A clearer summary: Waxing realistic as we examine the events of the episode "Bubbled".

He breathes as he dissolves his bubble and pushes away the gem who would take his life if given the chance.

Space feels weird against his half-organic skin, like it wants to make him a big puff pastry but isn't sure what's flesh and what's light and so it mostly leaves him be.

He reforms the bubble, tired from his ordeal. He takes a breath.

Except there's no air. Because oh, right, space is a vacuum and didn't he learn this from Pearl or his dad or something?

Everything is odd and he's getting lightheaded and he's pretty sure something hurts but he can't think enough to actually find out what it is and tend to it. Probably better not to tend to it. Gotta conserve energy for… when the gems show up… and they all go home… and everything is normal again…

His consciousness fades.

The bubble shrinks.

The light of the ship shines on the small bubble carrying what they're looking for.

Carrying Steven.

They activate the tractor beam and pull him on board, they dissolve his bubble.

They say his name warmly, they shake him gently.

He doesn't respond.

Maybe he just needs time? They lay him gingerly in a chair and return solemnly to the controls. They give him several minutes to acclimate to the air and warmth of the inside of the spacecraft.

They try again.

Touch, speak, shake.

And he doesn't wake.

"…This isn't right. She said we'd find him in time."

"Maybe he's just tired from all the floating. I know I'd be tired if I floated that far…"

Garnet doesn't speak. She's staring at a point on the wall, almost through the wall, weighing the possibilities, wading through all the likely and unlikely scenarios.

Trying to find at least one that ends good.

"Perhaps we could take him to Rose's fountain..?"

"Yeah, we just rescued him from cold, airless space; why not drown him in a cold fountain next?!"

"Well, I don't see you coming up with anything better, Amethyst!"

Garnet holds up a hand to quiet the two before they can really go at it.

"That won't work. We don't know everything that happened, and it's best we don't take chances." She removes her visor, making the tears in her eyes—which mirror those of the others—visible. It's clear from her expression what they have to do.

They had been planning to keep it secret. To sweep it under the rug. To have it simply be an eventually-forgettable blot in Steven's life.

But they can't. The next words from Garnet's mouth are nothing short of inevitable, unavoidable.

"We must tell Greg."

Greg… doesn't take it well. Which, honestly, isn't the least bit surprising. How does a parent react to hearing their kid almost died in the vacuum of space?

He asks how long he's been like this, what he's supposed to tell the doctors or the EMTs or whoever ends up saving his son. They don't have an answer.

He puts his child in the back of the Dondai—it'll be faster than the van—and drives him to the hospital himself.

He asks if Steven's healing spit should be working in a situation like this, if it would work if they tried to use his own spit on him like that.

He asks how something like this, something this bad, could have happened.

He wonders. He cries. And he hopes.

It can't end like this.

When he is brought in, they stabilize him and get him to a room.

Dr. Maheswaran is his doctor.

It's unclear whether this is a lucky break or not. She knows about the gem stuff, but who can say if she fully comprehends the gravity of what has occurred? What could she make of his injuries?

She mutters something about the injuries being consistent with rapid decompression, and she asks how this could have happened.

Greg clears his throat and looks away, and she understands.

She doesn't say it aloud because Connie is in the room, but she begins to doubt if she should be letting her daughter in on something where this could be the result.

Greg yet again wonders the same thing.

Middle ear barotrauma.

Hypoxia.

Likely pneumothorax.

Connie only knows what some of these words mean, but she knows none of them are good. It's strange because she remembers just last week, when she and Steven had fought Jasper together as Stevonnie. It's almost as if the boy in front of her now isn't even the same person.

She kind of wishes she could fuse into Stevonnie with him now. To feel his pain, to share his thoughts.

To try to help.

But she knows that's not possible or the right choice right now.

And she's content to hold his hand.

And hope. Like everyone else.

Still, he lies, too-small in his too-large bed with quite possibly the worst reason for a first hospital visit.

Still, they hope, as the doctors work and the doubts and worry swirl and threaten to take that hope.

Still.

The world turns without him.

And he doesn't wake.

Is it a oneshot? Is it a chapter? It is a mystery!