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The mechanical hum of the injector drilling into the earth's crust was audible even within the beach house. Greg's fingers picked at the strings of his guitar without really playing anything, the notes lost amidst the gravity of the situation. Pearl, standing unnervingly still by his side, watched him with eyes that held no recognition – only waiting obedience.
"Um, Greg Universe," she said, her voice a pristine echo of subservience, "I am here to serve you."
Her words hung there, stark against the backdrop of a once-familiar relationship now stripped to its barest bones. Greg looked up from his guitar, the instrument suddenly feeling peculiar in his grasp. He swallowed hard, the reality of Pearl's reset state settling heavily on his chest.
"Uh, yeah, it's just Greg, Pearl," he corrected gently, his heart twisting as he saw no spark of recognition in her wide, expectant eyes.
Greg turned to his son, who was preoccupied with the daunting task ahead. The normally vibrant colors of Steven's attire seemed dulled under the weight of his responsibility, mirroring the mood that enveloped them. “Steven, are you sure about leaving this to me?”
"Sorry, Dad, but I have to go stop that thing before it poisons the whole planet," Steven said, gesturing towards the window where the ominous silhouette of the injector loomed harboring a new apocalypse. Steven’s voice didn’t waver under the seriousness of the situation, a testament to everything he had already overcome. "Keep an eye on Pearl for me?"
"Sure, kiddo," Greg replied, though the assurance in his voice faltered. His gaze flitted between the distant threat outside and the gem beside him, whose presence felt simultaneously foreign and achingly familiar. Steven wasn’t asking him to do the impossible, but the weight was still there.
"Be careful, Steven," Greg added, the fatherly concern etched deeply in his furrowed brow.
Steven offered a brave smile, the kind that hid the unease roiling beneath. "Always am!" With that, the young Crystal Gem departed, leaving the room in silent apprehension.
Greg turned back to Pearl, her posture rigid, the very picture of a soldier awaiting orders. How could a simple human like him guide a gem warrior back to herself? His mind raced for any semblance of a plan, aware that his actions could either heal or harm.
"Alright, Pearl," he began, his voice barely above a whisper, "how about we just... sit down for a bit?"
"Of course, Greg Universe," Pearl acquiesced, moving gracefully to the couch yet sitting with the straight-backed precision of a statue, her hands folded neatly in her lap.
Greg watched her, the sight stirring an ache within him. This was not the Pearl he knew, the one who'd clashed with him over Rose, who'd slowly come to tolerate his presence in their shared grief and grown as an individual. Her current demeanor was a stark reminder of what had been lost, and the uncertain journey ahead to possibly regain it.
He settled beside her, unsure if he was capable of helping her rediscover herself. The gap on the couch between them felt like a chasm, and yet, he reached out, intent on bridging it.
"Let's just take it easy for now," Greg said, hoping to find some solace in the calm before the storm. "We'll figure this out, Pearl. Together."
The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a soft glow through the windows. Greg shifted uncomfortably, feeling the weight of Pearl's gaze upon him as she perched, ramrod straight, her eyes wide and expectant.
"Greg Universe," she intoned, her voice devoid of its usual inflections, "I am here to assist you. Please command me."
"Uh, that's really not necessary," Greg replied, scratching his head. "We can just hang out, you know? No need to do anything."
But Pearl seemed not to hear him, already rising to her feet. "I shall organize your music collection. It appears in disarray." She moved toward his cherished vinyl records with purpose.
"Whoa, whoa, hold up!" Greg protested, scrambling to intercept her. "Those are organized by... emotional resonance! It's, uh, kind of a personal system."
Pearl paused, tilting her head slightly. "Emotional resonance. Understood. Then I will prepare sustenance for you."
"Really, Pearl, you don't have to—" But she was already off, gliding into the kitchen with alarming speed.
With an inward groan, Greg followed her, watching as she began pulling items from the fridge with no semblance of order. He could sense her eagerness to serve, to be useful, but it was all wrong—this wasn't the person he'd come to respect over the years.
"Look, Pearl," he tried again, hoping to reach whatever part of her was still 'her.' "I appreciate the help, but maybe we should just sit and talk about... space stuff?"
"Space stuff," she repeated, abandoning the food and turning to face him. Her eyes searched his, looking for direction in the way a computer scans for input.
