Archive of Our Own

Glimmer has the gall to look surprised at the revelation of Shadow Weaver’s betrayal – on one hand, Catra supposes that Glimmer didn’t grow up being tormented by Shadow Weaver like she had; on the other hand, Shadow Weaver practically oozes evil, Catra had told her so, back on Horde Prime’s ship.

It’s ultimately Glimmer’s connection to Bright Moon’s runestone that gives it away. Shadow Weaver must have gotten greedy, must have taken too much power too fast. Maybe she’d panicked with Glimmer’s return from her brief stint as an abductee on a spaceship.

And as Glimmer gathered a small troop in preparation for confronting Shadow Weaver, Catra thinks that Shadow Weaver must have panicked – Glimmer and Catra had only arrived on Bright Moon a mere twenty-two hours prior when Glimmer had gotten wind of the tampering with the Moonstone. The timing couldn’t have been a coincidence.

Glimmer doesn’t look scared, but Catra thinks that she should be.

Micah’s gone; Horde Prime had learned of Micah’s decidedly alive state soon after Glimmer did. Micah didn’t hide when one of Horde Prime’s clones piloted a shuttle down to the surface of Etheria to drop Catra and Glimmer off on Bright Moon, and there was no denying that Micah was king, even in his haggard state – he and Glimmer burst into joyful tears at the very sight of each other.

Bow is also gone; Horde Prime knowing of Bow was also Glimmer’s fault. She had let his name slip when speaking of Bright Moon, and the man had pounced. Glimmer tried to lie, tried to convince him that Bow was not important – not to the kingdom, not to Etheria’s weapon, and not to her. He hadn’t said anything at the time, but he obviously didn’t believe her. The morning after Catra and Glimmer arrived on Bright Moon, there was another shuttle and clone waiting with a formal request from Horde Prime himself to meet with King Micah and Sir Bow of Bright Moon.

And so Glimmer’s happy reunion with her father and her friend was cut short as they left for their ‘diplomatic mission’ – which is code for go play nice with Horde Prime or we’ll all die, probably. Catra remembers Glimmer’s despair at this, remembers her especially worried demeanor after Bow and Micah got on the shuttle together (and considering the appraising looks Micah has been leveling at Bow ever since – well, ever since Catra has known him – Catra might be given to understanding Glimmer’s worry, if she had the time to be concerned over something so obviously pointless). Catra can’t help but linger on her old belief that caring for people is more trouble than it’s worth, even when those people care about you in return.

Micah and Bow are gone, but the princesses are all there. Still, Catra knows what Shadow Weaver is capable of, and the numbers don’t provide her with much comfort.

Adora’s there, too, along with the princesses. They had all been together, listening to Catra and Glimmer rehash the events on the spaceship. As they were going over strategy, discussing how to keep the heart of Etheria a secret from Horde Prime (long enough to figure out how to take him and his gargantuan army out, at least), Glimmer had stopped mid-sentence, glowed slightly, and said, “There’s something wrong with the Moonstone.”

Catra and Adora had barely looked at each other in the little time Catra had been back – Catra hasn’t known what to say, and Adora has remained uncharacteristically unreadable (Catra had seen shame on her face when she witnessed Adora telling Glimmer about how She-Ra was gone, but Adora had quickly schooled her expression when she had noticed Catra’s eavesdropping). Still, they looked at each other then. In unison, they said, “Shadow Weaver.”

And so here they are, with a small army of princesses and guards, marching away from Bright Moon’s runestone – Shadow Weaver hadn’t been there – and toward the small greenhouse on the grounds, prepared to take on a single sorceress.

Even after all this time, the sight of Shadow Weaver is still enough to have Catra’s blood running cold. Having stepped out of the greenhouse at Glimmer’s shouted command, Shadow Weaver looks nearly relaxed, and Catra goes rigid.

Catra turns her head to her left to look at Adora, only to find Adora already looking back at her. Her face is still an inscrutable mask, but Catra thinks that she sees something at the edges.

Catra doesn’t know what’s worse – looking at Shadow Weaver or looking at Adora’s foreign gaze – so she instead looks at the back of Glimmer’s head. Glimmer is stood in a defensive position along with the rest of the princesses, who all form a line in front. Adora and Catra stand behind, with the guards behind them.

Shadow Weaver, for her part, does not do them the disservice of playing coy. In that low, disdainful voice of hers, she says, “It seems that I should have been more careful.”

Glimmer wastes no time, either. “You’ve been siphoning power from the Moonstone,” she grits out. 

Shadow Weaver cocks her head. “Yes.”

Glimmer must not be expecting Shadow Weaver to be so blasé, because she hesitates before she says, “You’re outnumbered.” Some of the strength has returned to her voice when she orders, “Stand down.”

Shadow Weaver gives a mocking laugh, and if Catra wasn’t scared shitless, she’d roll her eyes at Shadow Weaver’s evil-schtick.

“Child,” she says, “You have no idea what I’m capable of.”

And then she shows them.

All at once, they’re caught in an electrical field, bound so tightly that they can’t even spasm in response to the pain they feel. They’re all there, trapped, except one – except Adora.

