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Gasping. Gasping for air, but it felt like she was suffocating. Voices, some warm and soothing, some cold and callous, all blurring into one. And then, a dull pang, nothing more than a prick, however the feeling got sharper, and the pang was no longer just that. It was a stab—no maybe a press—whatever it was, it was agonising, excruciating, a torturous feeling.
Adora woke up on the floor whimpering, her whole body aching. From what exactly, she wasn't too sure, or maybe it was easier to convince herself that in her current state. It’s entirely possible it was solely the fall, but she knew there was more to it than that. Especially when there’s that ache on her lower back which always throbbed after that kind of dream. Nightmare.
She tried to push herself up off the floor, despite barely having enough energy to open her eyes. Unsurprisingly, she failed, hardly getting a foot off the carpet beneath her. It was if her whole body had given up, shut down, like an old computer that had been collecting dust in a garage. Only, she wasn’t ready to power down and clog with dirt just yet.
Once more, she pushed, attempting to lift herself up, this time however, the throbbing ache turned sharp, just like before, and she hit the ground with a thud. Her breath hitched, and she let out a silent scream as if she were underwater, nowhere near the surface.
Was this what drowning felt like?
Blackness surrounded her (though it could have been because she was still half asleep, but Adora couldn’t be sure, especially not when the only thing she could feel was the stab stab stab on her back, and her heart rate accelerating at the speed of light). Overtaken by the pain, Adora felt her eyes begin to shut fully again, the fight to keep them open or scream one last plea being futile. The last thought that flashed through her mind, other than the relief of being unconscious, was:
Catra.
It must have been close to morning when Catra staggered back to their motel, still concealed by the dark of the early hours of the day, yet still sticking out like a sore thumb as she clambered back to their room, with a suspicious looking duffel bag on hand and hood obscuring her face. Digging into her pocket to find the keys, she fumbled with the lock of the door —expectedly jammed— before creeping into the room as quietly as possible, as not to wake Adora. She needed the rest.
Getting away from both the Rebellion and the Horde had not been an easy feat. Especially not for Adora, because while the Horde was used to defects (Adora being one of them) the Rebellion clearly wasn’t, not with their overzealous front.
In actuality, they were overbearing and manipulative, like most gangs were, maybe more so than usual. With what they nearly put Adora through — someone they had supposedly called ‘their own’ — it was undoubtedly more than usual.
Catra expected to see her peacefully and soundlessly asleep, a comforting sight, one she’d seen many times in the past, especially before she’d left. Now that they’d been brought back to each other, even if it was under the worst possible circumstances, Catra would be blessed with that reassuring sight much more often.
So when she shut the door, and peered over to the bed, taking her hood down and turning on her phone flashlight, she hadn’t expected to see a limp body on the floor, a face fixed with discomfort. Instantly, she dropped the bag and rushed to Adora’s side, mouth wide open, and eyes filling fast with water.
“Adora?” Catra whispered, refusing to assume the worst.
Switching on the lamp on the bedside table to examine her more closely, she noticed that the sliver of skin peeking out from under Adora’s top was red, not the normal red she’d seen thousands of times before from the blush on her face, but a hurt, angry, agitated red.
From then it was easy to assume.
Squeezing her eyes shut as if to force the tears back into her system, Catra took a deep breath before contemplating what to do next. First, she checked her pulse. Fine. She was fine—or, at least not dead. Then, with great care, she picked Adora up, placing her back on the bed. She willed herself not to panic, to jump to conclusions. But seeing her disgruntled face—seeing her like this was too much too soon. Lava seemed to bubble inside her, threatening to spill out and burn everything in its path. She was supposed to have protected her.
And now—
Shaking her head, Catra fought back against the onslaught of guilt plaguing her. As she sat down next to Adora, heart aching and head pounding, swirling with an amalgamation of ambivalence, she let herself brush the strand of hair falling on Adora’s face. Thoughts still convoluted and jumbled, the one which prevailed through it all was:
Why her?
