interstellar5555 | It All Keeps Adding Up

Entry tags:

It All Keeps Adding Up

Who: Greg, Lapis Lazuli, Steven
What: ok so i know you're mad but you're not making steven LESS sick
When: the night of March 4
Where: Virgo Headquarters
Warnings: angry rocks, sick children

For a while, things really had been looking up. Steven seemed happy--never as cheerful as in the memories, but generally more than Greg could ever remember when he was Tiger. It really felt like this was the way things were meant to be, that Greg had really made the right decision to keep Steven safe and happy.

That made it all the more painful when Steven's health took a downswing again. The damage from his gem made itself known in different ways, sometimes slight, sometimes bad. This was the worst Greg had seen it, and Blanche refused to bother with it.

He has to do something. Anything is better than waiting and watching.

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That wild flooding only just happened, but desperation spurs Greg to check the beach anyway. He's far from inconspicuous out there, but it hardly matters when there's no one else who dares hang by the shoreline. No one, he hopes, but one person.

The woman he'd met--she knew things, knew who they were supposed to be. She had to know something about how to fix Steven. It's the only lead he has, and he can't turn any chance down.

She's tired. Tired and worn and just wanting to curl up into a crevice, away from the world. In fact, that's where she is when he arrives -- tucked back into the rocks, knees drawn close, arms wrapped around them, face burrowed, trying to forget that the world exists beyond the crooks of her arms. After thousands of years, the tiny space of the crevice has come to feel natural, even reassuring, in the face of the larger world.

Perhaps it's noise that draws her, perhaps that strange sixth sense many have when things seem weird or off . . . but she raises her head at Greg's presence.

He lives at Virgo, doesn't he? He'll know something. Maybe even-- . . .

She doesn't even dare to let the thought surface. But she's up on her feet, emerging from her hiding place, heading towards him, shifting to Luna as she goes. Quiet exhaustion lingers; her steps are slow, her arms wrapped around herself.

"Hello." She's still a short distance yet, but lets him know that she's there.

He starts at the sound of her voice. In many ways, he had expected this to be a fruitless search. But here she is, and he dares let himself hope for a moment.

"You're here!" He starts towards her, then slows. She looks terrible. Weary, beaten, miserable. It's no surprise, if she's still hanging around the beach after what happened. He has to wonder what sort of trials she's going through.

Yet, he has to ask her to go through one more. "I... I need your help." Grief and desperation are plain in his voice. "Steven needs your help."

For a moment, her face is open to him; her eyes are haunted, too dark.

"Where is he?" Her fingers tighten on her arms. "Is he still-- . . . ?"

She doesn't finish the thought.

"You have to take me to him."

There's conviction in her words, although she may not have thought of them until this moment. Greg may be her only chance for this; she won't waste it.

She doesn't hesitate. It's a relief--that she's focused, that he's not the only one worried about Steven. Whatever darkness is pulling at her, Greg doesn't dare ask until this is taken care of.

He nods, a little too eager. "I'll get you in. Somehow. We'll have ti sneak past the guards somehow, I dunno how, but..." it's sort of a glaring flaw in this plan.

The tightness in her chest is easing; this is something she can do. This is a way to move.

And the way in is clear to her, though she doesn't know how he'll feel about it.

"Can people come in with you?"

Sort of? Kind of. Not really.

He shakes his head. "Not up to the penthouse. I mean, maybe? They'd want to give you a pretty thorough check, and... I don't think..."

Even if they had the time for that sort of thing, he gets the feeling she'd best be served avoiding that. That much is a best case scenario, too.

A nod. She doesn't seem surprised by this; the answer was what she expected.

Still worth a try.

"There's something you have to understand," she says, wiggling a bit out of the shrug that she's wearing. "Steven's gem . . . he's half like me. I have one of them too."

Twisting a little, she reveals the bared gem between her shoulderblades, pure and vibrant blue, burrowed into her back as though it had been implanted.

"It means . . . I can change."

This feels awkward. But she's not sure how else to begin to explain it to him.

