Now a series of oneshots! :D
I have not written this sort of POV for a VERY long time… bear with me, because the reason I never write it is that I suck at it. XP
Further, this could be read as a continuation of chapter 1 but wasn't initially intended that way. Go for whatever you feel in regards to your interpretation.
My bare feet slap methodically against the hardwood floor. Thunk, thunk, thunk, thunk.
I'm pacing. Thinking.
I flump onto the couch and sigh. Most times, it's so much easier to think when I'm Stevonnie.
Now's not one of those times.
I look to the door, wondering what I'll find on the other side. They haven't tried to come talk to Steven or Connie at all today. That makes enough sense… considering yesterday… but… they must have lots to do, especially considering yesterday! Steven and Connie are the First Man and the President for crying out loud!
I pause.
Connie's… the President of the United States.
Steven… he's the First Gentleman.
So… what am I?
I pick up the newspaper and study its headline, and I suppose I'm not the only one wondering the same thing…
I feel myself taking form, feel the weird, brilliant feeling of coming into existence.
I'm here.
But I'm not supposed to be! The room before me affirms that truth.
Democrats, Republicans, correspondents, aides, and more stand with their mouths agape and
I am not supposed to be here. Not now.
I take a deep breath, more like a gasp than any actual intake of air because
they were going to go public with me,
but they needed to find the right time, and
now
is
not
the
time—
We fall apart. The cameras swarm. Steven and Connie are ushered from the room.
The administration asks for me to form again. The First Couple, understanding the gravity of the situation, oblige.
I'm here again, and I fight to stay stable as the high-ranking officials before me share shocked, hushed whispers. I feel Connie's worry, Steven's concern, their shared thoughts of what this means for the country, for them, for me.
My own uncertainty.
They're just thoughts, Stevonnie. We can watch them go by, see them fly away, it'll all be fine…
Breathe.
The White House Chief of Staff comes before me, my form towering at least a foot above him. He's suggesting Steven go get his family and bring them to a meeting.
I have to unfuse once more.
Great.
Before several hours ago, it had been years since I'd fused.
It'd been so long I wasn't sure who I was anymore.
But now I'm back, and I'm fusing on the regular at the command of those staff members, but I still don't feel like me.
I'm not being treated like me. I'm just a weird combination in their eyes, just my two parts together to them, to the point that to them I'm not Stevonnie, I'm "the Connie-Steven hybrid creature".
I want to scream, to tell them I'm here, I'm me… I'm more.
But that's unbecoming of a Cabinet meeting, so I sit with my arms crossed and listen to the dialogue. The Cabinet members are asking how a topic like this can be broached to the public and the gems are sharing what they know, what they think will work. Greg is visibly uncomfortable in a meeting of this level of importance but shares his own experience with fusion from the human observer perspective. He shoots those worried-parent sort of glimpses at me—like this is a school principal's office and I'm being punished for something he knows I didn't do—and it's obvious he doesn't want to be here.
Neither do I, really. Most of the feeling comes from Steven; Cabinet meetings aren't really where he rolls. He's much more comfortable being a public speaker and White House host, not here.
…Now they're asking what I should be called when they have to address this, what I am…
I can't take it anymore. I have a voice, too, and I'm going to use it.
I stand, and I tell them.
I'm me.
I'm me.
But what does that mean? How do I put myself into a word, especially one Steven, Connie… or even I could use to explain myself to a whole country?
I'm a fusion. But most of the country (all of the country?) wouldn't understand what that means.
Garnet would call me an experience, a conversation, something greater than either Steven or Connie. But that'd be hard to quantify, too…
The White House calls me a hybrid. Technically accurate, but it feels demeaning.
And then there's Steven and Connie's parents…
Greg, Doug, and Priyanka have come to treat me like some weird form of grandchild. And I guess in a way, I kind of am?
The idea feels nice, anyhow. More loving than most of the other options, and perhaps an easier idea to present to humans.
…Maybe I'm the First… Daughter? Son? Kid?
No… I've never really thought about myself in this sort of context, but none of those sound right. I'm not a daughter or son, and I don't feel like a kid.
I fidget with my hands as I try to find a term like those… but more… me.
And I know.
My feet pitter-patter across the floor as I head to the room's entrance and swing the door open. An advisor is sitting there, as if she were waiting for me to show up.
"The Cabinet is looking to reconvene, and they want to know if you've figured out how to broach a press conference for the major networks. Have you figured out a good description to explain what you are?"
I nod.
I'm the First Person.
I feel like this was very badly written, and perhaps it might get rewritten in the future. I feel like I haven't mastered Stevonnie's voice yet. I probably would have held back on this chapter and tried to make it better, but for some reason I really wanted to unleash it on the world today. XP *shrug*
(If I rewrite this, it may not be in first person; I partially picked that POV because it felt like a nice play on the title. XD)