Adora automatically reaches her hand out to the princess in front of her – the Salineas one, whose name Catra might’ve been able to remember if all her nerves weren’t on fire – but Adora quickly draws her hand back with a yelp when the field shocks her.

“Adora, come here.”

The look that Adora gives Catra is decidedly readable, even in Catra’s addled state. Adora looks scared.

Then she looks away, drawing the dagger that she has taken to carrying since She-Ra’s sword shattered. She steps out from behind the line of princesses, pointing the dagger in Shadow Weaver’s direction.

“Stop this,” she says, voice unshakeable, despite her fear. “Stop hurting them.”

“I will,” Shadow Weaver coos. “But first: I give you one last offer, Adora.”

Catra’s vision has gone hazy from pain – still, she squints, searching Shadow Weaver’s mask, up above where it covers the space between her eyebrows. But Catra doesn’t find what she’s looking for.

“I always knew what you were capable of,” Shadow Weaver says, and Catra can see Adora shoulder’s shake, just for a moment. “I’ve seen your power. But for all your…ridiculous heroics, you must know when you have landed on the loser’s side. Horde Prime is here to conquer Etheria, and you will not stop him.”

Once again, Catra wills herself to focus, searching – and there, on a chain around Shadow Weaver’s neck, Catra finds what she is looking for: a single jewel, suspiciously similar in appearance to Bright Moon’s runestone. 

Shadow Weaver continues her speech, and Catra wishes that Adora would just do something already, if only just to shut her up. But Adora remains rooted to the spot.

“Come with me, Adora,” Shadow Weaver says. “I know that we can still do great things together.”

Even though Adora let Shadow Weaver’s evil monologue run its course, she doesn’t leave anyone in suspense once it’s her turn. She says, “No,” once, firmly. Then, she attacks.

Catra strains against the field, desperate to do anything, but she only gets shocked to hell for her efforts. She makes a noise deep in her throat as Shadow Weaver dodges out of the way of Adora’s dagger.

Shadow Weaver has the power to freeze Adora where she is, has the power to prevent her from getting too close – Shadow Weaver doesn’t need to scratch three deep, angry lines down into the flesh of Adora’s face, but she does.

If Catra could force the noise out of her mouth, she would scream. Instead, Adora yells loud enough for the both of them.

Something about the noise must startle Shadow Weaver, because her power wavers for a second. Everyone still stays locked in place, except for – Catra notes, with a weird sense of pride born from the cautious comradery they developed on Horde Prime’s ship – Glimmer.

And just as Glimmer drops to the ground and steadies herself, Adora kneels on the ground and clutches her face, and Catra finds herself able to speak through the pain that wracks her entire body.

“Her necklace!” Catra shouts. “Destroy it!”

Shadow Weaver’s head snaps toward Catra, then Glimmer. Her eyes widen as Glimmer levels a blast of light at her. She disappears in a burst of shadow as the light hits home.

As the shadow and light clear, the electrical force keeping them bound clears as well.

Everyone, of course, moves toward Adora, who is still knelt on the ground; Catra moves on instinct and vaults over the smallest princess. She’s still in pain, but so are the rest of them, and she’s faster.

She reaches down and grasps Adora’s shoulder without thinking. Adora doesn’t turn her head, at first – just shrugs her off – and Catra’s brain catches up with the rest of her. She takes a quick step back just as Adora looks up to see who came to her aid.

Embarrassed and sullen, Catra flattens her ears and looks away. She lets the princesses move in front so they can fret over Adora’s fresh wounds.

Then, Catra sees light glint off something, and her gaze falls to the ground: and there lies Shadow Weaver’s broken necklace, the jewel shattered.

They move into the war room after the guards are dismissed, but they don’t bother sitting down. They all stand in a circle, including Catra (the flower princess had quietly suggested that Catra shouldn’t be part of this conversation, but a quick hiss was enough to shut her up before she spoke loud enough for anyone to actually hear her).

Glimmer turns to Adora, who sports a large bandage taped loosely over the spot where Shadow Weaver scratched her. Glimmer asks, “Are you sure you’ll be alright?” Without She-Ra goes unsaid.

“Yes,” Adora answers, and Glimmer had told Catra, after a while spent on Horde Prime’s ship together, that she and Adora hadn’t been on the best of terms – still, Catra is taken aback by the steel in Adora’s voice. A week prior, she would’ve taken a cruel satisfaction in it.

“It’s just–we don’t even know where she’s gone–”

“Exactly!” says the princess of the Kingdom of Snows – Glimmer’s little parrot.

Entrapta, who had been detached for most of the conversation, is roped in with the promise of a problem to solve. She wonders, “Where do you go when you have nothing left?”

There’s a stretch of silence, but then Catra looks at Adora where she stands across from her, and she has her answer.

“Home.”

Adora’s eyes slide over to meet Catra’s. Catra wants little more than to look away, but this feels important, somehow.

Entrapta’s voice cuts through the noise of Catra’s own blood in her ears. “The Fright Zone?”

