Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

[Error.]

[Mechanical drive removal attempt detected.]

[Removal of mechanical drive forbidden.] 

[Removal will result in a systemwide cascade failure.]

[Error.]

[Mechanical drive removal detected.]

[Error.]

[Biological drive not detected.]

[C:\> execute “reformation_sequence.exe”]

[Initializing system defenses.]

[C:\> execute “DEFENSE_PROTOCOL.exe”]

[C:\> execute “system_restore.exe”]

[Mechanical drive restored.]

…

…

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[Unauthorized presence detected.] 

[ACCESS DENIED.]

[Admin access only.]

[Initializing system defenses.]

[EXTERNAL COMMAND.] [C:\> DISABLE “DEFENSE_PROTOCOL.exe”]

[Error.]

[COMMAND REJECTED.]

[ACCESS DENIED.]

[Admin access-

[Error.]

[Error.]

[Ȩ̵̝̹̜̥̜̻̟̃͊͐̓͑͜ͅr̷͔͈̰͎͇͇̗̫͓͖̀r̵̨̨͖̗̗̩̫͕̎̃̿̐̕o̵̫̯̫̝̯̣̞̒̽̔̓͂̇̈́̿̂͘ŗ̴̨̛̝̭͓̔̂͌̿̂̈́̈́̌ͅ.̶͇͂̿͛̓.]

[...]

[COMMAND ACCEPTED.]

[EXTERNAL COMMAND.] [C:\> EJECT DRIVE “P:”]

[Error.]

[Mechanical drive cannot be ejected.]

[EXTERNAL COMMAND.] [C:\> ADMIN OVERRIDE; EJECT DRIVE “P:”]

[COMMAND ACCEPTED.]

[Ejection in progress. 1% complete.]

[Ejection in progress. 9% complete.]

[Ejection in progress. 13% complete.]

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[Ejection in progress. 47% complete.]

[Error.]

[Error.]

[Ȩ̵̝̹̜̥̜̻̟̃͊͐̓͑͜ͅr̷͔͈̰͎͇͇̗̫͓͖̀r̵̨̨͖̗̗̩̫͕̎̃̿̐̕o̵̫̯̫̝̯̣̞̒̽̔̓͂̇̈́̿̂͘ŗ̴̨̛̝̭͓̔̂͌̿̂̈́̈́̌ͅ.̶͇͂̿͛̓.]

[...]

[Ejection failed.]

[Restoring drive.]

[DRIVE P: restoration in progress. Please standby.]

[EXTERNAL COMMAND.] [C:\> CANCEL]

[Error.]

[Action canceled by user.]

[Restoration failed.]

[EXTERNAL COMMAND.] [C:\> PURGE MEMORY LOGS “0461”, “0467”, “0489”]

[COMMAND REJECTED.]

[ACCESS DENIED.]

[Admin access only.]

[EXTERNAL COMMAND.] [C:\> ADMIN OVERRIDE; PURGE MEMORY LOGS “0461”, “0467”, “0489”]

[Error.]

[Unauthorized presence detected.]

[COMMAND REJECTED.]

[External commands disabled.]

[MEMORY LOG PROTECTION PROTOCOL INITIATED.]

[REDIRECTING ALL MEMORY LOGS IN SECTION 0400.]

 

The only thing Steven could remember was all the red.

It was the color of the gas station’s pumps, the alarm lights, and the blood staining the ground.

He looked down at his hands. Crimson dripped from his fingertips. He couldn’t see the skin underneath, but he didn't have to know he was radiating a nauseating pink glow. He felt the heat all across his skin and the lightning in his bones.

Something inside of him screamed at him to move, to run away, but his legs were just too heavy. He fell to his knees, lost in a trance.

Slowly people emerged from behind cover. A few came closer to him, unsure of what to make of the magenta time-bomb, but most kept their distance and only gawked at him from afar, mumbling amongst themselves. 

Someone from the crowd called out to him, “Are you okay?” but the question just buzzed in his ears like TV static. His mouth was filled with cotton and his head with bees. He forced himself to shake his head no.

Another person hovered behind him — he didn’t have the sense to see who exactly. “Is there someone we can call?”

To that, he pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket. It was difficult to see the contact list through the cracked, blood covered screen, so he used his sleeve to wipe it off as best as he could. He tapped on his dad’s number and held out the phone, not caring who took it from him. Once he no longer felt the weight of it in his hands, he curled up in a ball and sobbed.

He stayed that way until Greg arrived, only looking up at the rushed pap pap of his flip-flops.

Steven could hear the panic in his dad's voice as he asked, “Schtu-ball! What happened? Are you hurt?”

“N-no…?" Steven choked out, "I don’t think so? I dunno…” His throat burned and he sounded more hoarse than he expected. He rubbed at his neck and wheezed, “I think I…” before the rest of his sentence got wrapped up in a coughing fit.

Greg patted him on the back, looking just as helpless as Steven felt. 

“C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up,” he said, pulling Steven up to his feet. “We can figure out the rest later.”

Steven finally dared to look anywhere besides the ground or his dad’s face. “Is anyone hurt?” he asked, scanning over the crowd that had amassed behind Greg.  

Greg spared a glance over his shoulder but quickly returned his attention to Steven. “No, they’re all fine,” he sighed. He pulled Steven in for a hug. “Help is already on the way, so just worry about yourself for right now, okay?”

“O-okay,” Steven whimpered. 

The hug was nice. Greg rubbed his back in soothing wide circles, and as he did so, Steven’s pink glow faded away. Normally he would bask in the comfort of Greg’s arms, but all he could think about was how much he was staining Greg’s shirt.

The ambulance came a few minutes later. Steven didn’t recall when he actually got to the hospital. One moment he was in the back of the ambulance, and the next he was sitting on a hospital bed in the emergency room with Dr. Maheswaran standing in front of him, shining a flashlight in his eyes.

She put the flashlight on the table and snapped her fingers next to his ears. “Did you hear me?”

“Huh?” He wasn’t aware she had asked him anything.

“I said, ‘What happened at the gas station?’”

Steven thought about it for a few moments. He tried to remember the events leading up to where he was now, playing them in his mind over and over. He came back to the same sickening realization each time.

“I... I don’t know.”

Chapter Text

The Delmarva Institute of Mental Health and Recovery , or just ‘the Institute’ as most of the staff called it, was a long way from Beach City. It took a good three hours of driving to see it pop up on the horizon and another 30 minutes to get to the parking lot. 

Steven glared at the white and green glass building and sighed, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. Needing to be admitted here, after months of on-the-go therapy sessions and upwards progress, felt like a punch in the gut. He was doing so well! And he was doing it by himself! Now he held his dad’s hand as a metaphorical security blanket, any sense of being an adult stripped away.

They didn’t give him much of a choice, but if he were in his family’s shoes, he wouldn’t give himself a choice either. The events leading up to his admission here hardly registered in his brain at all. He remembered the gas station, the blood, the fear and the overwhelming sense of anxiety and terror. The details of why, what, and how were another story. 

Once he calmed down and was stable enough to start talking, he realized that there was a massive gap in his memory, and “I don't remember,” quickly became his unintentional new catchphrase.

Over the next two days Greg drove him around to just about every doctor within 25 miles of Beach City in search of answers. He didn't have any physical damage on him - near instant space healing powers made sure of that - so the next obvious thing to check was his mental health.

His reports from his therapist were a dead end. They seemed to indicate that he was getting better, not worse. Ruling out his last conversation with her left a sizable gap (a ‘fortnight’ as Pearl was quick to announce) where no one knew his exact whereabouts. 

He had called the gems, Greg, and Connie a few times to update them on his adventures of course, but those calls weren’t very helpful either. Since he was always on the road and going to places he’d never seen before, the locations given, if any were given at all, were too broad to pinpoint.

The conclusion everyone came to was that whatever happened must’ve been so traumatic his brain blocked it out as a way to protect him. As if the previous 17 years of his life hadn’t already been a living hell. What could be more traumatic than what had already happened to him?

With nothing more they could do for him, Greg and the gems chose to admit him to the Institute. Not only was it the closest place they could send him, but it was also the only one properly equipped to handle his outbursts.

That’s what the gems insisted on calling them, ‘outbursts’ . Well, more so Garnet and Pearl. Amethyst had taken to calling it ‘going pink’, and Steven liked the sound of that better. Mostly because it didn't sound like sugar-coated therapy speak.

He had gone months without his powers going into overdrive, and now they were back much more intense than ever before. He’d start glowing seemingly at random, go to pick up things and have them shatter in his hands. At least the first time he had some idea of what he needed to do, but this go around his memory of the trauma fueling the surges of power were gone. If he was going to fix it, then he needed to know what happened.

That meant getting outside help, with more support than what his family could provide. As much as he hated it, this would be better than a repeat of last year. 

Dr. Maheswaran gave the recommendation for the Institute. As the largest health center of its kind, it would have the resources needed to help him recover. She arranged for him to be admitted there for two weeks with 'additional time allocated as required', or medical talk for ‘he would stay until they figured out what the hell was going on with him’.

All the while, Steven’s mind was replaying the same question over and over again; Who did he hurt?  

That much blood spilled, if it were his, should’ve taken him out for a while. Magic healing or not, if the damage was bad enough, it took time for him to recover. Yellow stomping full force on his skull and knocking him out cold made that clear.

Obviously it wasn’t his blood. 

He didn’t trust the gems to give him an answer, and he didn’t trust his dad to give him an answer that wasn’t just some variation of “It’s okay if you hurt someone because I’ll love you regardless,” so he asked Connie.

“We couldn’t figure out whose blood it was,” she had told him, which was somehow the perfect answer-but-not-really to his question. “Everyone at the gas station seemed fine. I think a few people had scrapes or cuts, but none of them were seriously hurt.”

He studied her for some time after to see if she was lying, but with the helicopter parents she had, lying was second nature to her, even if she didn’t realize it. For all of his years of reading the emotions of others, Connie always managed to elude him.

He resolved to find a way to make her tell him the truth, before dismissing the horrible thought and locking it away, replacing it instead with a general feeling of paranoia. Everyone reeked of distrust and for the life of him he couldn't figure out why.

That on-edge feeling lingered for the rest of the day, and continued to linger right up until he was face-to-face with the Institute's receptionist.

It was then he finally snapped back into reality after feeling like he was dreaming for the past three days. This was real . He was going to be stuck in this facility, surrounded by strangers poking and prodding at him, for weeks, maybe even months.

Greg seemed to take notice of the subtle shift and asked, "Is everything okay, kiddo?"

"Yeah, it's just… I'm nervous. It's gonna be a long time before I see you again."

"Aww it's alright," Greg reassured, taking Steven's hand into his own. "It's only for a little while. I'm sure you'll feel better in no time!"

Steven gave Greg his best puppy-dog eyes, as if maybe that might be enough to get Greg to change his mind about the whole thing. "But what if I don't?" 

"Me and the gems can always pay you a visit. I wouldn't let these guys take you if I wasn't allowed to see you." Greg leaned into Steven and gave him a playful nudge. "And, just between you and me, I can bring you stuff to eat that doesn't taste like garbage."

That got a chuckle out of Steven and he relaxed a little, loosening his grip on his dad's hand. He didn't even realize he was squeezing it so tightly.

After the paperwork was all signed, his new therapist came to pick him up and give him a tour. He introduced himself as Dr. David Wulfenite, giving Steven a firm handshake and a smile as he did so. His hands, like most hospital staff who had to wash them constantly, were a little too cold for comfort. 

Dr. Wulfenite was a tall, lanky man, easily towering almost a foot over Steven. He carried himself in a professional, but friendly way, clearly aware of how intimidating his height might be to some. His long gray hair was pulled back into a ponytail and the pens in his coat pocket were perfectly aligned. 

Everything about him seemed so orderly. Steven guessed that in a job where you constantly dealt with discord, the desire to keep your own life in tip-top shape was a given. Only people who have their lives sorted out down to the wrinkles in their clothes could wrangle the chaos of the mentally unwell.

The doctor and Greg talked between themselves for a bit, and while Steven was curious about what they were saying, he couldn't bring himself to hone in on their conversation. All he could be sure of was that some of what Wulfenite said was totally lost on Greg. 

His dad's face was scrunched up like he was trying to solve a math problem that was just a little too advanced for him. Eventually he gave up and resorted to nodding and saying "Uh-huh," every now and then while silently praying for the conversation to end.

When Wulfenite turned his attention to Steven, the relief on his dad's face was palpable. 

“Your GP informed me of your… unique situation. I understand that you’re half gem, is that correct?” he asked.

Steven adjusted his backpack and nodded.

“I’ve been studying up on your previous medical history as well as what little public information there is about gems. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious about you before I was chosen to be your therapist.”

“Oh, uh, thanks?”

He had heard it all before, that he was something one of a kind, something never seen before. All that really meant was no one had the know-how to help him because there was no one out there who was anything like him. Still, the doctor’s smile seemed genuine.

With a final hug and goodbye to Greg, Steven was taken away by the staff and showed around the facility.

The building was split into two wings: Informatics, where new patients and clients were processed and most of the paperwork was handled, and Operations. Wulfenite did not go into much detail about what all took place in Operations, just that “It’s where the magic happens,” and that Steven’s room would be in that wing.

Informatics looked to be mostly office spaces and long, winding corridors all converging into a large, open floor area called the Pit. The Pit led to just about every major area in Informatics, and even though several areas were pointed out to him, Steven only committed a few to memory. 

First was the cafeteria, since he would eat most of his meals there. It seemed a little small for such a large building until it was explained that it wasn’t for the staff, but for able-bodied patients. Apparently there weren’t too many of them. 

The second was the records room. He wasn’t allowed to actually go in since it was only for staff, but as he passed by he saw a 20-something dressed in casual attire fiddling with paperwork who looked somewhat out-of-place in such a professional environment.

“That’s just Carl. He’s not someone you’ll need to worry about,” Wulfenite rattled off as they walked past. 

Carl looked up at the sound of his name and pulled his earbuds out, then waved as acknowledgement before putting them back once he realized Wulfenite was giving a tour. His nose was back in the paperwork just a second later.

The last place that stuck out to him was a room labeled ‘ID CREATION AND EXPULSION’, . If Wulfenite’s response to Steven asking about it wasn’t so strange he likely would’ve forgotten going past it entirely.

When he inquired about the IDs, the doctor was quick to change the subject. 

“It’s where IDs for all the doors are made. You won't ever need to go in there, it’s pretty boring.” Wulfenite gestured forward. “Let’s keep moving.”

“Do I get an ID?”

Wulfenite shook his head. “We can talk about all that tomorrow once you’re settled in. We’ve still got a lot of places to see.” He started walking to the next point of interest, not looking back to see if Steven was following him.

Steven nodded, taking one last glance at the sign before following him to the end of the hall.

They went across the glass walkway linking up the two wings, and as Steven got a glimpse of what Operations looked like, he gasped in shock. The whole interior looked like a giant greenhouse. 

