Starry Night
The first time Garnet sees the sky—honestly takes it in—night has already fallen on her first day on planet Earth.
It had been a busy day of introductions, preliminary Kindergarten construction, acclimating to her new planet, and ever so slowly letting her guard down around Rose Quartz, otherwise she probably would have remembered to look up sooner.
At this point in Earth’s history humans are still hunters and gatherers, so light pollution hasn’t been invented yet. It’s also a clear, crisp night, with only a sliver of a waxing moon shining like a slow smile to mess up the sight. Everything else is just the Milky Way (of course, that term hadn’t come about yet either, but nevertheless), bright pinpoints glittering on a bed of darkness.
She doesn’t recognize any of the constellations or planets. Earth is about as far from Homeworld as a space ship can go, way on the other side of the universe, so even if there are clusters and constellations she knows up there, she wouldn’t know where to begin looking for them from this new angle.
Their celestial identities don’t matter anyway. She’s seeing them; that’s what matters.
It’s been 5,856 years and one-hundred-thirty-one days—or is that thirty-two now? They must have passed a translatable intergalactic date line (the equivalent of X, given the amount of light years you’ve travelled) at some point during their flight, but in which direction?
The days don’t matter anymore. She’s standing under an open sky now, and—and…
Sapphire doesn’t know why, but she is so deeply moved by the sight that Garnet fades. She falls gently away from Ruby and alights on the grassy knoll overlooking the Kindergarten base camp so she can stand under the stars as herself. She even goes so far as to move her bangs out of the way so she can stare without any barriers, mouth slightly agape.
Ruby isn’t offended by this brief interlude of separation. In fact, a quick sidelong glance proves that she’s looking up with awe in her eyes too.
“I think I’ve been around you too long,” says Ruby after they’ve spent several silent minutes like this. “Seeing this shouldn’t be so monumental.”
Sapphire is still looking up, but she notices her partner gazing at her in her peripheral. “After sneaking onto a spaceship headed into the most remote corner of the universe to live out the rest of our foreseeable existence in the same body together, this is what makes you think we’ve gone too far?”
Her partner lets out a hearty laugh. “When you put it like that, it sounds unreasonable.”
“I call them like I see ‘em.”
Ruby laughs again, delighting in Sapphire’s dry tone, but she grows quiet when she notices that Sapphire still can’t take her eye off of the stars.
“You’d tell me if you weren’t okay, right?” she says softly, stepping in and touching the small of Sapphire’s back. I’m here, the contact states; you have my full support, no matter what.
At first, no response feels like it would be descriptive enough, so she doesn’t say anything. She lets out a breath that quivers as it moves, and that’s about when the words find themselves, “It’s been nearly six thousand years. I never thought I’d see anything like this again.”
“Neither did I.” Ruby’s hand slips around her waist in a decidedly more companionable manner. Putting her own arm around her partner and leaning in until their shoulders touch is nothing short of automatic.
Sapphire gazes up for a little longer—just a little bit longer—before looking Ruby in the eye. It’s sort of strange, seeing her without the familiar blue fringe in the way, but not in a bad way. With Ruby, it’s nothing to be afraid of. “I could never give this freedom up again.” Certainly not for a metal box deep underground; she is never, ever going back there.
“We shouldn’t have to, if Rose Quartz is everything she claims to be.”
“That’s not what I mean. Ruby, if anything were to happen—”
“I know.” Ruby turns and hugs her for one long moment, saying without words that they are on exactly the same page, before drawing back and placing a hand on Sapphire’s neck as she presses their foreheads together. “You know,” she murmurs, tracing the pad of her thumb over Sapphire’s jawline as Sapphire takes her by the waist and elbow and draws her in until their torsos are touching. “It’s usually me who cries.”
That’s when Sapphire notices the moisture on her face. She blinks, surprised, and more trickle down. There’s no real need for an explanation—they both know why this is happening—so instead she offers a small smile and quips, “What? I’m just trying to keep things exciting.”
They both giggle, but Sapphire’s insides melt when she feels the soft lips press into the skin just under her eye. She is so warm, so thankful to have this love and support, that she can’t help grabbing Ruby by the ears and kissing her full on the mouth. If she’s still crying, then at this point she’s utterly forgotten about it.
“I think I’m ready to go back to Garnet now,” she says, cupping her partner’s cheeks and offering a smile of both gratitude and affection. “I don’t like it when we’re this separate.”
Ruby lets out a powerful sigh of relief. “I’m so glad I’m not the only one feeling that. I mean, it’s been less than an hour, so I was thinking maybe I developed a co-dependency problem somewhere in the last few days of being her on the ship, and then keeping it up here—”
Sapphire kisses her again, neatly disrupting the run on sentence before it can become a full-fledged rant. “You’re not the only one who feels it,” she promises. “And if it’s a co-dependency issue, then I’ve got it too, and it becomes functionally moot by virtue of my reciprocity. Now come on and dance with me until it doesn’t feel like you’re far away anymore.”