Catra shakes her head as Adora says, “No. Mystacor.”

Adora’s gaze is still locked with Catra’s, blue eyes burning with intensity. Catra thinks that she might be looking for something. She just doesn’t know what.

Glimmer’s voice, again. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Then a new voice joins the discussion, and Catra finally pries her eyes away from Adora’s as Scorpia declares, “I’ll come with.”

Scorpia – there’s another person who Catra owes a billion and one apologies to. But that will have to come later.

Catra says, “It should just be me and Adora.”

Scorpia’s resolute expression quickly turns to one of hurt, and Catra feels defensive, feels her hackles rising – but she forces herself to take a deep breath, and the anger subsides to guilt. She says, “The princesses should all stay here – we don’t need Horde Prime thinking we’re planning anything, and he could ask to meet with any of you at any time.”

For good measure, she forces a smile in Scorpia’s direction. Even though it probably looks more like she’s having a stroke than anything, Scorpia relaxes and returns the smile.

Catra’s relief is short-lived, however. The Princess of Salineas – Mermista, Catra remembers – asks, “And why should you go?”

It’s difficult, but Catra manages to stop herself from baring her teeth. Still, she doesn’t manage to keep the bitterness out of her voice when she says, “I know Shadow Weaver.”

“I don’t know, Catra,” Adora says. When Catra looks to her, Adora is still leveling her with that intense gaze, but there’s something like worry there as well. She asks, “Do you really think it’s a good idea?”  

Catra doesn’t linger on the fact that this is the first time Adora has said her name since she’s arrived on Bright Moon. Instead, she feels herself beckoned by the comfortable familiarity of her anger – because here Adora is, still trying to run off without her in an effort to protect her from some nonexistent threat, still not understanding how much it hurts Catra–

And then Catra looks at Adora’s bandage, where new blood is starting to seep through. She thinks that maybe she didn’t quite understand Adora’s hurt, either.

Catra, painstakingly, reigns in her anger. Not as cutting as she wants to be, she says, “Don’t act like you know what’s best for me.” Adora flinches, but Catra continues, “I want to go. It only feels right.”

It’s Mermista who speaks up again. “How do we know she won’t attack Adora?” she asks, and her cadence is slightly less disaffected than usual. “I still don’t think–”

“She can come,” Adora interrupts. “I’ll be fine.”

Catra realizes with a start that her claws are digging hard enough into her palms to draw blood. She stretches her fingers out and smooths them down her pants, managing a nonchalant shrug when Mermista glares at her.

“It’s settled, then,” Glimmer says, though she doesn’t sound particularly happy about it. “Adora and Catra will go.”

There’s some grumbling, but no one argues with the queen of Bright Moon. Satisfied, she says, “You’re all dismissed.”

Catra hangs back as the princesses start to file out – some of them reluctantly, some not. Adora starts to go too, but Glimmer calls out.

“Actually, Adora, can I talk to you and Catra for a second?”

Catra would rather do literally anything else than experience whatever conversation is about to take place. It must show on her face, too, because Glimmer glares at her and mouths stay. Catra considers leaving just for that.

But Adora approaches just as the last of the princesses leave, and Catra remains still.

“Catra really isn’t going to hurt you, Adora,” Glimmer starts by saying – and at first, all Catra feels is shock. “I don’t know her as well as you did, but up on the spaceship–” Glimmer swallows. She says, “I can vouch for her loyalty.

Catra’s shock quickly gives way to a dizzying combination of anger and humiliation. But before she has the chance to throttle Glimmer like she wants to, Adora quietly wonders, “Are any of us really in the place to be vouching for loyalty?” 

The rebuke has Glimmer going quiet for a long time. Catra can hardly keep track of all the emotions that play across her face as she thinks of what to say.

“I guess that’s fair,” Glimmer says, eventually. “But I’d still feel better if you’d let me come, too.

Adora shakes her head. “Catra’s right. Taking more people would just be calling attention to ourselves.”

“And we could use someone running interference, Sparkles,” Catra says, delighting in Glimmer’s angry flush at the nickname (and there’s a habit that Catra doesn’t think she’ll be able to kick). “Just in case Horde Prime suspects something’s up.”

Glimmer sighs, pinching the space between her eyebrows with her index finger and thumb. “Fine – just. Adora, are you sure about this?”

“It needs to be done,” Adora says, looking as resigned as Catra’s ever seen her. “Shadow Weaver has shown that she’ll stop at nothing to get power. We need to take her down while she’s weak.”

If Catra didn’t know any better, she might be spurred into anger at Adora’s sorrowful expression – but Catra does know better, because Catra’s feeling it too. She hates Shadow Weaver more than she hates anyone else – with the exception of herself, maybe – but the thought of killing her has Catra’s stomach twisting in knots. Adora looks to Catra, and Catra knows that Adora will see her own expression reflected back at her.  

Glimmer says, nearly pleads, “At least wait until morning.”

“Okay,” Adora says, reluctant. “But we’re leaving at dawn.”

