Chapter Twenty-Three: Recovery

It was Tuesday, June 27th, and nobody was paying any attention to the weather.

The blinds on the hospital room windows were closed, the lights dimmed. Two small figures lay on a pair of beds, asleep. The white sheets threw Connie's dark skin into sharp relief, making it obvious just how painfully thin she'd become. Her cheekbones jutted out, and the only thing hiding her ribs were the hospital gown and bedspread. Steven, meanwhile, seemed to blend into the sheets, his face unnaturally pale and sallow. He was thinner as well— though not as bad a position as his friend. Whether that was because of his unique physiology, or because he'd had more weight to lose, it was impossible to tell.

The malnutrition was a secondary concern, regardless. The more pressing problem was dehydration. Both of them had IV drips attached to their arm, replacing the fluids and nutrients they had lost over the past week.

For now, there was nothing to do but wait.

Dr. Priyanka Maheswaran stood between the two beds, staring down at the children. She wasn't wearing scrubs or her white coat. She wasn't a doctor right now— or at least, she wasn't their doctor. It would be a conflict of interest, tending to her own daughter. So Priyanka had no choice but to let her colleagues handle it, and to allow herself to be a worried parent. Like Doug, who was sitting next to their child, holding her hand in his, as if afraid she might vanish again. Like Greg, face ragged as he tried to fight off sleep himself.

Outside, in the corridor, the Gems waited too.

It wasn't that they had been barred from the hospital room. They were allowed in, at least in limited numbers— the nurses didn't want them disturbing the children's rest. They'd all taken turns checking in on them, but found it difficult staying in there for long. Lapis hadn't even been able to remain in the hospital. Once she'd been given the reassurance that Steven would most likely recover, she'd opened the nearest window and flown away without another word.

The Maheswarans had barely said anything to any of the Gems. A few demands for explanations, a few teary exclamations of relief, a few muttered comments too quiet to be understood, aside from a sense of fear and bitterness.

Nobody said it outright, but they all could tell that Connie's parents blamed them for what had happened.

Greg didn't. He'd thanked them again and again for bringing the kids home safe, hugging them and even crying a bit into Garnet's shoulder, and that was all the worse.

They hadn't saved them. Oh, they'd tried, as much as they could. It had been Greg— his phone call, the lifeline they'd clung to, which had allowed them to hang onto reality long enough to break out— that had saved them.

Steven and Connie… they'd both looked so terrible. Exhausted, baggy eyed, dry-lipped, too dizzy to stand… and they'd looked like that for days. And the Gems had barely even noticed.

When they'd first escaped, Garnet and Lapis had had carried the children to Greg's van. Pearl had slipped away to the warp pad, trailed by an angry Amethyst, who couldn't believe she was bailing at a time like this. Amethyst had shut up when she'd found Pearl had warped to Rose's fountain, to gather tears up in an empty water bottle she'd produced from her gem. They'd rushed back and reached the van just before it had left. Carefully, they'd brought the healing tears to Steven and Connie's lips, and the children had drank it desperately.

But it had done nothing. At least, nothing more than regular water would have.

Pearl hadn't been particularly surprised, really. Rose's healing had always had its limits, and this was an understandable one. Pearl could repair a broken car, but it still wouldn't run if it had no fuel.

Humans were so much more fragile than cars.

For a long time, there was no talking. Too much to think about, too much to worry about, too much danger about putting it into words.

Amethyst was the one to finally ask the question. "So what exactly… happened there?"

"We got stuck in a simulation," said Garnet.

"Well, duh. But how? Rose's room never did anything like that before."

Amethyst had memories of explanations given to her— dozens of times over, actually— but they were hard to focus on, to put in sequence. The endless repeats blurred together, and it made it hard to tell which conversations had happened when. It didn't help that some of the memories literally overlapped.

"It's my fault," Peridot said, burying her head in her hands. "I attempted to upgrade the room's simulation capabilities."

"Well, you certainly succeeded there," Pearl said icily.

Peridot flinched. Her face dripped with guilt.

Pearl looked away. That had been cruel, and she knew it. Peridot's actions may have been the cause of their entrapment, but it clearly had not been her intention.

Garnet reached out, gave Peridot's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. With her prompting, Peridot was able to explain what other changes she had made to the room's programming, and where she believed it had malfunctioned.

Amethyst interrupted her before it could get too technical. "But the fusions," she said, rubbing her gem. "They were all there— Opal and Sard and Smoky— but we were there too? And how about you, G? Were Ruby and Sapphire real, or fake, or what?"

