#gemvale

I. Tiger’s Eye (Citrine+Amber)

Five months after StrexCorp came to a complete understanding with its new business partner, they proposed a deal. It was a wonderful and innovative concept, and the amount of synergy involved would halve the tragically necessary restitution from all that Nasty Business. Kevin wasn’t really sure what they meant by all that, but he trusted someone did. 

Strex had been so patient to break trust into him. 

So when they came to his humble little studio and told him about Corporate Cohesion, he’d been just delighted! He had the perfect partner in mind, too. That part, admittedly, took a little convincing. The Strex Cohesion Caretakers had been nothing but rude to Vanessa - sorry, Amber; honestly, the way he kept tripping over silly old traditions like sacred names (how much more efficient if Strex could simply call them by their true selves,  to match the scraping of fibers kept in those very secret vials!), it was a wonder Strex put up with him since - since things had settled down. 

Still, there was no excuse for rudeness. He’d had to remind a few of them that she was standing right there, twisting his hand around their cracking gemstones until a few more shards glittered on his studio floor. 

They hadn’t been back since then, but he was still every bit as committed to the program. He’d even been practicing. “Okay, Amber” - and here, still, he blushed-“Ready?” He bowed low, trying to remember if he’d ever even thought about fusing with someone before. His edges fizzled with nerves. She smiled at him then, that wonderful smile, and took the lead on her own. Her arms were wide and open to the sun, her steps floating and faster than any intern had walked the floors before her. He found himself caught up in the moment, beating a soft patter with his feet and smiling (not a mandated smile, the grin of a happy fool), and he reached out the grasp her hand - His fingers passed through the fine particles of her being, the momentum pitching him forward onto his knees. The crackle of shards digging into his shins sent sharp waves of memory up his form: tall suited figures pinning him to his desk, the barricaded studio door a shambles in their wake; cracking sounds as Vanessa drove a splintering chair leg into the oncoming waves of eerie, colorless drones, so many of them wearing the faces of Kevin’s friends; a familiar scream that became an violent puff of amber dust; and then he was struggling to sit up, feeling something dig into him and not caring. And there, crushed in gloved hands owned by a blank face -

“I’m sorry Vanessa! I’m just awfully clumsy today.” She was staring down at him and shaking her head, looking friendly - no, concerned. No - As he dipped his head, curious, he felt thick drops shake loose and roll down his face. Ah. He chuckled, digging the heel of his hand under his eyes so that the liquid could pour over the lip of the lid. This was terribly inefficient use of his Strex-approved eyes, whose revolutionary concave stylings were meant to more fully accept the great approaching Light. Vanessa’s - Amber’s, she had told him once, that made it alright -  eyes were the old convex model. They were dry. “I guess we’re just not a match after all.” The more he thought about it the harder he laughed, digging his fingers into the sharp grooves at the center of his gem. His free arm shivered and warped, stretching long and spidery across the soundboard still decorated with their last visitor (humans were so funny when they discorporated!); he could feel pointed rib bones curling up and around his gem, trying to discourage the source of the irritation. His eyes went wider and wider, trying to see in the sudden gloom.

A knock.  “Citrine, you’re on in five!” Kevin - no, Citrine - hurried to the door, marveling at how much smaller intern Five looked every time he saw them. “Thank you so much.” He put on his best smile, which was somewhat harder over the new gashing distance of his lips. He watched Five return it, the air stretching thin as they followed his gaze to Vanessa and then right past. Citrine watched them go. He had just been thinking of how nice it would be to redecorate.

II. Quartz (Citrine+Diamond)

Citrine had never dreamed, not even when he’d been told that he’d be taking the wonderful opportunity of radio announcer in the Desert Bluffs Greater Metropolitan Area, that he’d be able to see his double again. Oh there were things about Chaorite - about Cecil, was it? - that he found absolutely energizing, things that clawed at him right under the sunlight in his skin: the way he got so personal on the air, on company time; the way he kept on focusing on things that simply didn’t matter, pouring that wonderful voice out with no guarantees marketable return. There were days Kevin just wanted to snatch him round the throat and squeeze until he could feel understanding cracking into his wonderful double’s gem, until the monstrous reflective shadows at the corners of his vision vanished back into the peaceful light and then-

But it was a bit late for that now. He was here, and Chaorite was here, and the other one - Coral, the one with that unfortunate misshapen Gem under his wing (no matter, so many things could be reformed when the fire was hot enough). They were so terribly old fashioned, the way they winced when he introduced himself as Citrine and used human names even though Strex had all of their biometric information on file. Well, tradition was part of Night Vale’s charm, he supposed. That’s what they kept telling him, and so he believed it. So it was charming that he was being lifted into the light by fists that had become gauntlets of tightly woven, piecemeal rock. A tiny bit unfortunate that Night Vale was so unprepared to see how things had to be, but that’s what he was there for. He’d help them, just as he’d been taught. He was hovering on the precipice of the door now. He could feel his hands thrumming with excitement and the tremors of it wracking his whole self, see his full potential through the translucence of his form, and the light fracturing through his imperfect self, just under Coral’s hands. He could even hear himself making small noises, high and- and- thrilled at the destiny before him. His double, he reflected, was wearing the strangest look. And then he was gone. Citrine was prepared, of course. Nobody believed in the Smiling God more than him. To be taken into the light would make fusion a pale imitation of warmth and intimacy. The heat was coming through the cracks in him now, burning away the doubting, clinging parts of him. He tried to open his eyes to see - III. Test Inconclusive