Waking up again was like reaching the surface Adora had so badly missed. What once seemed so alluring and peaceful was now uncovered (not for the first time) as a sea of regret, torment and misery, rather than treasure, joy, contentment.
This had been one of the worst.
Her mind had looped in an infinite cycle of agony replaying the moment: the false words of comfort; the searing pain; her screams; hands holding her down; arms around her she didn’t want. Pain. Humiliation. Pain. More humiliation. Her emotions switched between the two often enough for them to become interchangeable. She kept plummeting deeper and deeper into the once beautiful blue abyss. And the further down she got, the more Adora realised it was closer to darkness than blue. It seemed she would continue falling, falling into the darkness until—
“Adora?”
There it was. Tender and comforting. Hard to place, yet as familiar as home once was. The voice radiated a warmth, a light even, creating cracks through the impenetrable walls of her mind, calling out to her. The surface began to look clearer again.
Unlike before, she wasn’t met with darkness, nor with the pain she dreaded to feel again. Instead, she was met with the dim, sensuously lit motel room, curtains shutting her off from the outside world. Having gotten a better look at it, Adora knew this is probably the place they would have sent her to, under a false guise that what she was doing was significant but – her lower back still ached – it never was. Contrasting that thought was Catra, laying down next to her, eyes shut. That’s when she realised…
Catra wasn’t there when she—and she had—did Catra find her on the floor?
Despite the protests of her body, Adora sat up, still sore, as she gripped the sheets, and whispered, “shit…”
“I’m awake, y’know.”
Adora swivelled around to face Catra, whose eyes were still closed but she was evidently not asleep.
Sitting up now, her face was fairly neutral, until she said:
“And from your reaction, I’m guessing that there was no sicko who broke in and fucked you up, so... what the fuck Adora?”
Adora resisted the urge to curse again, knowing that it would only serve to make Catra more agitated. Instead, she sat there, looking down at the blanket rather than meeting Catra’s gaze. Although, it seemed like no matter what she did it’d infuriate Catra, as it had only been seconds of silence before she practically erupted.
Letting out a bitter laugh, she said, “I come back after a really shitty night, expecting everything to be fine—or at least for you to be fine, but instead—” she scoffed, shaking her head, “I find you passed out on the fucking floor, and I’m scared shitless that they’ve found us, got to you, and I’m waiting for you to wake up to see if you’re okay, and the first thing that comes out of your mouth is ‘shit’?”
She rose off the bed, facing away from Adora for a brief second before turning back and saying, “So please, enlighten me, as to what the fuck happened while I was gone princess.” Her jaw was clenched, and her stare unyielding. It was clear Adora wouldn’t be able to bullshit her way out of it.
Running a hand through her hair (it ceased to be down except when she went to bed) Adora couldn’t help but sigh. Not out of exasperation, but rather out of defeat. There was no more point in hiding the truth. She just wished it was under better circumstances.
“Catra…” she said, voice full of apprehension as she addressed her for the time since she’d woken up.
“What?” Catra replied, arms crossed waiting for an explanation expectantly.
“I–” Adora took another breath before, “it was a nightmare.”
Oddly enough, despite how close the pair were, one thing Adora had omitted for quite some time now was the onslaught of nightmares haunting her through most nights. Especially once she had left the Horde (and security of Catra) they had gotten increasingly worse, happening several times a week. They were at their worst when she and Catra had their major fallout, and even after the revelation that the Rebellion was in some ways worse than the Horde had brought them even closer than before, back to each other again, her brain still continued to torment her night after night. It seemed they only ceased when she had the presence of Catra there (just like when they were still blissfully innocent kids) keeping her safe. Fending off the dark. Her light.