"Their minds were real," said Garnet, adjusting her glasses.

Amethyst's face screwed into an expression of confusion, and she exchanged a brief glance with Peridot, who looked even more baffled.

Pearl, however, was thoughtful. Her hands twisted as she thought. "Rose's room always had a psychic connection to the Rose Quartz gem— and its function was extended to connect to all users, correct?" Peridot nodded. "Then if we were all psychically connected to the room, then in effect—"

"— we were all connected to each other," Amethyst finished. Pearl smiled, despite herself, and Amethyst smiled back.

The smiles faded quickly when they remembered where they were and why they were there.

Peridot squirmed in her seat, looking very small. "So," she asked. "What do we do now?"

"We wait," said Garnet.

And the Gems waited.

Peridot left shortly after. There was nothing for her to do in the 'hospital' human repair center besides waiting for news on Steven and Connie's condition. And while she understood the necessity of emotional support during times of crises on an intellectual level, prolonged exposure to the ambience of the hospital only made her antsy. It didn't help that the 'nurses' kept giving her terrifying glares whenever she tried to tinker with their stations' equipment.

It was well past nightfall when she arrived at the barn, but all the lights were out, even the TV sets. Everything else looked exactly like how she had left it over a week ago, when she, Lapis, and Steven headed off for a 'sleepover' at the Temple and attempted to fix Rose Quartz's outdated room. Tools and meep morps and unfinished projects were strewn all across the floor, except now they were coated with a thin layer of dust.

In the corner, Lapis was snoring in her hammock, Pumpkin snug in her arms.

Careful not to disturb the two, Peridot sat down beside the nearest junk pile, picked up a screwdriver, and started tinkering with a broken carburetor as quietly as she could.

Normally, when Lapis slept through the night, Peridot spent the time watching Camp Pining Hearts with the TV muted while soundlessly reciting the dialogue in sync with the characters' lip movements. But she didn't really feel up for that tonight. No, her mind was too loud, her thoughts too scattered, for something like that. She needed something more active, to keep herself busy enough to keep the bad thoughts at bay.

Tinkering with pieces of Earth technology usually helped Peridot relax whenever that happened. It required all of her concentration on task and it gave her something to do with her hands, quieting her restless trains of thought.

But tonight, the tinkering wasn't helping at all. In fact, it was just making things worse. All she could think of was how her attempts to fix things had exploded on everyone's faces. She had gone and fracked things up, got everyone trapped in an endless cycle of repeats. If things had gone on longer, if they hadn't gotten out when they did, if—

"How's Steven?"

Yanked from her thoughts, Peridot leapt to her feet and held the screwdriver in front of her, in case she needed to defend herself.

But it was only Lapis. She was still in her hammock, nuzzling Pumpkin as she intently watched Peridot and waited for an answer.

"Oh. Um. Still the same, more or less," said Peridot. She lowered the screwdriver and relaxed from her defensive stance. "The human doctors said he and Connie are not in any immediate danger now, and that they might wake up soon."

"I see. That's good, I guess," Lapis mumbled, before turning away, her back towards the world.

Peridot stared at that back, specifically at the gem embedded in the center, and wondered how well was Lapis dealing with all this, if at all. Feeling trapped was already unpleasant in itself. But to feel like no matter how many times you break free, you only keep finding yourself in a different trap, a different prison over and over again...

Briefly, Peridot wished she could feel what Lapis was feeling and thinking at the moment. Just like that strange connection they had in the room, the way their thoughts had flowed between them like water.

But they weren't in the room anymore.

"Lapis? Are you...?" Peridot paused, trailing off. She couldn't ask if Lapis was 'okay'— none of them had been 'okay' in these past couple days— but before she could think of a more appropriate word, Lapis cut her off.

"I'm fine."

They both flinched as soon as it had left her mouth, the words hanging between them like an ominous spectre. Too many times, they'd heard similar-sounding words whispered directly into their heads, reassuring them, lulling them into false security while they were in the room's comforting clutches—

I'm fine. Everything is fine.

But they weren't in the room anymore, and Peridot wanted to scream—

That's a lie! I'm not fine. You're not fine.

Everything is NOT fine!

— but it wouldn't do to take out her frustrations on Lapis, so Peridot said nothing.

The silence grew heavily between them. Outside, a gentle breeze blew past, rustling the leaves of a nearby tree. It seemed deafening in comparison.

