Work Text:
Gem has a fire burning inside of her. Everyone’s told her that for as long as she can remember. She’s never happy just being. Always has to go.
She became a ship officer because she wanted to see more. Five years at Command School, countless missions and every moment in between, something hot and prickly inside of her that tells her to go, to find the most dangerous mission, the most dangerous request, and do it. Stars blur beyond the windows, planets and solar systems and asteroids and comets and a million other things most only dream of seeing, and she’s seen them all, and the only thing she can think is what will happen when they finally get where they’re going.
And then she meets Pearl.
The outpost is gritty, covered in a fine blue dusting of sand like almost everything on this planet, and Gem hates it because she keeps combing through her hair and finding particles. It makes her feel gross. When the wind blows, sand stings her cheeks.
Grian isn’t happy about it either. “Why couldn’t we find somewhere else?” he whines.
“This was the nearest supply port, Grian,” Impulse says.
“It’s so sandy though! Anything we get will have to be washed at least 10 times!”
“So will we,” Gem mutters to herself. She tries to bat the sand away, which does about as much good as she expects.
“Aww, cheer up, G! At least it’s not one of those ultra humid swamp planets!” Scar says with a grin. Miraculously, blue sand does not get in his mouth.
“I wish it was. At least there you don’t have sand in your shoes.”
“On the bright side, guys, weekend off!” Skizz says. Gem frowns. She dislikes any time off, because she dislikes not doing anything. Shockingly, no one else shares her feelings.
“We can’t get supplies at the next outpost?” Joel asks. “I’ve got sand in my ears, Impulse!”
“It could be worse,” Mumbo says.
“How?”
“I don’t know, I was hoping no one would ask.”
Joel sighs and immediately spits out sand. “Eugh!”
The outpost itself is a long concrete building, really more of a warehouse. The floor around the entrance is covered with shifting piles of blue sand. Gem wrinkles her nose as she comes her hand through red curls, spilling more sand onto the floor. She wanders further inside, trying to find the food. Impulse can’t be trusted, and neither can Skizz, Joel, or Scar. If she has to eat another piece of ‘goat jerky’ she’s going to just open the landing door and let herself be dragged into space.
“Hey, do you know where the pickles are?” someone asks. Gem turns. The first thing she registers is the faintest trace of an accent, the second the delicate blue-gray moth wings on the speaker’s back. She’s taller but not older, long brown hair, not wearing any ship-specific insignia.
“Try near the fridge stuff.”
She smiles. In an instant, Gem understands the word ‘bright’ in a brand new context. “Thanks, uh…”
“Gem.”
“Gem. I’m Pearl.” She sticks out her hand. Gem shakes it.
Impulse’s science books talk about magnetic attraction, opposite poles, how gravity is because opposites attract, creating a magnetic force so strong it grounds everything securely on the planet. That must be what Gem and Pearl are like—two opposites, drawn to each other. Magnetic. Surely nothing else can explain what happens in Pearl’s presence; how Gem will slow. She’s been fast her entire life, chasing something on the horizon. She’s never let herself enjoy the journey. She’s never known how.
“What’s it like to do missions?” Pearl asks one day. Gem shrugs, combing her fingers through her tangled curls.
“It’s sort of exciting, when we get the ping. And when we’re just about to go, there’s a kind of tension in the air. Everyone’s focused on their job. That’s probably the only time Joel sits still.”
“Do you ever get scared?”
“Sometimes.” She doesn’t say that more often she gets bored, that adrenaline fades too early sometimes and she finds herself wishing for the next when she hasn’t even finished. “It can be fun, too.”
Pearl thinks about that for a moment. She’s on a supply transport shuttle with only two others, Etho and Tango. For some reason, that makes it easier to tell her things. Things Gem wouldn’t even tell Grian.
“What do you do on supply runs?” Gem asks, completely sincere.
