's room! She left it on one of those big pools I was telling you about, remember?"

"Pearl's? Really?" Greg purses his lips. "Huh. Wonder if it's some sort of magical doodad, then." Steven gasps at the thought, eyes sparkling and wordlessly begging for details, and Greg lets out a small laugh. "It's just a thought! Pearl hung on to some pretty dangerous stuff."

"Aw, c'mon, dad. It's too pretty to be dangerous!" Steven gently pulls at his father's hand, so he can get a better look into the mirror, smiling wide.

He doesn't quite catch Greg's wry chuckle. In angling the mirror so Steven can better see, Greg gets a better look at its back. The whole thing is covered in faint scratches and marks. Greg's thumb runs around the space just outside the big, cracked teardrop of a stone embedded in the back. If it's anywhere near as old as it looks, it's a wonder the glass itself is intact.

"Can we keep it in the van, dad?" Greg's broken from his thoughts by the question. "I wanna have it around, can we please?"

"Uhh." He chews his cheek a moment. Pearl was a lot of things, but never vain. She probably had this thing for a reason... to keep it safe. But... well, they had it now. And it hadn't caused any issues in the unit since it had gotten moved right? He holds the mirror out, smirking faintly into his reflection. "Ahh, what the heck. You can't be any scarier than the bubbles, right?"

Steven whoops a cheer. "That's the spirit!"

In thousands of years, there have been few punctuations in her life -- just long stretches of silence and stillness with nothing but the increasingly tangled brambles of her own thoughts.

There were three transitions that she can remember: One, on the warp pads, watching the stars wheel in the night sky. Two, drowned in a pool, the distortions of light and color occasionally wavering above. Three, thrust in a box away in the dark, able to see nothing at all. She had control over none of it, she could touch none of it. Her life was not hers to control, and in all possibility, it never would be again. With the Gems gone, with even the Crystal Gems gone . . . who was left to understand what she was?

And who would even care?

She fell into a half-sleep, wound into the unchanging isolation of her own mind, and let time fall away around her.

Until suddenly, the world is falling.

She feels the box jostle, felt the contents shift sharply . . . and then suddenly she's out in the air, nothing underneath her, freefalling towards the concrete below.

She would have screamed if she could, anticipating the shatter; this was it, this was the end. The surface of the mirror's glass flashes silver in a silent shriek.

But the end doesn't come. She's being held, pressed against someone's chest.

She's safe.

She barely hears what comes after that -- the two voices admiring her, talking about her fate. For some minutes she can only still feel that freefall, the stop . . . and mentally breathe a silent shudder of relief.

Maybe, she realizes to her own surprise, even after all this time, she still wants to live.

It's not such a bad realization.

She stares back at the faces of the man and the boy -- the humans who originally placed her into the box in the first place. They're looking at her now. Admiring her.

For one of the few times in thousands of years, she's being seen. It's another punctuation, another change.

She can't trust that it means anything.

But watching those eyes looking at her, mentally she reaches out a hand, touches it to the glass. Watches back.

They opt for tucking the mirror into the mesh pocket in the back of the chairs when not using it. Between the heaps of unwashed laundry, disorganized piles of CDs, assorted explosives, and gleaming pinkish gem bubbles inhabiting the back of the van, it would be far too easy for the mirror to get lost and damaged.

"You getting gussied up for the day, pal?"

Steven laughs as his dad ruffles his inexpertly combed hair. "I always gotta look hip and happening. You need the mirror?"

"Ahh, yeah, sure." He rubs at his chin and neck as Steven hands it off. "Could use a trim. It's gotten way easier without having to use the rearview mirror. Next thing you know, I'll start doing something with my hair." He rummages the clippers out of the glove compartment. "You sure you don't want me to drive you and Connie?"

"Nah, I got it all planned out. She's gonna be so impressed with Lion! I'll show her all the cool tricks he knows, I've been working really hard to teach him to come when I call." He hesitates, stacking juice cans into his backpack. "Do you wanna come, Dad? The movie's gonna be really cool, Connie's been telling me all about it."