The silence unnerved Peridot. She started pacing loudly across the floor, just to fill in the void with the sound of her footsteps padding against the hard wood. She was on her third back and forth when Lapis's muffled voice spoke up again.

"It's not your fault, you know," she said. "At least not entirely."

"W-what?" Peridot froze mid-step, whirling around to face Lapis, unsure if she had heard right.

Lapis sat up on the hammock, careful not to disturb Pumpkin, and looked Peridot in the eyes. "The room, what happened to us... that wasn't all on you."

Peridot looked away, vehemently shaking her head, arms crossing over her chest. "No. No, I made the upgrades that caused all this."

"You didn't mean for it to happen."

"But it still happened!"

"Peridot, it was an accident!"

"But Steven and Connie could've died because of me!" Peridot cried, throwing her arms out in frustration. At herself. At everything. At her own uselessness. The realization left her feeling cold, so she wrapped her arms around herself again, crouching down to hug her knees. Her eyes stung; something hot trickled down her cheeks. Her breaths came in short bursts. Her voice grew soft, almost fragile, as she mumbled, "They could've died... The room only trapped us because of my stupid modifications... They could've died, and it's all my fault..."

Pearl had been right to be angry at her— they should all be angry at her.

Peridot didn't know how long she'd spent there on the floor, curled up on herself, sobbing. It could've been just a brief moment; it could've been an eternity. She didn't care either way— she deserved to feel the weight of this guilt forever.

But then, a pair of warm arms wrapped around her small form, pulling her close, pulling her away from her dark thoughts. Lapis was holding her, embracing her as she mumbled reassurances that it wasn't entirely her fault, that she'd already helped fix things, that things were going to be okay now—

—they were going to be okay now.

Everything was not fine, but they were going to be okay.

Steven's room felt very empty.

It was empty, of course. That's what happened when a place had no one inside it. But nonetheless, it felt empty. The lights were off despite it not nearing midnight, and the shadows seemed unnaturally long. There was junk of all sorts littered around the place. Pillows, blankets, soda cans, chip bags, dishes piled up in the sink. Greg clearly hadn't been very focused on cleaning in the week he'd been living there.

Amethyst and Pearl stepped carefully inside. The wooden floor creaked beneath their feet.

Pearl ran a finger across the window sill, and winced at the dust. "Oh, look at this!" Pearl exclaimed, mostly for something to fill the silence. "This will take forever to clean up!"

' Have fun with that, P.' Or 'Is cleaning all you talk about? ' Or 'I think we've got bigger things on our mind.' That was the kind of snarky remark Amethyst usually would have made to such a comment. This time, she hardly even seemed to notice it. She just shouldered past and headed directly up to the loft.

Pearl hesitated a moment, then followed.

Finding Steven's backpack wasn't difficult— it was half tucked underneath his bed. Deciding what to put in there was a bit trickier. Greg had sent them off to "get the stuff he'll need once he wakes up"— when, not if — and the instructions were rather vague. It could always be so difficult to predict these things, to really understand what Steven would consider important.

Not food. Pearl was certain of that. The hospital provided it in ample supply, and she could only assume that a place dedicated to healing would have the highest quality of sustenance for its patients. Besides, any healthy food they'd had stored in the fridge had most likely gone bad by now.

Amethyst threw herself into collecting entertainment— books, video-games, toys and the like. Pearl left her to it, surmising that she would be far better at recognising Steven's tastes than she ever would be.

Which left Pearl to the clothes. This seemed straightforward enough, and Pearl threw herself into sorting and piling shorts, t-shirts, pants, and underwear with a determined single-mindedness, pretending that she was simply folding laundry as usual.

She had nearly finished when it occurred to her that maybe Steven wouldn't need clothes at the hospital. The doctors had supplied him and Connie with those rather drafty blue garments that all patients seemed to wear. Had that simply been because the clothes the children had come in had been in such a grimy state? Would they be allowed to wear their usual attire, or were the blue clothes required? Pearl hadn't even thought to ask.

Eventually, she picked the clothes up and decided to pack them regardless. There couldn't be any harm, and Steven would certainly need something to wear once he was released from the hospital.

Amethyst and Pearl packed Steven's cheeseburger in almost complete silence. Occasionally they'd discuss something minor— which pocket to put what in, whether he'd be allowed to play a video game console, whether that many chargers could possibly be required—

They hit a brief snag when they realised they'd gathered about three times the amount of stuff that could physically fit inside the backpack. They resolved it by picking what would probably be less necessary, and storing those items in Pearl's gem. Pearl expected more discussion about the details on Amethyst's part, but again her friend was uncharacteristically quiet.