They’d been on the run for only a couple days now, and it had all been going fairly smooth until Catra had spotted one of the Rebellion’s many cronies, and decided they needed to move on quickly so as not to get caught. Hence why she’d gone in the middle of the night to get more ‘supplies’ for one they hit the road. That meant leaving Adora however, who had come out of their – hopefully – last fight with Horde and Rebellion pretty worse for wear. Needless to say, she should have seen the dream coming. Maybe she should have told Catra, but appearing as weak seemed worse than all her worst dreams combined, because even when she considered telling her, her conclusion would always be — She’d think less of me.
As Adora said the four words she’d been avoiding saying for months now, Catra sunk back down onto the bed slowly, then said, “Oh. I have them too y’know. It’s fine.”
All the tension in Adora’s body drained and she could practically hear herself saying I told you so. That didn’t change the fact the conversation hardly seemed to be finished however.
“But…” Catra started, “that doesn’t explain why you were on the floor. What happened, Adora?”
That question was what made Adora’s heart pound incessantly faster, was what caused her palms to sweat and throat to clog with seemingly nothing and all the words she’d been dying to say yet dreading simultaneously. Gulping down the excess saliva in her mouth (it was always in moments like these where her throat would get so dry and rough) she tried to form some sort of sentence to explain the convoluted mess in her mind.
Adora felt a hand on her knee, thumb running up and down in a comforting motion. Softer this time, Catra said, “Start with the dream.”
“Well...it was something that happened back when I was still with the Rebellion. Recently, they’ve all been about that, but this time, it was painful—what happened in the dream—it was terrible Catra, I could—I couldn’t breath and then—” Adora hadn’t realised there were tears streaming down her eyes, until Catra was wiping them, until she was pulling her into her arms; it was easy to cry then, to sob into the crevice of her neck, to let out everything she’d been keeping in.
“Shhh...it’s okay, it’s okay Adora, I’m here now, I’m here for you princess.” Catra said, words gentle, as if she was trying to cast all of Adora’s ailments away. Although she couldn’t exactly succeed in that, she did her best to keep Adora afloat, stopping her from sinking to the bottom of that devastating sea of doubts and fears, from suffocating completely.
“I’m sorry,” Adora said through sniffles, “I’m so so sorry Catra…”
At that, Catra pulled away from her, and for a split second Adora was sure she’d done something wrong; but she was still gripping her arms tightly, looking at her as though she were a god cradling her precious moon.
“What do you have to be sorry for?” She asked, eyes full with concern and expression far too distressed for Adora’s liking. Catra was usually much more composed.
“For not telling you, not being honest,” she said, feeling lighter as the words came out, but oddly still incapable of looking at Catra’s face.
Bringing Adora closer, Catra shook her head and leaned in close, close enough to feel the heat of her breath. “Adora, don’t ever apologise for something like that. You hear?” She said, tone stern and gaze unwavering.
Adora hardly had time to reply before Catra insisted once more, “it wasn’t your fault, and you had no obligation to tell me. I know how rough that shit is, how it can make you feel, so don’t be sorry, okay?”
This time, Catra gave her enough time to respond, nodding with a quiet “okay.”
Being enveloped into another hug, Adora felt much more at ease compared to when she first saw the look on Catra’s face, and was relieved she’d finally told her the truth.
However, that relief was instantly shattered as her mind dwelled on the fact that technically that hadn’t been the whole truth. Mind fixated on that thought, Adora’s back began to throb once more.
Catra was unsure of how exactly to process all that Adora had told her. While it wasn’t necessarily a shock, or something she had no experience with (in fact she was no stranger to the trauma that could come with thoughts generated by one's own subconscious—hers had never been kind to her), it was clear to see that Adora’s inability to speak up about things like this was a problem within itself which she seemed unable to overcome. And it had been that way for as long as she’d know her.
Other than that, niggling at the back of her mind was still the patch of red that peeked from Adora’s shirt when she found her on the floor. Cruelly, her mind began conjuring up scenarios of what it could have been from, of what happened. In these scenarios it was usually her fault, if not directly, then by some indirect involvement. Though, those illogical thoughts were easily replaced with the reality that she had left Adora alone, with night terrors, and that she could possibly be hurt because of the stupid 'errands' she’d been running, errands she desperately wished she hadn’t had to do.
