Chapter Three
Doctor Appointments

"—and I know a place where you can get diapers in bulk at a great deal. When you were little, I was able to get enough diapers for seven years!"

"Was I in diapers for that long, Dad?" Steven asked.

"Well, no... But it was a really good deal!" said Dad, as he led Steven over to the back of his aging van. "It's always good to be prepared, you know? That's probably the most important lesson I learned raising you." He opened the back doors. "'Cause, you know, Gem magic and stuff."

Steven laughed. "Yeah, I get it. Though to be fair, I don't think my gem made me go through more diapers than the average kid."

"Maybe, maybe not." Greg shrugged. "But I was prepared either way." He grabbed a large, cardboard box labeled 'Storage' and pulled it to the edge of the van's floor. "Alright," he huffed, just a little from the exertion. "Here's what I got.."

Steven placed a hand on the box and gave it a pull. It looked heavy, though with his gem powers he'd be able to carry it no problem.

"This is all the clothes you have left, Dad?"

"Yep. All the leftover tour merch I have, clothes that you outgrew, and a few bits and bobs that… I'm not one-hundred percent sure where they came from."

Steven opened one flap of the box and looked inside. Sure enough, there were layers and layers of assorted clothes in it.

"Thanks, Dad," Steven said as he hoisted the box onto his shoulder. He took a few steps away. "I'll be back in about ten minutes or so to take my shift—"

"Woah, woah! Hold on there," Dad said, quickly stepping in front of his son. "Hang on there. It's been at least a week since I've gotten to see you." He gave a sheepish smile, "I know you're a man now, but that doesn't mean you don't have time for your old man, does it?"

Steven grimaced, before setting the box back down onto the van's bumper.

"I know, Dad," he said. "It's just, with Kid things have been a little hectic."

He nodded. "I remember how it was when I first had you. Between the feeding, and the burping, and the diaper changing, I barely had time to breathe."

"Don't forget the sleepless nights," said Steven ruefully.

Dad laughed. Then he put on a more serious face. "Steven, look. Are you sure you want to keep working at the car wash?"

"Well, yeah. I need money for groceries and stuff."

"I'm your Dad. I'll just give you the money. Not like I'm low on cash or anything."

Steven rubbed his neck. "I don't know… I'd just feel bad…"

" Don't . Your real job now is being a parent. And protecting the planet."

"I'm not doing it alone, though. Not like you. I've got Connie and all the Gems."

Dad's smile was somewhat wistful. "That you do."

"It's not just that, though," said Steven. "I really like working at the carwash. It's… it's fun. Or relaxing, I guess? It just feels good, getting to see all the cars get all squeaky clean."

Dad looked his son up and down, a thoughtful expression on his face. "You really want to keep working?"

"Yeah."

"Well, alright then. But I gotta pay you back in babysitting."

"I think we can arrange that," Steven laughed. And then he wrapped his Dad in a massive hug.

It was literally massive. Steven had never quite grown to the same size as of his mother, but it was close enough, and Greg fit neatly inside his arms.

Once the hug broke off, Dad waved Steven off to his shift, and grabbed the box of kid stuff Steven had left sitting at the foot of the van. He groaned a little picking it up— Dad's back wasn't in the best of shape— but otherwise seemed to have no trouble carrying it. "How's about I bring this up to the Temple, and do a little babysitting while I'm there?"

"Sure. Amethyst's got Kid now, and I'm sure she's handling everything just fine, but…"

Steven was still smiling, but nonetheless, a vague sense of worry hung in the air.

Dad clapped his boy on the back. "Got it."

The most convenient part about having a family of magical extraterrestrials? It really cut down on travel time.

Sheena was a researcher on campus, so the Gems had installed a (discreetly placed) warp pad there years ago. Its existence had honestly been an influence in Connie's choice of college. Sure, she had known they could build one anywhere she went, and there was always Lion, but it was just convenient .

Even if it being hidden inside a bundle of bushes was kind of annoying, Connie reflected, as she picked leaves out of her hair.

She'd gotten most of them out by the time the warp stream vanished and she rematerialized in the house.

"Oh. Hello, Mr. Universe!" she said, tucking the warp whistle hanging around her neck back underneath her blouse. He was sitting on the couch, Kid bundled up in his arms. The baby's eyes were closed, but she was sucking happily on a pacifier.

