Disclaimer: Steven Universe is the creation of Rebecca Sugar. I own nothing.
She's home before she even realizes it.
Connie hadn't really been paying attention, anyway. So when she hears the snuffling noises Lion makes, and the restless way he shakes his head around, it finally occurs to her to look up and see that she's arrived at her house.
She slips off the large cat's back, and as her feet touch the pavement, she understands just how tired she is. It had been an exhausting couple of days, both mentally and physically. She'd basically been running on adrenaline for over 50 hours straight, barely eating or sleeping. Just trying desperately to keep it together, to be useful, to be comforting to not only the gems, but to Mr. Universe as well. Now that Steven was home at last, the adrenaline that had powered her was gone and she was left feeling wrung out like a dish rag.
Lion pushes his face against her open palm and she smiles gently at him, petting his soft fur. "Everything's fine now, huh Lion?" She presses a kiss to his cheek and sighs. "Then why doesn't it feel that way?"
She turns her key in the lock as gently and quietly as she can, but of course the living room is lit up bright as day and her parents can be heard talking in the kitchen. They're talking about her, Connie knows, but she's too tired to try to discern the actual words being spoken. When they hear her open the door, they both rush out, ready to greet her, but when they see the pink beast by her side, they naturally cringe away.
"Connie!" Priyanka cries. "Honey, we were so worried!"
Connie considers this, then walks over and hugs her mother. Priyanka is tough, demanding, and domineering, and Connie has spent much of her life walking the line between fear and love when it comes to her. But Priyanka is also stable, reliable, and competent. Connie has never had to worry that one day she'd wake up and her mother would do something to hurt her. "Mom," she murmurs simply.
Before Priyanka can react, Connie slips out of her arms to hug Doug as well. "Dad," she whispers in his ear.
Priyanka and Doug look at their daughter, their little girl, who looks like she has the weight of the world on her shoulders. They wish they could protect her from the burden she's taken on herself, and they both find themselves secretly cursing that boy, Steven Universe, for pulling her into the mess of his life. But this is not the time to say anything. They know their child is hurting, and it's more important to be supportive than critical.
"He's home," Connie tells them.
"He's…Steven? Is home?" Doug begins, flabbergasted. Priyanka just puts her hand to her mouth.
"Yes, he found a way. It's complicated. I'll tell you tomorrow. I just—I need to rest." Connie looks down at the floor, defeat having practically seeped into her bones.
"Oh! Yes, of course, dear. We'll talk in the morning," Priyanka answers. As Connie turns to go and Lion follows her, Priyanka calls out, "Wait! That animal's not going to your room, is it?"
Connie just turns and looks at her mother, holding her gaze with the kind of determination Priyanka has never seen from her daughter before. And she knows that she won't win this fight. Connie just turns and continues to her room, the pink feline following faithfully behind.
Once Connie gets to her room, she sloughs off her sword and her bag and collapses onto her bed, covering her face with her hands. Her head feels heavy and aching, and she knows sleep is what she needs most. But she should shower. She hasn't bathed in well over a day—not since she and the gems came back from the harbor after losing Steven. When they got back to the beach house, Pearl invited Connie to shower there while she cleaned Connie's clothes. Since none of the gems had to wear actual clothes, the only garments Pearl could offer Connie once she was done were Steven's. Connie put on one of his red shirts with the star in the center and a pair of jeans that had to be tied snugly to her waist with a piece of rope.
Amethyst had guffawed and said, "That's a good look for ya, C!" The purple gem was trying to lighten the dark mood they were all in, obviously, and Connie could appreciate that. But she could also smell Steven on the clothes she wore, and it took every bit of willpower she had not to bawl like a baby right then and there.
"Arrgh!" Connie growls as she thinks of this. Did he really not understand? Steven was so lighthearted, so nonchalant about the whole thing. Did he even stop to think what it had been like for all of them? The panic, the fear, the worrying, the feelings of helplessness? "Oh it was just so crazy, Connie! I'll have to tell you all about it!" he'd said, laughing.
Oh yeah, Steven? Connie should have fired back. You want to know how crazy it was here? Do you want to hear about the look on your father's face when we told him that you'd been taken by Homeworld and we couldn't find a way to get you back? Do you want to hear about how Garnet fell apart from the shock, and how Sapphire was so terrified that she froze to one spot and we couldn't get her unstuck for hours? Would you like to hear about Pearl's theories on what they were going to do to you once you got to Homeworld—how they'd think that your body was just being used by Rose Quartz as some sort of organic shield, and they'd probably try to rip your gem out of you? She went on for nearly a half an hour like this, until Amethyst got so frustrated she threatened to shatter her! Would you like to hear about all that, Steven? Oh, it was a real PEACH of a time over here, believe me!
