Chapter Text
The next day, Adora makes up her mind.
This time, she puts on her armor for the first time since the war ended and has her sword at the ready when she steps inside the tower.
It’s all for nothing, when she unlocks the door and hesitantly goes in, Catra is asleep, curled up in bloodstained blankets and softly snoring.
Adora doesn’t want to wake Catra; she needs the rest, and to be honest she’s a bit scared to shake her and risk startling her, so she sits down in the single chair and waits.
Eventually, Catra wakes. She does so slowly. Rousing in a way Adora would call cute if she wasn’t so anxious to see her eyes.
With the flick of an ear, Catra senses her there. She pauses for a moment, before turning around. Although in bed surrounded by softness, rumpled and looking worse for the wear, she still manages to look down on Adora.
Adora should feel cowed by the raw anger in Catra’s gaze, but instead relief floods her when she sees those narrow and glaring mismatched eyes. She’s sure Catra catches it.
“Well look who wisened up,” Catra says. Her eyes flicker to her armor while her claws dig into the blankets.
Adora slowly places down her sword. She speaks in a tone one might use for a spooked animal, soothing but firm.
“Catra, what’s going on here?”
Not one to be placated, Catra hisses and slips off the bed, furthering herself while not taking her eyes off Adora.
“You need to tell me,” she demands.
“I don’t need to tell you anything,” Catra seethes.
“I’m trying mg to help you.” Adora sidesteps the bed to follow her.
“I don’t need your help!” Catra shouts. It’s so nonsensical Adora almost laughs. Catra is the very picture of someone who needs help.
“Well too bad,” Adora backs her up in a corner all while Catra wedges herself impossibly tighter, "It’s my responsibility.”
“Oh, I’m your responsibility,” Catra mocks, barring her teeth when Adora tries to reach out, “Not your friend.“
Adora flinches. She senses she’s taken a wrong step somewhere, but she’s fallen too deep to stop now.
“Yes.”
Catra huffs and looks away. Through her teeth, she grits out, “Well I can’t get out. There. Job done. I’m trapped.”
It’s true. In every sense of the word Catra is trapped. Her shoulders are tense and bunched up and the only sound is her heavy rapid breathing.
The fight melts right out of Adora, and she steps back. “But... What was that?”
Catra visibly wavers, but her jaw is still stubbornly set.
“Please, I-” Adora hesitates, backing up further, “I want to know.”
I care about you is what she really means, but she’s not sure if Catra can discern her meaning. Adora’s not sure if she wants her to.
There’s a long pause. Adora waits. She watches as Catra’s breathing steadies and she runs her fingers through her hair, before eventually cupping at the back of her neck.
“I forget things sometimes,” Catra admits, and it sounds more vulnerable than it ought to be.
For all Adora begged for this, she’s never been great at handling emotions. For the second time today, she feels like she’s taken a wrong turn and fallen through the floor.
“What does that mean?” Adora asks as she settles down on the floor with Catra, moving as fast as she can in her getup.
Catra glances at her, quick, but enough for Adora to catch a slight quirk of her lips. It leaves when she starts talking.
“There are times when… my mind leaves. And when I come back, I’m hurt. Covered in blood.” She looks down at her hands before fisting them tight again. “Most of the time it’s not even my own.”
Her voice shakes as she speaks, but her gaze is steadfast downwards.
“I woke up to horrible horrible things. I was never innocent, I know that, I was bad before, but the things I woke up to-”
Catra stares at Adora and her gaze is burning, searing. Adora can't look away.
“I was awful, I know that. But never did that. And when they caught me, nothing I said could change their mind and,” tears shine in Catra’s eyes, “I think I did it. I think I’m a monster.”
Her shoulders shake in silent sobs, and Adora doesn’t stop herself. She surges forward to comfort Catra, rubbing soothing circles on her back.
✧✩✰✩✧
“Glimmer would consider giving you amnesty. If you explained what was going on,” Adora says later, when most of turmoil has smoothed out and Catra is splayed on the carpet in the sun, “She had magic that could figure it out. Better than me probably.”
Catra makes a sound of discontent. “You mean if I kneel before her.”
Adora tilts her head. She didn’t say that, but it’s true nonetheless. “Yes.”
“I won’t.”
“I know.”
Adora longs to reach out and touch her. It’s an ache that’s gotten stronger even as her reasons for apprehension grow longer.
She doesn’t.
“I suppose I’m just stuck here,” Catra murmurs, closing her eyes.
“No.” Adora says, “I’ll figure something out.”