Citrine didn’t remember much of how he’d come to be in the desert. He remembered feeling small and hollow, but not why, and the sense of being carried great distances by capable hands. He’d come to smiling, almost all of him together, with a long and solitary set of footprints on the sand and -

And the most beautiful face he had ever seen. “The restraints are mostly for precautionary purposes,” he had said, his eyes wide and dark and perfect. “Scientifically speaking it,” and he coughed, smiling an odd smile that was gone even before it could take hold, “it isn’t very scientific to rescue the Gem who terrorized your town.” Citrine watched that perfect face crumble as it fell into “your,” and part of him knew it well.

But the man brightened almost as suddenly (ah, and Citrine knew that even better). “That makes this one more thing for me to figure out!”

He said his name was Carlos, and that he was in this desert otherworld to study it’s strange phenomena. That was a lie, of course, but Citrine didn’t mind. Once you told a lie enough times it became true, after all. And Carlos was practically a master. “I just need to concentrate on this,” he would say as his hands tightened almost to snapping on his Very Scientific Shading Device, and then before Citrine’s very eyes he would become truly engrossed in some strange and unknowable task. It was inspiring. There wasn’t much he could do but watch, really. While other Gems could reshape their forms when they retreated to their cores, he could only wait for his body to come spilling back out in some semblance of itself. It was a…challenging aspect of his cure treatment, but one mustn’t complain. Corrective encouragement programs were so time consuming.

Still in all, the end result left him barely mobile in the early going: his gold-umber skin was blackening at the extremities, and he’d dropped the first few things Carlos had tried to hand him as his fingertips crumbled and flaked (he’d made an odd face then, and removed the shackles made of leather and shards. Citrine stayed where he was). The only thing left to do was observe, and the Gem took to it with aplomb. He observed the following: 1. Carlos was truly an almost perfect scientist. His work absorbed him totally, and his results were exacting. If Strex’s employees had had a tenth of the drive Carlos displayed, the world would truly be a transcendent place. 2. There may or may not have been a pattern to the growling of the earth - the tests were inconclusive, and would he please stop asking? 3. Carlos was possessed of admirable focus - in fact, he hadn’t spoken to Citrine or anyone at all in nearly two days. 4. There were times when Carlos stopped doing science, briefly, and Citrine would find him with his knees drawn up to his chest and a phone cradled in the crook of his shoulder. His smile in those moments was not nearly so wide as it should’ve been, and yet Citrine found himself coveting it most of all. 5. Carlos had slightly crooked teeth, but you could only see the imperfection when he grinned at the hint of discovery, and the rarely setting sun sparked in his dark and lively eyes. Citrine barely wanted to reach in and adjust them at all.

On the third day, if Citrine’s retrained internal clock was correct (as if that were even a question!) Carlos returned to their little shady outcropping and laid facedown. Citrine saw his chance to help. “Carlos, if you have to regenerate it would be so much faster just to return to your Gem!” He hurried on, anticipating the barely starting groan. “Now don’t you worry, I’ll take care of everything while you’re in there.” He nudged Carlos’ prone form with his foot (which was currently very small and human shaped, with no sharp protrusions at all). “That’s just the friendly thing to do, isn’t it?”

“I’m not,” Carlos lifted his head at last. “You know I don’t have a gem, right?” “Well, of course it seemed odd that you’d want to hide yourself but I didn’t want to assume. Night Vale people get so upset about strange things.” He quirked his head - was Carlos a collective, then? “How are you staying so consistent without Strex brand stabilizers?” It had been such a brilliant plan, he’d thought. Why let all those shards lie useless? They wouldn’t want that, they’d want to be helping! “Sta-” Carlos cut himself off and said instead, “I’m a human. And scientifically speaking, humans need more sleep than Gems.” “Oh!” Citrine blinked. “You should…do that, then.” Carlos turned his face back toward the ground, shifting until his head was pillowed on his arms, and Citrine sat back to think. It had been a long time since he’d seen a human. Longer than he could remember, yet he knew it had happened. He was supposed to report in when that happened, but there was nowhere to do that now. No one else, just him and Carlos and the giant beings in the distance. So he focused harder. There had been some humans in the correctional program, the exceptional ones Strex had chosen to try integrating them into the superior physiology of Gemkind. They’d all spoken so little though, and the fractals that pushed out from under their human skins left such a mess. He did remember that other humans were lazy, and fragile. They just didn’t work as hard as Gems, and so few of them seemed to want to improve themselves, or let Strex help their communities improve under the superior eye of Gem leadership. It was so short sighted of them, he remembered thinking. But Carlos was human. The first real human he’d ever seen. And he was the hardest working being Citrine had ever seen, much better than any Strex-approved Gems. In fact!  In fact, it was so brave of him to overcome his weaknesses like that, to try so hard to be strong that Citrine mistook him for a Gem to begin with. Citrine’s eyes widened until they filled his whole face. Amazing. Humans had so much less than Gems, and they could still do all that. Carlos turned onto his side, curling into himself and murmuring. “C...” Of course it would be Cecil, Citrine reminded himself. Night Vale was still stuck in those silly old customs, the ones that said your gemstone name was only for your most intimately trusted family, your dearest loved ones.