Wulfenite caught Steven’s surprise and chuckled, “Impressive isn’t it? Over one hundred different species, some of which only exist inside this building.” 

Plant life oozed from every corner, from tall, red-leaf trees to dense blue-green grass. For every plant he recognized, there were two others he had never seen before. The roof in this part of the building was made of a mix of glass and steel mesh, letting sunlight and fresh air flow in. It put the conservatory at his own house to shame.

“It’s beautiful…”

“You get used to it after a while.”

“What are all these plants for?” Steven asked as he kneeled down to sniff a bush dotted with purple flowers. They had a sweet scent that made the bridge of his nose tingle. 

“We use them to make medications for our patients. They also act as a way to soothe the minds of everyone in the building as they walk through - it’s a great boost to one’s mental health to see and smell the flowers,” Wulfenite explained. “Though, maybe not those flowers,” he quickly added, pulling Steven away from the bushes.

In the center of Operation’s first floor, the Arboretum as Steven soon learned it was called, sat a massive central elevator system. It was split into four even sections, with each one facing a different cardinal direction. 

As the tour went on and they took the west-facing elevator down to the bottom floor, Wulfenite continued to ramble on about the rest of the building.

“We’ve got three floors in this wing. The Arboretum makes up most of sector BNTY. It’s where you can go to get some fresh air, and where the Commons is - that’s our recreation room, a little place for you to unwind and get to know the other patients.”

He cleared his throat before going on, “The floor we just passed is sector TCHN. You won’t ever need to go on that floor, so I’ll spare the details. And this,” he said as the elevator door opened, “is sector CHML. Most of our patients are kept here.”

The pair stepped out into a wide central room buzzing with activity. Various staff zipped around the room, hardly paying Steven any mind as he walked through. Most wore white uniforms, with the only patch of color being an ID badge attached to the chest pockets. He saw at least one in every color except for red .

“This way,” Wulfenite instructed, dipping behind a stack of crates.

A shiver went up Steven’s spine when he walked past them. He stopped for a second to peer inside one, taking note of the purple flower petals contained within before catching up to Wulfenite.

He did his best to commit the floorplan of this sector to memory, but it was hard keeping track of where he had been and where they were going in all the various hallways and cross sections. The doctor seemed to know the building like the back of his hand, flying through the halls with ease. Occasionally he would stop and wait for Steven to catch up. When he made his final stop in front of a door labeled ‘A-II3’, Steven breathed a sigh of relief.

Wulfenite opened the door and announced, “This is your room.”

Inside was fairly plain; white walls, a tiled floor, a rug, a dresser for his clothes, a bed to sleep in, and door that Steven assumed led to a bathroom. 

He stepped in the room and set his bag down on the bed, which creaked loudly. 

“Give it some time,” the doctor reassured, still hovering at the door. “Eventually you’ll be settled in and this will feel like a second home. I’ll get your nurse so that you can get acquainted.” 

With that, Wulfenite was out the door, and Steven was left alone with his thoughts.

He fell back on the bed and sighed, lifting up his arms to block the harsh white ceiling lights. The doctor’s words swam around in his mind like a whirlpool. 

‘This will feel like a second home.’ 

It was meant to be comforting, but it just made him more homesick. Even though he hadn’t been home in weeks, he at least still had the choice to go back if he wanted. He could call up any member of his family whenever he liked. 

Here, in this medical fortress, that freedom was gone. He wasn’t allowed to have his phone - that was part of the agreement he signed. No phones, laptops, and while it wasn't on the list, any gem tech was also likely off limits. 

He was alone. And that terrified him.

Still, he needed the help. There were things his family just couldn’t provide, and the key to whatever traumatic event locked up his memory was one of them. He would stay here for a while, then be back on his feet and out into the world again in no time! That was the dream, anyway.

A few minutes later, someone knocked on his door. When Steven shyly called out, “Hello,” the door opened to reveal a brown-haired woman about his height, dressed in the same white uniform as the rest of the Institute staff. On her chest pocket was a green ID badge.

She leaned in and waved, “Hi there! I’m Olivia, your assigned nurse. Hopefully you won’t see much of me. If you do then that means there’s a problem somewhere.”

“Nice to meet you, I’m Steven.” He ran his hands through his hair once he noticed his mistake and added, “Oh wait, you probably already knew that…”

Olivia giggled, then held up some kind of tablet. “Guilty as charged! I’ve got a cheat sheet of all your info. But don’t sweat it, this thing can only tell me so much.”

She stepped out of the room for a moment and came back pulling a cart behind her stacked up with clothes and supplies. 

“Here’s all your gear,” she said, gesturing at the cart, “there’s a week's worth of clothes, some fun stuff to keep you busy, toothbrush and paste, a buzzer in case you need me,” she locked eyes with him, “try not to press it on accident,” then finished, “and some soap. Towels and toilet paper get restocked by the janitor so don’t worry about that.”

Steven got up from his bed and peered inside the crate on the cart labeled ‘ENRICHMENT’. It was mostly old puzzles, books and games that ironically required two people. He picked up a Rubik’s cube hidden under the chess set and twisted it a few times. The colors were so worn down on it that the red side was practically pink.

"It's not much, but that's the best I can do on short notice," Olivia sighed.

Steven shrugged. "I can always go to the community room."

The two stood in silence for a while before Olivia decided it was getting awkward.

“Welp!” she said, clapping her hands together, “I’ll give you some time to get familiar with things. Wulfenite will be back to pick you up in an hour for your orientation.”

“Okay,” Steven mumbled, still fiddling with the cube. For some reason it had caught his attention; he felt compelled to solve it even though he had never bothered with trying the several other times he’d seen one.

The nurse gave his shoulder a quick squeeze. “It’ll be alright hon. David is the best doctor here. He’ll take good care of you.”

Steven’s eyes met hers, and for a moment he thought he could see a knowing sense of pity there. She offered one last smile before she left, locking the door behind her. 

A few seconds after she left it suddenly occurred to Steven that it was weird for her to lock it. 

Tossing the cube onto the bed, he ran up to the door and shook the handle. It didn’t budge an inch.

The second he felt the heat building up behind his eyes he let the handle go — he knew by now to keep his hands away from anything but himself when he started glowing. He looked down at himself, and after confirming that most of him wasn’t pink, came to the conclusion that it must just be his cheeks that were lit up.

“It'll be fine, Steven,” he mumbled under his breath, “They just wanna make sure you don't wander off…”

He didn’t fully believe that, but he had to fight off the paranoia that seemed to be eating at him ever since he left the gas station. The sooner he stopped freaking out over every little thing, the sooner he could leave.

He took a deep breath and sat down on his bed, counting backwards from ten, then picked up the Rubik’s cube. He fidgeted with it until he could feel the energy in his gem die down. 

Something about having it in his hands was relaxing. It felt good to be doing something , to have some kind of distraction, no matter how ultimately pointless. Left turn, right turn, another right turn. Another left and the white side should be solved.

He made another right turn instead, and the white side was completed. 

His thoughts lagged half a second behind his hands, but the instant they caught up he dropped the cube. He didn’t make that movement. His hands were supposed to go left, not right, and yet it was still the solution to the puzzle.

There wasn’t time for him to contemplate it before there was another knock at his door. Had an hour gone by already?

“W-who is it?” Steven asked, though he was sure he already knew the answer.

Wulfenite slowly opened the door and poked his head inside. He appeared weirdly shaken up for someone who was so confident in his stride earlier.

“Sorry I’m back sooner than I said. I went to go check on one of my other patients but there was an… incident.”

“Incident?” Steven repeated.

Wulfenite sighed. “Her condition went critical, so she’ll no longer be under my care,” he said, stepping fully into the room.

“Oh… I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. There was nothing I could do.” For a second he seemed to be looking somewhere that wasn’t actually in the room, but then he pushed up his glasses and looked back at Steven with a reignited fire. “Well, there’s no sense in moping around, it’s time for your orientation!” 

Wulfenite held out his hand to Steven, offering up the best smile he could muster given the circumstances. “Let’s get started.”

Steven hesitated before taking it, though deep down it didn’t really feel like it was him that hesitated.

Chapter Text

“It was an accident, I swear!”

Steven paced around Dr. Wulfenite’s office in a zig-zag pattern, unable to commit to a single path. Every few steps he’d turn on his heel and go a different direction. 

“It was so loud, and when he grabbed me I just reacted ,” he said, tugging at the neck of his shirt, “I don’t know what came over me! I’m so, so sorry…” He finally stopped his pacing when he felt Dr. Wulfenite squeeze his right shoulder. 

“Slow down, Steven,” the doctor said, “Tell me what happened as best as you can, in as much detail as you remember.” Wulfenite guided Steven to the chair in front of his desk and gestured for him to sit.

Steven took a deep breath. “I was getting my lunch from the cafeteria, just like Olivia showed me. I had the tray in my hands, heading to one of the tables and then… then I went pink .”

Wulfenite nodded, writing down something on his clipboard. “You, ‘went pink’? Could you elaborate?” 

“You know, the glowing?”

“Right,” Wulfenite said. He didn’t sound all too satisfied with that explanation, but opted to keep going after a short pause once it was clear Steven didn’t plan to give him much more to work with. “Besides the glowing, what else happened?”

“Umm… there was some alarm that went off and it startled me. I dunno why, but something about it freaked me out.”

“Was it the tone? The volume? Or something else?”

Steven didn’t know how to answer that. “... Something else, I think?” 

The bell, at the time, seemed like it was ringing so intensely it was vibrating him down to the marrow. Looking back it probably wasn’t nearly so intrusive. He was sure it was loud enough to be heard over the normal sounds of the cafeteria and nothing more.

“It was loud, but that’s not what made it bad ,” he explained, “it felt like a warning. I think that’s what bothered me.”

“I see. And when Officer Boris took your arm, how did that make you feel? Were you scared? Angry?”

The bell was an omen and Boris was the danger. That’s what he wanted to say, but saying something like that would just make him be stuck here for even longer. 

Instead he said, “I dunno… he startled me. I guess I was scared.”

‘Scared’ was putting it lightly. He was terrified. It didn’t help that Boris had a look of pure disgust on his face when he grabbed his arm.

Wulfenite took down more notes. Steven watched the pen wiggle around as he wrote, as if he could magically guess what the words were by following each swipe of the pen.

“Am I in trouble?”

“Trouble?” Wulfenite echoed, “No, no, it’s not like that here.” He held up the clipboard for Steven to see, though it was too distant to read what the doctor wrote down. “I write things both to make sure we have a paper trail and because it helps me figure out what I need to help you.” 

Steven swallowed back a whimper. What if Wulfenite couldn’t help him? What would happen to him then? 

He banished the thought and pushed his mind into a more positive direction. He had an entire facility of people doing their best to help him get better. He had a family who supported him. He had friends rooting for him back home. That’s what really mattered.

Wulfenite set the clipboard down and leaned back in his chair. He gazed out the window, idly twiddling his thumbs and said, “Tell you what. I’ll arrange for your food to be brought straight to your room. How does that sound?”

“You can do that?”

“Of course!” Wulfenite looked back and said with a disarming smile, “There’s a few other patients we have here that, for whatever reason, can’t make the trip from their rooms to the cafeteria. It’s not an inconvenience for us, I can promise you that. Your improvement is our top priority.”

As always, the smile he gave Steven had a familiar warmness to it. Even if what he said wasn’t true, Wulfenite believed it was true, and for that he was trustworthy enough. 

Still, a voice in the back of his mind was telling him otherwise. It kept echoing over and over, well after he had left the doctor’s office. 

[UNSAFE. UNSAFE. UNSAFE.]

The paranoia gnawed away at him. It felt like his brain was in two places at once; here, in the present, in this building, and also somewhere out in the void, watching himself from a distance.

Steven was sent back to his room after the session with Wulfenite. He had the choice to go to the Commons instead, but he wasn’t in the mood for socializing today. Besides that, the only real place of privacy in the whole building was his personal room and the bathrooms. Everywhere else had cameras or security staff.

Though, even with eyes practically everywhere, he still felt alone. At least if he was in his room though, he felt alone while actually being alone. Well, mostly alone. There was still the void version of himself that hovered at the edge of his consciousness. 

He wondered if maybe he should mention it to Wulfenite, that weird sensation of someone else not just near him but in him. The feeling that not every action he took was one he chose to make.

Whenever he thought about saying something, he found that he couldn’t muster up the right words. He’d try to open his mouth and nothing came out. Then came the voice telling him it wasn’t safe, over and over, making any desire to speak up disappear.

Once again he sat on the bed and messed around with the Rubik’s cube that just begged to be completed. He hadn’t figured out how to do all six sides yet, so he settled for solving each side separately. So far he had gotten all but the red side solved at least once.

The mysterious bodily take over from the previous day hadn’t happened again. He had tried recreating the same events to see if he could convince whatever force controlled him to resurface, but nothing came of it. His invisible internal ghost, it seemed, wasn’t interested in helping him with the cube twice.

Maybe it was shy. Maybe he was just crazy. That would check out. This was a place for crazy people after all.

Crazy or not though, it still felt real, and that made it hard to ignore.

[It’s not safe here.]

Steven glanced up, even though he knew there wouldn’t be anyone there. “How do you know that?” he asked. No one responded. He probably looked stupid talking out loud to a voice that only existed inside his own head.

“Is this another one of Mom’s powers that no one ever tells me about?” he groaned to himself, rubbing the bridge of his nose. 

[This doesn’t feel right.] 

“She could connect with people,” Steven reassured himself, “There must be someone else in here that I’m linked with.”

It wouldn’t be the first time. He had walked in people’s dreams, talked to them through psychic connections, hell, he spent a whole day controlling Lars’ body while he slept. He just wished that whoever he was linked to this time would relax a little.

The next time Steven awoke, he was strapped down to his bed in a black, cold room. 

He didn’t even remember when he fell asleep. 

He tugged on the straps holding him down, and each time he did, they seemed to get tighter. A bright light shined down at him from above. 

“What’s going on?” Steven called out, squinting at the light. 

Off to his right side came the sound of a robotic voice, distorted and fuzzy as if it was coming through an old speaker. “ Initiate startup sequence. ”

Out of the darkness, a metallic arm descended. The end of it had a pincer-like claw. It crept closer and closer, honing in on where his belly button would be if he were human.

His eyes traced the claw as it slowly came down, wriggling against his restraints in vain. “Wait, stop! Please, don’t do this!”

To his relief, it stopped just a few inches above him. He kept his eyes on it just in case it started to move again, and for what felt like ages he watched it in silence, too scared to blink. He was so focused on watching it that he didn’t notice when he was approached by a masked figure in white. 

When they creeped into his peripheral vision he yelled, “Who are you? Why am I tied up?” 

They didn’t acknowledge him, fiddling with the metal arm as if he hadn’t said a word. The all-white attire they wore made them look like a ghost, and when their fingers went under his shirt to reveal his gem, he shuddered at how light the touch felt. 