“Would it be so bad,” Catra asks, opening her eyes to peer up at Adora, “To be stuck here, with me?”
Adora doesn’t have an answer, so instead she says, “You deserve better than this.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Yes you do.”
“I mean I was a Horde soldier, even before I,” she gestured at herself, “Was this.”
And this is something Adora can’t wrap her head around. She’s heard, and met, people from the Horde who were so deep in the propaganda they didn’t realize it was wrong, but Catra seems fully aware, and just doesn’t care.
“Why?”
“What do you mean why? I just was.”
“You don’t just join the Evil Horde”
“I was just born there it’s not like i decided to make a life career out of slaughtering civilians,” she rolls her eyes, "I knew it was bad, don’t get me wrong, but the evil you know.”
“You could have left,” Adora inquires gently, “Why didn’t you?”
A soft laugh scrapes out of Catra’s throat, “And go where? No one wants a Horde soldier. No, it was better to stay where I knew the punishments over pitchforks and overly moralizing folks.”
Catra shrugs, clearly ready to move on. At least until she catches Adora stating, "Why do you care?”
Because Adora had been an orphan before Light Hope brought her in and trained her until she felt the need to repay her by going the Rebellion.
“Just curious.”
✧✩✰✩✧
Adora knows something is wrong when he gets back from the market and Melog is obviously agitated, making sad distressed sounds.
When Adora gets closer they try to push her away. It doesn’t work. For all Melog’s size they’re oddly light in touch.
Adora stops in front of the door, dread pooling in her stomach. She knows what’s waiting for her this time, and she’s more prepared, but that doesn’t mean she wants to see it.
This time, when she barges in and the glowing green eyes are waiting for her, she doesn’t say anything, simply holds her sword in a defensive position and waits.
Catra, or not Catra it seems, tsks at her and wags her finger. When she speaks, it’s with the same cold voice that inflicts that feeling of wrongness.
“You wouldn’t hurt her. You are fond of her, are you not?”
Adora doesn’t let her sword waver, even when Catra steps closer with none of her usually grace, “I’ll do what I have to.”
“Hm,” Catra stands like a puppet, too still, before a cruel smile spreads, “Perhaps she is more fond of you than you of her.”
Catra presses herself into the sword, with enough pressure for blood to start seeping through her shirt.
Adora yanks it back and Catra follows but thankfully doesn’t add more pressure.
The sword wavers now.
“Such a shame,” Catra continues, “She’s practically screaming for you to do it.”
Just like that, Catra’s eyes widen. She blinks, and that sickening green disappears, leaving only bright, shocked, terrified blue and gold.
But she doesn’t move, even as she staggers, breathing hard, gritting her teeth. Adora tries to pull back again, but Catra brings her other hand up to the edge, preventing her from pointing it away.
“Adora,” she gasps, and it’s Catra’s voice, her actual voice, not the growling manipulation of her vocal cords. “Why did you come back we both know I don’t matter—”
Adora wrenches the sword away.
Catra folds over and laughs. She laughs and laughs and laughs. It’s cold and strained and nothing like her own. It mixes with something deeper, older. It makes her sick.
“Catra snap out of it,” Adora pleads, tossing her sword away to grab at Catra. She’s still laughing until that too cuts off and she drops suddenly. Limp, not still.
It’s her own voice that speaks this time, hoarse and begging, “Go.”
With that the green is back, and Catra wrenches away, smirking.
Adora isn’t built for running away, in fact she’s done the complete opposite her entire life. But she can’t fight this, not the way she’s used to.
“No.”
Adora lunged forward and grabs her. Catra thrashes and bucks and her claws hurt but Adora is strong.
Catra screams and fights, until finally, finally, her eyes flutter shut, and she falls forward.
Adora catches her. After a moment’s hesitation, she cradles her, curling around Catra’s crumpled form and stroking her hair.
After all the yelling, after Catra’s screams and her cries and her pleas, the quiet is deafening. Adora looks down at Catra, at the way she tucks herself further into her side, shying away from her even in sleep, and decides something.
"I'm going to fix this," Adora whispers, "I promise."
✧✩✰✩✧
Catra doesn’t like being vulnerable. She’s always more caged off after those days, barely tolerating Adora in her space, so Adora lets her have a few days before pressing more after that. She’s learned now it’s easier this way, to let Catra come to her.
Adora lets her ask useless questions, and in return gets to ask her own. It’s deceptively pleasant, these days spent with nothing to do but entertain each other. It’s a bit like sparring with Catra’s quick wit and sharp humor.