“...Chaorite...” and Carlos turned over again, falling back into the indistinguishable mumbling that preserved all sleeping beings from the terrors of the universe. Citrine’s face was burnished gold, scalded by what he’d heard. There was an indistinct tingling in his limbs, around his Gem, and no matter how he closed in on himself it refused to disappear. “Sorry about last night, I’m such a bear when I’m tired...Citrine?” “Kevin!” He burst out, “you can call me Kevin. We should have something special, right? Since we’re friends.” “Um, okay?” And when Citrine - no, Kevin -  clasped his hand he made extra certain not to shatter those fragile human bones. Then he got to work. It was clear that the desert was no place for humans - Carlos slept practically every day, for hours at a time, and sometimes it even interfered with his experiments! Kevin fretted about it as he held up the Shading Device or stared out at the blinking light on the horizon. He’d tried to hold the containers carved from brush and soft rocks that Carlos had made, but another one of his fingers had crumbled and he’d dropped it onto the sand. He had three on the right now - Carlos had seized his hand the last time the ground began rumbling, and the longest digit had fallen into bitter-black dust in that pulsating (humans were always moving inside, it was so strange) grip. Kevin couldn’t bring himself to mind. Just like he didn’t mind that time Carlos had been making strange sounds in his sleep. Kevin had leaned over him, and Carlos had reached up with one hand and a sleep addled gaze. And he’d started running his thumb along the edge of Kevin’s gem, worrying back and gently forth in a rhythm that trapped the breath Kevin didn’t need. And the Gem had sat there, frozen, until Carlos’ thumb moved in and caught on the jagged edges at Kevin’s center, and the quiet perfect moment became stammering and a great deal of distance, and still Kevin hadn’t minded. But there were times when Carlos’ smile vanished, became long and pensive and solitary, and no matter how loudly Kevin told him to cheer up it didn’t seem to help. What they needed was a town. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” Carlos was looking at his phone as he spoke. “Studies suggest that humans are more efficient in a structured society!” He offered, and then, “if we had buildings, then your - Cecil could come and visit you! You’d want him to have someplace to stay, wouldn’t you?” Kevin had worked harder than even he thought he could, building a radio station for Carlos. For - yes, perhaps for Cecil too. They might be friends yet. And it worked for a while. Carlos laughed as they worked side by side, and he was so tired he didn’t have time to stare sadly down at that little obtrusive screen. He laid down next to Kevin even though they had cots now, and Kevin thrilled. Humans were so fragile, but Kevin could protect him. This, truly, must have been his purpose. He was so ecstatic he didn’t mind keeping to himself during his double’s visit. He even covered the radio tower - that was his surprise, and Cecil had come too soon (his dear double had such a habit of that).

And Carlos was happy. Even if he and Cecil hardly left the apartment building that Kevin and Carlos had erected together. That just meant that Kevin had time to talk with the masked warriors about decorating his studio. Things were beginning to feel like home. It was fine. It was all fine.

But then Cecil left, and it was as if all the joy went with him. Carlos was short with his friends, with Kevin, would drift out of his experiments and stare at nothing. He flinched whenever Kevin sat next to him, and he wouldn’t hold Kevin’s hand anymore.  

Kevin was embarrassed at how long it took him to think of the solution. He sat in his new chair, spinning back and forth and constructing a realistic replica of his chain sickle from animal bones. He hadn’t been able to summon his weapon in a long time, and it felt good to stay productive. Kept the nasty little thoughts that were trying to undermine him quiet. 

“Carlos!” There was only one person who could arrive so promptly when they were asked (he assumed, anyway, everyone knew that time wasn’t real - that was why work never stopped!).

“Hey, Kevin,” the scientist pulled off his goggles and scarf, shaking sand from his curls. “Sorry I’m late. I was thinking about thing, and -”

“Science, I know. It’s so important, what you do. You know that, don’t you?” Kevin had felt like he wasn’t important once. Like the universe was vast and he was very alone within it. But things were better now. Things were uninterrupted plains of blank, sunshiney smiles (if he ignored when Carlos wasn’t looking at him, or when he thought about where he had been). 

“I thought so. I’m really not so sure anymore.” Carlos took his phone from his pocket but left it locked, staring down at the black screen and frowning. 

Kevin had had a long speech planned, about Carlos’ dedication to science and the greater good of productive work, and how if he smiled then it would crush all those unhappy feelings down and he would remember what being happy was. But instead, he found himself crossing the room and holding out his hand.

“You should fuse with me!” 

Carlos was staring at his hand. “Um, I’m not sure that’s-”

“Don’t you see? It’s perfect! Then you’ll be able to understand how to be happy, and I’ll be able to share my happiness with you!” He was slightly dizzy at the thought of it. Oh, he thought, Carlos must be a wonderful dancer. 

“Actually, Cecil and I...”

“Oh, don’t worry about that! I would never dream about coming in between you and your boyfriend. It’s just for a minute. Just to make you happy.” And then maybe he would remember how to do it too. Maybe he would feel something.

“Please don’t interrupt me.” Kevin opened his mouth to apologize, but Carlos held his hand up. “All of my tests have shown that humans and Gems are incapable of fusing together. I know you mean well, but it won’t work.”

