I'll tell you all how the story ends

[cleartranquil]

Who: Ghost Quest kids and all those who want to see them.
What: So as it turns out, going against the label might've been a bad move. Who knew, right? 
When: Feb 3rd and after 
Where: Pride HQ
Warnings: Talk of torture, aftermath of violence, aftermath of brainwashing, dudes there's some dark stuff.

For the past three days, the troublemakers and ghost helpers of Pride Records were kept locked away from their friends and their bands. 

As far as everyone else knew, they were just gone. And then they were back. 

They are all worse for wear, some far more than others and some much more mentally than physically, but they are all returned to their penthouses, finally, at the end of their ordeals. 

But, at least they're back. Somewhat in one piece. For the most part. 

Comments

[exhumerus]

The 'how' would be Sans, who is standing in the doorway with some degree of awkwardness, now that his function here has been used up. He sure as hell isn't prepped to talk to the kid - Greg's vicarious grief is bad enough as it is. He keeps his hands in his pockets, and regards Garnet with a discrete nod.

"Hi," he says. Yep, he sure is here, right now.

He closes the door behind him.

[twoscompany]

"Wh--"

Give Garnet a moment, she's still processing what just happened. That...that is Greg, right? She turns to Greg, then Sans, then to Greg, and finally to Sans. She speaks to him with a low voice; at the least, she can give Greg and Steven some ounce of privacy in this...sudden situation.

"Are you insane!? I didn't think Greg would get in like that...!"

[panspermia]

Steven responds as though lost, barely present--like his eyes, his mind is foggy and drifting in space. Greg's own vision blurs as the tears spill over.

"Yes I am," he assures, gently squeezing Steven's hand as his voice breaks. "I'm right where I'm supposed to be. I couldn't be anywhere else."

[tigermillionaire]

This situation, more than any other since he got back, seems to demand his focus. His dad is here. He keeps telling himself that, but it keeps not sinking in. He keeps getting caught up in how it's not supposed to happen, how it's against the rules, and how he couldn't even think of how he'd do it even if it was okay.

But he's here anyway. Doesn't that mean something? He tries to focus through the strain, blinking heavily and trying very hard to clear his mind. Nothing is working right. His gem isn't working, and now his brain isn't working either.

"It got broke," he says, his recollection of events only coming out in bits and pieces. "Dad...I'm really confused..."

[exhumerus]

Sans just shrugs his shoulders at her, like, what did you think he was going to do to get in here? Walk through the door? But he doesn't really think this is the most appropriate situation to start arguing about teleporting, so he just lifts a finger to his mouth.

"Shh," he says softly, and then shuffles away to occupy himself with something that isn't a father and son being unspeakably tragic at each other.

[panspermia]

Even with his eyes obscured and his mind compromised, the struggle is plain on Steven's face. Every little movement hurts to watch, just as every movement not taken does. He's working so hard just to stay present.

Greg's thumb strokes Steven's hand, a gentle reminder that he's still here, he's not going anywhere. Anything to keep his son aware that he's not alone.

"I know, I know," Greg assures softly. "Does it hurt? Are you in pain?" The crack looks as though it ought to.

[tigermillionaire]

It's hard to quantify, now. He's been living with it for what feels like a small eternity. It doesn't hurt like it did at the start, at least, when it felt like he'd been split apart as cleanly as the gem had been. Now, it comes and goes.

"Sometimes..." he says, after some hesitation. "They...they wanted to take it out. I...because I did that thing again...do you remember...?"

[panspermia]

That surprises him, for a moment. His first thought is to ask who--before Kido's texts stand out in his memory, how she blamed herself, how they made the two of them watch each other's torment. Greg swallows, throat raw, and nods.

"Of course I do."

[tigermillionaire]

"We fought them...with everybody..."

He trails off, his mind getting confused about what he remembers and what he's supposed to say. There are too many things happening in his mind at once - the separation of his flesh and his gem, the struggle between programming and memory. It's all mixed up.

"We saved them...but...but we weren't allowed to..."

Cracks flicker up along the side of his face, the strain he is putting into remembering and flashbacks to the pain disrupting their patterns with pure stress.

[panspermia]

He reaches one hand to stroke his cheek--some small hope prays the touch will rub the alien cracks away, but failing that Greg just wants to soothe his son.

"Shh. It's okay. You don't have to talk about it. I'm here, don't worry."

As much as Greg wants to know how this happened, what could have possibly driven them to hurt Steven like this, if it hurts to tell he can't bear to press further. What he wants is to know how to fix him.

[tigermillionaire]

Steven finally squeezes his fingers around Greg's in return - the cracks don't vanish from the touch, but as Steven allows himself to let the thought go, their presence gradually begins to fade a little.

