Adaptation

Sometimes, centuries after the war's end, Pearl is able to convince herself that she is satisfied.

The days are long, the Earth is beautiful, and peace is soothing. She can loose herself in rolling hills, wild forests, vast oceans. There are times when she stares across the vast, ever-shifting vistas, feel content, and pretend that in a distant part of her mind, she does not instead see sprawling nebulae and the surfaces of a hundred different planets. She can listen to the murmur of wind through trees, and ignore the desperate screams and clashing weapons echoing in her memories.

Sometimes, she can pretend that she does not miss it.

And she is happy. She is. Why shouldn't she be?

Earth is as beautiful as when they first landed here. She is free from anyone's command, able to do as she pleases. And she is not alone. She has Garnet, sure and steady, with her quiet sense of humour, her thoughtful comments. She has Amethyst, who is wild and undisciplined, who creates chaos and adventure everywhere she goes, and is infuriating and wonderful in equal measure. And of course, she has Rose.

Rose Quartz. Kind, beautiful, intelligent, loving.

Rose, who holds her close, and kisses her gently on the mouth. Rose, whose laughter is so sweet and genuine. Rose, who showers her with compliments, making her blush furiously. Rose, whose curiosity seems never ending, and loves every inch of her adopted planet. She'll say things like, "Look at this snail; isn't it fascinating, how it carries its own home on its back?", or "See, this kind of mollusc creates little spheres that look almost exactly like your Gem, Pearl," or, as she tends to the wounds of a tiny mouse, "It's amazing how every living thing here, no matter how small, will fight so valiantly for her life." Rose, who makes Pearl proud for the battles she fought, over and over again, every day.

But other times…

Other times, they'll set off on a mission, a new idea of where to find the remains of their fallen comrades— only to come back empty handed. The old sorrow will be more biting, their grief raw once more.

Other times, they'll fight a corrupted Gem, its eyes wild and savage, and Pearl will have a sudden shock of remembrance as she sees instead the face of the person the monster once was.

Other times, she'll stumble upon Rose, on her knees, chest heaving, dress soaking with tears. She'll be clutching at the remains of lost Gems in her hands, another attempt to save them failed, and nothing Pearl says or does can calm her.

Other times, she looks up at the stars, thinks of what could have been.

The Crystal Gems fought for this planet. They fought, and in a sense, they won. The Diamond Authority abandoned the planet. Its oceans, its plants, its animals, its humans, are all safe.

But they were only ever part of it.

The Earth was going to be place where organic life and Gems could live together in harmony. It was going to be an independent republic, founded on the ideals of freedom, fusion, equality, and compassion. It was going to mark the beginning a glorious new era for Gem kind.

Now the other Crystal Gems are dead. They're stuck in a far-flung corner of the galaxy, while the Diamonds remain in power, countless Gems living and dying in service to them. While she enjoys kisses and the warm sunshine, wars are being fought on the other side of the cosmos. Sometimes the knowledge of that, the guilt, slices through her. She wonders if there something she could have done— some different tactic, some brilliant plan- that could have averted all this.

Sometimes, she thinks this is all her fault. All her own selfishness. In battle, in those terrible, desperate moments when she'd flung herself between Rose and a weapon five times her own size, all she'd been thinking in her head was, "Not Rose, let Rose survive this." And then as a belated after thought, "I don't want to die." That had been her greatest fantasy— that the two of them would get to together happily, after the war. She wonders if it's some cruel joke of the universe, that it's giving her exactly what she wished, and no more.

She chides herself for that thinking. Superstitious, silly. Blaming her failures on something so minor and singular, instead of a complex network of interrelated forced beyond anyone's control.

Millennia later, she blames that complex network for Rose's passing, because the alternative is blaming Rose herself, and Pearl could not stand for that.

For so long, Rose Quartz was her guiding light. Someone who filled her up, with promises and potential. Without her, Pearl feels untethered, empty, fragile.

So many times, she nearly breaks.

One of the worst moments is when she builds a spaceship made of trash, held together by hurried welding, duct tape, and hope. Steven's in her lap, begging, but she's staring into space, straining, imagining, dreaming; thinking of the planets and the stars and the galaxies, wondering if maybe it all came true after all, maybe Rose's manifesto lives on, maybe Homeworld has changed, and Pearl will be able to share with Steven all its glory and beauty and potential…

Six months later, Pearl sits in a cell, back pressed against the wall, as close to Amethyst as she can manage. She doesn't know where the others are, or if she'll ever see them again. Between the worry, the fear, the guilt, there is anger— partly at herself, but mostly at Homeworld. They have not changed. Not one bit.

Five thousand years, and they haven't changed. Maybe that's why they're so easily able to bring their ship crashing to the ground. They still have no idea how to adapt.

Homeworld hasn't changed, but Pearl finds that she has.

She thought she was left empty and hollow, with Rose gone; but the truth of it is that she simply filled herself up with other things. She has others to rely on now. There's Garnet— solid, dependable, but not perfect, she realises now. An equal. There's Amethyst, so different from the feral Gem found in the Kindergarten, so brave and fierce. There's Steven, who's no longer a baby, but someone sweet, bright, and forgiving, who always knows the right things to say. Surprisingly, there's Greg, who she's come to appreciate more and more, even thought she still frankly does not understand him half the time. There's Connie, too, who's so sharp, intelligent and determined, and Pearl sees herself in her. There's even a place for Peridot, as obnoxious and condescending as she is… She's learnt a lot, and if she can do it, what does that say for the rest of Homeworld, after all?

And finally, there's herself.

She broke away from Homeworld. She learned to create, to build, to fight, to speak up. She fought a thousand year war for this planet's independence. She survived the war, when almost no one else did. She has tended to this amazing planet for thousands of years. She has helped raised Steven into the wonderful person he is today. She has built a machine capable of drilling to the planet's core. She has weathered loss, and grief, and doubts. She has adapted.

Sometimes, she still falters. Still finds herself caught up in old fears and insecurities.

But more and more, she finds herself feeling happier than she has is a very long time.

oOoOoOoOo

Author's Note: Sometimes I see people say stuff like "Pearl doesn't even care about the Earth", and that makes me sad, because I think that statement ignores the serious complexities of Pearl's feeling for her adopted home.