“A lot of boring paperwork.” They both laugh. “A bit of everything, I guess. Inventory, exchanges,” she wrinkles her nose, “diplomacy.”
“Do you know how to fly the ship?”
“Oh, no, Etho won’t let anyone else touch his precious controls and risk them getting messed up.” She rolls her eyes fondly. Gem snickers.
The fire inside her is cooling, she finds. She sees a purple gas giant, swirling with millions of shades, and she doesn’t wish they were already there. She and Grian discover two snails in the hold and use them to torment Scar. She doesn’t feel as big of an ache, as much of a need to keep going.
Somehow, she knows it’s because of Pearl.
“What day’zit?” Skizz yawns, coming into the ‘conference room’ they never use for conferences.
“We’re in space, Skizz,” Joel says. “Time doesn’t exist.”
Mumbo opens his mouth to object and closes it again at Joel’s look.
“It’s way too early.”
“Going by the nearest planet’s time, it’s around 5:13 in the afternoon,” Gem says.
Joel snickers. Skizz just chugs his coffee.
“When are we getting off?” Gem asks.
“That anxious to get rid of us?” Joel puts a hand over his heart. “Words hurt, Gem.”
“She just wants to see Pearly-Pop again,” Skizz says, reminding her of her dad. “Right, Gemstone?”
“Maybe I’m tired of being surrounded by boys.”
“Hey! I’m a delight!” Mumbo exclaims.
“A delight with the backbone of a spaghetti noodle,” Joel deadpans.
He splutters in offense, starting and breaking off words.
“Who broke Mumbo?” Grian asks, taking a seat on the table.
“Joel.”
“Joel, stop breaking everything!”
“I can’t help it Grian! Can you help being short?”
“The best part is, Joel’s shorter than him,” Skizz says to Gem, and she starts laughing.
She tells Pearl about the hard missions, the sad ones, the ones where she thought she was going to lose someone. Pearl is good at listening, good at knowing the exact right thing to say. Good at calming Gem’s frantic energy with a steady sureness.
Gem hears things too, about Etho and Tango and the ancient video game they have that she can never get to work properly, the mail she and Tango like to guess about: where it’s going, to who, and from whom. Millions upon millions across the galaxy. Something rosy and warm rests in Gem’s chest, and it’s not driving her forward, not pushing her to keep going and going and never stop. It tells her that this is a good moment, to soak it up. To enjoy it. To hold it in her hands and keep it close, forever.
Pearl sits with her, running gentle, patient fingers through wild red curls. She hums, detangling them neatly and separating them into three parts.
“What’s on your mind, Gem?”
Gem’s eyes go to the ground, although her head stays still. “Nothing, really.”
“It’s something,” she says knowingly, a tease creeping into her voice.
Gem is quiet for a minute, two. “What do you think will happen in the future?”
Pearl hums, braiding her hair. “Changes. Some good. Some bad. None that are my problem at the moment.”
“But how come that doesn’t scare you?”
“It’s not here right now. And when it does come, I’ll probably know how to deal with it.” She ties of the braid and squeezes Gem’s shoulder. “Don’t be so worried for what’s going to happen. If it’s not here yet, there’s nothing to worry about. Focus on right now.”
It’s the lesson she’s been trying to learn her whole life. Going, going, going. Pushing endlessly. For what? Something she hopes will be there, when she gets to it? A baseless thing on the horizon, unseen, unsure if it’s there or not? When will she finally be satisfied?
Right here, right now. In a quiet restaurant. The fire, slowly shrinking over the months and years, is gone. Extinguished. She’s here, alive, with someone she likes. Someone she enjoys being around. She’s here, and there’s tomorrow, and the day after that, a million more days and weeks. And Pearl will be there, Grian, Joel, Skizz, Impulse, Mumbo, Scar. Her friends.
“Focus on right now,” she repeats. Breathes in. Breathes out. Air in her lungs. Feet on the ground.
Pearl smiles, bright. Happy. “You’ve got it,” she says.