Pieces of a Whole

     “Can you still move your elbow?”

     “Oh, no. I can’t absolutely cannot. Will never move it again.”

     Lapis rolled their eyes, knowing full well that Citrine’s extremities all seemed to be coming back together nicely– Citrine’s expression, clearly trying to lighten the mood, was confirmation enough. Little by little, the librarian scooped up shards of glass, bits of Citrine themself, to assemble them. Already coated with the same glue that bonded them all, the pieces slot together with a satisfying click.

     “Not funny?” Citrine offered, suddenly rethinking their joke.

     “It’s not that,” Lapis said absentmindedly, “Just fell flat.”

     Citrine pouted, but their disappointment was quickly forgotten with another piece falling into place. They flexed their newly assembled finger, nodding as they did. Mobility stayed fluent, as expected, “You have a knack for this,” they pointed out.

     “It takes a keen eye to assemble you properly.”

     “Librarian eyes,” Citrine added, amused.

     “Yes, well. Perhaps. But Rutile is far more detailed oriented. And with it, well–”

     Clunk, as two mismatched pieces repelled each other. Lapis must have miscalculated, and after grabbing another fragment from the pile, they confirmed their suspicions. Embarrassed, but careful not to show it, they cleared their throat.

     “-- far more gentle than me. Sorry.”

     With playful golden eyes, Citrine stuck their tongue out. “Should I take my words back?”

     Lapis couldn’t help but laugh, “Depends. If I’m the one who’s putting you back together maybe that’ll teach you not to get shattered again.

     Citrine did not answer, tensing just so. For a second, they spared a glance at the window. Lapis didn’t have to follow their gaze to know what they were thinking about.

     Lunarian attacks started to become more scarce the closer one came to Winter, but though they were certainly uncommon, they weren’t necessarily rare. Still, with the warmth of Summer waning, it was hard for every gem to keep open to their senses. And the colder it got, and the less frequent Lunarian attacks started becoming, the more careless one would get in the daily watch. Lapis hesitated to call it laziness because he knew that every day was a struggle for survival, and one could not be expected to live through terror every moment of the day.

     Yet it had been laziness that had gotten Citrine hurt.

     Not from Citrine themself, who had just been at the wrong place, at the wrong time. All it had taken was a single Lunarian sunspot to slip through the eye of the northern squad, and just like that, they had come close enough to the school to spot Citrine laying down on the grass.

     Lapis had seen it all, an arrow, a slash, and a shower of glass and glitter as their arm fragmented into the air.

     Back-up had arrived swiftly, if not messily, after Citrine’s first scream. The battle raged on just enough for a couple more injuries, but at that point, Lapis had dragged Citrine away and the pair retreated into the building. By the end of it all, Rutile had been left to piece together those with more urgent matters. And to make sure that Citrine would not stay in such a damaged position, Lapis volunteered to play doctor in Rutile’s stead.

     It was scary how much a day could be turned in the blink of an eye, how danger could manifest, silently, a predator ready to strike. That Citrine losing an arm was only a matter of seconds, and given just a couple more, an arm would have been the least of their worries.

     Lapis tried not to think about it.

     Click, they assembled the better part of Citrine’s forearm. This time, Lapis took extra care of the details, matching each piece where they should go. It was easy when focusing on it. They passively wondered if sorting books in the library’s archives had anything to do with it.

     “I’m sorry,” Lapis said, with a sigh. “I– It wasn’t your fault.”

     “You don’t need to apologize,” Citrine said, sighing as well. They often mirrored Lapis when in conversation with them. A sign of trust, perhaps, which only made the regret in Lapis’ mouth taste a little bit more sour, “I need to work on my reflexes.”

     Click, “Once again, it wasn’t your fault. I’ve just been… well, worried.”

     Citrine perked up, “It’s okay. You weren’t hurt, right? And if it happens again so close to the school, I promise I’ll protect you.”

     Lapis grimaced, “It’s not me who I’m worried about.”

     Click. 

     Silence. Citrine’s eyes were fixated on Lapis, but he chose not to look up from their work. For just a second, as the gravity of the situation truly settled in, neither of them dared to speak.

     Then, Citrine truly processed Lapis’ words.

     “Hey, look! I’m fine! I mean, the arm was a bit busted, but you know this is just a scratch. And the rest of the gems are fine, too. We’re all fine.”

     Lapis nodded, still looking down as if they didn’t believe Citrine.

     “Hey. Look,” the gem reached out to grab one of the shards, aiming to put themselves back together. They were able to, anyways, conscious as they were, which was a point in their favor. It was the last shard to be assembled, which was another point to stack the odds, “Super easy. I just need to–”

     The shard made a high pitch wail, as citrine met citrine a bit too fast. Like flint to stone, though lacking a spark. The gem let out a surprised yelp, and Lapis jumped at the combination.

     “Hey, give me that!” They were quick to retrieve the shard and examine it for damages. Once they confirmed Citrine hadn’t chipped it further than it was, they weren’t able to hold back a laugh. “Don’t do that again, this is supposed to be a science! Why do you think Rutile is so nitpicky about this?”

     “Sorry,” Citrine squeaked, though there was a smile on their face. Always too eager, always too happy, even in the face of what could have been a tragedy.

     But it hadn’t been. Citrine was safe and sound.

     Lapis sighed once again, indulging in such a repetitive action of release. This time around, they allowed the sigh to wash away any traces of concern, and focus on their partner. Here, and now.

     Click. 

     Citrine’s hand became once again a singularity, pieces of a whole back where they belonged. As if they needed more confirmation, Lapis laced their fingers with Citrine’s, running their thumb across his knuckles. No longer pieces. Just a whole.

     “I am glad you are okay,” Lapis whispered, reaching down to kiss Citrine’s hand. A small act of affection, testing the waters to see where such emotion would stand.

     As it often was with Citrine, they returned the sentiment in double. With their other hand to spare, Citrine wrapped Lapis into a hug. It was nice, feeling them so close, knowing they were both together. Safe.

     “I must say though,” Citrine said, after letting the hug breathe for a second longer, “I do appreciate your doctor skills. Anything I can do to convince you to become a permanent nurse or something?”

     Lapis laughed again, “Never, not for anything,” they lied. For Citrine, they would.