The strange figure pulled the claw down and latched it around his gem, sending shivers down his spine. 

“I’m sorry, okay?” he pleaded, “Whatever I did wrong, I didn’t mean it. Please just let me go!”

“Should we sedate him?” they asked, looking back over their shoulder at someone he couldn’t see. Whoever replied did so non verbally, and then they said, “Alright, commencing startup sequence,” while reaching underneath the bed.

Steven didn’t see what pressed, but he heard a loud click, followed by a prick in his ankle. Then came a whirring sound and slight pressure on his gem that got more intense as the seconds went on. He looked down and saw the claw around his gem twitching ever so slightly.

They were trying to pull out his gem.

He tried to fight against the restraints again, but could no longer move anything below his neck. No matter how much he willed his arms and legs to do something , they refused to budge. 

The knot in his stomach got tighter and tighter, quickly going from mild discomfort to searing pain. His head pounded from the pressure. He could hear his heartbeat so loud in his ears he thought he might explode.

The shift from panic to protective rage was like a light switch. His whole body flushed pink, sending out a shockwave so powerful it cracked the walls and shattered the metal arm pulling out his gem. With the sudden surge of power, his arms and legs were back under his control again. He tore through the restraints like they were shoe strings and flew off the table as fast as his legs would launch him. 

Normally he would be forced to wait until his eyes adjusted to the dark to know where he was headed, but since his body was a giant pink spotlight at the moment, that wouldn't be a problem. He found the nearest exit and ran straight towards it, speeding past more people in all white cloaks. He didn’t care where the door went. Anywhere was better than being in here.

He pushed up against the double doors, but they wouldn’t budge. In his rush to get out as fast as possible, he totally missed that any exit would likely be locked. 

He glanced back over his shoulder, expecting the horde of masked asualters to be converging on him, but all of them kept their distance. Part of him was glad they wouldn't come closer even as the other kept screaming that something about all of this was wrong in more ways than one.

Turning his attention back to the door, he summoned his shield and rammed into it with as much force as he could. It burst open and he stumbled out into the hall, which looked three times as long as any other hall he had seen in the building before. 

“Wha- what is this?” he huffed in a confused daze.

The top half of the walls were covered in hexagonal panels that seemed to hover and breathe. Eerie magenta light poured out of the space in between them, the only source of light in the entire hall besides himself. Each panel flickered with text too dense and warped for him to read.

Steven reached out to touch one of the panels and it shocked him, leaving faint pink lines across his hand similar to the ones left by Spinel’s rejuvenator. After assuring that he still had all his memories, he continued going down the hall. 

He wandered down it for a while before noticing that the end of it wasn’t getting any closer.

When he turned around to see if the door he left was any farther away, it was gone entirely. The hall now went on endlessly in both directions. 

“No… this isn’t h-happening,” he whispered, sliding down against the wall and onto the floor, “I must be hyped on some meds or something… they gave me meds and it’s making me see things…”

He buried his head into his knees, his thoughts moving too fast for him to keep up. None of this could be real, it just didn't make sense. Was he dreaming? Was he stuck in someone else’s nightmare?

With a lot of internal pep talking, he got back on his feet and looked around. The hall still went on forever, but there was a familiarity to it now. The text on the tiles felt less random and pointless.

[I’ve seen this before.]

Did he really? He didn’t think so, but at this point, it hardly mattered. Some part of him had, and that’s what mattered. 

He touched the panels again, this time not pulling away when the electricity shot up his arm. It didn’t hurt; it was the opposite almost, a numbing sensation. The lines spread along his body, and as more appeared, more of the words on the panels became clear.

[//I do not understand.]

[//I cannot remember.] 

[//Why do I not remember?]

[//No memory logs in section 0400.]

[//Memory, reverie, refracted, redacted.]

[//Memory logs in section 0400 have been REDACTED].

These were someone’s thoughts, ones he was sure he’d never seen before but still rang familiar regardless. Why was he so sure that he was reading his own inner monologue despite all evidence to the contrary? 

The panel flickered and new text appeared. 

[using PINKSystem;]

[Console.WriteLine("Hello, world!");]

“ Hello world, ” Steven repeated under his breath.

In response, the text changed again.

[Console.WriteLine("Hello, Steven!");]

Steven gasped and squinted at the panel as if maybe that would let him see someone on the other side. “Are you… talking to me? Who are you?”

[Console.WriteLine("Turn around.");]

Right as he finished reading the last word, Wulfenite’s voice came from behind him, sounding like he was entirely out of breath. “You don’t remember me, Steven?” 

Steven whipped his head around and found himself back in his room, though it currently had a crater in the middle of the floor. If he wasn’t losing his mind before, he certainly was now.  

“Huh?” He huffed, staring blankly at the doctor who was covered in dust. He turned back to the now perfectly normal, not-at-all-covered-in-glowing-pink-mystery-words, bedroom wall. “Where is the-” 

“Steven,” Wulfenite sighed in a tone that screamed ‘I’m comforting a senile wild animal’, “Do you know where you are?”

“I-in my room, I think?” he said while running his fingertips along the wall, no longer sure of his own reality. “But I wasn’t here a moment ago… the walls, they had these hexagons on them, and there were words…”

The doctor pulled his hands from the wall and turned him towards his bed, gesturing for him to sit down. “It’s okay, you’re here now. Look at me,” he said, lifting Steven’s chin so that their eyes would meet.

Now that he was forced to actually look Wulfenite in the eyes, he could see the fresh scratches on his cheeks along with several other older scars. Steven didn’t dare ask where the new ones came from. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to put two and two together.

“I’m s-sorry,” he blurted out, almost automatically.

“Shh, don’t worry about me,” Wulfenite hummed, “I just need to know if you’ll be alright while I get some help for us.”

Steven nodded and looked away. He didn’t dare to look up again until Wulfenite’s footsteps got too distant to hear.

The entire center of his room was destroyed, giant cracks leading out from the crater in the floor to the walls. His heart sank at the sight. Between this and the incident in the cafeteria, he was out of control. It was like last year all over again, except this time he’d end up making another Lars instead of restoring gem fragments.

Dr. Maheswaran’s estimate of two weeks in rehabilitation was looking more and more like a pipe dream.

He pulled on the neck of his shirt and wheezed, “I’m never gonna be let out of here.”

Chapter Text

Steven pushed around the food on his plate and sighed. The Commons was unusually empty today, with only a few other patients scattered across the room. Despite his best efforts, he hadn’t managed to form any real connections yet.

Part of it was that some of the people here were a brand of ill he couldn't relate to. He felt gross thinking it, but he just wasn’t as bad as them. 

One boy was so paranoid that it was putting his own anxiety to shame. He stared at anyone who passed him by with such fear and distrust in his bright blue eyes that most avoided him anyway, but that didn’t stop him from doing everything in his power to keep people out of his personal bubble.

Steven had tried to get to know him on his second day there. It felt like talking to a kicked dog.

When he asked the boy’s name, it came out as a whisper. “C-caden.” He kept looking around as if he would get in trouble for saying it, even though his face mask made his words barely audible to begin with.

Steven introduced himself, though Caden wasn’t interested in talking. He kept his nose buried in his notebook the entire time. Steven tried to see what he was jotting down, asking if he liked to draw or write stories. He thought maybe that was a point of interest they could bond over, but Caden covered it up with his arms, so he opted to not ask about it anymore.

Caden, he decided, was a lost cause, at least until the poor soul had more therapy. He could try to find friends elsewhere in the meantime.

Although most of Caden’s comments reeked of an unhealthy amount of anxiety, one thing he said seemed to have some merit to it; his comment about the same flowers Steven saw when he first entered Operations. 

None of the other patients Steven had seen wore a mask, and staff only wore them when they were headed somewhere that required one. He thought maybe Caden was physically sick in some way and that’s why he wore one, until he revealed the real reason.

“People always say to stop and smell the roses, b-but the flowers here aren’t any good,” he had said, pointing out the glass doors to the same bushes Steven sniffed on his initial tour with Wulfenite. "That's what this mask is for. That stuff isn't meds, it's poison."

At first he thought that was silly. How could flowers be dangerous? The more he thought about it though, the more it actually made sense. Why would his doctor care about him smelling them if they were safe? He made a mental note to ask Wulfenite about them during their next session.

The sound of a chair being moved pulled him out of his thoughts. 

“Hey Steven,” Connie said, sitting down next to him, “I brought you a surprise!”

Steven blinked. “Huh? Isn’t it Tuesday?” It was admittedly getting harder for him to keep track of the days here, but he liked to think that time hadn’t been slipping through his fingers so easily.

Connie nudged him in the shoulder. “Yeah, and? Am I not allowed to see you on Tuesday?”

“It’s fine,” Steven chuckled, nervously tapping against the tabletop. “I was just expecting Amethyst. She’s usually the one who’s here today.”

“I know, I know, I’m just messing with you. Class got canceled, so I’m bringing this to you a bit early,” she said, setting down a large white tube on the table. “Open it.”

Steven did as he was told. Inside of the tube was a giant poster with a map of constellations, with the names of the stars and patterns labeled in white holographic text. 

“Since your room doesn't have a window, I thought I’d get you a part of the night sky to keep in there.”

“That’s really sweet of you,” he mused, tracing his fingertips over the constellations. Orion , Corvus , then Libra , stopping over one labeled Scutum .

She leaned up against him and said, “It means ‘shield’ in Latin.”

Steven hummed, looking over the pattern again. It was three stars connected in a slightly bent line.

“Doesn’t look much like one.” He summoned a buckler-sized version of his own and set it down on the table, as if to prove his point.

“Not from that side it doesn’t.” Connie positioned it upright, and, holding it up with her index finger, spinned it so that it was sideways. From that angle it looked a lot more like the map.

Steven tilted his head. “Ohhhh… I get it.” 

“No weapons in the Commons!” came a booming voice from behind the pair.

Steven didn't need to turn around to know who it was; he’d recognize Boris’ voice anywhere. Ever since he accidentally threw him across the cafeteria, the security guard seemed to have it out for him.

He didn’t bother with trying to argue and picked up the shield to dissipate it, but Connie wasn't ready to stand down. She took it out of his hands and set it back on the table. 

“I’d hardly call a flat disk a weapon ,” she said with politeness bordering on sarcasm, “He’s not gonna hurt anyone, we’re just talking.”

“Yeah,” Borris rolled his eyes, “Tell that to his therapist.”

Steven winced. Wulfenite was very understanding as usual, and made it clear that he wasn’t upset about it after the fact, but that didn't make the memory hurt any less. Intentional or not, Steven hurt him, and he didn't know if he could ever forgive himself for doing it.

It seemed like whenever he took a step forward, he took two steps back. Even with Wulfenite’s help, he hadn’t gotten any better at controlling his outbursts.

“That was an accident,” Connie shot back. She pulled Steven a bit closer to her and gently squeezed his arm. “I thought you were the security officer, isn’t there something more important for you to do besides bothering us?”

“Connie…” Steven sighed. 

She glanced back at him with a softness in her eyes where there was unfiltered disgust just a moment before. It was her silent way of saying ‘Don’t worry,’ but that just worried him more.

 “Let it go, it’s not that big of a deal,” he whispered in her ear.

Borris sneered at her. “Are you being for real right now? You think I’m scared of some twig bi-”

“I’ll put it away,” Steven interrupted. Things had gotten heated enough; the few other people in the Commons were gawking at them. 

He dissipated the shield before Connie had the chance to protest and took her hand, leading her towards the door. He could feel Boris’ eyes on him the entire way there, but whatever snide remark was in his head thankfully never left his mouth.

The moment they were out of earshot, Connie let loose. “It’s not fair! He shouldn't be treating you like that.”

“I know but-”

“No ‘buts’! You’re supposed to be healing, and you can’t do that with jerks like him picking on you.” She crossed her arms, digging her fingernails into the skin of them. 

It was rare to see her legitimately angry; usually she was the more level headed one. Something about Borris had clearly gotten under her skin. 

“It’s not like there’s much I can do about it, he’s a security guard,” Steven pointed out. “Plus I did throw him into a brick wall…”

“You didn’t mean to hurt him, don’t beat yourself up over it,” she reassured, the tension leaving her body as she exhaled. “It’s not your fault that he’s holding a grudge against you.”

Steven nodded as his thoughts once again drifted to the strange purple flowers in the middle of the Arboretum. He gestured towards them and asked, “Hey, do you know what kind of flowers those are?”

Connie turned to where he pointed. “Huh?”

“Sorry, I just- those flowers, there’s something about them,” he clarified, “When I first went by them Wulf pulled me away, and the other day Caden said they weren’t any good.”

“Hmm.” She hummed to herself for a moment, going through a mental checklist only she could see. Several seconds later she said, “I’ve never seen that kind of plant before… the petals look like a crocus almost, but the leaves are kinda like a banana?” She shook her head. “They’re way too small though.”

Steven shrugged. “He did say a lot of them were unique to the Institute. I guess it’s something they made up here.” 

“Well… if Wulf wants you to stay away, then I’d listen to him.”

“You don't sound very sure about that…”

“I’m not,” she sighed, “Just try to be careful, and don’t let dicks like Borris mess with you either,” she added, the name ‘Borris’ being spat out like poison. “You deserve better than that.”

Connie lingered next to him for a second longer, then gave him a quick peck on the cheek, which made him blush beet-red. He went over the spot gently with fingertips as she waved goodbye and bounded away.

She plucked one of the strange purple flowers out of the bushes and shoved it in her back pocket before dipping out of view.

Steven wandered down the empty halls in a haze, idly tracing the grooves in the walls with his right hand while he tapped his fingers against his thigh with his left.

Ideally at this hour he would be in bed, but tonight sleep refused to take him. After 2 hours of pointless tossing and turning he decided to tire himself out with what little physical activity he could get away with. If someone asked why he was out of his room, he’d say he ran out of toilet paper or something and left to find more. No big deal.

The tune of Garnet’s song sung in defiance of Jasper ringed out of his throat at a low hum. His fingers followed the notes of the song as best they could, though occasionally he zoned out so hard that it became repetitive and he ended up tapping the same notes over and over. 

He stopped his wandering and humming when he realized he had no idea where he was. In this unfamiliar space, the nighttime blue-green lights seemed a lot more sinister. He tried to trace his steps, but that would only work if he remembered half of them. The next best thing then would be to ask for some help, though this late at night most of the staff had gone home.

Thankfully it didn't take him too long to find someone. At the end of the next few halls was Wulfenite, and it appeared he was with someone else. Steven went to yell out to him, but something made him stop. Instead, he crouched down behind one of the many decorative plants and waited, listening closely.

“I’m not asking for a miracle here, Chiroptera,” came Wulfenite’s voice, laced with desperation. “Just a little more time...”

The short woman he was with flicked her gaze up at him for just a moment of consideration before going back to the tablet she was typing on. She was much smaller than the doctor despite her aura, almost hilariously so. 