“But...” he felt something precious slipping between his fingers. He had to get it back. “But you’ve only tried it with Cecil, right?”

“Of course, but I don’t think,” 

“Then how can you know?” He winced a little as Carlos glared, and stopped to wait. 

“I don’t think anything will happen. But,” he sighed, “it was a nice thought.” 

“Could we...would you try it?”

“...Okay.”

“For science, right?” Kevin chirped.

Carlos chuckled, and Kevin’s whole world turned gold. “Yeah. For science.” 

“So, do I? Um,” Carlos swept his foot out, swaying a little to the weather outside.

“Like this!” Kevin took his hand, spinning him in close before swinging him around the studio. Backstep. Sidestep. No matter how he moved he made sure he kept hold of Carlos’ hand. 

“Whoa! Easy,” Carlos’ foot slid across a puddle and his full weight fell into Kevin, sending them both to the floor. 

This was it, this would be perfect. This was-

“Looks like we’re still here.” The beat of Carlos’ human heart was a steady thud against Kevin’s empty chest. “I guess that hypothesis is still sound.” He stood up. “Do you need a hand?”

“....no...” They hadn’t fused. 

“Actually. Ugh, I know that this is a terrible time, but there’s really something I need to talk to you about...” Carlos was still talking, but it had faded into white noise in Kevin’s head. 

Was it because the steps had been wrong? Was there something particular you had to do with humans?

Was it because he was

(empty)

(broken)

(sad)

Imperfect?

A growl of static pushed at his ears. He felt numb, disconnected entirely from his body. He saw something throbbing where his eyes used to be. He’d always thought they were his best feature. 

This wouldn’t do. Carlos would probably be angry at him for not listening again. He scrabbled for his gem, for the edges that would center him. His fingers, he realized, were long and sticky, and resisted when he pulled. The deep breath he took was thick and gargling, and his studio seemed much smaller than it had before.

He took on the slow task of putting himself back together, crushing each unacceptable contortion of himself back down (it was some task getting his arms detached from their thick, meaty cobwebs in the corners!) until he was an approximation of his given form again. 

Carlos was nowhere to be seen. On the desk, set above the room’s careful decorations, was a letter. 

It was a long time before he left the studio again. 

IV. Spinel (Citrine+Tanzanite Cluster)

He had to go back to Strex. That was the first decision he’d made on his own. When he was by himself, he felt adrift and purposeless, the very opposite of what he had been trained for. And the longer he put out his broadcasts to no one the more he started to see things out of the corner of his eyes, to hear screams he didn’t remember that sounded too much like himself. So he walked. He left the station, and the endless roller coaster, and the apartments where no one lived, and he followed after the footsteps still set in the desert sand. It took a long time, especially when his foot caught on a rock and stretched his leg over half a mile of earth, and no amount of pulling would set it right (nothing had been quite right since. If he closed his empty eyes too long he would feel the borders of his self threatening to burst). So he only had one foot now, which was offering some unique challenges (and he’d lost so much time trying to find a sharp enough rock). And though he was fairly sure he could see the outline of a city on the horizon, it never got any closer. He was staring at it from the ground now, lifting himself up now and then to itch sand out of his gem. And eventually he left that, too, and concentrated on the slow whistle of his unnecessary breath passing in and out . A long shadow came over him. He put on his best smile, which seemed so much less wide lately. “Oh! Hello,” his eyes found the cluster of shards at the being’s center, and he fell silent. It was very dangerous to approach or speak with Angels.

He felt himself going gooey again as he stared up at the impossible being, thinking about the last time he’d seen one. About Cecil, about Strex, about - 

**

He woke in a room wholly devoid of sunlight, and panicked. It was a low key sort of panicking, since his limbs had jellied across the cool linoleum floor. After so much sunlight in his core, it felt like being frozen to death. So he did the only thing left that felt natural to him, and the roar cracked three of the low-light fixtures outside of the bloodstones penning him in.

“You just get that all out of your system. Erika wouldn’t even come down here until you were solid again and Erika? They are completely useless with corrupted Gems. So go on.” The voice was not unkind, but nor was it pitying. He imagined it perched above his head in the darkness, waiting. 

He screeched, the reconstituted particles of his body seeking out sunlight and orders and stability. He stabbed outward against walls of nothingness, slithered and burbled across the floor, all the while keening out an impossible sound that seemed to resonate from the very cracks in his Gem. 

“You done?” 

It was still dark. Three of the light bulbs had popped, leaving the moths normally trapped within to flutter overhead and leave soft glow trails behind. It was...beautiful. He felt empty. And he could not speak. 

She seemed to understand. “You stay there. I’ll send Erika down to check on ya later. Be good for him, prissy know it all.” And so saying his captor-savior vanished.

**

“So’re you, like, alive?” 

No matter how many times Kevin rolled away from the voice it kept talking to him. His exhaustion (which Gems, real Gems, most certainly were not supposed to feel) was beginning to overwhelm what should’ve been terror. “You’re very observant,” he said at last. The creature probably didn’t even care that he wasn’t smiling. 

“Great. Let’s get this over with.” An impossibly long hand was reaching toward him, moving to pluck his gem from the mess that was his corporeal form.

“Wait!” Fear. He remembered fear. It was bitter under his tongue. “Stay back.” 