Sitting together on the bed, in a pensive silence, Catra cleared her throat and said, “I’m an idiot.”
Adora, who’d been playing with a loose string of fabric on her t-shirt, looked up at her and shook her head. “You didn’t know, Catra.”
“I know, I know, but that doesn’t make me any less of an idiot—I should have known. I should have known not to leave you.” Catra couldn’t help but tighten her grip on the sheets with one of her hands.
Instantly, Adora noticed it, and placed her hand over hers, saying, “I don’t blame you, okay? Just like you told me, you have nothing to feel sorry ab—”
“But it’s just—”
“Catra, seriously, you can’t beat yourself up about this—”
“I promised to protect you and—” Catra stopped herself when she heard her voice crack, and her throat begin to tighten.
Adora made soothing circles on the top of Catra’s hand, while she cradled her cheek with her other. “Breathe, okay? Breathe in time with me.” She said.
Catra listened, and then Adora went on.
“Please, don’t ever think this was your fault. Any of it. In fact—you’re the one who makes it better, alright?”
Nodding, Catra brought her hand up to Adora’s, still on her face, whispering a small 'alright' before they fell back into another oddly tranquil state, comforted by each other, consumed by each other; and maybe it was the early morning madness, but as Adora’s hand fell from her face and her grip on Catra’s still sufficed, as she glanced up at her face like she was truly something special, like she was worth more than the sun, Catra felt something stir inside her.
Then, Adora looked down and noticed the red under her nails (which she could’ve sworn she'd gotten out). Looking closely at Catra’s hands in hers, Adora asked slowly, “Catra…where did you go tonight?”
And fuck. Because Catra knew she was being tested right now, on whether or not she’d lie and break that bond of trust that they had, the bond which kept them shackled together securely whilst they navigated through each and every single wave which tried to subdue them. The last thing she wanted was to sever that. Though, she couldn’t tell her everything just yet, not now. Catra hadn’t intended on it being a secret, but she knew that it was too soon to burden Adora with her actions.
It might have been easier to lie, maybe to someone else, but to Catra it hardly seemed like an option, so she settled for a compromise of sorts.
“You already know that it was to buy more supplies,” she said, and could almost feel Adora debating on whether or not to reel back in disgust at what seemed like a blatant lie. However, she kept her eyes fixed on Adora, cutting through blue ice with mismatched ones, ones that she hoped would convey the truth in the next part.
“But…” she sighed, “there was also something else too, something which I had to do. I didn’t really want to. And I will explain it, soon, it’s just—it’s been a long day and honestly, I’m tired, Adora. I know you are too. So, can we go to bed?”
To Catra’s surprise, Adora didn’t protest or push for answers like she thought she would. Instead, she squeezed her hand and whispered, “yes, we can go to bed Catra.”
Both relieved and slightly delirious, the two exchanged small smiles, despite their current circumstances and the hardships which were bound to come next.
Adora reached to turn off the lamp, and once again they were plunged in darkness, only this time, safe in each other’s arms.
Just as she was slipping into unconsciousness, Adora asked, “10 AM tomorrow?”
Sleepily, Catra replied into her shoulder, “10 AM tomorrow.”
One thing was clear now: time apart had led to secrets building up, scars being barred that shouldn’t have been. There was nothing Catra could do at that point to change that matter of fact. The wedge between them still existed, only in subtler forms; forms of omission, of withholding information. Neither was to blame. They’d both been put through a lot of pain, together and apart. But that early morning where Catra was holding onto Adora tight, refusing to let go, shutoff from the harsh realities they faced (sometimes they were still reminded of it by each other, having gone through many of the same struggles, that at times only denial and bliss served to help them forget), Catra vowed to herself that not only would she uncover the demons, the scars beneath her all, that not only would she let Adora do the same, but that she’d be there through any storm, through every night no matter how dark it got.
They’d be each other’s light waiting at the surface.