"I feel like I can't think about anything," he complains vaguely, closing his eyes, their glow a notable absence in the dark. "I can't play anymore. I can't do anything..."

[panspermia]

Greg chokes on a noise in the back of his throat as Steven's hand closes on his finally. Something so simple and small shouldn't feel like a victory. Something that feels like a victory shouldn't feel so terrible.

"It's okay. You'll get better. We'll figure out a way for you to get better." They can't possibly leave him like this. Pride is a lot of things, but they wouldn't be foolish enough to leave their musician unable to play.

[tigermillionaire]

"She said she didn't care," he says, his voice hiccuping with grief. "She...she doesn't want me she...it's my fault she did."

If they hadn't betrayed Pride none of this would have happened. Right now he believes that unconditionally.

"She hates us..."

[panspermia]

"You don't deserve this, no matter what you did."

He says it softly, his hand resting on his son's cheek. Kido had insisted much the same thing, taking blame for their punishment. Greg doubts Steven will be convinced any more easily.

"I love you. I do, and Garnet does, and Pinkie, and Kido. We're going to help you, even if she won't."

[tigermillionaire]

Though it's hard to tell, Steven's gaze actually seems to settle on Greg's face for a moment, that part of the picture finally coming into focus. He is quiet for another couple moments, before he starts to push himself up and over the bed sheets, trying to hold Greg in his arms. He doesn't speak, he's too caught up in the motion, the closer contact making Greg's present seem slightly more real.

[panspermia]

Greg wraps his arms around him, pulling him in closer. Given the choice, he'd never let go. His memory of their relationship is still spotty, and he still doesn't understand how it's possible. Yet he knows with all his heart it's the truth, more than anything else. He loves him, and he never wants to leave him again.

[tigermillionaire]

Somehow Steven feels more sure of their connection now than he ever had before, even if the things they forced into his head fight against it. In these scattered bursts of thought, there are no details to complicate things. Instead he just knows what he feels in the moment, and that's that Greg is his dad. It doesn't matter how.

He tugs back against Greg a little, wanting to lay down again but wanting him to come with him. Being upright feels weird and uncertain at the moment, and right now all he can think about is being close and feeling like someone else is there.

"...I remember when..." he sings, softly and sort of vacant, as if doing it on reflex, "you'd sing to me..."

[panspermia]

Greg lies him down, crawling in beside him. They've done this before, he can remember. Not in a big, wide bed like this one, but huddled together on a mattress. It was small, and dark, and everything they needed.

He remembers this song, too. "I would do it again." He strokes Steven's hair, like last time. "Beloved child, remember this too..."

[tigermillionaire]

He curls against Greg's body, his fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt like that grip is the only thing holding him up. In a way, it probably is. He shivers in Greg's arms, a wave of discomfort passing through him - just the continuous symptoms of this open wound.

He can't remember what comes next, at the moment. It's on the tip of his tongue, but he can't bring it to mind. He closes his eyes and just tries to hold on.

[panspermia]

Greg can keep singing, he'll make up words if he needs to, he doesn't mind. Steven just needs to save his strength, and rest, and get better. He'll get better.

"In this world..." ... "...there's no one like you..."

[tigermillionaire]

Greg's singing comforts him in a way that nothing else can. Gradually his shaking begins to stop, the fear clawing at him from inside dying down. He's in his dad's arms, and for the moment that's enough.

He reaches up to search for Greg's face, his hand stopping at its side as he tries to remember this. He doesn't feel like his dad should look like this. It's strange but familiar and warm at the same time.

"You're the real one," he mumbles.

[twoscompany]

Real. She doesn't remember him, and she knows, it's the truth. She can feel it. Greg is Steven's dad and no false memories could change that. His song has a sobering, yet comforting effect on Garnet as well, even as she sits with her head down, her eyes tearing up, her left eye especially impossible to force water back. Taking her glasses off, she rubs her three eyes, looking up at the scene.

Really, of everything happening so far, this is the only thing, right now, that's any good. Steven could forever not know her anymore, for all she cared right now, as long as he had something to give him hope, any hope, that he would have a reason to smile and believe in himself. Greg's the only one who can provide it here and now.

So for now, she says nothing, simply watching the scene unfold.

[exhumerus]

Sans, for the most part, is doing his best to pretend he isn't present at all.

It's worse than he had even anticipated, hearing these two go at it. The kid is messed up, and bad, and the sound of Greg's ambient misery is the next best thing to torture. He doesn't really belong here, right now. This has nothing to do with him, and there's nothing he can really do about it.

Except for the part where, at some point, he's going to be the one that has to separate them. Right now, it's hard to imagine Greg cooperating with that, but ever moment that ticks by is another moment that their absence could be discovered, or that some sort of alarm he had no way of preparing for could go off.

The anxiety is nauseating. So, as best he can, he focuses on thinking about nothing.