"You can call me Greg, Connie," Mr. Universe said, for what had to have been the fifteenth time that week.

Connie didn't even acknowledge it. She strode towards him, giving the room a quick look over. "It's great to see you. But wasn't Amethyst supposed to be looking after Kid?"

The pacifier blinked at her. "Yo, I am."

"Oh, hey Amethyst," Connie said, and mentally added pacifiers to her list of supplies they still needed to get.

Mr. Universe and Amethyst wanted to hear about her day, and Connie would have been happy to tell them, but she was in a rush.

"Kid's first doctor's appointment," she said as she swept around, making sure she'd collected everything she needed. Baby bag with extra diapers, milk bottle, rattle, wallet, Kid's doll of her mother... She paused when she found a thin metal bracelet.

It wasn't actually a bracelet. It just looked like one. It was an invention that Peridot had designed years ago, not long after they'd first found Spinel. She'd dubbed it 'The Protector', and it was a name well-earned: anyone who wore it was completely immune to the effects of Spinel's powers.

When the extent of Spinel's memory manipulation first came to light, every single Crystal Gem had had to wear them 24/7, just in case. That had been a very ugly period, and Connie had been so thankful when enough trust between all parties had developed to the point that such constant diligence had stopped being necessary. And also partly because it was kinda annoying to wear the clunky silver bangle all the time.

But in light of the post-birth amnesia, it had been decided to bring the Protectors back out of retirement.

Connie wasn't sure they were entirely necessary— and she wasn't the only one, judging by how Amethyst had completely abandoned her own. Steven's powers hadn't come in with any degree of regularity until he was twelve, and Kid was still a baby.

But the Maheswarans were all about safety. So Connie sighed, and clicked the rigid silver bangle around her wrist.

"Anything else I can help you with, Connie?" Mr. Universe asked, groaning as he got up to come and pass Kid to her.

"Actually, Mr— uh, Greg ," Connie said, flushing with embarrassment. "Could I borrow the Dondai?"

(Warp pads were great, but sometimes you just needed a car).

Throughout her life, Connie had spent a lot of time in hospitals. Hanging out in her Mother's office, reading books in waiting rooms, sitting behind counters with the nurses and secretaries. Connie was used to them, and she valued their importance, but that didn't mean that she particularly liked them.

Coughing, sneezing, wheezing, gurgling, moaning. The sterile, chemical smell. The too-bright lights. The pinched faces on every single person you met. Everyone was stressed— the doctors, the staff, and especially the patients. Sick people, hurt people, people afraid of dying, people afraid of watching their loved ones die.

The paediatrician's office was just like that too, only in miniature and a bright coat of paint.

Okay, it wasn't that bad. Connie was just letting her anxiety get away from her. She shifted Kid's position, and took a deep breath to center herself.

None of the people in the doctor's office looked like they were dying . Kids read magazines, played with toys, and poked at their phones, while their parents waited with bored expressions. They were probably just here for regular check ups. There was one boy with his arm in a cast, and another girl who was pestering her Dad about whether she'd be allowed a lollipop as a reward for her shot. One baby— probably a good year older than Kid— was bawling their lungs out, but that was hardly anything unusual.

It was fine. This was fine. Kid was fine.

She had to wait about half an hour before the receptionist called out, "Ms Maheswaran?"

She was directed into the nearest office. The doctor sat behind his desk, typing away at his computer, but he looked up when Connie came in, a smile washing over his face. "Look at you, Connie Maheswaran! All grown up and with a child of your own!"

"Good to see you too, Dr. Gero," Connie said. She was re-arranging Kid in her arms to shake the man's hand when he pulled her in for a proper hug.

Dr. Gero was an old colleague of her mother's and had known Connie since she was a little girl. They exchanged a little bit of small talk before they got down to business- how Connie's classes were going, what her parents were up to. Connie, in turn, asked how he enjoyed being a paediatrician.

"Good, good," he answered. "Less stressful than a surgeon, at least."

He reached out to take Kid, who chose that moment to start moaning. Not quite crying, but close enough.

Dr. Gero laughed. "Well, mostly."

