Crystal Lite AU

[panspermia]

In the years since the Crystal Gems were last seen, things have gotten... interesting, in the Universe family. Monsters don't stop attacking the temple simply because its inhabitants are gone, and dangerous artifacts don't stop threatening humanity. The last remaining remnant of the Crystal Gems is one little boy, without any proper magical guidance or teachers of his heritage to show the way. What he has left to him is a handful of abandoned relics to piece together hints, and the secondhand experience of his very ordinary, very overwhelmed father.

They get by. His powers are growing, slowly but steadily. With each new ally or ability they uncover, things get a little better. It's never easy, but it's not as hard. And they've always got each other to count on, no matter what. So long as they've got that, there's nothing in the universe that can stop them.... though it does try.

Comments

[panspermia]

It isn't too long before things fall back into a standard, but from that point on there's a noticeable shift. Steven talks into the mirror more often, gladly describing what Lars and Sadie were up to at the Big Donut, or the high score he got at Funland Arcade, or the pack of sea monkeys he ordered and really hopes comes soon.

Greg, by contrast, pulls back a little. It's harder for him to be frank and open when he thinks a stranger could be listening.

"Aaaall right. Last trip. You good?"

"Yep!" Steven holds the last bubbles gingerly. It's been a long day of back and forth, carrying them carefully into the temple to clear up some space in the van. Only two have been left untouched, one blue and the other red, with a deep crack over its surface.

"All righty. I'll order you up a reward pizza, but don't rush the last job for it."

Steven laughs a little, but doesn't move as Greg turns to try and organize his music again. "...Um, Dad?" His father turns back, surprised by the tenderness in his voice. "I was thinking... is it okay if I spend tonight in the temple?"

Greg stares. "I... uh. Well..." He scratches his neck. "Sure, I guess. You uh... you remember what happened when you slept in your mom's room, though...?"

He shudders. "I know. But Amethyst's room has lots of futons and couches and stuff, it's pretty comfy once you get used to the smell, and I thought it'd..." He flushes. "I thought it might just, you know, be cool."

"...Sure. Yeah, if that's what you want. Um, you go ahead with those bubbles, I'll bring your pack up to the door later. You still want me to order that pizza?"

"That's okay. I've got a sandwich. ...Thanks, Dad."

Steven leaves, and the sun's not long after. The van's a lot darker, with nearly all the bubbles gone. A lot emptier. Greg stretches out in the van, unsure what to do with himself. He picks at a few notes on his guitar, but no melody starts to form. Eventually, he looks up at the two remaining gems hovering overhead.

"Boy, I wish you guys were here. You'd know what he needs." He huffs a small breath. "Bet the house'd be done by now, too. I'd be more used to nights like this, huh?" He picks a few more tuneless strings. "I'm sorry, Garnet. I... I'm really trying. I'm not like you, though, I... I'm just a human."

For a while the van is silent, aside from the occasional plunking note. When Greg glances up again, he blinks. Adjusted to the dark, he can see his dim reflection from across the van.

"Ooh boy. When did we get so old." He stares for a moment, before leaning in and pulling the mirror out, rubbing at his face. "Hey, what about you? You think he's holding up okay?" He chews his lip. "I know he's putting on a brave face for me, but... he talks to you. What do you think?"

He stares into the mirror. He's not sure what he's hoping for. He doesn't know that anyone's listening, or even cares, or would even bother to ease his fears, or thinks he deserves to have his fears eased. In the end, he just looks foolish, looking to anything for advice.

Finally Greg sighs, and rubs at his eyes. "Ah, hell with it. I'm gonna order that pizza."

[oceantier]

She's been quiet. Playing her role: Just an object. Just a mirror.

But she can't help but enjoy the time with Steven as he chatters at her. He's just so . . . happy, it's infectious, and he's talking to her -- her, as though he believes she's someone who can understand. It's silent delight every time he settles, and she absorbs everything.

"Dad," though . . . he seems almost wary of her? Or stays away.

She's not sure she can blame him. And . . . in the end, it's better that way. Isn't it?

. . . Right?

So she's surprised when he talks to her then, out of the blue -- when he stops talking to the two gems he refers to like they're one and shifts his eyes to her in the shadows of the interior.

"Hey, what about you? You think he's holding up okay? I know he's putting on a brave face for me, but... he talks to you. What do you think?"

He's worried?

About Steven?

She's silent, uncertain -- not sure what to do. With his eyes on her like that, she finds she wants to answer--

But as she hesitates, trying to decide, she's taken too long; he's turning . . . she's missed her chance . . .

On impulse she brings it up: Steven laughing in the front seat over a joke he told two days ago. It seems to genuinely tickle him; he's happy, drunk on his own humor. Greg's hand comes briefly into the frame to ruffle his hair.

Uncertain, she repeats it, just in case.

[panspermia]

The sound of Steven's laughter startles Greg. He jumps, guitar giving a hollow, tuneless thwonng. On the second play, his full attention is on the mirror.

Greg stares into the reflection of days passed. He's seen Steven's smile an infinite number of times, taken strength and solace in that bright happiness, but somehow this feels just a little different. It's Steven from a different perspective--not just in the literal sense, but in the personal. Someone else's view.

One hand rests on the glass--now he's the one mirroring it, copying his past self's touch.

"You really think so?" His voice is a little shaky, and he rubs his eyes again. "Eheh. Ha. Th...thanks."