Between regained memories and a few firsthand glimpses of Steven's abilities, Greg has an idea of what she means. What he's seen doesn't make him wholly comfortable, but if iy makes this work...

"You mean... you can sneak in like that?"

The idea puts a little more hope in his voice.

"Can you get small, or something? If I carry you in they probably won't check."

"I could, but . . ." If they check as carefully as he says, she runs the risk of them finding a small, blue person, and that could be dangerous for them both. "If they check . . ."

A quick shake of the head -- too dangerous. "Maybe . . . something you can carry. Like that you've bought? Would they check something like that?"

"Like an object?" He's a bit startled. She can seriously push it that far?

The initial balking only lasts a moment, before he considers the option. "Uhh... no, they probably wouldn't look too close, so long as it wasn't too obviously out of place." Security's got better things to do than look over every little innocuous thing he brings in. He's pretty sure they do, anyway.

She can push it that far and will if she has to, but . . .

". . . Would a plant work?"

He only needs a second to think it over, before nodding. "They'll believe that. My room could always use a little more color." If anything, they'll be relieved it's not more junk.

A small nod, and abruptly her body dissolves into light, the only consistency the blue gem that's suddenly exposed. Her arms stretch upward, her body shrinking . . .

Until there's a delicate, potted orchid sitting on the sand, the blooms (somewhat predictably) blue. There are a number of orchids in the spa where she works, and she's developed some affection for them.

Better be careful with her, Greg.

It takes a few moments of staring before Greg steps forward to pick up the innocuous little flowerpot sitting in the sand. His fingers twitch hesitantly one last time before his grip settles. He can't claim this is the strangest thing to happen, but it still makes him uneasy.

"Are you...? Hoo boy. All right. Let's play it cool."

With that, he takes his new floral friend back down the beach. Somehow, it feels like a much longer walk to headquarters than it was coming out.

For all Greg's nerves, however, the guards look over the flower with the same cursory disinterest that they do when he comes back with books or snacks or whatever else. Mostly they grumble at him that he ought to send the staff out to get this kind of stuff for him. Past that, he's given an easy path back to the elevator. Even then, he doesn't dare breathe in relief or say anything to Lapis.

Only once he gets to his penthouse bedroom, Greg carefully manages opening the door while holding the flowerpot steady.

"Steven? Buddy? I'm back."

Steven looks up with blank pink eyes, having been napping on Greg's bed. He hasn't been feeling well today, his health taking one of its routine dives and his human body struggles to deal with the stress of his broken gem. He's not too sick to quickly latch onto the sight of the flower, though.

It's enough to make him perk up a little, despite everything. He slowly sits up.

"You got a plant," he says, in a tone that is obviously approving. "I really like it..."

"Heh. Yeah. Thought it might help cheer you up. Here, take a look."

Greg casts one last careful look behind him, before firmly shutting the door and setting the pot down by the bed. "Okay. All clear." Is she aware in there? Can she hear or see? Boy, he hopes so.

He rests a hand on Steven's shoulder. "Things might get weird for a second, but it's all okay. All right?"

Edited 2016-03-11 09:34 (UTC)

She can both hear and see (even talk, though she senses that Greg is weirded out enough without seeing a flower with a mouth), so as he sounds the all clear, the orchid gleams again, its form giving way into a cloud of light. It grows, reforms, reshapes . . . until suddenly it's human-shaped again, kneeling beside the bed, hands braced at the edge.

When the light recedes, though, it's Lapis, not Luna -- blue, and lacking the slight differences that distinguish the two. Her eyes are wide and worried, the anxiety clear in her face.

"Steven . . ."

It's worse. He's worse, and it scares her.

Weird stuff doesn't even phase him anymore, he thinks dully. And when he sees the flower begin to change, it still doesn't. His eyes do widen in a moment of surprise, though - not because weird things are happening, but because he realizes who has been brought to see him.

"Lapis!" he says eagerly, lighting up at the sight of her despite his illness. He holds out his hand to her. "Um...Luna?" His face falls as he starts looking confused. Both of the names feel familiar suddenly, and he can't pick out which is right.