"Right, like... stars, or uh, warp pads!" Greg fumbled, trying to spark recognition.
"What do you require of me, Greg Universe?" Pearl asked, stepping closer, a look of intense concentration on her face.
Greg seized the opportunity to redirect her energy. "Maybe you could just tell me about Homeworld? The buildings, the people—your memories."
"Memories..." Pearl echoed, then hesitated. Her fingers hovered as if to touch her gemstone before abruptly pulling back. "I... do not have access to those."
"Ah, geez," Greg muttered, running a hand through his hair. "Let’s just talk. About anything. It doesn’t have to be anything special."
"Talk," she affirmed, and something in her posture relaxed ever so slightly.
Greg bumped his hand with his fist. "Exactly! Just like old times," he encouraged, though the phrase felt hollow even as he said it.
"Old times," Pearl whispered, almost to herself. There was a pause, a moment where the artificial light caught in her gem, casting prismatic colors around the room. "Just…talk," she repeated, slowly sitting back down on the couch.
"Right." Greg sighed, relieved at getting somewhere at least. His heart ached for the friend he knew, while his mind raced for ways to bridge the gap between them.
"Let's start simple," he suggested, forcing a smile as he sat down beside her. "Tell me about the first thing that comes to your mind when I say 'space.'"
"Space," Pearl said, her voice softening. "It is vast."
“What about Homeworld?”
“Order.”
Greg nodded, leaning back against the couch. “Rebellion?”
Pearl’s face scrunched. “Criminal?”
It was cute how confused she looked and sounded. He waved his hand. “That’s okay. What about love?”
“Love?” Pearl’s eyes glimmered. “I love my Greg Universe!”
The words hit Greg like a slap in the face, causing him to fall back on the couch. He waved his hand at her. “No, you don’t!”
She frowned, bringing a hand up to her chest. “Yes, I do.” She leaned closer. “May I show you?”
“Woah! No! I mean—Thank you, but that is not necessary.”
“You do not require my services?”
Greg gulped. “Here, let’s watch something!” He fumbled with the remote, putting on the first station that wasn’t playing a commercial.
Greg tried to focus on the hum of the sitcom, but the tension hung in the air like television static. He shifted uncomfortably on the couch, his gaze lingering on the way the TV's glow cast a flickering light across Pearl's features.
Noticing his gaze, Pearl turned to him. "My Greg Universe," she began, her voice carrying an unfamiliar lilt, "I am designed to serve. Perhaps there is something more... personal I could assist you with?"
"Uh, no, Pearl, we're just hanging out, remember?" Greg responded, attempting to keep his tone light. His heart drummed against his chest, a stark contrast to the laughter erupting from the TV speakers.
"Of course," she replied, though her eyes lingered on him with a new intensity. "But I am capable of services that would please you..." Her fingers brushed against the fabric of his worn jeans, tentative yet deliberate.
"Hey now, hold up!" Greg jolted upright, his cheeks burning. He couldn't help but feel a rush of panic at her touch. "You don't have to do anything like that. Just being here is enough."
"Enough," she echoed, tilting her head slightly. Pearl moved closer, studying his face with an earnestness that sent a shiver down Greg's spine. "I wish to understand what you desire."
"Desire? Pearl, that's not—we're not—" Greg stammered, his mind racing. The old Pearl never would have... But this was someone who didn't understand the implications of her words.
He stood up abruptly, pacing a few steps before turning back to her. "Look, I appreciate you wanting to help, but you're not yourself right now. We've gotta get you back to normal, okay?"
"Normal," she murmured, rising gracefully to her feet. Her movements held an eerie elegance, devoid of her bold independence. She approached him, her hand reaching out once more.
"Stop," he blurted out, holding his hands up defensively. "This isn't right."
"Is it wrong?" Pearl asked, genuine confusion etching her features. "I am programmed to adapt to my owner's needs."
"Owner—no, Pearl! I don’t own you," Greg insisted, his heart sinking. How could he explain to her that she wasn't some tool or appliance, that she was a person—someone he cared about?
"Then teach me, Greg Universe," she said softly, her gaze locked onto his. "Show me how to be."
"Yeah, I can teach you something." Greg cleared his throat, feeling his pulse begin to calm. "Maybe we start with something simple," he suggested, eager to redirect the conversation. "How about I show you how to play some chords on the guitar?"
