Chapter Text
Darkness.
Muffled noise, flashes of light, color, and eventually quiet again.
Emelia's consciousness floated between vestiges of her senses, exhaustion and pain being the only mainstays for… God knows how long. She couldn't tell. When she finally managed to open her eyes for good, it was a very early morning; mist and a dull, rainbow sky stood in stark contrast to the figure dressed in black by her bed's side. Her wife, Olga, held her right hand in both of her own, lips idly pressed against it, her pitch black eyes staring off ten thousand miles in front of her. Even if she was awake for a total of thirty seconds, Emelia could easily tell she was exhausted; the familiar scarred face framed by long, bleached white hair, tied into a messier than normal braid was marred by deep bags under her eyes, made even worse by the grim expression Olga tended to slip into when deep in thought. Wanting to say something, anything and everything, Emelia's lungs got to work, resulting in a half grumble as she turned her head slightly.
"Thank fuck." Olga half-murmured into her wife's hand, voice low and quiet. Face softening, she put it to her cheek, attention full on the redhead buried in bedsheets and plaster.
"Mmh… what's the day…?"
"Saturday. You've been out for, I don't know," Olga paused for a second, frustration briefly surfacing, "way too fucking long." She ran her thumb softly over her wife's hand, watching as she slowly woke up. Emelia tried to sit up, immediately regretting the decision as she felt a pang of pain from just about every part of her legs. It radiated up her spine, twisting her insides in and trying to cave her skull in with a powerful headache. Both of her legs were stuck in solid casts from the knees down, and it was then she remembered exactly what happened to her: crushed under debris sent flying by… Oh God, by a fucking alien.
"Easy, easy." Olga shot up, gently pushing Emelia back down into the pillows. "Maybe try that after they stick you up with painkillers again." Too worn out to question, argue, or hear half the words she said, Emelia once again dozed off, lucky enough to ignore the pain this time. When she woke again, it was from a doctor's gentle prodding at her shoulder; a nurse rummaged around the other side of the bed, and a warm glow filled the room.
"Good morning, Ms. Blacktower. How are we today?"
"We… are." Emelia croaked out, still waking up. Seems like Olga never left, a barked laugh popping up somewhere in the corner. Yeah, she sure was! Even the medical staff smiled at her dazed comment.
"Right. We will do your painkillers and medications now… you seem to be recovering well." The nurse was already at her arm, fiddling with the IV as the doctor spoke. As she felt cold fluid creep up inside her arm, Emelia tried to focus her gaze on the doctor. "Will… the legs?"
"With proper rest and physical therapy, yes, you will be able to walk. Me and my team did our absolute best, but you were very lucky, miss." Oh, so that's the surgeon. Makes sense, Emelia thought to herself. "We'll be back in a few hours for another check up, but if you need anything, ring this button here or, um… tell your wife." There was a hitch in the way he said it, Emelia already knowing that they likely tried to get rid of her. Unsuccessfully. With practiced motions, they were done and gone as suddenly as they came, Olga sauntering back to her side with a chair.
"Tired?" A simple, soft question as she took Emelia's hand in her own again. "Me or you?" The redhead smiled weakly, her voice still very quiet. Better than the last time she spoke, though, and that was enough to put a smile on Olga's face as well. "You look like shit, honey. Take a guess." Instead of a laugh there was an amused exhale, and they let the soft beeps of the heart monitors fill the silence between them for a moment. Emelia perked up, slowly moving to lay a bit straighter up.
"... My legs got crushed."
"Mhm." Olga's face dropped into a small scowl again. "You were so lucky."
"He said that too. How so?"
"Someone brought you to the hospital. Straight away." Emelia frowned in confusion. "As if they knew, but even then… borderline impossible."
The redhead started piecing that night back together in her head. Seeing a huge, white alien hand crash through the house, the huge chunk of wall that fell on her. So much fear and pain.
And Paddy, saving her from worse.
"Hold on, where's Paddy? Are they safe? They were there with me, oh God—"
"Easy." Olga once again pushed her wife back onto the pillows, leaving a hand on her shoulder in reassurance this time. "They're… looking for them. Missing. Didn't find them dead though, thank fuck."
"Missing? With a fucking giant alien crashing through the wall? Where are they gonna find them?!" A burst of a headache forced Emelia to back down, fury dissolving into worry and desperation as she took a moment to catch her breath. "I hope they're okay. They have to be…" A few stray tears rolled down her cheeks, Olga reaching to wipe them away.
"They are. You know they're a headass when they need to be." She was just as worried about Paddy, but refused to let it take a hold of her. There were stranger things to think of here.
"...You're not questioning the whole alien thing? I know you're so supportive of me, but—"
"Another day maybe I would have. But…" Olga trailed off, glancing sideways to the small table off the side of the bed. She reached out, presenting Emelia a small black card. "You able to read?"
"I think I'll manage." She took the card in her ever so slightly trembling hands. Matte black, of a nice weight. There was a faint logo in the corner that Emelia did not recognize, and the handwriting was put down with silvery ink, neatly but hastily.
They'll both be fine. If you choose to pursue though, send regards to the Crystal Gems.
The fucking what now?
"I haven't heard you swear twice in one day in a looong time." Oops, she said it out loud. Emelia was laser focused on the card, and Olga's brief amusement was once again snuffed out by the weight of the situation.
"You had this stuffed in your pocket. Emergency responders got to you at the entrance, but no one knows for sure how you got here. The reception guy swears up and down that he saw someone tall walk off on the side of the building, but, again. Nada." She eyed the card as Emelia twiddled it in her hands, reading the words over and over. "And it's fucking silver on black. That's my thing!"
As if it wasn't weird enough already, Emelia thought to herself. Her wife was way too extra; she left notes in silver ink on black paper anytime she had a chance to. "It is, yeah… It's not your handwriting, though."
"Fucking hope not, I'm going insane as it is anyway. Imagine if there were two of me." Emelia couldn't help but laugh a little. "I don't think the world could handle that." Olga nodded, taking the note back.
"So, yeah, I would've questioned the alien thing if it wasn't for this goddamn piece of paper."
"And… you don't recognize the logo? Nothing on Google? Nobody has seen anything?" Emelia probed, her heart dropping a little seeing Olga shake her head 'no' in response. She sank back into the bed, a tired and defeated sigh escaping her.
"I was worried sick about you. Spent some time thinking about this card, but it's hard to focus when, you know." She gestured towards Emelia's casts. "You should rest, anyway. We can get back to this when you feel better."
"Mmhm." The redhead looked as if she was gonna doze off again when her eyes shot wide open. "Wait! Was this, like… um. In the media? The accident?"
"Oh, yeah. Shit exploded in there, or so they say. Bless the nurses, they've been fending off journalists with the best cut remarks I've heard this month." Emelia giggled, sliding a little more under the covers. She was pretty sure Olga's sailor mouth helped them out too.
"Didn't explode…"
"Uh huh. Off with you." Olga tucked Emelia in gently and pecked her forehead, to her satisfied sleepy hum. Soon enough, her wife was out cold again, and she was left alone with her thoughts… and the black card.
Who the hell are the Crystal Gems?