Adora finds out she quite likes being lazy.
“Do you like being Shera?” Catra asks. It’s an innocent enough question, but Adora can tell it’s more than that by the way Catra looks at her.
“Well, there’s not much use for her anymore,” Adora answers, looking away to twist her fingers together.
Adora doesn’t want her to hear the gaps in that. It can be you, I swear to protect if you only say the word.
Apparently not satisfied with that answer, Catra raises a brow.
“It was my duty to fight in the war and now that’s it’s over I don’t know what to do so I’m here.” The words come out in a rush and Adora turns away, embarrassed.
Catra hums and with that simple response the knot in her chest loosens.
The soothing sound is enough to make Adora’s calm last all of ten minutes and her curiosity becomes unbearable.
“If we’re being honest, how did you… get like this,” she blurts out, all tact forgotten.
The shudders might as well be slammed shut with how quickly Catra’s expression darkens. “I don’t know.”
“I thought you said you would be honest?”
“I don’t know,” Catra snaps again, before taking a deep breath, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Adora reassures. And waits. She tries not to fidget too obviously as her patience wears thin while Catra thinks.
“It was supposed to be a promotion,” Catra starts, voice thick with a mix of emotions Adora can’t begin to unpack, “But everyone knew it was really a punishment. That’s why I was sent there.”
Catra runs her fingers over her scars, the fine jagged lines dancing over her skin like spider webs, or perhaps more aptly jagged glass.
“There are more of these than I remember, but a lot of them were from before.”
Adora listens wordlessly as her fear grows. It’s the causal way Catra says it; before. Before what?
“They aren’t all new but, um, this is.”
Catra turns around and lifts what little of her shaggy mane remains to expose the back of her neck.
There’s something lodged there, a chip of some sort, small and slightly cracked. Catra flinches when Adora brushes her fingers over it, but doesn’t move away.
“It connects you to the hive mind. Like the clones,” she laughs, “It hurts like hell to insert.”
Horror washes over Adora.
“Catra,” she breaths.
Catra opens and closes the mouth, but nothing comes out. Her eyes shine with unshed tears.
Adora wants nothing more than to take her into her arms and absorb her until nothing can ever hurt her. She tries to push down the possessive wave, which is the exact opposite of what Catra needs, and settles for an open sort of comfort.
As if reading her mind, Catra flinches at the show of vulnerability.
“Don’t look at me like that. I’m not- this isn’t an excuse. Don’t feel sorry for me.”
Adora reaches out before thinking the better it. “No, it wasn’t your fault-“
“I did bad things before. I’m not a good person. I was a big part of the Horde, before.”
“I know.”
Catra glares at her, “You shouldn’t feel bad because I got what was coming to me.”
“Catra.” How could she possibly thinks he deserved this? Why was she so insistent on pushing away Adora at every turn?
“I’m not going to change.”
“Haven’t you already?” Adora implores.
“No.” Catra turns away, “And you should know better than that Adora.”
✧✩✰✩✧
“I have to go back to Brightmoon,” Adora announces one day, shifting back and forth while Catra flips through her book.
“Alright,” Catra says.
“I’ll be quick.”
Catra turns another page, pointedly ignoring her.
“Are you sure you’ll be okay?”
“I’ve survived it before, haven’t I?” Catra snaps, and it doesn’t take a genius to notice her annoyance.
Adora idly twists her fingers before accepting this and leaving, though it feels wrong to do so. She finds herself lingering as she packs up Swift Wind, hoping Catra will change her mind.
She should be excited to see her friends again, she usually is, but instead she spends half the journey fighting the urge to turn around.
Still, the elated way Glimmer and Bow greet her is enough to lift her foul mood. That and the promise of good food and a bath.
After a quick break to bathe, Adora is relieved when she’s led to Glimmers private dinner room and not expected to make a public appearance.
The food brought out is delicious, and Adora shovels it in her mouth while Glimmer complains about rebuilding and Bow explains his new tech project in too much detail.
During a lull, Adora clears her throat, “Tell me about Catra.”
Glimmer pauses with a fork halfway between her mouth, “You weren’t supposed to talk to her.”
“Oh, come on,” Adora rolls her eyes, “How long did you expect that to last?”
Glimmer huffs while Bow looks between them anxiously.
“I think it’s only fair that I know what you know.”
“What’s there to know?” Glimmer demands, “She’s from the Horde. She’s evil, and manipulative, and-”
“No she’s not,” Adora says, “And if she was, she’s changed. I think there’s something wrong with her, and she needs help.”