"Music," she mused, a glimmer of recognition sparking in her eyes. "Yes, show me."
"Alright," Greg agreed, a wave of relief washing over him. He fetched his guitar, placing it into her hands with careful instruction. As her fingers fumbled over the strings, he let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
"Like this," he said gently, guiding her hand into position. "See? No serving, just learning, being friends."
"Friends," she repeated, her lips curving into a hesitant smile. And for just a fleeting moment Greg caught a glimpse of the real Pearl peeking through.
The air was electric with the vibrations of sound and the thumping of bass that reverberated through the soles of Greg's boots. He'd brought Pearl to a rock concert, the kind of small-town gig that he would have played in his younger days, full of raucous energy and rebellious spirit. Around them, the crowd swayed and jumped, a sea of denim, spiked hair, and leather jackets.
"I do not understand the purpose of this... gathering," Pearl said, her voice barely audible over the cacophony.
Greg leaned close to her. "It's about feeling the music!" he shouted back, trying to infuse his words with enthusiasm. "Letting go! You used to love shaking up the status quo!"
He watched her, hoping to see some spark of recognition. However, her eyes, scanning the crowd, remained as clear and impassive as the white gem on her forehead.
"Letting go," she repeated, the confusion evident in her tone even amidst the noise. "I am uncertain how to proceed with such an instruction."
"Here," Greg said, grabbing her hand, and feeling the surprising strength in her delicate fingers. Moving her hand, he began to bob his head, trying to show her the rhythm, encouraging her to move with him. For a brief moment, she followed along stiffly, her movements mechanical.
As the next band took the stage and the lead singer let out a guttural cry—an anthem of freedom and defiance—Greg felt a surge of hope. This had to work. It just had to.
"Look at everyone!" he said, sweeping his arm across the crowd. "They're all here because they want to be because they choose to be part of something that makes them feel alive."
She turned her gaze upon him, her expression unreadable. "Do you feel alive in this chaos?"
"More than ever," he admitted with a grin, then his smile waned as he caught sight of Steven on the edge of the crowd, giving him a thumbs-up. “Can you feel it?” he asked her.
“I most certainly feel alive because I am with my Greg Universe.” Her voice cut strikingly through the din "As long as you exist, I will be here to serve you. That is my function."
His heart sank, the uneasy weight of her words pressing down on him like the leaden drop of a bass line. He didn’t want to think about the implications this could mean for her past. The idea of service, of ownership—it was all wrong. But how could he make her understand when she was like this?
"No, Pearl. You don't serve anyone. You're your own person. You always have been, even before you met Rose."
"Rose…" Her voice trailed off, and for a split second, Greg thought he saw a flicker of conflict within her eyes, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared.
"Listen, we're gonna get you back," he promised, though he wasn't entirely sure who he was trying to convince—Pearl or himself. "You're not just some—some robot programmed to follow orders. You're Pearl. You're one of a kind."
"Am I?" she asked, and he could hear the genuine curiosity mingled with the remnants of her old self.
"Absolutely," he assured her, squeezing her hand as the crowd erupted into cheers for the new song. With his free hand, he gestured Steven over.
“Hey, Dad. Any luck?”
“A little. Rebellion isn’t getting through to her. But I think freedom is the final piece. The freedom to choose. I have an idea, though. Will you fuse with me?”
One second Greg Universe was there and the next, he was replaced with someone else—someone made of his parts but entirely new. Conflicted, Pearl’s body trembled.
The glow of the stage lights cast a warm radiance over their fused form. Steg struck the first chord of "Independent Together" on his guitar, and the crowd swayed as one organism under the spell of the melody.
Pearl stood amidst the throng, gaze locked onto him, searching for direction.
"Nothing is holding you back now." Steg's voice was a harmonious blend of Steven's youthful clarity and Greg's seasoned timbre. "No one can push you around."
As the words washed over her, something within began to unfurl, a long-dormant seed sprouting in the rich soil of memory.
"I’m the master of me, and isn’t the thought enough to lift me off of the ground?" Steg sang, and Pearl found herself inadvertently moving to the rhythm, her feet remembering the dance of freedom she had once reveled in.
"Independent together," the crowd echoed, and she felt it then—the pull of autonomy, the sweetness of self-realization.