Connie fished Kid's doll out of the bag to help distract her, and to give the baby a chance to calm down, they started with a discussion of how she was doing. Eating, sleeping, bowel movements, general behaviours, that kind of thing.

"She sounds like she's on course," Dr. Gero said, pushing his glasses up his nose. "Although on the small side. She was born prematurely, yes?"

"At 37 weeks," Connie agreed. "It took us all a bit by surprise, but that's— that's not too bad, is it? I know 40 weeks is generally the average, but she did nearly reach full term and she seems so healthy..."

The doctor assured her that the birth was within the safe range. "The only thing that concerns me is the hand." He frowned, pointing at Kid's right hand, tucked up near her chest, a good eighty percent of its mass taken up by a pink gemstone. "There's an odd growth there, and I'm concerned that it could retard development. There are a few potential surgeries we could—"

"NO!" Connie cried.

Dr. Gero stared at her.

"No," Connie said, her voice more quiet, but not any less firm. She was a lawyer in training. She had to put on her court face. "Don't take it out. It's– it's not dangerous. In fact, it's, it's a known condition on her mother's side, and—"

Dr. Gero grinned. Then he began to laugh. Connie stared at him, uncomprehending.

"Sorry, Connie," he chuckled. "Don't you worry. Your mother fully informed me about Kid's… condition, as you say. That was just a little joke, on my part. Maybe it was in poor taste."

Connie flushed. Kid was squirming now, sensing her discomfort, so she forced herself to relax. "Oh. Um, that's alright Dr. Gero. Sorry for yelling."

"Nothing to apologize for. Quite understandable," he said. "I'll confess, I'm still very fascinated by the whole concept. I'd love to know more, especially about how necessary the— gemstone, Priyanka called it?— is to Kid's development." He shuffled around some papers, and Connie got the sense that he was using all his professional restraint to keep from asking a dozen questions on how Gem biology worked. "I did mean what I said about it affecting the hand's growth, though. There's a lot of important muscles in there that the gemstone is displacing. Not to mention the stone looks quite heavy. The baby might have trouble lifting it until her arm strength has developed."

"How… how bad will it be?"

"I can't know for sure," the doctor said. "A physical examination and X-ray may provide us with more information, but we'll just have to monitor it over the long term."

Connie sighed. That was frustrating, but there was no way around it.

She held Kid out for Dr. Gero to hold. He took her with gentle and experienced hands, but that didn't seem to matter. As soon as the baby was pulled away from her guardian, she began to kick and squirm, doll dropping to the floor. When that accomplished nothing, the tears started.

"Shh, shh. This won't take long," Dr. Gero cooed, taking the baby's right hand and holding it close to his face for examination. He turned it from side to side, seeing how the facets glinted. The baby cried louder.

And then, quite suddenly, stopped.

"Well, that's a relief," Connie said. "She's usually pretty quiet, actually. But this is her first real time out of the house, so I guess she's still getting used to everything."

Dr. Gero said nothing. He'd turned his attention away from the baby, and was gazing slowly around the office.

"Dr. Gero…?" Connie asked.

He stared at her. "Connie? Connie Maheswaran?" He blinked at her, then at the baby he was holding. "I'm sorry, I just… lost track of what I was doing…"

"You were examining Kid's hand," Connie said.

"Oh. Oh, yes. Of course."

He shook his head, and carried on with the examination as if nothing had happened- pressing down on the gemstone, feeling the flesh around it. Kid didn't resist at all, her earlier fear completely gone.

As she watched, Connie fiddled with the Protector around her wrist. Maybe it was nothing, but…

But it kept happening. Connie took off Kid's clothes and diaper for the doctor to take her weight and height, and perform a more thorough physical examination of her entire body. Kid didn't appreciate the doctor's cold hands on her skin, and began to cry again. The tears lasted for less than a minute before they ceased, Dr. Gero again stopping with them, as though he forgot what he was doing. Connie considered not telling him, not knowing how he'd react. Maybe he'd freak out. Maybe he'd refuse to keep seeing her. But it wouldn't have been right, letting him continue with the examination without knowing the dangers.

It happened again when he got out the stethoscope. That was when Connie put her foot down. "Please, stop. Dr. Gero, please don't panic, but I think Kid's affecting your memories."

