Like clockwork, Pearl comes to her. Like clockwork, Garnet has to guide her.

A mother. That's what humans call it. What Rose Quarts traded everything to be. She wanted something to nurture, and Pearl would never get over the fact that she didn't end up being that something.

Garnet could understand; both of them hurt. Both of them hurt. Garnet is the one everyone falls to, however, and that includes Pearl. Especially Pearl.

"We all have each other," Garnet assures her, stroking her hair.

"But you," Pearl sniffles, "you have each other, too. You both are so close. I don't have what you have."

Garnet isn't sure if this is the time to correct Pearl about this, tell her about something that simply won't stick. Ruby and Sapphire have each other. Ruby and Sapphire aren't Garnet, “Garnet” is just the name of their closeness. It's just that, as a fusion, the closeness has a tangibility to it that makes her able to talk and feel for herself. Humans have brains to tell their bodies what to do, but the body itself isn't a brain. The same is true of Garnet, in a way. Her being isn't two distinctive halves.

Much like a brain, if she could feel either of those halves separately, something was going gravely wrong.

"We have each other." She hopes that will suffice. Her hand rests on Pearl's cheek, her thumb stroking the delicate groove there that frames her eyes in a way both humans and gems find attractive. "Cheekbones" is their word on this part of the planet.

Pearl turns her face to fully kiss her left palm, or rather, the hard stone planted there. She rubs her face against Garnet's gem, much like a cat seeking kinship with its human. And, without enough foresight to stop it, Pearl's gem touches Garnet's.

And then, their lights become the world around them.

Garnet’s in a room, now; a room that’s both familiar and unfamiliar. A friend, but unfamiliar; wearing different hair or makeup. A friend unfamiliar, like someone with a mangled face but the same eyes.

It smells like the sea. But, the waters are turbulent. Garnet feels those waves licking at her body. The salt burns her skin. She’s almost certain that she’s eroding in the crashing waves, a cliffside beaten over time.

What’s more unnerving is that this Friend isn’t (in) a cozy space. There used to be a sense around her when she visited, like walls. There used to be a feeling of a warm home and a soft bed with even softer pillows. Somehow, she feels it’s cramped enough to be stifling…she wants to thrash around like a trapped rabbit. But it somehow also feels empty enough that she can’t find purchase to nestle.

Though she’s uncertain, she’s urged by something to move on. A familiar whisper. Is it in herself or from that mangled face?

She desperately wants to trust. Garnet moves on. Trust’s all she has, besides two stones to keep her grounded.

Pearl, I need to know where I am. This is…here, it’s so cold.

Hurry, Pearl.

She wants to be calm, she really does. She wants to be herselfs. But it seems like just being here is wedging in her, gouging her apart. Garnet’s got to hold it together. She’s got to hold them together. The loneliness would break her.

Yet, she’s restless. Nothing and everything is around her. A vise around her body. She can’t seem to strike out at anything at all.

Pearl, talk to me. Update me on the situation.

Pearl.

Please. Say something.

Wait. "Forgive me?"

The voice is small, but it’s still too much. Garnet’s flickering. She’s questioning.

Sapphire is vying for attention, but her calls are muffled. She might as well be behind a wall.

Oh, dearest. We needn’t do that. Hohoho! No, no. What’s there to fret about an encore performance?

She doesn't have any blood, but if she did, this is when it would run cold.

A flurry of information, overwhelming like a hurricane. It rushes over and past Garnet. The sound settles into numerous whispers crowding around her. When she collects herself, she searches the area; she can see branches along what appears to be an infinite hallway. As she traverses it, she sees where the branches lead. Every single one leads to a different door. Her steps echo.

Where are we?

Garnet tries a door and finds that it’s locked shut or jammed. Unnerving.

Garnet tries another door. It’s also locked. Or jammed. Either way, the door doesn’t give, no matter how hard she rattles the knob. Brute strength doesn’t work here. She curses.

Garnet continues down the hallway, the clunk of her boots echoing. She tries more doors before giving an educated guess that none of them want to be opened. She’s gagging, and her throat and tongue taste hopelessness.

Keep it together...

Garnet collects herself again, clinging together fast. She’s then tangible enough to observe her surroundings. Because of which, she can finally realize she’s stopped in her tracks, but there’s still the echo of footsteps. Then, there’s Pearl, standing close to her.

This is Pearl, right? The Pearl she's friends with?

This Pearl certainly looks like her Pearl–rather, the one she knows. She’s wearing strange clothes and a strange expression. A demure expression. An uncanny expression. It’s uncanny, because Garnet’s never seen her look this way, yet she wears it like a tailored suit.

“Oh, Garnet,” Pearl coos. She ambles over, sashaying, cat-like. Her legs are long and it feels like it takes forever for the steps to follow them. If that makes sense. It’s deliberate and enticing. Garnet feels Pearl’s walk within her legs as well, and it curls her lip in disgust.

Ohohohoho... This coo is from Sardonyx. Garnet knows because she can taste those rotten words herself.

When she’s so close Garnet can feel her whispering against her skin, she finally elects to talk again.

“You’re so… voluptuous, Garnet.”

We're so...voluptuous, Garnet.

“Your curves… I envy them, you know.” I want what you have. Pearl’s white fingers trail Garnet’s waist and rest at her hip, cupping greedily.

We have your curves, Garnet.

This Pearl giggles, standing en pointe and placing a hand on Garnet’s shoulder. Garnet’s shuddering, again, every inch of her.

“You know, there’s someone I loved,” a feathery pant before she continues, “that filled a dress as well as you. Someone I loved that was soft where it really mattered.”

Garnet knows the answer in her bones, yet dreads it still when Pearl purrs it in her ear.

“Rose Quartz.”

Won’t you be Rose Quartz, Garnet?

Everything was so still, then, before she became aware of every inch of her body. It makes it all the more painful when her body starts crushing and stretching to the form of something tall and plump, squeezing and pulling her hips and waist, her thighs, her legs, her breasts, her bottom. Cupping and stretching her throat in a choke, smooshing her face as if in an indulgent bite, hair pulling so hard that her tight curls loosen and stretch.

Whispers.

This would hurt less if you stopped fighting, Garnet.

This would hurt less if you stopped fighting, Garnet.

It would be wiser to give in. Within the moment she truly considers it, it slows nearly to a stop. But, no, the ordeal doesn’t stop there; when Garnet expects the gripping to stop, she’s just bent another way into a tighter, taller shape. All those places, squeezed and flattened again, pulled by an alien force she, despite her strength, can’t shake out of. Brute strength doesn’t work here.

Then back to the fatter form. Then back to the taller form. Then, just a cycle of her body not being hers over and over again.

She's crying. She's giggling. She's giggling and crying.

Stop hurting us!

Please...stop hurting me!

Garnet is at her limit, she thinks. But, beyond her body, something else starts stretching thin, and she realizes it’s starting to be herself.