Archive of Our Own ^beta

Sometimes, a mother's love is a bird flying low over rushing waters, watching the waves for a trace of danger even if her eggs are safe in the nest; sometimes a mother's love is a worried flurry of feeling, a hand on a shoulder, a smile on the corner of her mouth, a kiss on the forehead when the danger is gone.

Steven Universe, bright eyed, ran down the grassy hill on which the beach house sat. Wispy grey clouds unfurled in the pale sky above him as he followed closely a yellow and blue butterfly. Sandals murmured the ground, laughter filled the summer air. 

"Steven!" Pearl called out to him. "Steven, please be careful!" 

The boy followed the fluttering of blue and yellow wings past Pearl, hands outstretched to the wonder of nature that he'd just discovered. 

His sandals – bright pink against the green tufts of grass– were slipping. 

"Steven!"

Two arms caught him as he looked up at Pearl with wonder, with appreciation, with relief. And Pearl knew, of course she knew, that Steven wouldn't be hurt if he slipped and fell once. 

But two arms hold him and they don't let go. 

Maybe it was her fear. Maybe she couldn't stand to lose anyone to something as trifling as a butterfly and a hot summer day.

"Steven! You need to be more careful!" She scolded, but her eyes are filled with worry instead of anger. "Are you hurt?"

Steven, looking at her, shakes his head. 

"Oh, Steven!" Pearl hugs him closer. "I love you, Steven."

"I love you too, Mom." 

Pearl hesitates, shaking her head. "No, Steven. Pearl."

Sometimes a mother's love is a cool summer evening, star-kissed and filled with flecks of light, pecks on the nose and cheek that mean 'I will love you for all of time'; sometimes a mother's love is the unintentional, subconscious 'I love you no matter what' that is weaved between a bedtime story and a nightlight.

"It's way past your bedtime, Steven." Pearl said firmly, arms crossed as she sat on the foot of Steven's bed and watched him protest groggily. The soft light from his night light illuminated a corner of his room, bathing his blanket in a baby blue glow.

"I'm not tired, Pearl. Really!" Steven claimed, stifling a yawn. 

The slender gem sighed deeply. " One more bedtime story." She held up her index finger. "Just one ." 

Steven nodded and cuddled himself into his comforter, wide eyes on the gem. 

"Once upon a time, in a land far, far away…" She began. 

Steven was sleeping in five minutes, with a large yawn, a hug to M.C Bear Bear, and a muffled 'goodnight, mom,' as he drifted off.

Pearl shook her head a little and kissed his forehead. "I'm not your mother, Steven." She whispered with just an itch of guilt, but knew he couldn't hear. "...Goodnight."

Sometimes a mother's love is a calm pool flowing sweetly at the end of a waterfall and flooding with clarity and understanding, a calming nod or a kind word when the world has seemed to go to chaos; sometimes a mother's love is the only thing grounding someone — an anchor when they're drifting away. 

Steven, with his shoulders heavy, stood in the kitchen. His eyes glazed over with hot tears of realization, swears forming in his mouth and red hot anger in his mind.

The portrait of his mother hung triumphantly still on the wall. 

"I am not my mom!" Steven was shouting, his eyes pressed shut and his hands waving wildly as if he was so afraid of being taken seriously but didn't want to show that fear. "I can't be like her. I can't be her!" 

The silence in the room suffocated the three gems surrounding him. 

Amethyst, looking shaken.

Garnet, looking ashamed.

And Pearl.

Steven's yells came crashing down like a storm, his pain and his frustration. There's a certain degree of discomfort that Pearl felt, driven by something to make his pain stop. Make him feel better. 

"Steven…" She came closer, only inches closer. "We're here to listen." 

And that was all that Steven needed to hear.

Sometimes a mother's love is flickering with fire, crackling with the sputtering of misplaced words and the odd attachment of 'I hate you' in a single look; sometimes, a mother's love is knowing when someone is lying.

Steven was sixteen now, and having liberated the galaxy, he still had his fair share of conflicts to work through. 

His temper, for one.

His pink powers.

His self isolation.

"Steven, let us help you!" Pearl pleaded, one hand flat against the translucent pink barrier that the teen had put up around him. "We just want to help you!"

Steven shook his head, not meeting her eyes. "I'm fine." He insisted. "I'm perfectly fine!" 

Pearl didn't believe him for a second. With a glance toward Garnet and a small shrug to Amethyst, the gem stepped as close as she could to the pink wall. "Steven!" She begged. "Put this wall down this instant!" 

" Leave me alone ." 

"Steven-" 

"I said leave me alone, Mom!" 

It stung. It stung because of the flames in his voice, and it stung because he'd never spoken to her in a way that made her feel like she hadn't done enough. "I'm-!"

Pearl knew that when Rose Quartz died, she wouldn't be able to fill her role. She shouldn't have tried to. She knew she would fall short a million different ways. 

And she did.

And she had.

And she would. 

Sometimes a mother's love is saying goodbye, waving through a foggy beach house window as your son, the kind and capable teenager, drives away into a new chapter of his life.

"Goodbye, Mom."

And this time, she didn't correct him.