Greg's brow furrows, for just a moment, and he looks back over his shoulder. "Ah, that's all right. I gotta take care of some stuff at the wash. You two have fun, call me if you need anything, all right?"

He sends Steven off with a wave. After a long moment watching him go, Greg sighs, looking down at the mirror. "He's growing up fast. Think he'll do all right?" He waits a moment for a response from his reflection. "...Yeah. Yeah, he's gonna be fine. Girls aren't so scary as monsters, huh?" He grins, and starts trimming his beard again. "If he got anything from his old man, it oughta be how to show someone a good time."

She won't lie; it's nice to be talked to.

She knows she's not part of the conversation. Not really. The human called "Dad" is talking to himself, looking at her, buzzing away some of the hair that seems for some reason to perpetually grow on his face. He seems to like to talk, conversing away with her as though she can answer.

Sometimes she has to catch herself pretending she's answering back.

Catch herself from living a daydream.

In spite of the pleasure their voices bring, she's not sure yet about these humans. They seem happy and friendly and warm with each other, yes. They're so fervent in whatever they do, and they seem sincere. She's even come to appreciate the funny faces the smaller one seems to make to keep himself entertained during a longer trip; his giggle is infectious, and it sparks something in her she hasn't known in so long: The desire to share it and laugh back. She also can't deny that there's something to the fact that they haven't just stuffed her into a box again; they've given her space among them, where for the first time she's a part of life and movement.

But in spite of their warmth, their affection for each other . . . there's the not-so-small matter that the van is filled with bubbled gems.

If she'd still had a stomach, it would have twisted to a knot at the first sight of the inert gems, all floating contained in their glassy prisons. How could two humans keep so many? Did they understand what they were?

. . . Did they put them there?

Because of this, she keeps quiet, pretends to be nothing more than that they believe her to be. She waits for a sign -- some further answers to the puzzle.

Just because they're good to each other doesn't mean that they'll be good to her. She can't take the risk.

So she only listens as "Dad" talks to her, dutifully reflecting his features back to him. She watches.

She waits.

"I think we might be getting close." Greg flips down the shade, peering through the windshield. "Man, it's a scorcher out there."

"You think maybe whatever it is really is affecting the weather?"

"Could be. Gonna want that sunblock, either way."

It had been two days since they packed up the van and started the trip. Papers had blamed the constant buzz of static affecting televisions on a low-pressure system passing through the area, but the two of them had developed a pretty good knack for when something magical was acting up. Still, the two weren't mutually exclusive.

"Hey, can you reach the CD stack? I'm in the mood for--"

"Dad, look out!"

The van swerves sharply, before a deafening POP shakes the car and it tilts at an angle.

"Oh no, it got the tires... Steven!" Already, the boy has flung off his seatbelt and jumped out of the car. There's a great hissing sound, as likely from an animal as air escaping the tires. The smell of burned rubber hits Greg's nose. He's only a few seconds behind to get out of the car, a low moan in his throat.

From inside the van, there's very little to see. The occasional flash of light, accompanied by the sounds of Greg and Steven yelling to each other. It's maybe five minutes before Greg throws open the back doors, eyes wide and searching and teeth clenched against pain from the large burn on his shoulder. Behind him, a sizzling sound drowns out Steven's grunting from audible effort.

Greg's attention scans wildly over the contents of the van: the dynamite, the harpoon gun, the bags of trail mix, the--his eyes light up as they fall on the mirror. "There you are!" he gasps, snatching it up and running back out into the fray.

The sand by the side of the road has been burned into streaks of molten glass. A pale, lizardlike creature has Steven pinned in his bubble shield, keeping him from getting loose with laser blasts from its... head?

"Steven?!"

"I'm okay!" His voice is strained, but Greg's call catches the monster's attention. It swivels to face him by the van. Its gem resembles a magnifying glass, sitting in the center of wide neck frills taking in heat and energy from the blazing sunlight. With that hissing noise, it releases another shot from its laser, and Greg gets the mirror up just in time; the blast bounces back, singing a leg.