"We could be Independent together," Her lips parted in astonishment as the chorus surged through her, reigniting the fire that Rose Quartz had sparked all those centuries ago.
"Independent together, we can fly!"
"Wow," she whispered, to herself, the word barely audible over music. The song reached its crescendo, and with each note, Pearl's mind pieced itself back together, fragments of who she was—before Rose, before Greg, before servitude—melding into a coherent whole.
"Independent together, you and I!" The final line reverberated throughout the venue, and as the music faded into wild applause, Pearl blinked rapidly, her vision clearing, her sense of self solidifying.
Greg and Steven unfused, coming back over to her wearing matching expressions of hope and trepidation.
"Did it work?" Greg asked, his voice nearly lost in the aftermath of the song.
"Yes," she began, her words tinged with an unfamiliar hesitancy. "I remember."
"Good," he replied, but his relief was muddied by the uncomfortable mood settling between them like an uninvited guest. They had been bound by their love for Rose, then united for Steven—now something new was between them.
Steven seemed to sense it too, given his strange expression. “I still need to stop the injector,” he said.
“Go,” Greg said. “Just be careful.”
Steven looked at Pearl.
She gave him a slight smile. “Give me a minute or two to catch up.”
“Alright.” Steven hesitated a moment longer before leaving.
"Should we...get out of here?" Greg suggested, gesturing toward the exit. Their movements were stiff as they navigated the dispersing crowd, both acutely aware of the other's presence.
"Perhaps that would be best," Pearl agreed, her gaze lingering on the empty stage. Why did she still feel drawn to him even though she was herself again?
They emerged into the cool night air, the distant sounds of the city offering a gentle backdrop to their silence. Pearl glanced at Greg, taking in his unkempt hair, the way his t-shirt clung to him in the evening breeze, and she felt an inexplicable warmth spread through her.
"Greg..." she started, then stopped, unsure of how to continue.
"Yeah?" He looked at her, his eyes searching for something she wasn't sure she could give.
"Thank you," she said finally, her gratitude genuine but laced with an emotion she couldn't quite name. "For not giving up on me."
"Hey, we're family, right?" His smile was tentative, but it reached his eyes, and Pearl found herself returning it, despite the confusion that tangled her thoughts.
"Right," she echoed, the word feeling strange yet fitting on her tongue. There was a long pause, filled only by the nocturnal symphony of the world around them. “I suppose I should go help Steven now.”
“Right. We can talk more after you guys are done saving the world.”
His confidence in them fueled her own. They would win.
The injector was gone, but Steven would need to painstakingly heal away all the poison. Pearl wished she could help, but words of encouragement would have to suffice. Normally, Steven would want to celebrate their victory, but he was exhausted from everything that happened and he had more work to do, so he was taking a much-needed nap.
Pearl eyed Greg, preparing to suggest that the two of them take a walk. Before she could, Peridot made a wide sweeping motion with her hands.
“It’s so good to have you guys back!” the green gem exclaimed. “We have to celebrate.”
“Yes,” Bismuth concurred, smiling. “I say we’ve been working too hard around here. How about we play a game? Peridot was telling me about one called Volleyball.”
Pearl smiled. “That sounds like a wonderful idea.”
Everyone seemed happy to play except for Greg who rubbed the back of his head. “I don’t know. I’m not as athletic as I used to be. Besides, you all have your gem powers…”
“Don’t worry, Mr. Universe,” Connie insisted. “I don’t have powers either.”
Pearl hovered her hand near his back without touching him. “It will be fun.”
He met her eyes, then sighed. “Alright, guess I’ll give it a try.”
Pearl always enjoyed volleyball. It was a good way to unleash adrenalin without the rigidness of training. Greg looked a bit rigid, though. She wondered if that had to do with her and the previous events of the day.
“Amethyst, will you switch with me?” she asked.
The purple gem shrugged. “Sure, I guess.”
Pearl moved into position on his side of the court. "Relax, Greg. This is just for fun, and I think we’ll make a great team," Pearl encouraged, her eyes reflecting confidence.
Greg nodded. Peridot served the ball, and the game was in full swing.
They quickly found a rhythm. Pearl's precise calculations and Greg's spontaneous but effective moves complemented each other. They were scoring points and having a blast. The uncertainty began to melt away, replaced by the joy of the game.