Catra is glad to have her back to Bright Moon. She’s tired of jumping through hoops just to play nice with princesses who hate her guts, even despite Glimmer’s tentative endorsement. With how exhausted she is, it’s hard for her to believe that it’s been less than two days.

Still, she doesn’t have time to relax. They’ve packed lightly, with just enough provisions to make it there and back, but they have to sneak around under the cover of trees, always watchful of the Horde ships that hover over them. The ships don’t do anything, though – they’re just there. Part of Catra wishes that they would attack already, because then Catra would at least know what they’re up against.

And then there’s Adora. Adora doesn’t look at her distrustfully, necessarily, just with that same expression that Catra can’t decipher. Even now, she keeps stealing glances at her. And after the dozenth or so time that Adora looks over without saying anything, Catra finally cracks.

“What?” she growls.

Adora looks sheepish, which Catra almost laughs at. Adora says, “I wanted to say sorry, for yesterday.”

Catra is so put-off that she stops walking entirely. Adora takes a couple more steps before she realizes that Catra’s stopped at all, and when she turns around, they’re a good ten feet apart.

“What?” Catra asks, because what. Catra wracks her brain, but all she can remember from yesterday is Shadow Weaver slashing Adora’s face open, and the sick feeling in her own stomach.

Now, Adora definitely looks embarrassed. “You seemed mad, when I questioned you. When you said that you wanted to come with.”

Catra feels a lot of things – bewilderment still at the forefront – but if Adora is going to the trouble of apologizing, then Catra feels the need to at least explain herself.

“I just felt like you were doing that thing again,” Catra says after a moment, gesturing vaguely, jittery with nerves. “Pretending like you know best. Like you’re going to go and save everyone. But sometimes it hurts more than it helps.”

As soon as she’s finished talking, Catra catches sight of Adora’s expression, and Catra wishes she could claw the words back into her mouth. Adora looks sad.

“Adora–”

“I just thought it might be a bad idea. Horde Prime knows you, and he might ask for you while we’re gone,” Adora says, and then in addition to feeling like the worst person in the world, Catra just kind of feels like an idiot.

“Oh.”

“It’s fine,” Adora sighs. “Glimmer yelled at me about that too. I just want to help. But I’ll try to get better.” Then she shrugs, and Catra realizes just how tired Adora looks.

“Adora,” Catra starts, but she doesn’t know what to say. Adora’s name falls flat in the wide space between them.

And then Adora turns around, away from Catra. “Come on,” she says. “We have a long way to go.”

They don’t make camp until the sun has long since set, but they’ve made decent enough time. They’re set to make it to Mystacor by midmorning tomorrow.

It’s warm enough for them to not need a tent or a fire – which is good, since a fire would surely give them away, if they haven’t been spotted already.

Catra lays down her bedroll after Adora. She tries not to think about it too hard – even though she is definitely thinking about it extremely hard – and settles on laying her bedroll a few feet away from Adora’s so that their feet will face each other’s.

She sits on the bedroll, now, as Adora does on hers. Moonlight filters through the trees, and even in the dark, Catra can see that more blood has seeped through the bandage on Adora’s face, though now it’s dried and brown.

“You should change out your bandage,” Catra finds herself saying, and Adora nearly jumps out of her skin, which – Catra supposes that they’ve spent the last several hours in silence, but it’s not like Adora could’ve forgotten she was there.

“Oh, yeah,” Adora says, with a little huff of laughter. The sound makes something constrict in Catra’s chest.

Adora reaches for her pack and pulls out a fresh bandage just as a noise comes from the forest. It just sounds like a bird, but Adora flinches all the same, dropping the bandage on the ground. Catra frowns, because she’s rarely known Adora to be so jumpy before.

Before she can stop herself, Catra asks, “Do you want me to help?”

“N–” Adora starts to say, then stops. Catra can see that Adora’s eyes are wide and searching. Assessing, almost.

Catra realizes that her ears are flat on her head, so she forces them upright.

Adora finally says, “If you want.”

Catra forces herself to move over to Adora before she loses the nerve. In the meantime, Adora has taken out some medical tape, a cloth, a bottle of water, and even some antiseptic cream (a sight that Catra has to stop herself from scoffing at, because they never had that kind of stuff in the Horde).

Catra lets Adora remove the dirtied bandage from her own face. As she peels the bandage away, and Catra kneels over her, Adora says, “You know, I think you might be the only one who’s happy that I’m not She-Ra anymore.”

Adora laughs in a way that tells Catra that she doesn’t really think it’s that funny at all. Before Catra even has the chance to respond, Adora pushes the water and cloth into Catra’s hands and tilts her head back.

Catra quickly realizes that this was a horrible idea, actually. Her hands shake as she uses the water to wet the cloth.

Seeing the marks on Adora’s face has Catra’s stomach twisting, like she’s watching Adora get them all over again. They’re starting to scab, at least, which is good news for healing – but Catra can tell that they’ll scar.

Catra tries to calm her shaking hands long enough to lightly swipe the wet cloth over the wounds, and for the most part, she succeeds.

Adora doesn’t flinch.