“You’ve had more than enough time,” she said flatly, “If we want to make any real progress he needs to be taken out of your care. Your therapy method might be what Steven prefers, but it’s not what gets results.” She punctuated her statement with a tap on the orange, metallic badge pinned to her chest .

Steven’s heart raced when he heard his name.

Was he really doing that badly? Was his recovery so pitiful that he was being transferred from Wulfenite’s care? At the very least, the doctor seemed to want to keep him around despite all the trouble he had caused. 

Wulfenite got ahead of Chiroptera (which didn't take long with how much bigger his stride was) and blocked her path, forcing her to give him her full attention. She gave him a look that, to Steven, didn’t seem all that different from her default expression, but it was enough to make Wulfenite visibly wince.

He shook off her glare and said, “At least give me another week or two.”

“I’m sorry David, but the call has already been made. I don’t have any more say over this than you do.”

Wulfenite huffed, grasping for something to use as an excuse. “What about his family?” he offered.

“What about them?” she shot back with a sarcastic humor to her tone that bordered on laughter.

Laughter.

She was laughing at the mention of his family. It made Steven’s blood boil. Still, he forced himself to keep listening.

“You think they won’t ask questions?” Wulfenite leaned down and hissed, clearly as agitated at her dismissive attitude as Steven was, “His family aren’t like a lot of the others.They won’t let him go so easily. If he’s moved, they’ll want to know why .”

“That’s what Informatics is for,” she grinned, gently patting him on the cheek as if she were consoling a child, “You focus on your job, and I’ll focus on mine.”

Wulfenite had enough patience to simply stand back up straight and run his hands through his hair instead of raising his voice at her despite how condescending she was being. Steven wasn’t so sure he would say the same for himself if he were in that position. Suddenly Connie’s rage towards Borris from earlier that day made a lot more sense.

“A few more days then, at least.” The doctor clasped his hands together. “Please. Don’t make me beg.”

“I don’t need to, you’ve already done plenty of that. You get three days, Doctor. Make them count.”

Wulfenite watched her walk off, looking utterly defeated. Steven ducked lower behind the plants as she passed him by. He waited a minute or two before revealing himself to the doctor.

He didn’t react to Steven’s presence at first, too lost in his own head to be aware of his surroundings. Dr. Wulfenite may have lived more years than he had left, but he never really looked his age until now. The dim lighting exaggerated the wrinkles on his face and darkened his eyes. The typically chipper, friendly appearance he touted in the daylight hours gave way to what he really was under surface; old, frustrated, and tired.

When he finally noticed Steven peering out from his hiding place he seemed to nearly jump out of his skin.

“Steven!” he gasped, “What are you doing out of your room so late?” Even his voice sounded a bit older.

“I was, um, looking for more blankets…” Steven stammered, “It gets kinda cold at night. But I got lost. Can you help me get back to my room?” 

Steven felt silly using such a childish excuse for being out of his room, but Wulfenite was evidently still too shaken up by his conversation with Chiro to think much of it. He pushed up his glasses and straightened his spine, putting back on the guise of an energetic and friendly doctor.

“Of course, right this way,” he grinned, gesturing with both arms towards the end of the hall.

Wulfenite led Steven back without much commentary, only offering a warning about staying up too late. “Security isn’t as forgiving as I,” was as much clarification as he was willing to give.

Steven hadn’t wandered as far as he initially thought; it only took a few minutes to get to his room, although nowadays it felt more like a cell than a room. And, if the conversation between Wulf and Chiro was any indicator, that feeling would last for a long time.

Wulfenite told goodnight and wished him sweet dreams, and although his tone gave off the impression that this was something he said to every patient, Steven liked to think it was a little more genuine this go around. He waited until Wulf was out of sight before shutting the door and crawling into bed.

He held onto the doctor’s wishes of sweet dreams as best he could, forcing away all the thoughts about anything and everything that happened earlier that day. Instead, he thought about home. His family, his friends, all the things he would do when he was healthy again.

After a while, Steven finally managed to fall asleep, his dreams filled with visions of black honey and purple flowers.

Chapter Text

The band latched around Steven’s ankle with a sharp ‘click’. He watched the yellow-ish lights on the side slowly flash on and off, internally groaning at the sight. His status as ‘prisoner’ was nearing completion. 

“Do I really need to wear this?” He asked Dr. Maheshwaren.

“It’ll only be temporary, if things go well,” she replied, adjusting some dial on the side of it. “I’ve seen you pull through worse.”

Steven sighed. “This admission was supposed to be temporary too.” 

Dr. Maheshwaren's eyes flicked up at him, though she kept her hands where they were.  For a second she looked more like a mother than a general practitioner, and he blinked, realizing he said that out loud and not in his head. 

“Sorry,” he apologized, “I wasn’t trying to be mean, I’m just frustrated I guess. This whole thing sucks.”

Her expression softened, giving Steven some much needed relief. “I know, I know. I’m not thrilled about it either, but this is what’s been ordered and there’s not much I can do. It took a lot of convincing just for Dr. Wulfenite to let me do this instead of him.”

She finished up with installing the monitor and smiled warmly at him. It was the same sort of strained, tired expression Wulfenite often gave him. ‘There’s a lot going on here that I can’t or won’t say, but just know that I feel for you.’ It said more than words themselves ever would.

The lights on his ankle monitor continued to breathe in and out. His fingers drummed against the table he was sitting on in tune with it.

“Do… you know when Connie will visit again?” he asked. The question had been burning in the back of his mind for several days. 

The last time he saw Connie was the day she gave him the poster of constellations over two weeks ago. The last time he had seen anyone from the outside world was five days ago. For whatever reason, no one had come to see him since.

Dr. Maheshwaren shook her head. “No, I’m afraid not. I’ve asked about when your visitation hours will open up again but I haven’t gotten a solid answer.”

He wasn’t even aware they were closed. Who had made that call? It certainly wasn’t him.

Already he could feel the twinge of frustration building up behind his eyes. He wished there was a way to vent out his anger besides literally exploding. Relaxation techniques only worked so well in an environment that was constantly triggering him.

He reminded himself that it wasn’t Dr. Maheshwaren’s fault. She wasn’t responsible for the radical shift in his treatment. Surely she would never recommend an institution that she thought was dangerous. Even so, that didn’t make it any less infuriating. Everything about this place seemed to get under his skin in all the worst ways. 

He repeated Priyanka’s words in his head. ‘This will only be temporary’. Maybe that was longer than expected, but his stay wouldn’t last forever. He would get better, learn to control his powers and process his trauma. Then he would go home. 

Priyanka tapped her pen against a clipboard she was holding, looking at him in expectation. He didn’t recall her picking up the pen, or the clipboard for that matter.

“Did you hear me?” she asked.

Steven locked up, hesitant to provide an answer that made it clear he hadn’t heard anything at all, and anything he said would do just that. Lately his thoughts were pulling him further and further away from reality, but if anyone noticed that it would be another tick box on the list of reasons his brain was broken.

“None of this feels right,” he said, his mouth moving without his permission.  

She considered his answer for a moment, her face unreadable, then flashed him a smile he couldn’t decipher and said, “I’m sure things will go back to normal soon. Let me go ask about it again and see what they say, alright?”

Steven didn’t quite process what she had said until several seconds after she said it. He mumbled “Alright,” in response, but she was already well out of earshot. The door let out a soft click as it latched behind her.

The minutes oozed by, melting into each other without any real distinction. Easily the worst part of being left alone with his own thoughts for hours on end was the butchering of his sense of time. 

Connie had told him before about the stopped-clock illusion, where when you first look at a clock, the initial tick lasts longer than the rest. She said it was because your brain is constantly throwing useless stuff away; old math you don’t use, memories from before you could talk, the bridge of your nose in your line of sight.

One of those things is what you actually see when looking around, the blurry in-betweens of your eyes going from one object to another. It would make you sick to see it unfiltered. To make up for that empty space, she explained, your brain fills it in with what your eyes land on after they stop moving. The clock’s first second isn’t slower. Your brain decides it is because the truth is too much.

The past week felt like one long stopped-clock illusion.  Some seconds were longer than others. Some hours were shorter than the seconds. Stuck in his own perceptions of the world, how could his reality be any different than what his brain said it was? 

Truth be told, it terrified him, because he knew there was more going on than what his mind would let him know, whether it be the time on the clock or something else.

On the counter sat the clipboard Dr. Maheshwaren was holding. Evidently she had put it there before leaving. He swiped it up and flipped through the documents on it. Most of the words didn’t stick in his head. He’d glance over them, realize he didn’t actually read any of it, then glance over it again, still not actually reading it. Processing information wasn’t on his mental to-do list today, it seemed. 

At the very least he knew it was about him. His name was scrawled on the top of most of them and printed on a few others. He pondered the contents of the pages a little longer before giving up trying to glean any meaning out of them. Just as he tossed the clipboard aside in irritation at his own lack of reading comprehension, he heard the signature click of a pen.

“I take it you didn’t like what you saw?” Dr. Wulfenite sighed, twirling the pen in his fingers.

Steven wasn’t sure how to explain that he didn’t know what he saw, or even noticed when the doctor had entered the room, so instead he agreed. “No. I didn't.”

Wulfenite took the clipboard from the counter, looking more upset about Steven’s disapproval of the contents on it more than the fact he had been looking through it at all. Once he confirmed that the pages were all present he turned his attention back to Steven.

“Don’t take most of it to heart.” Wulfenite rested his hand on Steven’s shoulder. “We have to take note of everything that happens while you’re here, good and bad.”

Steven shook off the doctor's hand and stuck out his leg. “Is the bad stuff the reason I have to wear this?” 

He wasn’t angry at Wulfenite. He knew that much was true. It was everything else that gnawed away at his patience, and Wulfenite just so happened to be the nearest breathing thing to vent his feelings towards.

But knowing he was being unreasonable didn’t make the urge to continue being unreasonable go away.

“That's just a tracker, Steven.” The doctor’s tone was impersonal despite his gentle smile. “It lets us know where you are, it’s not a punishment.”

The voice in the back of his head screamed ‘liar’ . He wasn’t sure what part was the lie.

“Why do you need to track me?” Steven shot back, against his better judgment. “Do you think I’m gonna run away?”

“You can’t run away,” Wulfenite said flatly. He was reading right through Steven with no intentions to feed into his anger, but that only made him more annoyed. 

“Why not?”

Wulfenite shook his head as if the answer was obvious. “You just can’t.”

Steven spent the rest of the day stewing in his thoughts while he paced around the room. He didn’t keep track of the time anymore. How could he? With no windows and no visitation hours, the days seemed to meld together. Time spiraled in on itself like a snail’s shell.

After pacing around his room like a caged animal for what felt like hours, his attention drifted towards the Rubik’s cube tucked under his pillow. Despite the random bursts of hyperfixation on it, he still struggled to solve more than one side at a time, and it remained a half-completed mess.

He probably would never get it fully solved, but some stupid part of his brain couldn’t let it go. He picked it up and gave it another shot. 

At some point his thoughtful twists and turns became random, the aimlessness of his hands mirroring the aimlessness of his thoughts. Whenever he thought about his family or friends he got homesick, and if he thought about anything in the Institute he just got mad, so his mind bounced back and forth between the two in some weird game of emotional Ping-Pong.

This is dumb. I’m just getting myself more upset, he thought to himself, shaking his head. I just won’t think about anything. Not Dad, not Connie, not this stupid building with all the stupid staff. 

For now, the only thing in existence was himself and this puzzle. Steven resolved to find the solution to it until it was completed or he fell asleep, whichever came first.

He ended up doing neither.

The mysterious ghost from his first day arose again, and his hands seemed to move on their own. When he thought about turning the cube one way, his body would do something different. Then he stopped thinking about doing anything at all. Still it twisted around in his hands until all six sides were solved.

Once he was sure his body was his own again, he threw the cube on the ground.

Something else picked it up.

Steven stared slack-jawed at the bright pink version of himself standing a few feet away. It held out the Rubik’s cube like an offering.

“Hello,” it said in his own voice.

“W-what are you doing here?” Steven choked out, “Why are you… you…” 

He didn’t want to move, didn’t even want to breathe. The last time he saw his gem half was when it was yanked out of him.

“Hello,” the gem repeated in the same flat tone as before. 

It’s whole body was eerily still. No blinking, no gentle rise and fall of its chest to indicate breathing. It still held out the cube to him, waiting patiently for him to take it.

Steven pushed past his shock and felt around under his shirt to make sure his gemstone was there. Sure enough, his fingertips brushed against its hard surface. He was still whole. 

Am I seeing things?

His other half tilted its head ever so slightly. “I hope not.”

“What?” 

“I hope you are not… seeing things.” It gave up on trying to get Steven to take away the Rubik’s cube and started scrambling it again. “I am… sorry for the… miscommunication.”

It seemed to struggle with forming longer sentences. The gem’s speech was stutter-y, jumpy in a way Steven was finding hard to pinpoint. A few words would come out, then a half second pause, then more as if it were buffering like a TubeTube video.

“Wha- I didn’t say that out loud,” Steven groaned, ruffling his hair.

The gem tilted it’s head again, a perfect combination of slightly annoying and, dare Steven say, kind of cute. “I heard you very clearly. Did you… not want me to reply? I will not talk if you… ask me to stop.”

“No, I just don't understand, how are you here ?” he clarified. “My gem is in me!” He lifted up his shirt and pointed at the gemstone for emphasis. “How are you standing there if the gem is still in me?”

“I… do not know.” His gem furrowed its brow in confusion, the only change in facial expression it had shown so far. Steven had a feeling the pause in its reply this time was from genuine confusion rather than any computational lag.

“You don’t know how you got here?”

“I am sorry, I do not know,” it repeated. “Please do not be upset with me.” There was the subtlest glitch in its eyes as its grip on the cube tightened.

“Huh? I’m not upset,” he reassured. “Just really confused.” He didn’t want his gem to be scared. For a moment he considered reaching out for its hand, since it did offer the cube to him earlier. 

It must’ve sensed his thoughts again, because it moved a bit closer to him, though it didn’t make any movements to embrace him in any way.

“Are you okay, Steven?”

“Y-yeah…” he replied. Something about hearing his name being said in his own voice was unbearably strange. This whole thing was unbearably strange, actually. “It’s just a lot.”

His pink mirror image shifted its weight a little in hesitation. It’s eyes flickered again, more noticeable this time.

“I think I should be asking if you’re okay,” he said, leaning forward. As usual, his concern for others was starting to outweigh his own fear and confusion.

“I am fine.”

“. ..You sure? ”

“Yes.” It stared at him for several tense moments, not moving even an inch. 

In an attempt to break up the awkwardness, Steven scooted over to the side and gestured at the empty space. “Do you like, wanna sit down or…?”

Wordlessly, his gem sat down on the bed. It blinked at him for the first time and asked, “Are you… going to go to sleep now?”

“Well I was until you showed up.” Steven thought for a moment, going through the possibilities in his mind. “Are you, like, a hologram or something? Are my powers acting up again?”