“Ughhhhhhhhhhhh. What is it with Strex Gems? You’re all ‘oh no, why has our god forsaken us,’ or ‘we definitely do not want your super sexy, useful Angel help,’ or ‘why aren’t you wearing pants?’ Do you want fixed or not?”

The word “fix” sent a shudder through him, what would’ve been a convulsion if he’d been able to move more violently. “No, please don’t, I’m not.” He wasn’t in a basement but lying across his desk, broadcasting horrible noises as they showed him bright, terrible things. What remained of his tongue threatened to choke him. 

“Ohhhhhhh no, oh shit. What did I - Hey, Josie!”

There was a commotion of feathers above him, silenced by the commanding boom that had addressed him first. He felt a hand close around him, and his body evaporated.

**

The inside of his gem was warm and close, like being held. It was stable, and empty, and safe. And the longer he waited for his body to pour out on its own, the more he thought it might be nice to stay. 

Any minute they would call for him. Any minute they’d pull him out and give him instruction, and he would know who he was and where he belonged. 

Nothing. 

Had they forgotten him?

Was he no longer even needed, much less wanted?

What did he even look like? It was hard to remember. He thought of Cecil-Chaorite, staring at him and shouting. Neither fat nor thin, tall nor short, gem like the desert night flecked with moonlight. 

Still holding that image, he pulled himself into the world.

“Welcome back.” 

“Sooooooo, can I go now, or,”

“Hush, Erika.” 

“Hey, I keep telling you, my name is-”

“Don’t think I won’t make you go with Erika to the Ralph’s.”

“Whatever.” 

The authoritative voice crouched beside him, and now Kevin could see a pewter stone beneath her collar bone. “Still no eyes,” she muttered. “Can you hear me?”

He nodded.

“Well, least there’s that. Ah,” she caught his hand, already reaching out of habit to worry at the groove in his gem. “You’ll undo all the good Erika’s done, and I don’t want to hear him cryin’ if we need to start over.” 

“I wasn’t - “ the being protested. 

“All the...” Kevin tried to look down at himself, but the jut of his chin kept getting in the way. 

“Listen to me. You can stay down here until you know what you want to do. You’re free to go any time you like. And as long as you don’t cause trouble, you can come on back whenever you want.” 

“Oh,” Kevin said. “Can’t you tell me what to do?”

Her sigh was long, and burdened with more memories than Kevin knew of her. “Oughta give you to the Secret Police Recruitment Center with that attitude - no, that was not a suggestion.” 

“I was looking for Strex. Do you think they’d-” but that didn’t feel right anymore. It set terror broiling down in the pit of his stomach. “Oh,” he said again.

“Like I said. don’t go undoing all the work we started here. And if I hear about you starting any trouble you’ll be right back here. You won’t like it.” She didn’t elaborate. She didn’t need to. 

**

Every few days the golden-winged cluster would come down to check on him, managing to drag his feet even while floating several feet in the air. Kevin would say nothing, staring at the ceiling, and the angel would drag-hover back up the stairs. Except today.

“Are you gonna move or what?”

“Did you need help...friend?” His voice sounded strained and prickling to his own ears now. His face hurt when he tried to smile.

“No.” The angel paused, then touched down. “I’m just super annoyed I have to keep coming down here. This dust is ruining my jacket.” 

“I see.” Kevin sat up. “Say, what if I were to help out here? As a...you know.” Certain habits went down to the bone. 

“Yeah, no. You don’t want to do that.” The angel pointed to the splintered cluster at his navel. It was mostly whitish blue, but a few shards of gold and black had attached themselves as well. 

“Oh, I don’t mind pain.” He minded it a lot. He was minding it right now, and the way it left him time to think. The way idle hands were driving him mad. 

“Uh,” The angel did a double take, pulling some very expensive shades (how to tell the value and worth of things was one of the first things a Strex employee learned) away from his many eyes. “I think there’s some, like, higher calling bs you have to do. I dunno. You been crying?”

“Not as long as I can remember.” He’d tried, even. They took that out with his eyes. “But I think I’m already almost there, aren’t I?” He patted the thin coating of pinkish webbing, like spun sugar, holding the holes in his gem together. It was supposed to be growing new material. Mostly it itched. “If i dig this out, all you’d have to do is crack me against one of these bloodstones!” 

He stood, and the newness of it set him swaying. To both their surprise, the angel caught him. Kevin laughed, feeling the edges of the cluster against his skin. How nice, sensation. “You could even make me part of you!”

“Yeah, no.” The angel dropped Kevin back to the floor, doing the minimal to make sure he didn’t crack head nor gem. Then he sat down, letting his wings flare behind him. “I’m glad we saved you or whatever - I guess - but this whole higher calling thing is,” there was such a long pause Kevin almost thought he’d been forgotten, “the worst.” 

The angel went on. “Now I gotta do all this Strex stuff, and buy things, and go to boring meetings where I might get poisoned, and avoid municipal angel traps.” 

“What...what did you do before?”

“Same thing. I mean, except the angel traps.” He seemed to smirk every time he said the word, at the way Kevin flinched. “But I could totally say forget it and chill in my private library if I wanted. When I wanted. Now I have to, like, care about other Gems. Ugh. Stupid, latent healing abilities,” he went on grumbling to himself. “I mean, Topaz handled all that charity garbage, why do I have to do it.” 