Thankfully, her Mom had been thoughtful in her paediatrician recommendation. Dr. Gero wasn't a man predisposed to alarm, and while understandably concerned by the revelation, he just took it in stride. He'd already been informed of the amnesia everyone had suffered in the aftermath of Kid's birth, so it didn't come as too much of a surprise. He even insisted that he didn't want to stop the appointment there.

"I can give you my Protector," Connie said, tapping at the bracelet. "So it won't happen again."

"I don't think that's necessary. The memory loss is contact based, you said?"

"Yes."

Dr. Gero smiled, and reached for a box sitting on his desk. He took out a pair of plastic gloves and pulled them on. "Then as long I wear these, we shouldn't have any more problems."

It was a good idea. And probably a very necessary one, because Kid still needed to get her vaccinations, and Connie did not want to see what memory alterations could come from that.

When she got home, though, she'd have to tell everyone that they were back to wearing their Protectors at all times.

Just in case.

"And there you go," Steven said, pulling out of his kiss. "How's that feel?"

Centi responded with a long series of squeaks and clicks which, if he listened closely, sounded like, "It feels wonderful. Thank you very much, Steven."

"No problem," said Steven, patting Centi on the arm. And she did have an arm, at least for now. She'd been getting a lot better at keeping them around longer. Or maybe Steven had been getting better at the healing. Or maybe they'd all been getting better together.

She pulled him into a hug. Steven laughed, hugging back. When he pulled away, he gave one last look over the sheaf of (crayon written) progress reports she'd given him. Everyone who could was encouraged to keep up-to-date records on their condition— if they were having trouble keeping their forms, or talking, or remembering things, or moving, or anything else that bothered them. Steven had gotten a lot better at reading the Gem language, and if he was ever stumped, he could always get Pearl or someone to help him. Still, he liked to check in verbally, just in case there was anything that had been missed. "Are you sure there's nothing else you want to tell me?"

Centi shook her head. Clicking again, she said, "We're all doing just fine."

He smiled. "Good."

His eyes swept over the spaceship, taking everything in. Nephry and Ritey were in the corner, playing on one of his old video-game consoles. They were getting really into it, based on the hisses and acid spittle. Biggs was splayed out on the floor, drawing incredibly well, despite her claws. Snowflake, who'd had her original form almost completely restored, was practicing staff drills in a nice spacious clearing. His newest patient Hawk Eye- or patients, rather, as she was a fusion- was lounging on a beanbag, preening her feathers.

It was amazing, seeing how far they'd come. And it filled him with hope that they'd be able to go even farther.

"Okay!" he called. "Did I miss anyone?"

A chorus of 'no's, squawks, and barks went up.

"Okaaay," he said. "If that really is everyone, then I'll be off." He plucked a water bottle filled with spit out of his backpack, and placed it on the little table they'd set up by the door, next to a phone. "This is here if there's an emergency. And if something happens, don't be afraid to call! Or even if you just want to talk or hang out or—"

"Stop fussing!" Snowflake called, not even pausing from her staff drills.

Giggles went up all around. Steven blushed. He just liked making sure everyone was alright.

There was a little more in the way of banter and goodbyes, but finally Steven slipped out of the spaceship-come-rehabilitation center and began the trek back towards the warp pad. He savored the walk through the towering, ancient trees, despite the heat and humidity. It was relaxing, same way that car washing was.

Still, he couldn't dawdle. Connie and Kid would be back from the doctor's soon, and he still had one last appointment.

He reached the pad and warped out. He floated in the stream for a few moments, then reappeared in a huge, empty atrium.

It was Pink Diamond's palace. Or it had been, once. It was in ruins now. Destroyed walls and pillars, faded murals and tapestries. Dead leaves littered the floors.

Steven didn't like the place. He didn't like thinking about all the stuff that had happened there- the tyranny, the suffering, the deaths.

But it didn't matter how he felt.

"Jasper?" he called out.

There was no answer. Steven started down the familiar corridor towards Jasper's 'room', and called again. "Jasper!"

"Here." The word came as more as a grunt than anything, low and difficult to hear.

Steven came to the end of the corridor, turned the corner, and found Jasper. She was in her usual spot, curled up on a blanket at the foot of Pink Diamond's throne. She was getting up, though, resigned to his visits. Steven was glad. The throne room was long, and it would be nice to meet her halfway.