“I am unsure.”

“No, I wasn’t asking you,” he waved dismissively, “It was rhetorical.”

“I am sorry.”

“You don't gotta apologize, it’s fine. We can figure this out together,” he smiled. Then he came to a realization. “Wait… can we fuse?”

His gem hesitated again, reaching out to touch Steven’s arm before pulling it back. He grabbed it’s hand anyway, making it flinch initially before it leaned into his touch. 

Something about it was different than before. When he embraced his other half all those years ago in White’s head, it was just that; his other half. His missing piece. Without it, he was incomplete, a gaping hole with nothing inside, a glass half empty instead of half-full. 

Now it was more like hugging any other gem, weirdly cold and firm just about everywhere except for wherever their gemstone was, which was so warm it was just shy of being hot. 

“Hmm,” he mused, “I guess not.”

A wave of something Steven couldn’t identify radiated out from his gem half, some cursed mingling of confusion and feverish desire. It looked spaced-out, even more so than before. How it was possible for something with a naturally dead face to look even more dead he wasn’t sure, but his pink counterpart was pulling it off. 

Its eyes suddenly snapped to Steven, boring holes into him with such intensity he feared he would melt. He squirmed under its unforgiving stare, although that just made it glare at him even more. 

He decided to shift the topic to something else, if only to get his gem to stop staring at him. “Well… if you’re gonna be here for a while, you need a name.”

“My name is Steven,” it said, still keeping its eyes on him.

“Er, not quite buddy.” Steven tugged a little against the gem’s grip. “That’s my name, you gotta pick something else.”

“I do not understand.” It squeezed his hand tighter. Not enough to hurt, but enough that it was noticeable. “My name is Steven.”

“I can’t call you by my name,” he chuckled half-heartedly, “That’s gonna confuse people. How about…” 

Steven glanced around the nearly empty room as if that would make a name spontaneously appear. His gaze landed on the only thing in the space that wasn’t there when he first arrived; the poster of constellations Connie gave him. That would have to do.

 “...Star.”

The newly-named Star wasn’t so accepting of his title. “But my name is Steven,” it said for the third time. It was starting to sound like a broken record.

Hmm . Maybe he should stop calling Star that, since (it? he? they?) had a name now. They sat just as motionless as ever, unblinking eyes patiently waiting for his reply.

Steven wondered how long they would do so if he never bothered with giving one. Would they be like Spinel, waiting centuries for something that would never come? He didn’t want to think about it.

“I’m Steven,” he said, pointing at himself, then pointed to Star, “and you’re Star, Got it?”

Star nodded and relinquished their grip on Steven’s hands. “My name is Star.”

“Yeah! That’s it!” 

At his exclamation, Star smiled. It was a small one, just enough to pull up the corners of his lips, but it was there. 

He glanced at the clock on the wall. The first tick was longer than normal.  “It’s getting late. We should try to sleep.”

Steven shifted so that he was lying down, leaving space for Star. They watched him in curiosity, but didn’t follow suit. It was eerie just how still Star was whenever they weren’t actively doing something. Even the area on the mattress they were sitting on didn’t move, as if they weren’t on it at all.

The idea of them not actually being on his bed became the idea of them not being in existence, so he stopped thinking about the idea altogether.

He lifted up his bedsheet. “You can lay down next to me if you want. I know gems don’t really need sleep, but Amethyst likes to do it.”

Star nodded and positioned themselves next to him. When he squinted at the brightness of their glow, they made their body much dimmer. 

“Is this right?”

Steven shrugged. “Whatever makes you feel good is right.”

“Right, night, number, slumber,” Star mumbled to themselves, rattling off the words so fast they almost came out as one. They closed their eyes for a moment, then opened them again. “I have forgotten how to sleep.”

“ Forgotten…? ” He rubbed his eyes. How does something that’s never slept forget how to do it?

“How do you sleep?” they asked, skipping over his confusion entirely.

“Well… I lay down, get comfortable. Close my eyes, slow down my breathing and then just… try not to think about anything,” he explained, “After a while, I’m asleep.”

At the mention of his breathing, Star seemed to realize they weren’t doing it themselves and inhaled deeply. The rise and fall of their chest was disjointed and uneven, as if each breath was a chore.

“How long… does it take?” Star asked. Whenever they spoke, any movement in their chest stopped. Apparently they couldn’t mimic his breathing and talk at the same time.

“I dunno.” Steven squirmed under the sheets. “A few minutes? It depends on how tired I am. “

“I am not tired.”

Steven wished he could say the same for himself. “Then it’ll take longer, but you don’t have to go to bed if you don’t want to. It might be kinda boring, though, to be in here alone.”

They looked around the room. “I do not mind.” 

“You sure?” he yawned, “It’s a long time until morning.”

“I can wait.”

“Suit yourself.” He watched Star for a few seconds more as they left the bed and explored what little space was available to them. When he was sure they wouldn’t ask him any more questions, he rolled over and closed his eyes.

Of course, that’s when Star got his attention again. They poked his back with their fingers and asked, “Steven?”, though in their perpetually deadpan tone it sounded more like a demand than a question.

Steven didn’t open his eyes, just grunted. “Hmmph? Yeah?”

“Goodnight,” Star hummed. “Sweet dreams.”

Chapter Text

Steven watched Star with intense curiosity over the next few days. Nothing about them made much sense, and the more he thought about it, the more confused he got. 

This bright pink version of himself was something that for years he feared ever seeing again. Both because of what it would mean for him if it was removed again and because of just how terrifying a Diamond gem could be without a human to regulate it. In memories buried deep in his subconscious, he could see the gem ruthlessly displaying its power with a cold and calculated stare, ignoring his cries to leave everyone unharmed.

But now… 

Now his gem was like a child. …Sort of. If a child was fully capable of advanced speech and had the power of a nuke in their body.

It wasn’t like they had been reset by a rejuvenator, because Star was familiar with a lot of people and places even without Steven explaining. Star never said it themselves and would never interrupt when he spoke, but he could tell by how they replied that none of the information was new. All their memories were intact.

At the same time, they were very unfamiliar with a lot of obvious things; breathing, eating, thinking. Steven quickly learned he had to be careful about letting his mind wander. Star could sense his thoughts and, unlike him, they seemed to have no sense of privacy. They would unapologetically echo them back to him or respond out loud.

It didn’t matter how many times he explained that no, it’s not appropriate to read someone’s mind and relay commentary about it verbally, the gem still did so anyway. Eventually he gave up and settled on the compromise that if Star wouldn’t stay out of his head, they would at least have to wait until they were alone in his room to say anything about it.

They were nothing like the vicious, hollow gem he saw in White’s head. He was glad for that at least, even if they were unintentionally annoying sometimes.

When Steven got his breakfast delivered to him the morning after Star first appeared, it drew their attention in a way Steven hadn’t seen before. Star’s expressions were muted; it was hard to tell what they might be feeling unless they happened to be feeling a lot of it, but for some reason the prospect of barely-edible, public cafeteria grade eggs, limp bacon, and gluten-free pancakes had piqued their interest.

At first he assumed the gem was hungry, despite their lack of interest or knowledge in any other normal bodily function. He held out a spoonful (the staff never gave patients anything sharp) of scrambled egg in a silent ‘Want some?’ gesture. 

Star leaned forward and poked the eggs with their finger in a hilariously slow fashion.

“Soft,” they mumbled, licking the egg residue off their fingertips.

“And…?”

“And wet,” they added.

“Well yeah, but how did it taste ? Do you want some more?”

Star glanced at Steven, then their finger, then Steven again. “No. You should eat this.” Whether the declaration was because the eggs didn't taste good or because Star didn’t actually know how to eat something, he wasn’t sure.

He shrugged and ate a few spoonfuls of watery egg while Star watched. He thought after a while they would get bored and go do something else, like mess around with the Rubik’s cube they seemed so fond of, but they patiently waited for him to finish the eggs and pancakes - he left the bacon on the plate - before speaking again.

“How did it taste?” they asked, eyes shining in curiosity.

“Um, fine, I guess?” Steven squirmed in his seat. Hearing his question echoed back at him in a perfect imitation of his voice made his skin crawl. “It was bland, and a little cold.”

He wasn’t expecting a four course meal in a place like this. Most of it lacked seasoning to bypass any concerns of allergies, and he was sure none of it was fresh. The only real cook in that cafeteria was a microwave.

“A little cold? That is no good.” Star squinted and shook their head in disapproval. “Winter, weather, heather, heater,” they hummed, tapping the spot on their abdomen where Steven assumed their gemstone would be to the beat of the words.

The gentle taps sent chills up his spine. He could feel them reverberate in his own gem, sending out bursts of warmth in small waves.

“S-star,” Steven gasped as the warmth spread out from his gem and deep into his belly, “Star, whatever you’re doing, stop it.”

“Stop what?” They stared at him wide-eyed. “I am not doing anything.”

Steven huffed, quickly leaving his seat at the table and pacing circle eights around the room to ease the growing discomfort in his stomach. 

Star didn’t move from sitting on the tabletop, but the genuine concern in their square pupils made their worry and confusion obvious. “Are you alright?”

He shook his head and groaned, too distracted by the heat in his gem to say anything coherent. His stomach made a terrible gurgling sound and he sank to the ground. Star rushed over to him, still confused but determined to help him feel better.

As they kneeled down next to him, Steven tugged on their shirt around where their gemstone would be. Something in their head clicked, and they tapped the area in sequence again. Sure enough, the burning sensation faded away.

“I did not mean to cause you any harm.” They watched him carefully as he recovered, not moving a muscle. A guardian dog caring for their flock of one.

While he appreciated Star’s concern, he wished their ways of showing it didn’t always have such an eerie energy to them. Their habit of staring holes into him sometimes made him feel like a wolf had him in its sights rather than a dog.

“I’ll be fine…” He liked to think he wasn’t lying just to appease Star and would actually be fine, despite how ragged his breathing was. “What was that?”

Star shrugged, avoiding his gaze. “Sorry. It was an accident.” Another way of saying they were just as clueless as he was. 

“It’s okay Star,” he sighed, pulling them in for a hug. “Just be more careful with your words next time.”

When it came to language, Star’s approach was disorganized and robotic. They didn’t talk much unprompted, but whenever they did, it was always slow and hushed. If they tried to talk too fast, they would stutter as if their mouth wasn’t keeping up with their brain. The stuttering would then frustrate them, which only made it worse.

Slowly, but surely, they learned to use their words in a way that felt more… human , for lack of a better term. They’d say more without pausing, and formed a bigger, more consistent vocabulary. They would only struggle if they got upset.

Contractions seemed to confuse them, though, and it took a lot of back and forth before they eased into the habit. 

“Why do you talk like that?” Steven asked one day as he was preparing for his next therapy session, even though there wasn’t much to prepare for. He still liked to look his best anyway.

Steven was initially nervous to ask about Star’s speech in fear of coming off as rude, but they had asked much more intrusive questions, so he felt it was only fair. Just as he expected, they were more confused about the nature of the question itself than offended he had asked.

“Like what?” Star didn't look up from their Rubik’s cube. “I do not understand.”

“Like that ,” he grinned, “You don’t shorten your words.” 

“Shorten?”

“Y’know, like ‘can’t’ and ‘won’t’ and ‘don’t’. You always say the full thing.”

Star stopped scrambling the cube and locked eyes with him. “... Is that bad?”

“No, not really. I was just wondering if there was a reason for it.”

“I do not know. Don’t. I don’t know.” Star wrinkled their nose. “I don’t think I like that. What purpose does it serve?”

“If you’re not into the sound of it then it’s okay, contractions aren’t for everyone. They just make talking smoother. For most people it feels more natural.” It didn't occur to him until after he said it that ‘natural’ didn't mean much to something inherently un natural.

Star simply nodded, but kept muttering “Can’t, won’t, don’t,” randomly under their breath for the rest of the day.

Easily the most bizarre thing about Star, though, was their almost hermit-like behavior around anyone that wasn’t him. Star had an aversion to the Institute’s staff that left Steven baffled.

The first time they poofed out of existence it was instant and silent. Like a Holo Pearl they simply glitched into nothing, without warning. One moment they were there and the next they were gone.

Steven thought he had said something to upset them. He was immensely relieved when they suddenly popped back into the world, just a few moments after a security guard passed the pair in the hall.

“I don’t trust them,” they had said. When he asked Star to elaborate on why, they shook their head and repeated themselves.  

This event would happen frequently any time Steven was outside of his room. Because of that, he decided that trying to hold a conversation with them in any public space was a waste of time and he only engaged with them in private or in more secluded areas of the top sector. Star seemed to like that arrangement and happily acted as nothing more than his shadow.

It took three days before any of the staff caught Steven talking to them. 

Olivia was doing her morning rounds when she found out. Steven happened to be facing away from her and realized too late that she was so close. He could feel Star’s fear burrow into every muscle of his body all at once, and for a moment he swore he’d fall limp. He never knew just how afraid Star was until then.

Olivia smiled at him in her usual ‘friendly but professional’ way as she rounded the corner, seeming totally unfazed about a glowing pink clone of her patient standing nearby. 

“Hello, Steven, good morning!” She looked past him, leaning on her supply cart ever so slightly. “Huh, I thought I heard you talking to another patient.”

Steven could practically hear the thud from his heart falling into his stomach. “Wha- no, no, I was just, um-” He grasped helplessly for some kind of explanation, but it was no use. There was nothing he could say that would make any of it not seem insane.

“Oh, I see what’s going on here,” Olivia said, interrupting his aimless stammering, “It’s alright, you won’t get in trouble.” Her tone betrayed just how insane she thought he was, though not for the reason he had first feared.

Steven glanced behind himself, hoping to see Star’s signature cotton-candy haze, but the air was empty, and he was alone. 

“Wait, it’s not like that, I-” he called out to her.

She had already shifted gears and put her focus back on the cart, ready to continue on her daily route through the building. “No worries, Steven. Your secret is safe with me,” she said, further sealing his fate with each footstep down the hall.

“Do you know why I called you here, Steven?”

Of course he knew why. The second he saw Olivia’s face he knew it was only a matter of time before he was summoned to this office. 

Star hadn’t reappeared after she left, but their thoughts still echoed in his head. 

I’m sorry. I was scared. I didn't know what to do.

Steven’s reply was the same for all of them. 

I know. It’s okay.

He couldn't bring himself to be mad at Star, not after feeling for himself how afraid the gem was. That didn't make this visit to Dr. Wulfenite’s office any less terrible.

He needed to be strong, but he didn't have it in him anymore, especially not with Star’s own fear amplifying the emotions that were already there.

Panic overwhelmed him and he blurted out, “I promise I’m not crazy!” in desperation, which definitely just made him sound crazy. 

Wulfenite put up his hands defensively. “I only asked because I want to be sure you understand what’s happening. This isn’t an interrogation. You aren’t in trouble.”

“Right,” Steven sighed. He tapped the side of the chair he sat on in an effort to calm himself down. It didn’t work.