[oceantier]

What's possessed her to answer him? She's only making trouble; she'll never be able to convince them that she's just a mirror after this. It's not even her business; they're not even her kind.

But . . . he liked it.

She helped him . . . in some small way. Even who she is, what she's become, she's touched something beyond herself.

She shimmers briefly, the Steven image fading, and she goes quiet, both in awe and uncertain.

[panspermia]

The silence falls over them again, and Greg's not sure what to say next. Talking to Garnet's gems is... nice, in a deeply melancholy sort of way, but he knew it may as well be talking to himself. The mirror on the other hand, despite literally being talking to himself... if it can hear him, it's different.

"Um... Thanks for being a good listener. It can't be easy, not being able to talk back."

Aside from... screaming. That's pretty good evidence for why it would keep quiet until now. "I guess you've seen some pretty rough stuff, in your time." He glances out the window, to the temple looking over the beach. "The Gems never did take things easy."

He shakes his head. "I guess... this probably isn't where you expected to end up. Beard trimming and hair brushing is probably a step down from whatever magical stuff gems get up to, but I hope it's... a relaxing break, maybe." The Crystal Gems had never seen much benefit to relaxing;it wasn't exactly a Gem thing, and an object wasn't likely to feel any different. But, it was the best he could offer.

[oceantier]

There's a lot that she wants to ask in that moment, and a lot that she doesn't know how to say. What kind of person is he, really? Does he see her as a person now, or just an object -- a mirror? How much does he know about the past? How much has she missed in the present?

Could he help her?

Could she go home if he did?

The last two questions are like reawakening nerve cells pulsing with a sudden burst of electricity; they ignite and spread, sending an ache throbbing through her mind so rich and raw, it startles her in its ferocity.

She hasn't allowed herself to think that way for so long . . . but once ignited, it spreads like wildfire, and it's hard to turn off.

The image of stars chases over the mirror's surface -- the cosmos, vast. One star in particular stands out, constant against the shifting background.

I want to go home.

[panspermia]

Greg watches the racing cosmos, flickering over the pool of sky between his hands (man he totally ought to write a song with that line). The mirror is silent, but the image is intense. Whatever it's trying to say, it means it.

He stares at that one central star, brightest and beckoning, and after a moment its meaning comes to him.

"Homeworld."

As much as the mirror put in that image, Greg put in that word: Understanding, anxiety, uncertainty, fear.

Homeworld had wanted to do a lot of terrible things to Earth. Was the mirror part of that? Did it get used for any of those goals, does it have the same desires?

Greg glances away. "You miss it, huh."

[oceantier]

He . . . knows Homeworld. He really does have a connection to the Gems, then -- he and Steven. Something more than just glancing.

And . . . it worries him?

Again she repeats the cosmos and the star images in response to his question, zeroing in on the constant star. Yes, she misses it.

And again, the image of Steven laughing -- though this time shortened to the moment when Greg reaches out to touch his hair, Steven still beaming under his hand.

It's meant to signify this is home. But this is the first time she's tried to communicate with anyone beyond the very first days. Trying to convey what she means in mere images, especially something so abstract, is challenging -- and will likely become frustrating quickly.

[panspermia]

He looks down at the cobbled together message, frowning, his remaining anxiety further muddling the intent.

Homeworld, and... Steven? Does think he belongs on Homeworld? No way. Just because he's part Gem, he shouldn't ever have to leave the planet. The idea makes his blood run a little cold.

"N-no, Steven's not... he couldn't go there, he belongs on Earth." He shakes his head. "The Crystal Gems swore to stay and protect us here, he's one of them, too."

[oceantier]

No -- nonono, that's not what she meant--

Wait.

Did he say Crystal Gem? That Steven is a Crystal Gem?

But.

How-- . . .

The assertion is enough to drive a wedge of fear into her gut. She's silent, absolutely still in his hands.

She keeps allowing herself to get lured -- lured by their warmth, by their occasional kindness, by her own loneliness.

But if they're with the Crystal Gems, they're dangerous. She's in enemy hands, and she's in danger of forgetting it.

She can't.

She just can't.

[panspermia]

The silence falls between them, van dark again without the mirror's remembered light. Greg bites his lip, wondering if he said something wrong to cause the mirror to go quiet so fast. Maybe it's mad he denied it.

"...Sorry. This is our home. He's got to protect it, and I've got to protect him."

Greg can't do anything for him off of Earth. Heck, he can barely do anything for him on it.

[oceantier]

Silence from the mirror, and in spite of his words, she doesn't respond. She can't trust. Shouldn't trust.

This is the way it has to be.

In enemy hands, she has to protect herself. She may never go home.

She drowns in the fact and is silent.

[panspermia]

It's definitely upset. Greg decides not to push. With a low sigh, he tucks it back into its pouch. This is probably for the best. It's from Homeworld, it may be better not to get too close with it.

Still, as he opens the back doors of the van to go visit the Pizzas, he has to consider... the mirror didn't have to show him anything tonight. It didn't need to try and comfort him with the image of Steven. It didn't need to try and reveal its origin. It had kept so quiet, for so many months, and it decided to reach out to him now.

He looks back, one more time. "Um. Thanks. For showing me. I..." Greg stops himself, shakes his head. He's said enough. The van doors shut, and he leaves the mirror alone.