“You can say that again,” Glimmer sneers.
“No,” Adora says, voice hardening, “Catra told me she was, experimented on. She has gaps she can’t remember. One time someone else spoke to me through her. If we can just help her-”
“Adora!” Glimmer shouts, slamming her silverware down on the table, “That is enough. I don’t want any more talk of this.”
“She’s been punished enough. This is cruel and-”
“She killed my mother!”
Glimmer’s voice echoes in the room, reminding Adora, suddenly, that she is queen.
Her voice shrinks, “But-”
“Adora,” Glimmer says, cutting through her quiet defense, “I think it’s best you go now.”
Adora glances to Bow, but he shakes his head, and so, defeated, she steps out of the room.
Adora knows Glimmer just needed to cool down and doesn’t actually want her gone, but the deep pull is too strong to resist now, and somehow Adora ends up at the stables.
She’s brushing Swift Wind, finding comfort in the familiar action, when Bow walks in, clearly apologetic and hoping to smooth things over. It’s what he does.
“I’m sorry about Glimmer,” he says in greeting.
Adora sighs, “It’s not your fault.”
“I know, but I do want to help you. You’re right, we’re the good guys, it’s not fair to leave her hurt. Even if she did hurt us.”
Adora hates asking for help, but she’ll do it for Catra. “Can you do some research? I don’t even know what this could be.”
“Sure,” Bow responds easily, “I’ll ask my dads. And,” he pauses, “I’ll ask Entrapda.”
“Right,” Adora agrees, although she is slightly nervous to include the woman who tends to explode everything she touches.
Bow places a hand in her shoulder, “You know Glimmer is only nervous because there’s so much pressure about her being queen.”
Adora turns away to hide her scowl, and the something else that flares in her stomach at that. “I know.”
Even while obviously frustrated, a fond smile tugs at Bow’s lips when he mentions Glimmer. It makes her ache. It’s not jealousy, not really, but a sort of longing for that type of intimacy, for someone to know her like that, and to still choose to not to turn away.
“For the record I do hope it works out, you seem happier, even if she threw me off a cliff once.”
Adora barks out a laugh, “And she’s done worse to me, and I to her.”
Bow smiles, though he does seem a bit puzzled. That’s okay, Adora doesn’t fully get it either.
But Bow, kind to a fault, tries anyway, “You seem to care about her a lot.”
Adora falters. She didn’t know it was quite so visible. It feels like a chunk in her armor, a vulnerable place she doesn’t like so exposed.
“Catra is,” she trails off unsure of how to describe her, “Catra is very dear to me.”
“Maybe,” he hesitates, “Maybe one day I can visit and meet her. Get a proper introduction.”
“Maybe.”
Adora leaves that night even though Bow insists she can stay. She wants to go home.
✧✩✰✩✧
Adora doesn’t want to admit how much returning feels like homecoming, but with each step closer, she feels lighter, more sure of herself.
She’s even excited to see Melog again, who’s perked up and looks at her with the same expression Catra does when she over excited.
They must alert Catra, even as late as it is, because soon enough her head pops out the window.
“Hey Adora.”
Adora waves, smiling. “Hope you didn’t miss me too much.”
She rolls her eyes, “As if. I didn’t even notice you were gone.”
Catra’s tail, twitching in excitement, gives her away, and that small movement makes Adora’s chest tighten.
“Come up, we can look at your stupid stars,” Catra says, and this is the happiest she’s heard her.
Adora climbs up while Catra shoos Melog away so they can lie down on the roof, slanted as it may be.
Up here, with Catra’s steady presence and the comforting weight of the stars, Adora finally allows herself to relax.
She doesn’t know how long they stay like that, only that her tightly coiled muscles have fully loosened by the time Catra speaks.
“It’s lonely sometimes,” Catra confesses.
Adora glances over to her profile, glowing in the moonlight as guilt surges inside of her.
It’s unfair for Catra to be trapped here, and it’s unfair that Adora relates to her, when she has all the freedom in the world. But it’s true, Adora feels the same, even when she’s in an crowded room.
“I never liked my mind before, it was always loud and impossible to shut up, but it was mine,” Catra continues.
Oh. Adora swallows this is much deeper than loneliness.
“And then there was the hive mind. My mind might have been quiet, but everyone else’s was loud. And I was never alone. I was alone for so long, before.”
Adora listens.
“Sometimes I miss it.” Catra finally rolls over, “Does that make me terrible?”
“I don’t think so,” she answers instinctively.