Is that her name? Or... both? He never got an answer on that.

"She's got a gemstone like yours," Greg told him. Does he know that already? It sort of feels as though Greg's always a little behind on this subject. "I think she can help with what's making you sick."

He looks to her. "He's a lot healthier, sometimes, it goes back and forth, I... I dunno how to stop it."

This time she doesn't hesitate; her hand comes for his immediately, threading her fingers through and holding it tight. His fingers are a relief -- solid, if too warm. They soothe the gnawing, angry, empty spaces in her mind.

She holds tightly, as though she's not sure when she'll have another chance.

"It's . . . both," she replies in answer to his implicit question. "Lapis . . . that's my name. Luna . . . that's what I'm called here." Softly, "It's better if you keep calling me that. When I look the other way and there's anyone else nearby."

She can't help, though, the tiny beginnings of a smile, however brief: "You remembered . . ."

Her voice drops even further, and her smile fades. "I'm sorry . . . Before . . . I couldn't . . ."

Leave you. Protect you. Both are important, and she's not sure she can get them out.

Her eyes press closed, as though suddenly the light hurts. "I want . . . to help you. If your gem is cracked . . . " A quick shake of the head. "It's important. . . . Can I see?"

Steven listens to both of them, trying to internalize what information he can. It's hard to keep all the facts straight - just as hard as it is for him to compute the differences between Luna and Lapis. He nods his head slowly, and moves to lift up his shirt. A spidery crack has divided the gem's surface in two.

Steven doesn't comment on it. He's already more than familiar enough with the sight, and he doesn't have the context to remember how horrible it probably looks to Lapis.

"I remember seeing you..." he says, smiling a little as he stares at her. "You had wings."

She needs to get it out. Needs to have him understand.

Maybe, of all things, needs to be forgiven.

But she swallows all of it for the matter at hand . . . and the fact that the gem claims her attention.

Her insides twist sharply, looking at it. That thin crack, all the way across . . . uncared for, left for too long, jostled by movement . . . such a delicate crack could easily become a split.

She doesn't touch it. With a gem at the core at her people's beings, so essential to life and existence, there's an implicit understanding: You don't touch.

Looking at him again, especially with him looking at her like that, remembering her wings, she wants to smile . . . but finds she can't manage much more than a shadow. The story, though, is as good a jumping off point as any. Unconsciously her fingers squeeze his.

"We met this way," she says softly. "Do you remember? My gem was cracked. Almost broken. I was sick and trying to go home. But with my gem cracked . . . I couldn't use my wings. It cut me off from part of who I am."

"Your gem is important, Steven. It is for all of us. It has to be protected -- at any cost. If it's cracked . . . this is why you're sick. The more it's cracked, the worse it is, and if it breaks . . ."

She doesn't quite want to finish that. "Your gem is the core of you. You can't . . . let it break."

"But you . . . you might be able to fix it. When my gem was cracked . . . you were the one who fixed it. You healed it . . . My wings came back, and it let me go home. Maybe . . . maybe you can fix yours now."

He puts his hand over his gem carefully, as if trying to shield it in reaction to hearing just how bad it could get. It chills him to hear his worries confirmed. It could still get worse, if it isn't repaired. What if another blow broke it in half?

Even beyond the troubles it's causing his human half, he doesn't think he'd survive it being gone completely.

He has to think about it hard, but his mind starts piecing the story together. He remembers her smiling, and saying thank you. He remembers her flying away. He tries very hard to remember what came before - the warmth of a glowing light between his fingers.

His breath hitches and he shakes his head.

"I...I think...I remember. But...I can't. All I can do is fuse, I haven't...I can't do anything else."

Greg is gripping Steven's shoulder the whole time--tense, but careful not to go too tight. It's his other hand that's worked into an anxious fist.

"H...hey, you can still try. It can't hurt, right?"

Right? Right???? It was all he could do not to panic as Lapis spoke. Steven's half human, so he can handle this, can't he? It's bad, but it'll get better, right? Yeah?

"What did he do last time?"

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