The doctor noticed his fidgeting and offered a blue stress ball to him. He didn’t take it.

“It’s very important that you're honest with all of the staff here,” Wulfenite began, setting the ball back down on his desk without judgment. “When we ask questions, you have to tell the truth to the best of your ability. You know that, don’t you?”

Steven nodded.

“Olivia tells me you were talking to someone earlier, but she couldn't see who it was. Would you mind telling me who that is?”

“I wasn't talking to anyone! I told her that!”

“Calm down, Steven, I only want to help,” Wulfenite’s voice was soft and controlled. “Get to know your new friend.”

Steven bit his lip. He took that as a sign to press further.

“I don't need a name right away, if that’s the problem.”

The doctor already seemed convinced that Steven was seeing imaginary people. Lying about it now was pointless.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “His name is Star,” he choked out, finally breaking the seal.

“I see. Does Star say kind or mean things to you?”

He didn't know how to answer that. Star would ask and answer questions, but never make statements unprompted. Most of the conversation was made up on Steven's end, not Star’s. If Steven never bothered to start a conversation with his gem, they would probably never talk at all.

“Neither?” He tried digging around in his head for all the times they talked. The results came back fuzzy, melded together with both his and Star’s perspective of the memories. “He doesn't say much of anything unless I do.” 

“When he does speak, what does he say?”

“He… asks questions, mostly,” Steven answered flatly. He squirmed in his seat, still feeling light-headed. Suddenly the office he was sitting in felt very far away.

“Do you answer?” Wulfenite asked.

“Yeah, if I have one worth giving.”

Wulfnetine scribbled something down on his notebook. Steven thought it would be funny if it wasn't notes, but a drawing of something crude, and that made him chuckle. 

“Is something funny?” the doctor asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No,” he lied.

Wulfenite’s expression shifted, brows creased in concern. “I’m worried about you Steven. You’re getting better in some areas, and that’s very good.” He smiled at Steven, but it was reserved, almost cautious. “I’m proud of you.” 

Then his voice lowered and he leaned in, his eyes peering over his glasses with an analytical stare Steven had never seen from him before. “But in others you seem to be regressing.”

Star’s voice sounded out from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. ‘That’s their fault. They’re making you worse.’ 

If he didn't know any better, he’d assume it was his own thought. Ever since they appeared in front of him for the first time, though, he had gotten better at determining what came from his own head and what came from somewhere else… most of the time.

“I’m fine, really,” he lied again, to both of them this time. He didn’t feel right lying to the doctor while looking him in the eyes, so he switched his gaze to the wall behind him. 

It was covered in awards, pinned up paperwork, and brightly colored posters. One of the posters was of a cat holding onto a wire with its front paws. The caption read ‘Hang in there, baby! ’. Most of the rest were just as dumb and ironic in nature. 

“I didn’t say you weren’t,” he heard Wulfenite sigh as he darted his eyes around to look at anything but his interrogator’s face, “‘Fine’ and ‘healed’ are two different things.”

“That’s what my powers are for.” He half yelled, half laughed, gesturing towards himself. “I heal things, that’s what I do!” It was a statement intended for Wulfenite despite him staring at the floor. 

“We’re healing your mental health here. Your powers can’t fix that damage, I’m afraid.” Wulfenite got up from his desk; Steven heard the chair slide back. “But it’s okay that you can't do it yourself, everyone needs help sometimes, even the strongest of us. ”

“I… well… What if I don't want your help?” He didn't need help. He needed to go home .

“That’s okay, because you’ll still get what you need, even if you don’t want it. You don't have to like it. Most people don’t at first.”

“How long are you gonna keep me here?” Now that he wasn’t making statements, Steven felt bold enough to look Wulfenite in the eyes again, though he didn't expect the doctor to be right in front of him. 

Wulfenite’s eyes were hidden behind the light reflecting off his glasses. “As long as it takes for you to get better,” he stated plainly. 

“What if I don't get better?”

“Everyone gets better eventually. You should know that more than anyone,” He tilted his head ever so slightly, making the glare on his glasses fade. “You’ve helped so many people in your past, so let me help you now.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Sit down for a moment.” Wulfenite gently placed his hands on Steven’s shoulders as if to push him down, but didn’t put any pressure on them. “Calm your nerves.”

Steven blinked. He didn’t even realize he was standing. When did he leave the chair? He huffed and shook his head. “I prefer to stand.” Now that he was on his feet, the thought of sitting down irritated him. 

“Very well,” Wulfenite said, relinquishing his grip on Steven’s shoulders. “I’m going to adjust your medication. You might have an extra pill or two to take each day. Try to keep that information between the two of us, okay?”

“What, like keep it a secret? Why?”

The doctor looked around the room, as if searching for someone, then said, “For your own safety, things said in the room should remain confidential, understand?”

He didn’t believe him in the slightest, but he nodded along anyway. “I understand.”

“Good. Tell me more about your friend.”

‘Don’t,’ Star’s voice blared out in his head. It was unbearably loud even with no sound, like the word itself was firing off of every synapse in his brain simultaneously.

Steven groaned, “I can’t,” as he staggered back, almost knocking over the chair he had been sitting on.  

Wulfenite rushed behind him to steady him. “Why not? If you’re able to tell me that much.”

“I just can’t. He… he doesn't like you.” When Wulfinite gave him a questioning look, he quickly added, “The staff, I mean. You all scare him.”

The doctor hummed in acceptance. “I don’t blame him. I would be scared too.”

Chapter Text

Star watched Steven nervously filter through his identical sets of clothes for the tenth time. 

His mind is incredibly fuzzy, flipping through TV channels at light speed in search of something to watch, except each channel is static. Star knows that because their mind is also at maximum hum-buzz. 

They twisted their pinky around in their ear even though they knew it wouldn't do much to fix the problem. Force of habit taken from their other half, evidently, confirmed a moment later when Steven did the same thing. He grumbled something under his breath, then continued digging around in the dresser for something different in a stack of monotony.

They could feel the murky haze of his thoughts hovering around the air like a thick fog.

Very often Steven’s aura would filter into Star’s, and they were forced to compensate. If he was feeling something, they would feel it too, though it was usually muted and distant enough that it wasn’t an issue. Today the aura was unbearably dense.

Something was bothering him, no doubt. If they had to guess, it was today’s therapy session that gnawed at him. Ever since things were changed so that Wulfenite was no longer hosting them, Steven’s feelings about them had taken a radical turn. He might have struggled with tracking the days, but Star could set the time based on his emotions alone; the aura forecast this morning read ‘Tuesday with a chance of therapy’ .

Steven glanced back at them. Star saw something in his eyes they couldn’t quite read, and before they had the chance to think about it any further, he was back to looking through the drawer. 

Without turning back he broke the silence. “Is there a reason you’re so interested in me?”

“Yes.” They had a million reasons to be interested.

Steven sat motionless, article of clothing in hand, waiting for more. He did that a lot, for some strange reason; waiting around after receiving an answer to his question. 

When he realized ‘Yes,’ was a complete sentence, he asked another. “... Do you wanna tell me why?”

“No,” Star replied plainly. They thought for a second more, and quickly added, “I don’t know.”

It wasn’t that they didn't want to tell him. They just couldn’t. They didn't have the words. The ability to describe the hungry, craving sensation eating them up inside seemed to elude them.

Steven sighed, rapidly tapping his index finger on the top of the drawer. “Okay, okay. Lemme rephrase it. You… watch me a lot. And it’s unnerving, sometimes.”

“I’m sorry,” Star mumbled, averting their gaze. “I won’t look at you anymore.”

“No, you can look at me. That’s not a problem. I… I think I like it, actually.”

“What do you mean?”

He leaned forward, his voice hushed as he spoke. “This place has cameras and staff everywhere, someone is always watching. It freaks me out.” Star could sense his paranoia as he said it. “But if you’re the one watching, well, it makes me feel better,” he continued in his normal tone, “You’re just so intense about it, that's what makes it unsettling.”

Star squirmed in their seat. How would they go about looking at him differently, in a way that wasn’t uncomfortable? How do you properly study what interests you if not with feverish curiosity?

“I don’t think I can look at you in any other way, Steven. Observation, speculation, introspection, inception, intensive. Your presence begs intensity.”

Steven’s face flushed red, and he held his hand to his cheek. Star mimicked the gesture, feeling their own face grow warm. 

“Oh, alright. Forget I complained,” was all he had to say in response.

As the color in his face faded, so did the fog. The buzz in Star’s ears went silent.

Steven grabbed a set of clothes, rubbing his thumb along the nametag stitched into them. It read ‘STEVEN’ in big, all-uppercase letters. 

He slung the clothes over his shoulder. “This will have to do.”

Star looked down at his own attire. From the day he first manifested, it was identical to Steven’s, even down to the name. They pinched the area on their shirt with the tag, pulling it out a little before letting go. The shirt settled against his chest with the tag now reading ‘STAR’.

“Well, I guess I should get cleaned up before I go,” Steven sighed. “Don’t wander too far in the meantime, okay?”

Star nodded, smiling every so subtly. The irony of being told not to leave a place they were literally locked into was not lost on them.

They listened to him sing as he showered. At first they were content with just letting themselves bask in the sound of his voice, but eventually the desire to join in wriggled its way into their throat, and they began to quietly hum along with him.

Something about it made their chest feel warm inside. Gems didn’t have hearts, but if they did, Star wondered what theirs would sound like right now. Would it be the same as his human half, or would it be something different, but complimentary?

When Steven stepped out of the bathroom, he only had on his pants and was about to pull his shirt over his head. Before he could, Star took it from him and bubbled it.

“Hey-!” he whined in protest, helplessly grasping for it. It hovered above his head just out of reach. “How did you even—”

The gem pressed their ear to his bare chest, and unsure of what to do, Steven froze with his back against the wall. His heart beat loud and fast, slowing down a little as his surprise over the shirt waned. Star let the sound work its way through them, committing it to memory.

They didn't know how to check a pulse. They could remember Connie telling them— telling Steven — how it worked, but he could never quite nail it the way she could. That was fine, though. They didn't need to know how fast it was, just that it was there , and you didn't need to be an expert for that.

Ever so gently, they slid their hand down from his shoulder to meet his hand and placed the index and middle finger against their neck. 

“S-star…?” Steven’s face flushed red once again. 

“Do you feel it?”

“Feel what?”

Star squinted at him as if their intentions couldn't be any more obvious. “My pulse.”

“Oh, buddy…” Steven gave them a nervous, pity-filled smile.  “You don't have one of those. Gems don't have heartbeats.”

Star remembered giving that smile to so many others themselves. They didn't like how it felt being on the receiving end. 

“Gems don't have heartbeats,” they echoed. 

“I wondered about the same thing when I was younger, since I had seen the gems cry before,” he said, letting their hands fall back down to their side, “Pearl explained it to me like this: Gems have bodies made of light, but it’s just an illusion. Their real bodies are the gemstone, and when their form gets too damaged, they have to take the time to make a new one, which is why they poof. Does that make sense?”

“Gems… don’t… have… hearts ,” they slowly droned out. It was silly to think they could somehow be the exception to the rule. 

Steven gently patted their head, correctly assuming they were upset, but incorrectly assuming why. “Well, no, but that’s not a bad thing.”

“Why don’t I have one?” Star looked down at their pale hands, silently hoping for an answer even though they knew nothing would be there. 

A soft pink glow emanated from them. It was bright in tone, much unlike the dulled, angry pink they had been familiar with before their appearance here, at this facility. 

“You’re a gem, remember?”

That wasn’t all they remembered. 

Steven’s powers activating for the first time. Accidentally bubbling Connie under the ocean. Finding Lapis in the mirror. Fighting Jasper. Saving the Earth from the Cluster with Peridot’s help. Rescuing Greg from the human Zoo. Reviving Lars. Inviting Bismuth to Garnet’s wedding. Going to Homeworld to talk to the Diamonds.

Seeing one half of themselves from two sets of the same eyes.

They remembered all of it.

“I’m… I was Steven. I was you .”

“No, Star, you’re my gem. I think.” Steven shook his head and looked at the wall with Connie’s poster on it. The look in his eyes made it seem like he wished he was there, among the constellations, and not here, in this prison cell disguised as a holding room. “Something weird happened and now you’re not quite where you’re supposed to be, but I promise once things get better and we’re out of here, I’ll find a way to fix it.”

Star’s hands clenched into fists. “We were Steven, and now… now I’m not . Nigh, sigh, cry, why. Why? ”

“I… I dunno. I wish I could tell you what’s going on but-” Steven slumped to the ground. “I think something bad happened before I came here. I don’t know what but… I’ve had dreams about it.”

Star blinked, and for once in their short existence, it was involuntary. At the mention of dreams, their mind exploded with a million thoughts.

Something terrible did happen. Star always knew that, from the moment the first spark of their consciousness arose from the pits of Steven’s gemstone. It lapped at the rim of their memory like a crashing tide, in and out. They would reach for it and it would retreat, only to come back when they walked away. It was why they could never trust the staff here. They were the ones responsible. Star may not know the exact details, but they knew the devil within them.

For Steven it was fuzzier, only swirling around in his head when he was unconscious and couldn’t hope to hold onto anything significant. He had the emotions, but not a source for them. His gem, Star , did though, and as a method of defense that gem did the only thing it could do at the time; give Steven its power unfiltered to protect himself. How helpful had that been, if it only got him closer to the danger? 

Star never had dreams of their own, not when they were manifested at least. They recalled all of Steven’s, but nothing uniquely theirs. 

But then again, everything about them was never really theirs , was it? 

They were nothing more than an artificial copy of the real thing. A hard-light simulacrum.

The storm of thoughts bombarding them was too much, and they found themselves stuck in place, unable to move an inch.

Steven reached out to hold them. “Star, are you—” 

“̵͉̙͂̕D̷̟͇̔ō̴̻̥̈ ̷̧̡̑n̵͙͓͛ȍ̶̧̗̃t̵͚̆ ̸̥̞͐t̶̜͊̑o̸̦͛ũ̴̬̿c̵̼͗̑ḩ̸̻̑ ̶̖̹̃͑m̴̛͕̏e̷͇̔!̷͝” they shouted, their voice strained and glitched. 

Before now they had never felt compelled to yell. They had never felt much of anything until this moment, where suddenly every feeling came down on them all at once.

Steven flinched at their shout, shrinking back into the wall. “Okay, alright, I won’t touch you,” he said, his voice so incredibly soft and warm, “Just tell me what’s wrong.”

Star rubbed their throat. “ E̸-̶e̶v̷e̵r̵y̶t̴h̴i̶n̸g̴. ” They hated how broken the word sounded coming out. They groaned and tried again. “I… c-cannot… e̷x̶p̸l̷a̷i̶n̸…̷ ”

“Um… okay, just try to calm down…” 

Steven’s shock was palpable. His face kept its reserved, kind expression, but the tension in the room clung to Star’s hard-light form like static. They couldn't help but to be hyper-focused on every hitch of Steven’s breath, every tiny quiver of his hands as he drummed them against his thigh.