Catra laughs, “You didn’t even think about it.”
A lock of hair slips down her face, and Adora’s fingers twitch as she roasts the urge to tuck it behind Catra’s ear.
I could never believe you to be terrible, she almost says, but instead breaks her intense gaze and looks up, “I don’t think it’s terrible. It’s natural, I guess, to get used to your conditions, even if they’re terrible ones.”
“So I’m just weak then?” Catra asks. She still hasn’t looked away, and Adora can feel her burning gaze even as she refuses to meet it.
“No.”
Catra studies her for a moment longer before sighing and turning away. “I think so.”
The silence between them is heavy, but oddly comforting, like a thick blanket.
“I thought I would die in the war.” Adora doesn’t know why she says it. It’s not something she ever thought she would speak out loud, but Catra’s steady presence seems to demand the barring of her heart.
“I could never picture a future beyond it. My only redeeming quality was being of use, and my usefulness had to run out eventually, so it might as well be for a good cause.”
Adora swallows back tears, suddenly glad the stars are here to keep her company, so she can avoid Catra’s knowing look.
It startles her to feel Catra’s warm hand slide against hers. To feel her claws, so sharp, rest gently against her skin.
“I don’t believe that.” Catra says, more devout than she’s ever heard, “I mean, who needs Shera, she sounds annoying. Adora though, she's not so bad."
It's a high compliment coming from Catra. Adora finally looks over her, at her too soft smile and glowing eyes. A faint blush dusts her cheeks, lingering even as Adora responds, “I’m trying to believe that too.”
✧✩✰✩✧
The next morning Adora can’t bear to face Catra. After all the vulnerabilities she feels like she’s been rubbed raw. Hollow. She needs space. She needs to do something and be useful. But even her meaningless tasks can't assuage the guilt. Adora shouldn't get to be this selfish. She can't just keep Catra where she wants her, she should be working to help her get out of this place.
She’s packing up Swift Wind, thinking of all the places that might hold the answers to Catra's problem when she hears that too familiar voice.
"What are you doing?" Catra asks. She doesn't even sound suspicious, just curious with her head tilted and a mischievous smile. It makes the guilt sink deeper into Adora. So it's with dread Adora walks up to answer.
"I'm going to fix this," she explains, gesturing around them.
Catra's smile drops faster than the way she yanks her hands away.
"It's not fair for you to be stuck here like this," Adora reasons.
Catra stares at her, eyes growing suspiciously shiny, "And you didn't bother to mention this to me?"
Adora tightens her jaw and looks away.
"Well this isn't what I want," Catra states, sharp and insistent. When that doesn't work, she tries again, whining while reaching back out to Adora to grab her sweaty palm. "Why can’t you just stay?"
Adora studies their interlaced hands. Catra's claws that are so good for climbing, that should be used that way instead of bored carving on the walls. "You can’t tell me you’re happy here."
"Is it so bad if I am? Not in war a place to call home, and-"
"You’re trapped."
"You’re here," Catra cries. It sounds painful, the way the confession is pulled from her chest. Catra seems shocked too, like she wasn't expecting to say it either.
"I can fix this," Adora says, begging herself not to notice how close they are, "And obviously there's something wrong with, with that thing in your neck." This is clearly the wrong thing to say if Catra's frustrated growl is anything to go on but Adora barrels on, "You won't have to be stuck here."
"Adora if you leave I’ll never forgive you."
Adora looks at her. At her angry scrunched face and heavy breathing. Even now her gravity pulls Adora closer as she studies her. Catra stares back searching. Adora doesn't know what she's looking for, but she must find it, because she opens her mouth and speaks, sounding wrecked, as she asks, "What do you want Adora?"
Adora knows the answer for that, she just can't admit to it. Instead she does something stupid and selfish and reckless.
Slowly, with no small measure of uncertainty, Adora's fingers reach out and brush the soft skin of Catra's face. She cradles her sharp jaw watching as Catra's pupils blow before she sighs and closes them.
Even watching as closely as she is, Adora is shocked when Catra closes the disance between them and presses their lips lightly together. It's soft, a question. Adora answers with a firmer on of her own. Suddenly they're kissing in earnest, and it's only when Catra's claws curl into her hair that Adora realizes what she's done.
Adora pulls away, cataloging every inch of Catra's heartbroken face. Catra can be as furious as she wants. She’ll be mad and safe. Even if she never forgives Adora. Adora can live with that if she's free. It's hard to tear herself away from Catra, but Adora has plenty of practice depriving herself of what she wants.
"I'm sorry."