With that done, Catra reaches for the cream and the bandage. She ends up putting way too much antiseptic on, but she can’t find it within herself to care.

Adora is so close – they haven’t been this close without trying to hurt each other in so long – and Catra is having a hard time breathing. She tosses the antiseptic back into the bag and looks at Adora as she reaches up to apply the bandage. Adora is looking at her, too.

Catra’s arm stops midway and she finds herself just staring at Adora, with Adora staring back at her – Adora’s eyes are still that deep blue that Catra has loved at times and despised at others, as wide as Catra imagines that her own are.

“Catra?”

Catra pries her eyes away and forces herself to focus on the task at hand.

Catra reaches up with her other hand to cup Adora’s jaw on the opposite side of the cuts, in part to steady Adora’s face and in part to steady herself. Adora sighs as her fingers meet her skin, and Catra feels her own jaw clench. Catra holds the bandage up, hovering over the wounds.

“Can you–?”

Adora reaches up and presses Catra’s hand down until the bandage covers the flesh; they both inhale sharply.

Catra removes her hand out from under Adora’s and grabs the tape as Adora holds the bandage in place with her fingertips. If her blood wasn’t pumping hard before, it certainly is now.

She applies the tape to keep the bandage in place. It’s an awful job – she would’ve been penalized for it, back when she was a cadet. But it will have to do. Catra doesn’t think that she has it in her to do that again.

Catra settles back on her haunches – she doesn’t know what to say, but she knows that she wants to say something. She also just kind of wants to hold Adora’s face again, especially with how Adora is looking at her.

Another noise sounds from the forest, and Adora flinches so hard that she almost knocks into Catra.

“Whoa, Adora,” Catra says, because now she’s really worried. “What’s going on with you? Are you alright?”

Adora looks like she might not answer, at first, and Catra’s stomach sinks. Because why would Adora answer? They’re not friends, not anymore–

But Adora interrupts her thoughts before she has time to spiral further. “Last time we went to Mystacor, we camped out around here,” she says, looking down at her hands. “Shadow Weaver sent those shadow…things…after me.”

Catra would march the rest of the way to Mystacor and claw Shadow Weaver’s face off right now, if she thought it would make Adora look a little less distressed. But she knows that it wouldn’t – she knows that fear and pain can continue long after its source.

Catra can’t help but dwell on the fact that fear and pain also lie between them, now.

“Glimmer and Bow didn’t believe me,” Adora says, and she doesn’t seem angry, exactly – just like she’s been let down.

And Glimmer. Catra found similarities in unlikely places, with Glimmer (but really, was it all that unlikely? What else did they share, other than Adora? Glimmer had a home, had a mother who loved her, before–)

They bonded over Adora, over her often frustratingly headstrong attitude, and over – Catra’s stomach rolls to think of it – Shadow Weaver’s old favoritism of her.

But Catra looks at Adora now, at the hurt in her eyes and the bandage on her face, and thinks of the times that Shadow Weaver told Adora that Catra wasn’t her friend, thinks of how it was as much an effort to disparage Catra as it was to isolate Adora; she thinks of Shadow Weaver’s constant reminders that she took them in, gave them a home, thinks of how she was deemed a disappointment from the start while the threat of it was dangled over Adora’s head; thinks of how Shadow Weaver let her know that she was never worth taking in, how she let Adora know that she would have to one day prove that she was worth it; thinks of how Shadow Weaver physically hurt Catra but not Adora; thinks of how all this was to control them and drive them apart; she thinks of how Adora listened, how she didn’t, and how they both ended up broken in different ways for it.

Catra’s eyes are still glued to the bandage, and she suddenly becomes aware that Adora has not spoken for a long time. When Catra finally manages to look up, the expression that she is met with is a guarded one.

“I’m sorry,” Catra blurts out, “about Shadow Weaver.”

Adora’s expression slips, settling into confusion. “You’re sorry about…Shadow Weaver?”

“I’m sorry about everything, Adora!” Catra says, and she sounds frantic, she knows she does. “It’s going to take me a thousand years to apologize for all the things that I’m sorry for! But, right now, I’m saying that I’m sorry about Shadow Weaver.”

Adora’s mouth hangs open, and Catra finds herself looking at Adora’s lips, and what the fuck is wrong with her?

Catra pushes more words out of her mouth, if only to chase away her untimely attention to Adora’s lips. “I’m just – I’m sorry. We were both hurting,” she says. “Shadow Weaver hurt both of us. But I didn’t want to admit that.”

Adora is looking at Catra with her eyebrows drawn together. “Catra…it’s okay,” she says. “I didn’t want to admit that you were hurting, either. I saw Shadow Weaver hurt you, and I knew it was wrong, but I always tried to explain it away.” She swallows. “So, I’m sorry too.”

Catra jumps to her feet and starts pacing on the forest floor. She feels caged in – she feels wild.

“Catra?” Adora says, and Catra can hear the alarm in Adora’s voice.

“You can’t apologize!” Catra says, rounding on Adora. Adora simply stares back at her, confused and concerned – and Catra knows how she looks right now, but she can’t help it.