It was a draw. One final point would end the game. Skillfully, Greg hit the ball just out of Peridot’s reach, scoring the winning point. The cheers of their friends filled the air, and Pearl felt a surge of excitement. In their elation, she and Greg spontaneously hugged each other, celebrating the victory.
Their embrace lingered for a moment longer than anticipated, and as they pulled away, a subtle awkwardness settled between them. Pearl cleared her throat, attempting to break the tension.
"That was an excellent match. You really have a knack for this," Pearl complimented, her tone trying to restore a casual atmosphere.
Greg scratched his head, chuckling nervously. "Why, thanks. I guess we make a pretty good team."
The group decided on another set of teams for another round. Everyone else gathered around to watch the game. Now was the best time to slip away from the crowd.
“Do you want to take a walk with me?” she asked Greg, surprised by how hesitant her voice sounded.
They walked in silence along the shore until they found a quiet spot near the edge of town. The moon shone luminous overhead, casting a serene glow over the quiet streets. They sat down on a bench.
Finally, Pearl took a deep breath, her voice cutting through the stillness. “About everything that happened today…Thinking I belonged to you, wasn't entirely…unpleasant."
Greg turned to face her with a furrowed brow. His lips parted, but only an inquisitive hum came out.
She twirled a strand of her short hair. "It's ludicrous, I know," she continued with a small chuckle that didn't quite reach her eyes. "A gem falling for her owner. It's like one of those trashy romance novels Amethyst reads."
“You can fall for anyone you want to, Pearl.”
“That’s just it, though. I’ve only had these sorts of feelings for Rose, and now you. Perhaps I don’t have free will only my feelings, only the programming which says I should love my owner.”
"Hey, now." Greg's voice was gentle. His hand found her shoulder, reassuring in its warmth. "You don't belong to anyone, Pearl. You're your own person... gem... you know what I mean." He gave a small laugh, trying to ease the tension.
“How can I be my own person if my feelings are out of my control?”
Greg shook his head. “They aren’t out of your control. Just because some stupid gem mind control thing or something says you should feel a certain way doesn’t mean you have to act on it.” His eyes stared into hers, full of sincerity.
Pearl let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, her shoulders relaxing under his touch. "I am my own gem," she mused, tracing the outline of a nearby rock with her boot. "But how do I know if my feelings are real or not?”
“Listen to your heart. Only you can figure it out, Pearl. But I know your feelings for Rose were real, no matter how they started. You chose to keep following her, and you can choose what to do with your feelings now.”
Pearl took his free hand in hers. “Thank you. For seeing me as an individual, not just a gem.”
“Of course.” Greg squeezed her hand back. “That’s what friends are for, right?”
"Right," she echoed, the word no longer feeling strange but comforting. As they resumed their walk, side by side, the glimmering trail ahead seemed less daunting, lit by the soft luminescence of the moon and the newfound recognition of their bond.
Waves lapped gently at the shore like a soft metronome keeping time with their footsteps. Pearl's fingers remained intertwined with Greg's as they walked. Her thoughts swam in the vast ocean of possibilities, alternating between the thrill of potential and the fear of the unknown.
"Feels kind of nice, doesn't it? The quiet," Greg mused.
The words hung in the air like a strummed guitar chord, resonating with truth and clarity. Pearl felt something within her click into place, a puzzle piece she hadn't realized was missing.
"Quiet can be... overwhelming. But tonight, it's comforting," Pearl admitted, her voice carrying the weight of centuries yet the curiosity of the present moment.
Greg's thumb brushed over the back of her hand absentmindedly. "You've come a long way, you know?" he said, his tone imbued with a respect that shocked her.
Pearl's laugh was a quiet chime in the stillness, the sound more human than gem—a manifestation from her time on Earth. "I suppose I have," she acknowledged, allowing herself a modicum of pride.
They reached a rock, overlooking the water. Settling down again, the pair remained close, their shoulders brushing, the space between them charged with an unknown energy.
"Greg..." Pearl began, her voice trailing off as she gazed at the reflection of the stars upon the water's surface. "I'm not Rose, but..."
Greg turned to face her, his eyes kind and earnest. "I know you're not. And I don't want you to be."