It wasn't that Amethyst was supposed to be a barrel of laughs right now, with Steven so ill. Only…

Only Pearl could remember Amethyst's face contorted in anger. Asking if Pearl even cared about her. Running back in fear when Pearl had lashed out, attacking her—

Shoving the last of Steven's t-shirts into her gem, Pearl heaved out a sigh, and said, "Amethyst?"

Amethyst didn't look up from her packing. "Yeah?"

"I'm sorry."

There was a pause, and finally Amethyst looked at her. "'Bout what?"

"For… what happened in the room. I said, and did, some very hurtful things, and I wanted to make sure that—"

"Psh. Don't worry about it." Amethyst shrugged. "I mean, we already made up, so..."

"Well, yes, but neither of us were truly aware of the circumstances at the time, nor were we fully in control of ourselves, so…"

"Yeah, and by that logic, neither of us were in control when we started fighting either." She waved a hand. "Don't worry 'bout it, P. Let's just get this stuff back to—"

"— but I do worry about it," Pearl said, stepping closer.

Amethyst froze.

For a little while, in the room, a part of both of them had been Opal. And while looking back on that time was strange— like a dream, and not an entirely pleasant one with the sense of wrongness hiding just underneath the surface— it had been nice. Opal had felt light, and warm, and safe, and Pearl wanted to make sure they never lost that feeling.

"I care for you so, so much," Pearl said, voice shaking a little. "And I know that I don't… don't always do the best job of showing it. So I just wanted to make sure that you knew."

Amethyst put down the bag, rolled her eyes, and said, "Neerrrrd."

But then she turned, and wrapped Pearl in a tight hug, pressing her face into Pearl's chest. Pearl responded by burying her face in Amethyst's thick, soft hair.

"Love you too," Amethyst mumbled, and the two stood there, just holding one another, for a very long time.

Everything smelled wrong.

The familiar, comforting aroma of chocolate and vanilla and coffee was gone. In its place was something harsh and chemical, something that seemed to burn Steven's nose, making him groan.

It wasn't entirely unfamiliar, however. He'd smelt it once before. He tried to place it. It had been somewhere… dark, and scary… The hospital. He'd been at the hospital with Connie…

Connie.

Steven's eyes flew open.

He regretted it immediately. It was so bright.

Where before there had just been a steady beeping in the background, suddenly there was all sorts of noise— rustling fabric, footsteps, voices, someone calling his name—

"Steven? Steven, kiddo, are you awake?"

He managed to open his eyes again, and there was Dad.

Steven tried to raise his hands into a hug, but it was hard. They felt so heavy. Part of that was exhaustion. But when Steven glanced over, he saw, there was a long, plastic tube sticking out from his wrist. He poked at it experimentally.

"Don't do that," said someone which his brain belatedly identified as Dr. Maheswaran.

He was going to say 'okay', but then Dad was leaning over, pulling him into a hug. Steven giggled a little, feeling the warm tickle of the scratchy beard against his skin, but mostly out of relief.

A lot of things started happening then. More people came into the room— doctors and nurses, pulling Dad away, looking Steven over, asking questions. In the distance, there were raised voices, followed a moment later by the door bursting open. Then there was Garnet and Amethyst and Pearl, all crowding around the bed, all smiling at him. A couple of them crying, but they seemed to be mostly happy tears.

The thick cloud of confusion around Steven gradually faded as he woke up some more and people explained:

He'd been in a coffee shop.

The coffee shop hadn't actually been a coffee shop.

He'd been stuck there for a full eight days.

That matched up with his memories. Sort of. They were... disjointed. Like he'd spent that whole time watching the exact same episode of a TV show, over and over and over again, until all the viewings blended together in his mind. It didn't help that even with the things that had gone differently, he sometimes had replays from different points of view. His own eyes, and Smoky's, and Stevonnie's.

Stevonnie.

It renewed the panic which had briefly faded in his family's arms. He used what energy he had to sit up, to look around wildly— his mouth was still dry, but the words must've gotten out somehow, because Amethyst said, "She's here, dude."

The crowd around him parted, and he saw her on the bed next to him.

She wasn't supposed to look like that. Dull skin, dull hair, more like a shadow than a person—

"I know," said Mr. Maheswaran.

It was a good thing his stomach was empty, because Steven felt like hurling.

Once he could breath again, he began to ask, "Is she going to...?"

At the sound, Connie turned to him, and cracked open her eyes.

She was. She was going to be okay.

They both were.