“You did charity?”

“Yeah, when I didn’t have to do it. And I could go tell my dumb assistant to get things done - which he already did. And - Point is, not choosing stuff sucks. So make up your mind already.” A few gold feathers floated through the air, rustled by agitated wings. 

“I see.” 

“Plus it’s illegal to ‘talk to or acknowledge’ me now.” His fingers made themselves into air quotes. “Which uh, laws are supposed to be for poor people? Anyway, you won’t be able to apologize or anything. You, not me. I don’t need to.” 

He thought about who he wanted to help, about the words he’d had pent up since he’d last left Night Vale. None of them seemed quite right anymore. “Do you think you can tell me where the radio station is.”

“Sure, whatever. Finally.” He shook himself out, then paused. “Hey, if you see a little Gem, uh, Jake. Really small, efficient little bastard. Tell him I- tell him ‘whatever.’ He’ll get it.” 

Nightvale was such a strange, quaint little town, almost as strange as its inhabitants. This time, he thought he understood.

V. Amertine (Citrine+Chaorite)

“How did you even get here? There was a giant haze of sleepless wanderlust that just carried Intern Jamil off into the unknowable wastes!”

“Oh, I saw. They seemed in such a hurry.” Kevin frowned. It was really more of a neutral set of his lips, but he’d been so happy at the progress. “Since I’m the only one here, can’t I help?” 

“NO,” Cecil bristled. “Just...just sit over there.” Kevin sat in the chair that he’d come to think of as his. It was the 282nd time he’d sat in it after all, and this time Cecil hadn’t even threatened to call on the cavernous, carnivorous depths of the station to devour Kevin where he stood. 

Cecil stormed around the studio, flipping switches and adjusting microphones until they screeched at the correct audio level for “ceaseless void,” and then all but threw himself into his chair. 

“Ah, Cecil-”

“I said no, Kevin.” Cecil hunched over his desk, grabbing the microphone.

The show started with a horrible feedback screech - one Cecil heard from a distance, as Kevin had plucked the headphones from his ears. He flipped them around, grateful once again that his radio skills had been deemed useful enough for him to keep, and slid them over Cecil’s ears. 

“I - you -” Kevin held up a finger to silence him, turning it into the three, two, one countdown of a well versed part time (once, briefly, subversive) producer. And Cecil began.

Kevin let the sounds roll over him, barely listening to the words. It was very inefficient of him, but he had asked Cecil. It was something of a thrill now, taking these bare minutes before trying again to pick away at the mountain of all the harm he’d done. He scraped his nails against his palm, resisting the urge to scratch at the slowly-closing 

“Listeners, reports are coming in that a plague of literacy is sweeping out from the small, non-municipally approved bookshop that no one has been visiting. Nonetheless, covert copies of an unmarked yellow book have been reported in several homes, and those citizens foolish enough to touch it have been touched with uncontrollable bloodlust, and fealty to a mad and powerful regent, before transforming into terrifying, uncontrollable beasts. Listeners are reminded-” 

Cecil’s phone buzzed on the counter, and Kevin’s hand itched again. It might be Carlos. It might be something he could do. He reached - 

And thought of Carlos’ scowling face, about the words in his letter now nearly a year ago. He thought of Cecil cracking his gem in a conniption fit. 

He smiled, but his hand went back down. 

“-powerful, poisonous jawbones. If found, remember to contact the Sheriff’s Secret Police. They might not come, but they appreciate being thought of. And now, the weather.” Cecil sat back, looking down at his lit phone and then accusingly at Kevin (who held up his hands, empty and not having touched anything). It was a system they had now. With no evidence, Cecil settled in to check his messages. 

His eyes widened. They shrank to pinpricks. And then he was gone from the booth, sprinting as fast as his legs could carry him. 

Kevin’s own expression tracked his fellow Gem, his almost twin, hands twitching with unexpressed action. But the tape on the weather ended, and he knew what Cecil needed him to do right now. 

“Welcome back, Night Vale.” The headphones didn’t fit quite right over his ears, and he would never quite get used to the dry work environment. “I’m afraid Cecil was called away by some urgent business. Don’t worry, I wasn’t involved.” 

He bit his lip. There was only one thing, human or Gem, that could do that to Cecil. “Now, I know you’re used to Cecil letting you in on all his secrets, but I’m afraid I don’t have anything to share. But I - I feel I must find out, Night Vale. From this booth, from Cecil in spirit, and from myself....in apology. Good - good bye, Night Vale. Good luck.” 

**

“Cecil!”

“Shhh!” The man rounded on him. “What are you doing here? Who’s in the booth?”

“Honestly, I signed off, and-”

“YOU WHAT.”

“Sshhh. What’s going on?”

“Look.” He pointed

Carlos was cornered within the confines of his lab, pressed against a rack of spare work-labcoats. 

Prowling around the work tables was an enormous serpentine Gem, the squishing of its chalky hide audible even through the triple-paned window. It had many, many teeth.

“We need to get in there. We need to get to him!” Cecil’s voice had that hint of not quite panic. He couldn’t even look away from the window. “I told him books were restricted by an official agency for a reason!” he moaned. 

“Break the window. That should get its attention.” 