The hissing rises in pitch, and Steven takes the distraction to roll the bubble forward and knock the unbalanced monster over. It rolls with the hit, however, skittering away, keeping its weight on its five intact legs. The featureless head darts between Steven, Greg, and the mirror in his hand. Light glints in the magnifying gem, and the frills press flat against its neck before the creature darts away.

Greg runs over to Steven just as he drops the bubble, both panting hard. "D-dad, your shoulder..."

"I'm okay. You hurt anywhere?" Steven shakes his head. "Good."

"What if it comes back?"

"I think it came the worse off, it'll keep to itself." He gives a weary smile, and waves the mirror. "If not, we'll be ready with our secret weapon." Steven smiles back, just as tired. "C'mon, we better start getting new wheels on the van. Think you can work the jack?"

"Dad" and "Steven" were on some sort of journey. She could glean that they were concerned -- that something magical had cropped up some distance away. For some reason, they were making it their mission to go find it. She couldn't fathom the reasons for this -- why chase something when you could reasonably keep yourself safe? -- but in spite of her trepidation, she was along for the ride.

All seemed to be fine until the van suddenly made a POP! and veered, tilting at an angle. Thankful for the mesh pocket, she twists with it, trying very hard not to think about what happens if the entire vehicle tips over. Only at the last moment does she catch Steven darting out of the van, and "Dad" following him.

Where are they going? What are they doing? What are those sounds??

And then "Dad" flings open the doors to the van, searching, searching . . . until his eyes light on her.

Wait. Waitwaitwaitwaitwait.

He's grabbed her; he's taking her toward the nois-- WHAT IS THAT THING AND WHY IS HE POINTING HER AT--.

Light, blinding, searing hot, reflects off the glass, accompanied by a long-ago recorded shriek as the surface magnifies the laser and shoots it back towards the lizard-creature.

She's temporarily dazzled, only able to catch the sound of the creature's hissing getting louder. (Louder??) She only just manages to catch the shadow of its head waving between them all before it turns tail and skitters away.

Very nearly she reveals herself there -- expresses all the anxiety and terror of the last two minutes in all the pre-recorded screams in her memories. Nononono, she doesn't want this, doesn't want to be a weapon; what was that, why did it have a gem, why are these humans fighting--

And then, suddenly, it's out -- dozens of shrieks all sounding together, a mass of voices all braiding into one.

They both jerk with shock at the sudden piercing wailing. Steven claps his hands over his ears, and Greg hurriedly looks in the direction the monster ran, thinking its come back, and grips the mirror tight. It's only as he raises it in preemptive defense that he can recognize the source.

"Wh--what the hey is going on?!"

"What is it?"

"I, I think it's the mirror!?" He peers into the glass, panicked and looking for the damage. The absolute pain and fear contained in those screams is rapidly bleeding into his nerves. "Did I... did I break it?! Oh man, oh man I didn't mean to!"

Quiet.

Quiet.

She has to be quiet, has to be calm; they've heard her, are hearing her. They know it's coming from her; "Dad" is turning her over in his hands, looking frantically at her. Quiet.

She wills herself to still, to silence. Even more strongly, there's a pang of longing for her own body -- to be able to wrap her own arms around herself, to shudder out the rest of her fear.

All she can do is quiet the voices -- though the surface of the mirror crackles sporadically in waves like static.

They lower their hands, still shaken by the sound. Neither of them can fully process the entirety of what they just heard: a misery so huge, so deep and ancient, that it drowns out all else. They've never come close to anything so sad.

"Wh... what do I..." Greg's trying to hold the mirror steady, but his hands are shaking badly.

"Let me see." Steven takes it from his father, and peers carefully into the warping reflection. He gently places one hand along its edge, as though trying to soothe a frightened animal. "It's not broken anywhere on the outside... I think you hurt it on the inside."

It's hard for him to know what to make of that diagnosis. Steven's always had a better intuition for things like this--not surprising, really. That doesn't make the idea of how to ease the hurt feelings of an apparently inanimate object easier. Steven shrugs, and jerks his head. Greg steps in closer, looking in at the mirror over Steven's shoulder.

"Uh... ahhh. Is... is that right? Is something in there?"

This isn't the strangest thing he's done, but it might be if it works.

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