“I’m apologizing,” Catra continues, nearly shouting. “I was way more terrible! I was the worst! You can’t apologize.”

Then Adora looks at her with something close to pity, and Catra just manages to stop herself from flying into a rage.

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” Adora says.

Catra slumps her shoulders and flattens her ears as whatever burst of energy drains out of her.

“How would we know?”

Adora laughs at that, but it’s a humorless sound. “I guess we wouldn’t,” she says. She worries her lip before adding, “But I’ve been learning.”

And Catra can’t help the wave of sadness that washes over her at that. She wants to retreat, to fall back into that old bitterness, but she knows that old bitterness is why she’s here in the first place. She has to pry the words out of her mouth, has to speak them through her teeth, but she manages to ask, “Maybe I can learn, too?”

Adora, thankfully, does not mistake her reluctance for insincerity. She smiles – and it’s little, but it’s there – and says, “If you want.”

Catra says, “I do,” and then Adora is grinning, now, and Catra can’t stand to look at the sun for so long, so she finds her own bedroll and sits before turning her eyes to the night sky.

For a moment, Catra simply looks at the stars. She barely has had any time to look at them, and there’s just so many. It makes her feel even smaller.

“I’m not happy that you’re not She-Ra anymore,” Catra says, finally. “Not because I give a shit about She-Ra – I used to blame everything on her. On you.” Her throat feels like it’s closing up, but she forces the words out anyway. “But I can tell that it’s hurting you, that she’s gone. And I just don’t want to see you hurt anymore.”

The silence that follows isn’t a long one, but it’s enough to make Catra think that she’s gone and ruined everything. Again.

But then Adora speaks. “Thank you, Catra. I believe you,” she says. “I always knew – well, it’s like you said. We were both hurting.”

When Catra finds it in herself to respond, her voice is rough, and she feels close to tears. “I hurt you a lot.”

“You did,” Adora agrees, and she turns her own head to the sky just as Catra finally forces herself to look at her. Catra watches how the moonlight shines on Adora’s skin. Adora says, “But I’m glad you’re here.”

“I’m glad I’m here, too,” Catra says, her voice cracking in earnest, now.

After a long moment, Adora says, “I’m going to need my friend tomorrow.”

“…me too.”

Despite everything, Adora looks nearly amused as she faces the stars. “I’ll be there if you are.”

“I’ll be there,” Catra says. “I promise.”

They find Shadow Weaver on the outskirts of Mystacor, just as they expected. They’re still under a thick cover of trees, thankfully – there are even more Horde ships around here than by Bright Moon.

“Adora and Catra,” Shadow Weaver drawls as they approach, even though she is propped up on a tree and facing away from them. Her voice is devoid of affect when she says, “My greatest disappointments.”

Adora has worn a grim determination on her face all day – always keeping one hand on her dagger, as if Shadow Weaver were going to ambush them at any time – but for a moment, the mask cracks. Before Catra can talk herself out of it, she reaches over and grabs Adora’s hand before squeezing it once.

Adora looks to her, expression grateful. She squeezes back before letting go.

The mask slides back in place.  

When Catra and Adora step out in front of Shadow Weaver, Catra sees an even worse sight than the one she saw back in the Fright Zone’s prison cells – Shadow Weaver is weak and frail and very clearly dying.

Just as she was back in the Fright Zone, Catra is moved to pity, despite her best efforts to stop the emotion in its tracks. Now, more than ever, Catra sees Shadow Weaver for who she is: a sad, cruel woman who garnered control over others and made them feel the hurt she didn’t allow herself to feel.

Catra would know. She started to walk that path herself.

Wordlessly, Adora draws her dagger.

Shadow Weaver tilts her head up, looking at them through her mask. “What?” she scoffs. “Not a single word, after everything I’ve done for you?”

Adora doesn’t waver, but Catra sees the clench of her jaw where the bandage doesn’t cover. Adora says, “I’m sorry that it came to this.”

Shadow Weaver tries to get up, tries to send shadows in their direction, but she collapses on herself in pain. It’s a hard thing to watch, and Catra has to look away again, at Adora.

Catra realizes, at the end of it all, that she doesn’t want to be the one to kill Shadow Weaver. But she sees the set of Adora’s shoulders, the harsh tick of her jaw, the shine of tears in her eyes, the bandage on her face – Adora has resigned herself to do what must be done, and Catra can see how much it’s hurting her.

So, just as Adora draws her arm back to deliver a killing blow, Catra rushes in and grips Shadow Weaver’s head on either side, screws her own eyes shut, and twists.

Shadow Weaver’s limp body falls to the ground.

It takes them until midafternoon to dig the grave. They do it together, with foldable shovels that they brought expressly for this purpose (you can’t just leave a dead body out in the open, the little one – morbidly enough – had helpfully reminded them).

Other than Adora placing a reassuring hand on Catra’s back as she emptied the contents of her stomach into a nearby bush, they haven’t interacted with each other outside the shared task of gravedigging. Which is fine – if Catra stops for even a second, she knows that she won’t be able to finish. She suspects that the same is true for Adora as well.

