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Chapter Text

Squirrelled up in a bathroom stall, fists clenched, Connie tries not to panic. To keep calm to, to stay rational.

She doesn’t want to do this. She can’t do this.

But she has to.

Presentations. Why does it have to be presentations? She hates them. Give her an essay, an experiment write-up, a math assignment, or some woodcutting. Or hand her a sword and point her at a monster. She can handle that, no problem.

But make her stand in front of the class and give a presentation?

She hates them. She hates them so, so much, and it’s frustrating. Because Connie knows she knows what she’s talking about. Knows that she’s done her research, knows that her arguments are sound, knows her powerpoint is well constructed. But the moment she finds everyone staring, watching, judging, noticing every and any mistake she makes—

— her palms are sweating— she’s gasping for air, she can’t—

It’s okay, a voice in her head says. Comforting, gentle, reassuring. It’s okay. Breathe.

She breaths. In. Out. In Out.

Better.

I know it’s hard, the voice continues. It sounds a lot like Steven’s. But you’re super smart and super brave. I’m sure you can do it!

Connie smiles, despite herself. That’s exactly the kind of thing Steven would say to her, if he were here.

Er. I am here, says Steven’s voice.

“What?” Connie jerks, staring around the tiny cubicle. Carefully, she unlocks the door, and sticks her head out. Aside from her, the girl's toilet is (thankfully, but confusingly) empty. “Steven? Where are you?”

Um, says Steven. Not actually like ‘in the washroom’ here. I’m in your head, I think.

Connie retreats back inside the stall, sits down heavily on the toilet seat and rubs her face. Is she imagining it? Has she finally cracked under the pressure?

Nope! I fell asleep for a nap then woke up in your brain. It turns out that I’m kind of psychic!

What? Connie thinks back, experimentally, in case it really is true. When did that happen?

Instead of being answered in words, Connie’s flooded with a series of images, thoughts, emotions; a dark green ocean— Lapis Lazuli being pulled down by heavy chains— fear, sadness, desperation— waking up into a body of a watermelon— burning pain in his head, in his gem, inescapable— a scattered galaxy of shattered shards, lit up like stars— “I’ve got you, you’ve got this, we’ve all got each other!”—

Connie gasps. The torrent stops immediately. She has no doubt now that this is really happening, that Steven really is psychically communicating with her. So you dealt with the Cluster then?

Yep, Steven agrees. She— they?— were just lonely and scared.

Connie clutches at her stomach. She can relate.

But you’re not alone! I’m here!

Connie smiles. Heh. Yeah, you are.

She feels as though Steven’s giving her a hug. Or the mental equivalent of one; it feels like a warmth radiating though her whole body. She tries projecting the same kind of hug back in turn.

It gives her enough confidence to stand back up, to go back out into the washroom. She (they?) look at her in the mirror. Her eyes are a little red, but not too bad. She splashes herself with water, then dries her face with a paper towel. It’s okay.

“Let’s go,” Connie says. But her feet do not move.

Then after a moment, they do. But not of her own accord.

It’s a little clumsy, at first. Her legs are longer and thinner than the one’s Steven’s used to, and he’s a hesitant.

Is this okay? Steven asks. She can feel him ready to pull back the moment she asks.

Connie gulps. It’s a little disquieting, but… No, no, this is fine. Thanks.

It’s not like they haven’t shared a body before, after all.

With Steven managing her feet and her steering, they make their way back to her classroom. Connie’s feeling calmer by the time they reach it. Her breathing is more regular, her face cooler. She’s not sure if Steven’s somehow overridden her body’s stress response, or if just having him there has calmed her down.

Her teacher, thankfully, doesn’t make any comment about how long she took in the toilet. Just says, “Right on time, Connie. You’re up.”

Good. Better to get it over with.

That’s the spirt! cheers Steven.

He’s a bright, warm presence in her mind as she navigates the teacher’s computer and loads her presentation. He’s a warm hand on her shoulder when she stands and faces the class. He’s a gentle nudge when it’s finally time for her to speak up.

“Hey, everyone,” they begin, together. “Today I will be giving my presentation on the Hundred Year War, and the effect that the magical influences on the French military had on the war's outcome..."

She goes from slide to slide, pointing out images, providing context, describing her sources, reading quotes. Sometimes she starts speaking a little too fast; Steven pulls her back. He helps her make eye contact with the people watching. They don’t look judgemental or angry. Most of them just look vaguely bored, like they do for almost every lecture— some even seem actively interested— one girl is even smiling and nodding along, she must be doing something right—

And well… it’s not great. But it’s not bad. She follows her script, delivers her facts, focuses on keeping her voice calm and measured. And by the time she reaches her conclusion, and a smattering of applause goes up around the classroom, the smile on her face is genuine.

“Very nice work, Connie,” the teacher says approvingly before calling up the next student. Connie nods at him, then rushes off to her seat.

Thanks Steven, she thinks.

There’s no response.

Steven?

Nothing.

Connie frowns. Maybe she really did imagine him, after all.

But that seems pretty unlikely.

She fishes around in her school bag as surreptitiously as she can. She pulls out her old, blocky phone and switches it on. Its boot-up is thankfully quiet, and easily covered up by the boy giving his own history presentation. She watches it absently as she waits; it's about the rise of The Aqua-Mexican Empire in the 20th Century. Normally she'd be interested, but she's checking her texts the moment the phone buzzes.

The display says: Three New Messages; Steven Universe. Clicking on them, they say:



Sorry I left

Pearl woke me up for lunch

How did it go?

A pleased, satisfied smile curls across her face. Slowly, quietly, taking care so that the teacher won’t notice, she types out her reply:

It went really great!

Another buzz only a moment later. I knew you could do it.

Connie’s face feels very warm when she types back, With you help. Thanks.

His response is very simple:

:)