Cecil’s stave was already in his hand. “Stand back.” He drew back, bringing the flat of the weapon against the glass.

A small crack appeared. And nothing more. The creature turned briefly to the window. Its many eyes were empty, and dripping black pus. 

Kevin froze. His eyes never had come back in. Had he looked like that?

“Ughhh, it didn’t even come this way. This is going to take too long! We’ll have to break down the door, unless - Kevin?” 

Don’t Don’t Don’t don’t “We should fuse. We’ll be strong enough to take that thing down before it gets close to him.” 

“I-okay. Hurry.” Cecil helped him up, holding his hand uncertainly.

The separated, bowing in stiff and panicked formality. Each of Cecil’s shuffling steps seemed almost in earnest of getting away from Kevin, who could barely bring himself to move at all. Their feet knocked together, almost tripping them both -

But Cecil’s hand caught his hip, and swung him back to stand, and Kevin followed in the circle of his arms. Their feet daggered for the same small patch of space, all opposites. Cecil was saving him from another fall, was bringing him in so that Kevin’s nose would rest against his neck - 

What if he couldn’t separate again? What if he forgot who Kevin was, who Citrine was? What if there was some disease in him yet that devoured Chaorite, and Carlos would know, and -

They were together for a few seconds, a ball of light that wavered and fell almost as quickly to pieces. 

“Kevin! We don’t have time for this. Hurry up!” Cecil’s hand was in his face, itself trembling.

Kevin got up. And he ran. 

Out of the yard, across the street. When he was positive he’d judged the distance correctly he started forward, the sound of Cecil’s shouting distant in his ears -

He made an almost clean jump through the window, barely any shard lodged in his torso and arms. If anything, that proved a ble-an opportunity, the easier to pluck a thick chunk from his own skin and turn it on Carlos’ would-be assailant. 

It terrified him how easy it still was to slip back into being blissfully numb, to enjoy the feeling of his hands turning slippery and the sound of a gem cracking between his fingers. He didn’t have to think. He didn’t have to try or apologize, or hope that maybe one day-

“KEVIN!” Carlos was looking at him. But not at his eyes, really.

He looked down. There was a severed claw was buried in his throat, The tiny razor hooks on the edges were still scrabbling with memory, scratching at the sides of his gem. 

He meant to say something comforting, but all that came out was “Hhhhh.” 

And everything went away for a while.

**

When he was ready to come out again (it was still half in and half out of his grasp, but it was improving), it was with the clear idea of “not Chaorite.” He felt his limbs fill out, mostly whole, and his hair. The burnished desert overseen by the darkened sky. 

Cecil and Carlos were leaning over him. He smiled. “How’s this?” He asked.

Cecil puffed up his chest, face tight and strange, and he stabbed an accusing finger at Kevin. “Don’t you ever do that again!”

“Sorry.” He was still so tired. He thought maybe one of his arms wasn’t on right. “The fusion was a bad idea.” 

“The - Ughhhhh, you are just impossible.” Cecil threw his hands up and walked away (only to the corner of the room and then back, but he made a very impressive show of it). 

Kevin turned back to Carlos, going for a look of amusement rather than pain. “I guess I’ve riled him up again.” 

Carlos didn’t return his smile. “Kevin don’t...don’t put yourself in danger for me. I mean, I am thankful to be alive to tell you that, but,” 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” and it sounded almost like his old cadence, the empty one. “There’s still so much that I owe you.” 

“Well, scientifically,” Carlos bit down on the word, “it would be much harder to do anything when you’re dead.” 

“Actually-” Cecil chimed in.

“Honey, not now.” Carlos pushed his hair back, and his free hand settled on Kevin’s. “Just. Don’t. Alright?”

“I think I understand.” He’d been waiting for this day to come, anyway. He wondered if there was another Erika he could ask for help.

“And you could at least try to save my interns from horrible death when you’re coming in, by the way.” Cecil snapped. He made as if to cross his arms, only to reach one down to the newest missing chip in the surface of citrine. “I’ll.” his thumb brushed on it, lingered, and his face grew closed. “I’m going to call Josie.” 

He paused at the door. “Next time just tell me you aren’t ready to fuse. We’ll figure it out.” 

Carlos didn’t comment on the growing wet patch on the pillow, just kept his fingers threaded, soft, through Kevin’s hair.

VI. Citrine

He should’ve gone home hours ago. The dishes were long in the sink, Carlos was doing the cute yawning thing that humans did, and the television had switched over to demanding sacrifices of small yarn animals for continued streaming access. 

“This must be what I get for introducing you to sleep,” Carlos said, looking down at the prone Gem on the couch. 

“Sorry. Sorry, I’ll,” 

“I’m joking. See?” Carlos called into the next room. “See what happens when you try to tell non-factually accurate jokes?”

“Citrine is not a certified comedy audience.” Chaorite had re-appeared from the bedroom with a thick comforter, which he tucked around their guest without further comment.

“No, it’s fine. I should leave you two lovebirds alone.” Still, he let Chaorite (he couldn’t quite say it like that out loud, even with permission, but it had such a nice ring inside his head) smooth the fabric around him, and then surreptitiously smooth his hair. It was getting long this time. Chaorite loved long hair. 