Connie sighed. "I should just shower," she said out loud—not necessarily to Lion, who'd made himself comfortable in a corner.
She made the water as hot as she could tolerate, allowing the torrents to beat down on her hair, her back. As she washed her hair, she could hear music. It was coming from the vent right outside of the tub; the bathroom was just above the den in the basement. Connie recognized the deep, rhythmic beat, the distorted, soprano wail that sounded like a cry from a distance, and then Adele's distinct, assured voice.
If you're not the one for me,
Then how come I can bring you to your knees?
If you're not the one for me,
Why do I hate the idea of being free?
Her dad must have been playing it. He was a not-so-secret fan of Adele. Connie sighs as she soaps up her body. "If you're not the one for me, why do I hate the idea of being free," she sings absently.
The words she'd just sung make her pause for a moment. Was Steven "the one" for her?
Yes. Of course he was.
How could he not be? Connie was never going to find anyone else—boy, man, woman—who could compare to him. Who else could be so wonderful and magical, bringing so much joy and excitement into her life? She knows she's still a kid, and she has a lot of years ahead of her, but she just couldn't imagine ever finding anyone who could make her feel the way he did.
Connie then thinks of her grandmother, Lilia, for a moment. When she'd say her prayers at night, she always began with, "How blessed am I." None of the things Lilia was grateful for were particularly special or extraordinary, but that was the point. Connie's grandmother tried to impart that it was important to find gratitude in all things in life, not just the big things.
"How blessed am I that the sun shone all day!" Lilia would cry out, rocking very gently as she knelt on the floor in prayer. "How blessed am I that the market had perfectly ripe plantains! How blessed am I that my arthritis didn't act up today!"
"How blessed am I, to have found the one I'll love all my life so early on," Connie told herself once. "I won't have to kiss any frogs, I won't have to put up with some insecure guy's mistreatment, won't have to struggle with loneliness and the fear of ending up alone. I don't have to look at all—he's right here with me."
But then, here came Adele's admission through the bathroom vent:
And if I'm not the one for you,
You gotta stop holding me like you do.
And if I'm not the one for you,
Why have we been through what we have been through?
Connie is pretty sure that Steven is the one for her…but what if she's not the one for him?
She finishes her shower and turns off the water, climbing out of the tub to dry off. The song is almost over in real time, but in Connie's analytical mind, the lyrics are still being circulated, considered. As she dries off, she observes herself in the mirror. She's noticed her body changing over the last few months, and for a moment she chuckles when she remembers those videos they had to watch in Health class and the flat, cerebral voice of the female narrator, "During puberty, a human female can expect to see several subtle, yet noticeable changes that signal the beginning of adulthood." Her chest, once as flat as a boy's, now had gentle peaks that had recently required a trip to the department store for her first bra. Her hips jutted out in a way they hadn't before, making her jeans feel slightly more snug. Connie runs her hand over her face for a moment, and notices that much of its childish roundness is gone, replaced with defined cheekbones and a jawline. Give it just a few more years, and she'd probably look much like her mother did when she first started college as a young woman.
Connie was growing, maturing…but Steven wasn't. She recalls Steven's birthday not so long ago, when he tried to stretch himself to be more grown up for her…and turned himself into a baby. True, he started growing facial hair—a single facial hair—but otherwise he hadn't changed at all since he was 10. What if this was just how he was; what if he'd have to stretch and tear and torture his body in order to make it more mature? Connie couldn't ask that of him, but at the same time, how could they possibly be together if she was a grown woman and he looked like a child? What kind of future could they have?
Steven might not age physically, and that evening, he'd shown Connie that he might not be able to age mentally as well. He was so light-hearted about everything that had happened, not giving a single thought to what he'd put them through—and how he'd broken his promise to her. He'd interrupted Connie's training with Pearl that day and fought with her, insisting that he and Connie would face everything together.
But he'd broken that promise so easily. He wanted to play the martyr, take everything onto himself, and when he came back, he just expected that everyone would be thrilled and forget about how he'd made them feel when he left them behind. It was so thoughtless, and so…childish.
It's so cold out here, in your wilderness,
I want you to be my keeper—but not if you're so reckless.
Connie finishes dressing in the bathroom and walks back to her room. She turns out the light, gets into bed, and it feels like she's being pulled down by gravity—she couldn't be vertical right now, even if she wanted to be. The sheets feel wonderful: cool and soothing, like arms embracing her. Her eyelids close completely of their own accord, and it's as though her mind shuts off completely.
There are no dreams, no thoughts. Just limitless, merciful blackness. Connie is floating through the true emptiness of space, and it's wonderful.