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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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?"

The method was innocuous, so would he really know if he can't? How many people test their own saliva to see if it heals?

She's hoping.

Her eyes flick briefly up to Greg. "It's . . . his spit. He licked his hand, and then touched my gem, and . . ." She still remembers the shudder, and there's an echo of it even now. "It was a little disgusting, but. My gem was healed. He gave me back my wings."

Her gaze softens, looking back at Steven. ". . . Try?"

His...spit?

Now that's not something he remembers anything about. Being asked to do it now makes him really nervous - at least partially due to things he doesn't even remember. Even in his real life, he didn't think he could do it.

He seems to cower down a little, like the expectations carry a physical weight. Unsure of how to even start with something like this, he hesitantly licks his fingers, and then touches them to his gem with a wince.

Nothing happens.

There's a desperate, hopeful moment of holding his breath. Then, a small squeeze of the shoulder.

"All right. No harm done, pal. We'll just go to Plan B."

Greg's gaze begs Lapis for confirmation that there is a Plan B.

"What, uh. What do you do when there's no spit handy?"

She feels herself sink a little inside as the saliva fails to work. But unlike Greg, doesn't immediately dismiss it, either. There could be a lot of reasons why it's not working. He's young. He's sick. This place, whatever innate qualities it has, eats power. Any one of these -- or something even yet unknown -- could be blocking his capabilities.

"It's okay," she murmurs, fingers just lightly squeezing again. "It's not your fault. This place, these people -- they take things away."

As for Greg's question, she doesn't know yet, and stares for long moments into the weave of the sheets.

"There's a girl in the city," she says at last, slowly. "If I can get her here or Steven there . . . she can heal. It's where I was trying to take him. Before he was taken here."

There's Gold or Silver, too, but only as an absolute last resort. They might be allies, but it doesn't mean that she fully trusts them.

Steven glances away uncertainly, shaking his head a little. The reaction is reflexive - he's doing it before he can even think about things logically. He just knows that he can't do what she's recommending.

"I...I can't leave here. It'd be really bad, they'd catch me, I know it...I'm not allowed."

Greg takes a deep breath to combat the pounding in his head. They can't leave, absolutely not, no way.

"We're both under close watch. I can't sneak him out. Unless she can pull a transforming trick like yours, I dunno that we could get her in, either."

"I don't know." There's a level of anxiety in that, perhaps feeding off their own. "If nothing else . . . during a concert, maybe? A time when he's outside. Another way that we can find to come up here."

There's a small wrinkle of worry between her brows. "I'll ask. We'll find . . . something. An opportunity."

She has to be positive. After all of this, she can't afford to fail.

"I don't get to play anymore," he says, shaking his head a little. He sounds sort of confused about the subject, though. "I don't think."

He just has the strong sense that he's supposed to stay inside and under watch - it's not something he's been that concerned about lately, due to being ill. The idea of performing is sort of terrifying.

Greg nods. He's quite sure that keeping Steven out of public is the best option. For his health, and safety. Who knows what could happen out there?

"But--there'll still be chances!" He bites his lip, looking to Lapis. "We just gotta wait for the right opportunity, whenever that is. Pride can't hurt him anymore while he's here, so... so we've got time to figure it out."

Her eyes lift back to Greg. She won't say so -- not in front of Steven. Maybe not even really to Greg himself. Pride has already hurt Steven . . . and just because he's here with someone who cares for him doesn't mean he won't shatter apart.

"Steven." Her voice asks softly for his attention.

He looks up at her, though his gaze is unfocused.

"Yeah?" he asks softly.

Her fingers stretch out to touch -- his hair, his temple, his cheek.

They never reach. They curl inward. Fall short.

"You won't remember. But . . . I saw you. Months ago, back when--" Words falter too, briefly. "It was a dream. But it happened."

"I promised you then. I'd help you. Because you asked. For me. You came to me."

The words plead with him, though it may be hard to say exactly how. There's something she's trying to say underneath them -- deeply and desperately asking for his notice.

"You were scared. Of this place. And I promised you. . . . I'm still promising you. If you'll still believe in me."

"I'm sorry . . . when they took you. For letting go."

As though she could have held on. Somewhere, down inside, she still believes she could have.

"I'm sorry."

He looks at her, and at first its like he doesn't understand. He doesn't remember what she's talking about, but deep down it doesn't seem to matter. Even now, he can comprehend what it means to her.

Her perception of failure in these circumstances never even occurred to him. He doesn't totally know what to say.

And so he leans forward to hold her hands instead.

"You're already helping me," he says. "It doesn't...even if you don't always win, it's okay. You're here."

She can't agree with that -- that it's not important if she doesn't always win. Not winning in this place can mean disaster. Torture. And possibly worse.

But . . . he believes in her still. While it doesn't completely settle the feeling inside her, that fact and her hands in his mean the world.

Leaning forward, she touches her lips to his forehead.

He smiles, and giggles softly at her gesture, warmed by the touch despite Lapis's cool skin. He hopes that makes her feel better - he wishes he was better at this stuff than he is right now, with all the stuff buzzing around in his head.

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It All Keeps Adding Up

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