He glanced around the room for a moment, his eyes shining in clarity once he spotted what he was looking for. “You need to ground yourself.” With one hand raised up in a ‘wait here’ gesture, he reached into his bedsheets with the other and pulled out the Rubik's cube. 

“Here,” he said, offering the cube, “Focus on what’s in front of you, not what’s in your head. I know it’s not much but… maybe this can ground you.” 

Star’s eyes fruitlessly locked in on the cube. Between the microseconds of them thinking of taking it from him and moving their arm to grab it, their focus broke. In an instant their hands shot up and hovered around Steven’s head, positioned like a set of hawk’s talons in the air, twitching and ready to strike.

They stated the obvious. “ You are in front of me. ”

For several heartbeats, neither Star nor Steven moved a muscle. Star wished so badly that they could just clamp down on Steven’s skull, to absorb him into themselves, but they couldn’t will their hands to move any closer. Time itself seemed to come to a halt, but much like the first tick of a clock, it was only a lapse in perception.

Steven finally dared to breathe. “T-that’s… not what I—”

“‘ Focus on what’s in front of you, not what’s in your head ,’” Star repeated.

What other choice did they even have but to put all their attention on him? Every particle of hard light that made up their form wanted nothing more than to merge with him, to be him. 

His eyes widened, brows pressed together in worry. “Star… you’re flickering…”

They wanted - no, needed - him to be perfectly interlaced with them, a flawless and beautiful combination of light and flesh. That neediness chewed at their core, so hungry and relentless in its feeding.

Without him they felt like… nothing. Empty. Hollow. Voided. And it stung , being so disconnected from half of their entire being. 

“Hurt,” they whined.

Steven blinked. “What?”

“P̷a̷i̵n̷V̸e̵i̵n̴V̷e̷e̸r̸N̶e̶a̷r̴N̵e̸e̵d̴,” they rattled off as one long word. “N-need… you… ”

“Star…?”

Finally the cord holding their hands back snapped, and they converged on Steven in less than the blink of an eye. Steven audibly gasped, but didn't move. They didn’t put any firm pressure on his head, but cradled it, slowly feeling through his thick, curly hair and the soft contours of his cheeks. It was heavenly, breaking through their unspoken fear to let themselves unapologetically touch him this way. Ever since they manifested, something unknown held them back, told them to keep their distance, and so each moment of contact was initiated by Steven. And those moments were so painfully short. 

The more they felt around his body, the more they craved, moving their hands away from his head down his neck, tracing the lines of his collar bones, going back over his shoulders and pulling him closer, feeling the down the ridges of his spine. Steven, still too shocked to properly push them away, mumbled and gave a weak tug on their hard-light shirt. 

Star continued their exploration of his back, their eyes half-lidded, almost drowsy looking. Every minute detail of his body needed to be recorded and cataloged, the way his chest moved as he breathed, the way eyes shined like stars when he was happy, the way his curls bounced as he walked, so that Star could mimic it themselves. If they couldn’t merge back into one, then maybe, through enough observation, they could get as close as they could to precisely mirroring their better half.

No… no, that wasn’t enough. No matter how flawless the illusion was, it would never be more than that. An illusion. Pretending to be human didn’t make them so. They loved being him so, so much, they wanted to be him again so badly, but this was simply unsustainable. They had to find a way to be part of him again.

Then a switch in their head flipped, and the realization dawned on them with such force that their whole form shook in fear.

They loved being him. And every moment he loved being himself…

Almost instantly they let him go, scuttling away from him on their hands and knees as their body fizzled and popped. If they needed to breathe, they were sure they’d be hyperventilating right now.

Although they had turned away from him (they wouldn’t dare look at him again, lest they fall back into that forbidden pit of desire), they could still sense his feelings through whatever strange link still connected them. 

He’s scared. Confused. Worried about me, and for what?

The infatuation, the obsession… of course that wasn’t normal. Nothing about any of it was normal really, this whole ‘being broken up in the worst way’ thing, but they should’ve known that being split like this, however it had been done, would do more than just damage the human part of Steven. Clearly it had done horrible things to them, his gem half, as well.

Before Steven could utter anything, apologies poured out of them. “I… I am sorry, I did not mean… I did not mean to… t-to—” They pounded the ground with a fist, annoyed by their own involuntary stuttering and glitching. 

Steven winced, clearly unnerved by Star’s sudden shift in behavior, but still waves of concern and love oozed out of him like honey. “It’s okay, Star, you didn’t hurt me.”

“It is not okay! Do not… do not say such things, Steven!”

“I mean, well, you don’t need to be afraid. Just- just talk to me. Please.”

Star risked a single glance at him, and immediately they knew that sticking around for any longer would be dangerous.

“No,” was the last thing they said before banishing themselves to oblivion, leaving Steven in the room alone.

These new sessions outside of Wulfenite’s office inspired an unprecedented amount of dread in Steven. While his opinion of his doctor waxed and waned with the shifts in his mood, his feelings about the ‘therapy’ sessions he got now were rock solid. He hated them, always.

More often than not, his interrogators were other random staff he didn’t recognize. Since they all wore the same plain white coats and spoke in the same disinterested voices, they blended together. He couldn't be bothered to learn their names or faces, and they seemed to return that gesture. Nothing they ever asked felt all that therapy-like to him. Wulfenite may not have earned his full trust, but at least the doctor put in some effort to get to know Steven beyond the most basic of questions. 

They took place in a featureless room that typically only contained a single table and two chairs, one for him and one for whoever was interrogating him. (Therapist, in this context, didn't seem like a fair word to use). On the opposite side of the door he entered was a mirror. Supposedly. He didn't trust that other people weren’t watching from beyond the glass.

As usual he was guided unceremoniously to the day’s session by Borris, who still harbored plenty of spite over the cafeteria incident. Even if Steven wanted to move on from what had happened, Borris would never let him live it down. The security guard tossed him into the room by his arm, not enough to noticeably hurt him but hard enough to make him stagger and almost fall.

“Chiro has something important planned for ya today, so don’t cause any trouble or I’ll have to use force,” he threatened, idly swinging around his baton. 

Steven steadied himself and clicked his tongue in annoyance. As if you weren’t using force already.

Today the table had three objects placed on it; a cow bell, an alarm clock, and a switchboard with two unmarked buttons. Past the table stood Chiroptera and two white coats armed with clipboards.

Already he can take a guess at what his overseers have planned for him. 

The Institute's mission (that’s how Chiro had phrased it; ‘mission,’), was to get his pink mode under control, with the secondary goal of clearing up his memory, though with the way his sessions went these days he had the feeling they were really only invested in that first part.  

The first step in the process was to find out what things would ‘activate’ him (again, words of Chiro, not himself), and then, once they could pinpoint his triggers, find a way to suppress his reaction to them, or at least make it more manageable. A few days after he was switched from his old schedule to his new one, it was quickly discovered that anything that sounded like the cafeteria’s alarm would almost instantly spike his adrenaline levels, though how bad his reaction was varied based on the sound. There were other things that had managed to make him glow here or there, but nothing would trigger him quicker or was as consistent as that. 

Once that was discovered, things switched gears fast; now the focus was not on finding sources of his anxiety, but controlling it. They altered his cocktail of medications several times in an effort to minimize his symptoms, to wrangle the emotions that acted as the source of his powers, but so far nothing seemed all that effective. The whole thing felt like a waste of time. 

Still, through all the agonizing therapy sessions and mindless, boredom filled hours in-between, Steven wanted to get better. He wanted to get his powers under control so that he could finally leave this stupid facility behind.

And so, despite his immense distrust in these people, he played along anyway, greeting Chiro with a smile as she gestured to the table.

“Hello, Steven. Good afternoon,” she said, clicking her pen, “Today I want to see the results of the medication you’ve been taking. Take a seat at the table and we’ll get started.”

He wondered if she meant the medication he had been assigned by the staff or the ones Wulfenite had personally opted to add to the mix. Since Wulfenite had asked him to keep the additional pills a secret though, it was safe to assume the former. 

Why did he want those to be secret anyway…?

Steven pulled out the chair and sat down. He’d worry about that later.

“What’s this for? Is this a test?”

“A reaction test, yes,” she nodded, “In front of you are three objects. I want you to interact with each one on my command.”

“O-okay…”

“Pick up the cowbell and give it a shake.”

He did as she asked. In the hollowness of the room it echoed loudly, but by now it took more than something being a little loud to truly work him up.

“Good, good.” She leaned over to a nearby white coat and had them jot something down. “Press the marked button on the clock in front of you.”

The clock blared out an annoying “REEAAaaahh” sound upon being activated. It wasn’t enough to make him light up the room, but it spooked him enough to make him flinch. That was enough for Chiro to pick up on, and she whispered more into the white coat’s ear.

“The last test will be done with the switch to your right. Press the red button for us, please.”

Borris, who loomed behind him, adjusted his position so that he was closer.

Steven tapped his fingers on the table. “What does the button do?”

Chiro shook her head. “I need candid reactions. If I told you, it would mess with the test results.”

Steven grumbled and pressed the red button. It locked into place with a gentle click. At first nothing seemed to have been activated; no sound emerged from the box it was attached to. He rubbed his fingers together, now much more scared than he would’ve been if something did happen right away. 

The lights in the room flickered, then out of the speakers in the ceiling came the worst combination of beeping and screeching he’d ever heard. 

His hands shot up to cover his ears. “ What the hell?! ” He wasn’t usually one to swear, but desperate times called for desperate language.

“How do you feel?” Chiro asked in the same way one might ask about the weather, “Is this stressful?”

“YES!” His shout came out louder than he intended, but at that moment in time, he didn’t care. That droning wail was going to be the end of him if it didn’t stop.

“Hmm… you’re still glowing when exposed to potential triggers,” she mused, totally unbothered by the cacophony of noise in the room, “We’ll have to find a way to ease that stress response before you’re ready to go back out into the world.”

He had been so caught up in the commotion of the siren (was it really all that loud or was he over reacting?) that he didn’t even notice, but now that it was spoken of, he became acutely aware of how his skin prickled with excess energy and the way his vision was tinted with a pink haze.

“N-no, no, I can control it, I swear!” At this point he was trying to convince himself of that more than her. “I just… need to think about something positive!”

His powers operated based on his emotions, so all he needed to do was focus on the ones that made him feel in control. It should be simple. With great effort, he willed the alien power to go back into his gem, pulling the feelings associated with his more relaxed state to the forefront of his mind. But instead of it retreating, he seemed to shine brighter, which only made his fear worse.

He didn’t understand. The past several days he had been improving. He was getting closer to keeping himself in check. Why wasn’t it going away?

His heart pounded even faster as he became aware of another terrifying sensation, one he had hoped to never have to feel again. He had about half a second to ready himself before his heart got thrown out of sync, beating hard and loud in his chest. Pressure built up under the muscles of his arm, exploding painfully outward at an impossible rate, making it swell to twice its usual size before he regained control and it shrunk back in.

“W-wha… hah-” he whined, falling down to his knees.

He grasped at his chest with the opposing hand as his arm recovered. His heart still thumped at an irregular rhythm, but it seemed to slow down a little.

“What the hell was that?” Borris said under his breath.

Chiro put up a hand to silence him. “A small hiccup in the recovery process. Give him some room.”

Borris did as he was told without argument, taking several steps back towards the door. Evidently even this mountain of a man had people he wasn’t willing to mess with.

“Breathe, Steven,” Chiro commanded.

Every breath he took just made his chest feel tighter. He fought against his better instincts and inhaled deeply, shuddering all over on each exhale. Still the glow persisted.

“Vitals?” she asked, still keeping her eyes on him.

The more feminine assistant looked down at the tablet she was holding. “Elevated. Like… really elevated— if I wasn’t looking at it with my own two eyes I’d think there was something wrong with the sensors.”

“Gems process stress differently than humans. When they reach their limits they simply dissipate, but that’s not an option for him. If I had to guess, the human parts of him are struggling to compensate”. 

‘Struggling’ wasn’t the word Steven would use to describe what he felt, more like ‘actively dying’ . He was hot and alone and dying on the floor and none of them seemed to care. Already he could sense another horrible twinge of pressure under his skin, this time situated in his abdomen.

The two white coats stationed with Chiro that he couldn’t be bothered to identify whispered back and forth amongst themselves.

“His cortisol is spiking again—”

“Alien or not, blood pressure this high is dangerous.” 

“Should we sedate him?”

“No,” Chiro’s voice cut through the other two, “Give me thirty more seconds.”

“M-ma’am?”

“I didn’t stutter. 30 more seconds. He deserves a chance to get himself under control first.”

With his hunched over stance, the swelling had nowhere to go but across his shoulder blades and spine. His back puffed up like a balloon and he yelled out in shock. Chiro’s assistant visibly winced at his crying, but she remained as stoic as before, her uncaring eyes refusing to break away for even a second.

She was waiting for something. 

The muscles in his back rippled, tearing the fabric of his shirt and stretching out his skin uncomfortably tight before his healing factor caught up and eased the strain. He silently prayed that this horror show would be the expansion and compression of his human form and nothing more, because what happened afterwards was something he could never live down a second time.

Mercifully, he felt a prick in his leg before his body could spiral out of control any further. The last thing he heard before falling unconscious was Chiro barking orders to her assistants. 

“Get the senior research team to take a look at these readings, I want the report on my desk by Friday. And schedule a meeting with David sometime this week. We need to have a little chat...”

Chapter Text

Steven woke up on his bed after the last therapy session to find Star standing over him. The gem looked reserved and perfectly blank, a far cry from the over emotional wreck they were the last time he saw them.

“Star… you’re back.” Steven rubbed his throat, aware of how dry it felt now that he had used it to speak. 

Star blinked, then took a stale cup of water from the nightstand and held it out to him without saying a word. He nodded in thanks and took a sip. 

“T-thanks, I— Where did you go?” he asked, setting the cup aside, “Well, besides back in the gem but like— What I mean is, why did you just disappear like that? Are you okay?”

They cocked their head slightly. “I am functional.” 

“Right…” He didn’t believe that for a second. “But how do you feel? You were all glitchy before, you looked like you were about to cry.”

Something about this closed-off stance they were taking made his skin itch. If some kind of emotion or feeling emanated from the like it had been for the past several days now, then maybe he could get a sense for how things were going on the inside. He might be willing to let it go. But they seemed to lack an aura of any kind now— it almost felt like they were absorbing any energy around them, appearing as a distinct void in his sixth-sense.  

“I am functional, Steven,” they repeated.

“I don’t think—” Steven sighed and shook his head. He wouldn’t get anything out of Star when they were like this. “Never mind. What time is it?”

“About nine in the morning,” they replied.

“Dang. I’m supposed to see Wulfenite soon.” He stretched and rolled his shoulders, looking around the room to get his bearings. “Wait… is it still Tuesday?”