The grave is deep enough that they have to step into it and lower the body down together. As she takes hold of Shadow Weaver’s lifeless arms, Catra is glad that there is nothing left in her stomach.
Once the body is firmly on the ground, Catra can’t scramble out of the grave fast enough.

Just as they dug it, Catra and Adora fill the grave quickly and efficiently and silently, listening to nothing but the sounds of moving dirt and the ships above the trees.

When they’re finished, Catra’s arms are sore as she folds the shovel back up. She can’t bring herself to look at Adora – she feels like she might shatter into a million pieces any second now, and looking at Adora in the eye would surely be enough to push her over the edge.

They leave the grave unmarked. They have nothing to say (for what could there possibly be to say?), and so they pack up silently and go back the way they came, toward Bright Moon.

Catra knows she’s crying, but she can barely feel the tears on her face. It’s dark – far darker than it was the previous night – and the moon hides behind the clouds. Catra is cold as she lays her bedroll in the same position as the night before, with her feet facing Adora’s.

Prone and unmoving, Catra can hear Adora’s little sniffles as well as she can hear her own. Catra wants little more than to call out, wants to ask Adora to come to her.

But she can’t shake the feeling that all of this is her fault, somehow. So she pretends not to notice and curls in on herself.

It is Adora who eventually breaks the façade. All she says is Catra’s name, her voice smaller than Catra has ever heard it, and then Catra is on her feet, dragging her bedroll to lay it next to Adora’s.

And then they are clinging to each other. Catra is half on the ground, and she’s pretty sure that Adora is getting snot in her hair where she buries her face into the top of Catra’s head – but Catra’s own face is shoved into the warm skin of Adora’s neck, her ear brushing against the edge of Adora’s bandage, and she isn’t fairing much better.

Catra hiccups before she can stop the noise, and Adora brings up the arm that isn’t supporting Catra’s neck so that she can stroke Catra’s hair.

The tenderness of the action is overwhelming, and Catra can do nothing but grab Adora’s shirt in a tight grip, pulling her even closer as she tries not to cry harder.

Adora slides her own arm down until Catra is locked in a firm hug. It does little to stop her shaking, but Catra feels like she’s being held together.  

It takes Catra a long time to realize that Adora is saying something, and even longer to fit the shape of the words into something intelligible – but eventually she does, and Catra realizes that Adora is saying I’m sorry, quieter than anything, over and over.

Catra can’t even move, with how tightly Adora holds her, so Catra whispers into Adora’s neck, her voice shaky with tears, “What are you sorry for?”

“I should’ve done it,” Adora says, voice low and thick, “I should’ve done it years ago.”

As much as she doesn’t want to, Catra untangles herself from Adora. She braces herself up on one arm, hovered over Adora so that she can look at her properly – and wow, does Adora look like shit right now. Catra knows that she looks the same – knows it by how Adora’s eyes well up with fresh tears, because Adora has always been a bleeding heart.

Catra says, “We can’t do that. We can’t talk about what we should’ve done.”  

“But–”

“I should’ve done it too,” Catra insists, her voice just a bit stronger, now. “I should’ve gone with you, I should’ve stopped myself from doing everything I did–but I didn’t! And we can’t fix what’s already happened.”

“I left you there, with her–”

“You asked me to come with, Adora, and I didn’t,” Catra says. “And I was angry with you. I was angry that you didn’t see that the Horde was evil, that you had to meet strangers to figure it out. I was angry that you abandoned everything, that you abandoned our promise, and me, for strangers.

“Even when I thought I had nothing, I thought that I’d still have you, and I didn’t, and then I made sure that I had nothing–”

“Catra–”

“But instead of telling you any of this, I just let it fester – I almost ended the world, Adora! And I dream about it almost every night. And now it’s going to be hard to untangle it all.”

Catra stops only because she’s out of breath, but she finds that she’s said all she wanted to. So she waits.

There’s a long stretch where the only sounds Catra can hear are their breathing and the rushing of her own blood.

“We can’t change what happened,” Adora says, eventually, slowly. “All we can do is move forward. If that’s okay?”

There’s a small voice inside Catra’s head – she doesn’t know if it is Shadow Weaver’s or her own – that tells her that she doesn’t deserve to feel what she’s feeling.

For the first time in a long while, Catra feels something like hope.

She pushes the little voice away long enough to respond, “Yeah.” And then, “Is that…okay with you?”

“Yeah,” Adora says, giving Catra a small, hesitant smile, and Catra smiles back.

And then Catra’s just there, hovering and smiling over Adora, because now what are they supposed to do?

Like Adora can read her mind, Adora opens her arms invitingly. Even in the dark, Catra can see that Adora is blushing.

“Dork,” Catra says, fondly, nestling down into Adora’s arms. She doesn’t even bother to stop the purr that starts deep in her chest, and Adora doesn’t stop her pleased little noise in response.

When Catra finally falls asleep, she is calm, surrounded by Adora.