He stayed still as the two of them headed to the bedroom, still teasing at one another. He stayed when Carlos reappeared, laughing at his own forgetfulness, and laid a kiss on Citrine’s (he wasn’t sure about it, but it meant something to them, so he was willing to try) forehead. 

He lay in the dark, contemplating sleep he wanted but didn’t need, and soothed himself by rubbing his finger over his gem. The healing treatment from the angels had left a long, lumpy mark where the cracks had formed, a visible and permanent imperfection. 

He found himself proud of it. 

  “Ibelieve that you’re ready for this. Do youthink you’re ready for this?” He knows she’s ready – he’s seen her use herweapon multiple times, practicing for hours in the heat and sun – but he won’tpush it if she doesn’t believe she is.

               Janicechews her lower lip and inspects the gemstone on her hand, unresponsive. Thegem once belonged to Fluorite, Steve’s wife and Janice’s mother. Steve knowsthat Janice has occasional doubts about herself. He also knows that thosedoubts, while perhaps justifiable in Janice’s mind, are unfounded. He knowsmany things with certainty.

               “Here,summon your weapon, okay?” Steve watches as Janice’s palm is surrounded by abrilliant white light, then three small throwing knives form in her hand. Stevenods in approval. “Great! Now, um…” He pauses, pointing at a nearby tree. “Tryto hit that leaf. The orange one?” There is one orange, dry leaf amidst a seaof multicolored, not-orange leaves. Autumn is a considerable ways away – no needfor the leaves to turn one color just yet.

               Janice’shand shakes, then settles.  He watches herrelax, the tension flowing out of her shoulders. Her breathing slows. Sheraises her arm, knives in hand, and throws them. The knives splits through theair, whooshing and landing on the tree. One splits the bark by the leaves, theother pierces four leaves before falling in an arc to the ground, and the thirdcuts right through the middle of the orange leaf.

               “See? Adirect hit!” Steve laughs. “You’ve got this.”

               Janice’ssmile becomes more self-assured. “Yeah. Maybe you’re right.”

               “Just…beserious, but don’t be so serious that you stress yourself out.  You can have fun, too. You’ll get to see newplaces, places beyond Night Vale!” He glances around for any members of theCity Council, the Sheriff’s Secret Police, or the undercover agents from thatgovernment agency everyone knows about but nobody talks about. He sees no signof them, so he feels relieved that he doesn’t have to add “not that you should want to leave Night Vale.”

               Heloves this city, but he sees more than others do. He knows the connections ithas with the gems. Nobody else does, and for once Steve thinks that’s a goodthing. They might try to drive the gems away if they knew. Even Emerald – knownto the ordinary citizens as Dana Cardinal – the mayor of Night Vale. They mighteven try to drive Janice away, and there’s no way Steve will let that happen.

               “Okay!It’s too bad you can’t come. You always talk about traveling.”  

               “I wishI could come with you, but Charoite would probably say I’d just get in the way.And he’s probably right.” Steve grins, though despite his lighthearted tonethere is plenty of truth in his words. Charoite – Cecil Palmer, to the AverageFolk – doesn’t think kindly of Steve. Though he’s never said it outright, Stevehas a feeling that Charoite blames Steve for Fluorite’s disappearance. But hisanger at Steve has been lessened by Janice’s presence – Charoite could neverblame Janice.

               Janicetisks, bringing Steve from his thoughts. “Mm, I think you’d do pretty good on amission! But we’d need to find you a weapon.” Janice thinks for a moment, thenclaps her hands. “Ooh – hey, what about mom’s scimitar?”

               “I’dprobably cut my arm off with that thing.”

               “Well,you could practice first… maybe you and Emerald can practice together! I’m sureshe’d be happy to help you! I mean, if Carlos can come, I don’t see why you can’t.”

               “We’llsee. I might try asking her.” But that would mean allowing Emerald to enter hishouse, and letting her see his illegal writing utensils, books, and wheat-and-wheatbyproducts. If he’s going to go through with this training idea – and he has astrong feeling that he will – then he’ll need to do a bit of cleaning first.

               Janicestarts to speak, but she’s interrupted by the activation of the warp pad. Thearea is flooded with blue-white light, and when it evaporates three figuresstand in the middle of it.

               “Hey,Janice.” Emerald smiles, while Carlos waves.

               “Wewere checking out the area beforehand, and it all looks pretty safe.” Carlos surveyshis clipboard, then looks to Janice. “There are a few corrupted gems, but it’snothing we can’t handle, right Janice?”

               “Right,Uncle Carlos!”

               “Areyou ready to go?” Charoite asks. A smile is on his face, but Steve can tellthat he’s a bit cautious. Steve understands all too well – though he knowsJanice can handle herself, he still can’t help but worry. It’s like sending heroff on her first day of school….multiplied by about a hundred.

               Janicenods. “Yup! I’m all ready.” Her nervousness has changed to an excited energy,an eagerness to explore. Steve isn’t sure if she inherited that from him, orfrom Fluorite. Either way, seeing her so excited calms his nerves.

               “Havefun, kiddo.” Steve hands her the water bottle, which she places in her backpack.Janice rolls up the warp pad’s ramp, and takes her place by Charoite.

               Charoiteplaces his hand on Carlos’ shoulder, and their gems start to glow. The warp padglows and their forms start to dissipate. Steve waves as his daughter smiles athim. She vanishes, and Steve is left staring at nothing.