She was walking on two-legs, which was good, though her forearms still stretched and dragged on the floor. And she still had her eyes, and her fangs weren't too big.

"You look good," Steven said.

"I look terrible," Jasper said. Just to prove it, she pointed to a mirror that was leaning against a nearby wall.

Steven didn't try to argue the point, just changed topics. "Oh, that's pretty!" he said, going to examine the mirror. It was a full body one, with a nice silver frame, and barely any cracks in the glass. He'd never seen it before. "Did you get it at the dump?"

Jasper grunted a 'yes' .

When it had been first been built, Pink Diamond's stronghold must have been in the middle of pristine wilderness. Now it was on the outskirts of a human town. Jasper had begun making semi-regular visits to the local garbage dump, digging for things to decorate the place. It was a hobby she'd picked up from Amethyst, and a couple of times, Steven had caught himself wondering if collecting things was something of a quartz habit.

Jasper wasn't nearly as much as a pack-rat as Amethyst, though. She was far more selective, only bringing home things that particularly caught her eye. Bags of marbles, hand-made crafts, hair-clips, jewelry- pretty stuff like that. The most conversation Steven had ever gotten out of her was when she'd shown him a fake replica anime sword she'd found, and complained for nearly ten minutes about how useless it was.

(She'd still ended up keeping it, even mounting it on a wall.)

"I've got something for you," Steven said, reaching into his now quite-tattered cheeseburger backpack. He took out a paperback book, and held it out to Jasper. "Amethyst thinks you'll like it. It's about a cop— that is, a law enforcer— who's trying to solve a murder, but has to go against her commander's orders to do it."

Jasper took the book, turned it over in her massive, paw-like hands a couple times, then shrugged. She put it on the ground. She never showed much interest in the books he brought, but she'd been getting better at English, so she must've been reading them.

"Let's get this over with," she groused.

Steven never kissed Jasper's gem to heal it. He didn't even use his spit-soaked hand. Jasper didn't like people touching her, and he respected that. Instead he spat into a tissue, and let her rub it against her gem herself.

Her nose glowed bright. Across her body the green splotches of colour receded, replaced with her original orange. Her arms shortened, her face flattened, her horns shrank. She looked almost entirely like her old self again.

"Better?" Steven asked.

Jasper shrugged.

Steven groped around his mind for another conversation topic, but none came. The two of them didn't exactly have a lot in common— and what little they did wasn't particularly pleasant, Steven reflected, casting an eye towards the pristine pink throne.

The hall was a bit of a mess, and not because the haphazard collection of human debris. There were chips in the columns, long claw gouges in the floor tiles.

(The throne was unharmed, though. No matter what else happened, the throne was always kept clean.)

Steven sighed, and asked the necessary question. "Have you had any more attacks?"

"No."

"You can tell me if you have."

Jasper was silent.

Maybe it was pointless, but Steven still tried to get her to open up. "It's okay. Even Nephrite and Snowflake Obsidian still have trouble controlling themselves, sometimes. I leave them a bottle of my spit behind, as a precaution. I could do the same for you—"

Jasper growled, low in her throat, and Steven had to fight the instinct to summon his shield. "What does it matter? You'll still come and check on me in a week anyway."

Steven sighed again. Of course he would. It wasn't just to make sure her recovery was on track; Garnet, Lapis, and the others weren't comfortable giving Jasper as much freedom as she had. Completely withdrawing supervision was out of the question.

It would be so much better if she'd go and live at the spaceship with the others. At least there, she could have people to talk to, to help her. But Steven didn't even bother asking. Her answer wouldn't have changed.

Jasper had already turned her back on him, as she loped towards her blanket. She paused only to pick up the book and bring it with her.

"Alright," Steven said, quietly. "See you next time."

He turned and began back to the warp pad.

"Steven Quartz," Jasper said.

Steven stopped, looked back. "Yes?"

"How is the infant Spinel?"

"Kid?"

"Yes."

Steven blinked. He had mentioned Kid to Jasper a couple visits ago, but he hadn't really been sure if she'd been listening.

"She's doing well," he said. He tried to think of some milestone or moment he could share with Jasper that she'd appreciate. "She can be pretty loud."

Jasper didn't quite smile, but her face did… soften. "Good."