Catra wakes up as Adora is stirring, the light sleeper that she is. She tries not to freak out, tries to think of the best way to untangle herself from Adora’s limbs, because if Adora sees her like this–

Catra looks up to find that Adora is awake and staring, giving her a wide, dopey grin.

“Ugh,” Catra says, shoving herself up and off of Adora. Adora lets out a soft little oof when Catra elbows her in the stomach, but Catra doesn’t feel too bad about it.

Once Catra is on her feet, she stretches, and she can feel Adora’s eyes on her. She realizes, slightly horrified, that she is blushing.

When Adora starts to say something, voice lilted and teasing, Catra shoots her a warning glare.

Smile still firmly in place, Adora shows her palms in surrender.

Catra can see that her bandage needs to be re-taped, but Adora doesn’t seem to care much. Adora says, “I was just going to say good morning.”

She doesn’t respond, but her face manages to heat up even more. Catra turns away and starts to gather her things, but she can’t seem to stop her tail from flicking, despite her best efforts.

It doesn’t take them long at all to pack up their few possessions. Still, every time Catra glances over at Adora, she’s wearing a shit-eating grin.

“Shut up.”

Adora shrugs, but her smile doesn’t waver. “I didn’t say anything.”

“I could hear you thinking,” Catra says, “with that giant, empty head of yours,” and it shuts Adora up for a while, even if it doesn’t wipe that stupid grin off her face.

After they walk for a while, though, Catra’s embarrassment starts to fade, and she can’t ignore the undeniable warmth she feels at the sight of Adora’s smile. She doesn’t even feel that searing sadness from the night before – and while she knows that the sadness isn’t gone for good, that Shadow Weaver will still lurk in the corners of her brain and her heart, Catra feels freer than she has in a long time. And it just feels so good to be next to Adora, again.

Finally, apropos of nothing, like she hadn’t been trying and failing to construct the right words all night and all morning, Catra says, “Look, Adora, I wanted to say – I’m glad that we…talked.”
And then Adora’s seemingly never-ending grin eases into something a little softer. She says, “I’m glad we talked, too.”

As Adora bumps her shoulder against Catra’s, Catra finds the courage to keep going.

“And I’m glad about the other thing, too,” Catra says, but she can’t bring herself to call the other thing by what it is – that is, cuddling each other all night. She also can’t keep herself from tacking on a grumbled, “I guess.”

Despite Catra’s attitude, Adora stops right where she is. The grin is back in full force, and Catra stops, too.

Catra rolls her eyes, hard. “Do not make a big deal out of this.”  

“You’re the one who said it!” Adora argues, facing Catra. Catra realizes that – if she reached out – she could touch her.

But Catra doesn’t do that. She says, “I just wanted to tell you where I was at, I guess.”

Impossibly, Adora’s smile grows even wider. Catra is worried her scabs are going to split open.

Adora says, “You should keep doing that.”

“Keep doing what?”

“Telling me where you’re at.”

Catra gives a little discontent growl, low in her throat. Still, she says, “I will if you do.”

“It’s a deal,” Adora says. And then, after a pause, “I think that’ll be good.”

Adora is smiling at her again – this time with that dopey smile, like the one from when she first woke up, and Catra realizes with horror that she’s starting to mimic it. She doesn’t get the chance to correct it, either, because Adora has stepped closer, into Catra’s space.

Adora asks, voice soft, “Where are you at, now?”

Catra’s mouth has gone dry, and it takes her a moment to find her voice. “I’m…good.”

“Me too,” Adora says. Catra can see that her eyes are locked on her lips.

Adora shuffles a little closer, and when she captures Catra’s chin between her thumb and her forefinger, Catra has to stifle her gasp.

“Where are you at?”

“Adora–” Catra starts to warn, but Adora is already leaning down, gently slotting their lips together.

The kiss lasts no more than a few seconds, and Adora’s bandage rubs against Catra’s face uncomfortably, but when they pull apart, Catra finds herself shaking, just a little.

Adora, for all her bravado, looks like she’s seen a ghost. Catra worries, for a moment, that Adora has come to regret everything – but then Adora lets out the breath she had been holding, and the color returns to her face, and she’s smiling softly.

Catra feels some of her confidence return, now that she’s seen that Adora is just as nervous as she is. She asks, “Where are you at?”

Adora lets out a small huff of air and says, “Good,” so Catra cups Adora’s jaw, opposite of the bandage, and kisses her a second time.

This one’s a little less soft, and Adora’s hand somehow ends up tangled in Catra’s wild mess of hair by the base of her left ear; and then Adora is pulling away, wincing a little. “Sorry,” she breathes, gesturing at her face. “Hurts.”

“Later, then?” Catra asks.

In response, Adora does a stupid little eyebrow waggle.

Catra grumbles and shoves her away, but the effect is lost when she pulls a laughing Adora right back, lacing their fingers together before she can think better of it.

There’s still a lot that Catra has to make up for, and a lot of people to make it up to. Horde Prime, with his ships and clones in the skies, is still a very real threat. Still, hand in hand with Adora – after all this time – Catra feels like she could take on anything.