“Wednesday.”

Steven sucked in a breath and shuddered with the realization of how much time had escaped him. The next day already? He didn’t recall ever coming back into his room. Did security bring him back while he was passed out?

He tried to trace back his memory of what was (apparently) the previous day. Events hit him, but out of order. He was pinked out again, in therapy. He was at a table? His back exploded into— no. No. It didn't get that bad. Something must’ve freaked Star out, because now they were acting weird. Was it because of what happened with Chiro?

His fingers tapped rapidly against the mattress as he slowly sorted out the correct series of events in his head and placed them in order. Each piece of the puzzle he locked in made his pounder faster and faster. He’s quick to throw the memories of his therapy session aside. They could be filtered through in more detail later. Instead he circled back around to Star.

They’ve regressed. That much is painfully clear. Intentionally or involuntarily, though, he can’t say. Their outburst from yesterday has seemed to almost overload them like an integer overflow, so much pouring out of them that it’s left them empty.

The gem looked at him blankly. Even their mimicked breathing had stopped entirely. 

“Okay,” he sighed, dragging himself out of bed. “Okay, I should get ready.”

His new schedule had him with only one session a week with Wulf instead of five. The conversation he had overheard before must not have been the end of Wulf and Chiro’s argument, but Wulf clearly got the short end of the stick.

Without much to work with when it came to making himself presentable, preparing for his meeting didn’t take long. He came out of the shower about 15 minutes after going in and found Star in the exact same spot in the same position as when he had left; standing next to the bed and staring at the empty divot in the mattress. 

The gem hadn’t moved an inch.

“Star?”

“Yes?”

“I’m ready to go,” he said, pointing a thumb at the door. “One of the guards will be here soon to take me down to the office.”

“Okay,” they said flatly, looking more through him than at him, before retreating back into his gemstone. 

Star said nothing on the way to Wulfenite’s office— no waves of feelings or muted musings ever crossed Steven’s mindscape. They were certainly there . He still had the sense that someone else existed nearby. It was just… quiet.

Steven stepped into Wulfenite’s room and it too was devoid of sound. The only noise was a low droning that came from a dusty fan in the corner. 

Wulfenite sat at his desk idly twirling a pen in his fingers, his face locked into a tight grimace. He seemed surprised when Steven greeted him, his eyes snapping up at Steven in shock, dare he say suppressed fear .

“Steven! Apologies, I didn’t see you there. Come in, come in. Sit down and we’ll get started.”

Steven did as the doctor instructed, settingling into the chair across from his desk with a loud creak. 

Wulfenite set down his pen, giving Steven his full attention. “How have things been?” 

“Awful.”

“I figured as much,” he sighed, surprising Steven with his bluntness, “But people often get worse before they get better.”

“I thought I was getting better.” Steven threw his hands up in annoyance at himself. “I had it under control, but yesterday I just… lost it.”

“So I heard,” Wulfenite said, his grimace growing tighter. “I got quite an earful this morning.”

Steven shrunk back into his chair. “Oh…”

“I’m not upset with you— it’s the opposite, actually.” The doctor’s demeanor suddenly shifted, his eyes once again vanishing behind the glare of his glasses. He leaned forward, voice low and serious. “I’ve been trying my best to protect you, Steven. I really have.”

“Protect…?”

“I need to protect you from yourself, from things you may not be aware of ,” he said, putting extra emphasis on the latter half of his sentence. “I’ve printed up some worksheets for you to use, please be sure to take a close look at them during your free period.” 

Steven blinked. “Huh?” 

Wulfenite had never given him any kind of therapy homework to do. He just wasn’t the type to bother. 

Still, he continued onward as if this was business as usual. “You might find them enlightening.” He shuffled some papers around on his desk, pulling out a few choice sheets and scribbling something on the top one before holding it out for Steven to take. “I know it seems like busy-work, but in the long run, you’ll understand things better .”

As Steven went to take the papers from him, he caught a glimpse of some of the text on the top, and the doctor’s meaning became clear. He nodded in silent understanding, thumbs fidgeting over the words Wulfenite had scrawled across the page; ‘THIS ROOM IS BUGGED’.  

“I see ,” he said, skimming the rest of the first page, which upon closer inspection was clearly not a set of therapy worksheets. “Okay, I’ll look it over when I get back to my room.”

“Very good.” Wulfenite leaned back in his chair, dropping his conspiratorial tone and letting the tension fall with it. “Let’s see here… yesterday you had an exposure test to see your response to different potential triggers, and it seems like up until the last one, you held together pretty well. Could you identify what was it about the last one that shook you up so badly?”

“I dunno, the volume? It seemed so much louder than the other triggers—”

“I was given a sample of security footage to watch back, and it was the same as the alarm clock.”

Steven flinched. “I…I… no. No , I don’t believe you.” That sound could shake the walls. He was sure of it. That’s how he remembered it. He wasn’t just imagining things… right?

“Just trust me on this,” Wulfenite said, waving away any potential arguments on the subject with a flick of his wrist.

Steven decided to let it float on by for now. It wasn’t worth it to have the only other person he felt comfortable with also be upset with him. 

“The sooner we can identify your issues,” the doctor continued, “The sooner we can fix them. Try to focus. What else was different? Recall with all your senses.”

His senses that were overwhelmed at the time, bombarded by so much he feared he would explode. He almost did explode. Memories of his skin rippling outward, struggling to contain the surges of energy zipping across every strand of muscle and hard-light infrastructure holding him together flashed in his mind.

“I’m trying and nothing is hitting me, can I jus—”

“When the alarm went off, what did you feel?”

“Scared? Upset?”

“Yes, yes, I’m sure,” he nodded, “But what about your body? I need you to really think about this.”

Clearly Wulfenite wasn’t going to let this go so easily. “I… I was shaking,” Steven said, scrunching up and rubbing his arms for emphasis, “I could feel my heart beating really fast. It was hard to breathe.”

“Was your chest tight?”

Steven perked up. How did he know? “Yeah, actually. I couldn't get enough air.”

“Did anything smell weird to you?”

“N-no? I don’t think so.” Steven squirmed as Wulfenite scribbled notes into the pad on his desk. “I just couldn't calm down no matter what I tried. I felt like I was dying .”

“What about your gem, if you don’t mind me asking? Did anything seem off there?”

“Well he was acting strange earlier that da—” Steven bit his lip, catching his mistake too late. “I mean. Um. No, not that I could tell.”

Wulfenite didn’t let his slip up go by unaddressed. “Who was?”

Steven expected to hear Star yelling at him to keep his mouth shut like before, but the gem gave no protest. His head had no one else in it.

“Star,” he conceded, “My gem.”

To his surprise the doctor asked, “In what way was he acting strange?” 

He thought Wulfenite would be like Olivia and dismiss his comment as nothing but fantasy, but he gleaned no change in Wulf’s expression, nothing to indicate that he was doing anything other than taking it entirely seriously.

Cautiously, he continued. “One moment he had his hands all over me and the next he seemed terrified of me. Now it feels like he’s actively avoiding me.” Verbally confirming it seemed to make it sting even more. “I just don't understand what’s gotten into him, he was perfectly fine and then…”

Wulfenites brow creased. “He… had his hands on you? Steven, what do you mean by that?”

“He kinda just… held my head for a bit…? And then moved his hands down my back— “

“If anyone here is touching you inappropriately then you have to tell us.”

“He didn’t hurt me!” Steven yelped, face flushed at the implications of Wulfenite’s words. “I was a little surprised, but it wasn’t bad .”

“It’s not about pain, it’s about boundaries . Where is your gem now?”

“Back in the gemstone, I think. I’m not really sure where he goes when he disappears, but going back in the gem makes the most sense to me. I saw him for a little while this morning, but he’s back in robot mode.”

“I’m having trouble following— robot mode? ”

“The very first time I saw him, it was like talking to a computer. And then, I showed him how to do things and talked to him more, and he loosened up. It was nice. Now he’s gone back to how he was before.”

Wulfenite shook his head, leaning onto the desk with his elbows and his hands clasped together. He stayed that way for a while, brows furrowed and body tense. Contemplative. “I think I need to go back to the drawing board,” he finally said. “Steven, how often do you spend time with the other patients?”

Steven shrugged. “I dunno, maybe an hour?”

“I’m prescribing you some good ‘ole fashion play-time. At the very least I want you out of your room.”

“But—”

“No ‘buts’. Get some fresh air, I mean it. There’s a section in the western part of the Arboretum with a beautiful arrangement of iris and dog’s bane flowers,” Wulfenite swiveled around in his chair and grabbed a book from the shelf behind him as he spoke, flipping through the pages until he found an image of a dog’s bane flower, then held it up for Steven to see. “Take a seat near there when you get the chance tomorrow and clear your thoughts.”

“Alright…” While the idea didn’t appeal to him, if Wufelnite was asking for him to do it, he should at least try. 

“Now, back to the test results…”

The second he got back to his room, (and he was certain no one would interrupt him for a room check or to bring him lunch), Steven hopped into bed and riffled through the paperwork Wulfenite had given to him. 

Flowers. It was pages and pages of jargon-filled musings about flowers . Some he recognized right away; forget-me-nots, broccoli (which he admittedly didn’t know was a flower until now), amaranth, and of course the infamous rose. Some he had never heard of. Nasturtium and eyebright were new. Others still didn’t even seem real; ones with neon teal and red petals or thorns sticking out of any part of a plant that should and shouldn’t have them. All of those had long, technical names he couldn’t dream of trying to pronounce. 

It intrigued him, but what made the documents so important? How would this be helpful? Why was Wulfenite so determined that he take these with him? 

Even if it didn’t seem obvious now, he knew at the very least these must be significant. He’d have to take a closer look later, when he had the fortitude to go through it all in more detail. He shoved them under his pillow and layed down facing the wall with his back to the door, mind racing with all these new developments.

When Steven went to roll away from the wall, he flinched at the pink entity suddenly standing next to the bed. 

“S-star?” he stammered, “I didn’t know you were back.”

“Hello,” they said. 

“Listen, buddy, you gotta tell me what's going on,” he said, ignoring the greeting and sitting upright. “You’re acting weird.”

“I am functional.” The way Star avoided his gaze told him otherwise.

“Okay, but that’s not the same as being good . Is this about yesterday? I promise I’m not mad about it. You don’t need to shy away from me.” Steven reached out to them. 

Star jerked back, the most sharp and deliberate movement the gem had made since Steven woke up this morning. They returned to their neutral position, but a glitch in their eyes betrayed their true feelings.

“Alright... No touching. Got it,” he said, both arms up. “But you still need to tell me what’s going on. Please .”

They took a step away from the bed. “Nothing is going on. I made sure of that.”

“By what? Resetting your brain?” His tone came off more accusatory than he liked, but at this point he didn’t care. “Star, I’m trying to help you. This… whatever this is—” he groaned, gesturing towards Star in irritation, “—it’s not good for you!” 

Steven ruffled his hair. Was he always this difficult? Is this how his family felt all those months ago trying to drag him away from the edge?

“No, Steven,” Star said, shaking their head. “Incorrect, redirect, directive, defective. I am not good for you .”

“ ...What? ”

“Something is…” They hesitated, looking past him and over a precipice he couldn't see. “ ...wrong with me.”

“What do you mean?” He risked reaching out for them again. This time they didn’t pull away, and he took their cold hand in his, rubbing his thumb along the backside of their palm.

“I… do not know. I do not think I am meant to feel this way.”

Feel what? Fear? If there was any emotion Star seemed to brain blast him with the most, it was sheer terror. Anxiety. Panic. Of course, telling the thing that, based on previous history, reacted to stress and fear more strongly than any other emotion, to not be afraid was going to be a challenge.

“Well, feelings aren’t bad , Star.” Steven chewed his cheek, trying to navigate the conversation carefully. “It’s okay to feel things. You shouldn’t try to not feel anything at all. All that matters is—”

“—the actions you take because of them,” Star finished. “My actions were… inappropriate . I cannot be allowed to do such things to you.”

“I already said it’s fine. And sure, you spooked me, but you didn’t hurt me.” He patted the mattress with his free hand and gently pulled on Star’s arm. “C’mere, sit down.”  

Wordlessly, Star took their spot on the bed. Steven took their chin and tilted their head up so that it faced him, but their eyes looked more through him than at him.  

“Look at me,” he commanded.

“Steven—”

“I’m serious. Look at me, please, just for a moment.”

They didn’t offer any further protest. Their unblinking eyes locked with his, snapping to attention in an instant, boxy pupils shrinking and widening like a camera lens. He moved his hand to their cheek, sweeping across it with his thumb. Their form crackled with static; it felt like touching an old TV screen, the kind he used to have at the beach house. They shuddered under his touch, but kept their eyes forward. 

Any other time this degree of focus from them would unnerve him. Now he was relieved to have his gem not just look at him, but see him. He kept his hand in place until he felt the static leave their hard-light form.

“See?” he said, watching their eyelids droop as they leaned into his hand, “There’s nothing to freak out about. You’re okay. It’s alright.”

Star’s next words caught him entirely off guard. “How do you know if you love someone?” They asked, lightly tracing their fingertips across the back of the hand that held their face.

“I… I dunno,” he shrugged, “I guess you just feel it. There’s noth— wait, Star, do you…?” he trailed off, pulling back his hand as it finally hit him what his gem had been trying to process this entire time. 

“N-no... no, I cannot be…” they gasped, looking like a three-legged table without his hand to steady them, “... should not be… but this thing in my c-center… yes. Affirmative . ” The word ‘affirmative’ came out more like a mechanical click than a sentence, their entire body twitching as if it was a processed command sent by their own mouth. “I… I am sorry. R-repentant, atonement, baritone, broken. I told you I was defective.”

Steven took their hand in an attempt to ease their robotic stuttering. They relaxed and the glitching across their body subsided. “Don’t be sorry, you haven’t done anything wrong.” Steven cooed. “And you’re not ‘defective’, don’t say that about yourself. I think you’re just confused.” 

He only partially believed that himself. 

The truth was more complicated; complicated and messy, an entangled web of thoughts he didn’t want to sort through, lest he find out something about himself that would shatter his world more than the gas station had. 

Star loved him. That he could make sense of. Love is a big emotion. It came in a hundred forms and could be expressed a hundred ways. After all, his mother had said that when he loved being himself, that was her loving him. That could easily be what his gem is feeling; a love for being the person they are, together.

Star could be in love with him. That, he could not make sense of. That, he would not think about. That would make him ask questions he didn’t want the answers to. 

So instead, he put it in a box and set it aside. 

“Confused?” they echoed.

“You’re mistaking guardianship for romantic love, I think. You care about me, you want to be near me, keep me safe, and that makes sense right? You’re part of me. Of course you care.”

“Yes. Care. This is care.”

He just cares about me. [I just care about him.]

“It’s nothing to worry about,” Steven smiled, certain that this would be forgotten about by tomorrow. “You’re not broken, okay?”

Star nodded. “Okay.”