She searched his gaze for any sign of insincerity, any trace of the longing for days gone by, but found none. Only the open acceptance and encouragement that was so uniquely G. It was unsettling how grounding his presence had become. She gave a soft laugh. “You sure are a sweet talker. No wonder Rose loved you. Even after everything between us, you’ve never pushed me away.”
“Hey,” he said firmly. “You need to stop beating yourself up over the past. I thought we had moved past all that.”
Pearl looked down at the sand. “You’re right. It’s just, I feel that I have a larger perspective now. What if I’m clinging to you now because of that past?”
“Does it matter? As long as you’re happy, that’s all that matters. I just want you to feel free to make your own choices and have your own life. If somehow that means feeling something for a washed-up rocker like me, then that’s okay.”
Pearl looked at him again. His eyes were soft, inviting. “All we’ve been talking about is me. What about you?”
Greg put a hand on his forehead. “Honestly, I’m a bit mixed up. I’ve always liked you, Pearl. I was really happy when we finally started to be real friends. Seeing you in that state today was difficult.”
“Because I wasn’t myself?”
He dropped his hand. “Yeah, but it was also a lot to have you coming onto me like that. I haven’t been with anyone since…The point is, I didn’t know what I was gonna do if you actually tried something.”
Pearl’s face fell. “It was unpleasant.”
“No!” he quickly explained. “But I couldn’t take advantage of you like that.”
She truly appreciated that. “Thank you.” Her heart pounded, but she had to ask. “What if it hadn’t been taking advantage?”
“Huh?” Greg looked away. “I don’t know. I’ve been trying not to think about it. Things are already awkward enough.” There was a pause. “But…I think it would have been the opposite of unpleasant.”
Pearl smiled softly. “Would you want this to turn into something?”
He hesitated, looking at her lips. “I think…we’d make a good team.”
A sense of peace settled over her. Her gaze drifted to where the sea met the sky in an endless horizon. In that moment, the longing tension that filled the air seemed not so much about the past or even the present, but about the vastness of what might unfold.
Pearl's fingers trembled slightly as she reached toward Greg, her touch hesitant but deliberate. The action felt alien. "Is this okay?" Her voice was uncertain.
"Only if you're sure," he said, his words wrapped in a warmth that cradled her doubts.
The kiss was a clumsy convergence of worlds—organic and gemstone. He was so soft, so warm, so different. This simple action somehow felt more rebellious than anything she had done in the past. The rush filled her with an exhilarating sense of liberation. As their mouths parted, giddy laughter bubbled up from them both, a sound so human it startled Pearl with its ease.
"Wow, that was..." Greg started, scratching the back of his head, his grin wide and unabashed.
"Unexpected," Pearl finished for him, feeling her cheeks flush. "But not... unwelcome." She allowed herself a small smile, the corners of her mouth twitching with a novelty she couldn't quite name.
He chuckled, his eyes sparkling like the constellations above. "I'll say. You know, I've kissed a few humans in my time, and none of those kisses ever felt quite like this."
"Strange?" she offered, tilting her head as she examined the new sensations fluttering within her.
"Strange, yeah," he confirmed, "but also kind of... amazing? In a way that's hard to put into words."
Pearl found herself chuckling along with him, feeling lighter than air. "I wonder how Steven will react. He’ll probably be over the moon," she said, imagining his smile bright enough to rival the sun.
"Or he'll think we've both lost our minds," Greg countered playfully, winking at her.
"Perhaps a bit of both," she conceded, the laugh escaping her throat more genuine than she had anticipated. "He always did hope for us to find common ground. I suppose this is somewhat beyond what he had in mind."
"Steven's got a big heart," Greg mused, his gaze drifting upwards. "He gets that from his mom. But you know, he also cares about understanding people and what they need. And that's all you, Pearl."
Pearl’s heart swelled at the sentiment. Her feelings had to be real—no, she chose for them to be real. No longer would she be bound by expectations or conditioning or even the shadow of Rose Quartz. She was free and she wanted to explore this bizarre and beautiful connection.
"Greg," she began, her tone laced with newfound resolve, "I don't know what we're doing. But I want to find out."
"Me too." His hand found hers again.
They shared another look, another moment suspended between laughter and longing. And as they turned their faces back to the sky, the stars seemed to twinkle in approval.