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Glimmer takes Adora gently by the shoulders, interrupting her spiral about Catra. “You want to go back for her.”
Adora slumps, and whimpers, and nods pathetically. When she lifts her head up to face Glimmer, it takes her a second to open her eyes. “I can’t just leave her there,” Adora says softly, “I have to try.” She bows her head like she doesn’t want to hear Glimmer’s answer.
This might be the least surprising thing Adora’s ever done, Glimmer thinks. Of course they’re going back. They were always going to go back. “Catra sacrificed herself to save me,” Glimmer says, ducking down so Adora can’t avoid her eye contact. “Whatever you need to do, I’m with you.”
Bow, who’d been watching from one of Darla’s consoles, comes over to join them. “Then let’s do this,” he says, “Best Friends Squad style.” Glimmer can tell he’s not nearly as confident as he’s trying to sound. She loves him so much, she thinks, as the three of them pull each other close.
Adora sighs deeply, leaning against them both. “Thank you,” she says, barely above a whisper.
Glimmer gives her a little nudge. “Hey. Sleepyhead. Why don’t you go rest for a while. We can take care of things up here.”
“Definitely,” Bow agrees. “I’ll lay in a course for Prime’s ship. We shouldn’t be more than a day or two away. When you wake up from your nap, we’ll all sit down with Entrapta and put together a plan.”
Adora sighs again. It feels like she might fall asleep right there, standing up, in their arms. But eventually she gives them one last squeeze, straightens her posture, and disentangles herself, heading for the bunkroom.
When the door seals shut behind her, Bow and Glimmer both sigh too. Glimmer glances quickly at Bow, not sure if they’re ready to share the moment, but he’s smiling at her. Maybe not his biggest smile, but it’s a smile. He walks over to the console to set their new heading.
“Hey, um…” he says as he finishes keying in the coordinates. “I have two questions I want to ask you, and… I don’t know which one to ask first.”
“Okay,” Glimmer says, trying to sound neutral, trying to brace herself for whatever they might be. “You don’t have to pick just one. You can ask them both.”
“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah. Okay. I guess… my second question is just, what happened on Horde Prime’s ship, with you and Catra—but my first question…” Glimmer sees there are tears in his eyes, and feels a sudden stab of nausea. “Did you… did you really think I didn’t want us to be friends like we used to be?” he asks. He sounds so young, Glimmer thinks. She doesn’t feel sick anymore; her heart just aches.
“I… no, I… I don’t know what I thought,” she says to the deck plating. “You can be mad for as long as you want, I didn’t—I want to give you space. I don’t want to pressure you. I know I fucked up. Sometimes… sometimes things break, and you can’t fix them. Sometimes you get lost and you can’t find a way back. But I hope… I hope that’s not true about… about us.”
“It’s not,” Bow says immediately. “It’s not. Glimmer, it’s not. Hey. Look at me. Please?”
She does. He’s holding his hands out to her again. She takes them gratefully.
“There is a way back,” he says. “We’re gonna fix this. You said it yourself: you’re going to keep working on making it better. And you’re Glimmer—if you decide you’re going to do something, it’s going to get done. ‘The way things used to be’ is where we’re headed, okay? You and me. We’ll get there.”
Glimmer nods. She’s trying so hard not to cry. “C-can I hug you?”
It takes him a couple of seconds to answer. To Glimmer they feel like hours. “Yeah,” he finally says, “yeah, I’d really like that.”
It’s not like their hug with Adora. It’s not really like any hug they’ve ever had. She remembers being taken from the Fright Zone to Horde Prime’s ship, seeing Bow racing vainly towards her through the haze of the teleport beam. She remembers lying in a creepy bed millions of miles away from him, sure she’d never see him again—and she remembers materializing in space, Bow already there to catch her. As much as she wants to give him the distance he needs, right now it feels like she can’t get close enough.
Glimmer doesn’t know what Bow’s thinking, doesn’t know what memories are coming up for him or how tinted they are by his anger, but the way he’s hugging her back, so tightly that he’s almost lifting her feet off the ground—she guesses he’s probably feeling something similar.
The three of them are in the little room on Darla that Entrapta’s repurposed as a workshop. Glimmer and Bow are almost ready for their EVA, newly made helmets in their hands; Entrapta’s already in the airlock, preparing to secure them to the outside of the ship.
“If you guys are ready,” says Adora, the only one not in a spacesuit, “I’ll head up to the bridge. We’ll be there soon.”
Glimmer knocks on the left forearm of her suit with her right knuckles. It makes a reassuringly sturdy-sounding thump, at least. “Good luck, Adora,” she says, and Bow clasps her shoulder for a moment.
“You too,” Adora says, giving them both a lingering look before she leaves, jaw firmly set.
“I guess we should go meet Entrapta,” says Bow, still looking at the door.
“Yeah,” Glimmer says, “one second, though.” He turns around to face her.
“I don’t know what’s going to happen while we’re out there,” she says, “or what’s going to happen on Horde Prime’s ship. I don’t know if we’re going to be able to find Catra; and if we do, I don’t know if we’ll be able to escape with her. It—it feels like almost the only thing I do know is that you’ll be watching my back.”
She looks him in the eyes like she’s been doing since they were kids, little kids—and also like she’s never looked at him before, ever. Then she suddenly stands up on her toes and kisses him. On the lips. For the very first time.
It’s not a very long kiss, and when she pulls back, she looks as surprised as he does.
Suddenly there’s a piercing blast of static from the intercom speaker on the wall and Entrapta’s tinny, distorted voice assaults their ears: “Need you guys to—kzzrrrt—the airlock, please!”
“Good luck,” Glimmer whispers, and they run out the door.
Glimmer is on Horde Prime’s ship alone and she’s sure there’s something behind her.
“Hey.” Bow’s voice is right there. Glimmer wheels around in shock, but of course he’s only on her earpiece. She sighs, then taps the comm link open.
“What, worried about me?”
“Maybe,” he says, only it sounds like a definite “yes,” and the sickly sterile halls of the ship feel a little less cold to her. “Just be careful, okay?”
“Yeah,” she says over the comm. “You too.”
She-Ra covers their retreat while Bow carries Catra’s body onto the ship. She’s cold and clammy with half-dried sweat. She smells like burnt hair and disinfectant and ozone. She weighs practically nothing in his arms. And she’s not moving.
He carries her to the bridge, Glimmer right next to him. Darla has a sickbay, technically, but it hasn’t been stocked or prepared; it’s just a room full of narrow, uncomfortable beds. And anyway, Bow thinks as he lays Catra out gently on the floor, it doesn’t seem like there’s much a sickbay could do for her at this point.
Glimmer’s kneeling at Catra’s side, staring at her ribs for any sign of breath, when She-Ra comes in and starts pouring magic into the damaged ship. Glimmer reaches for the side of Catra’s neck like she’s going to take a pulse, then stops—instead, she gently takes hold of Catra’s shoulders and moves her so she’s resting in Glimmer’s lap. Catra’s head rolls loosely to the side. Bow tries not to shudder.
In seconds they’re out in open space, on their way home—or at least away from Horde Prime. She-Ra rushes over to them on the floor, taking Catra from Glimmer and cradling the still form against her armoured chest. “Come on, Catra,” she whispers. “You’re not done. Not yet. We’re going home.”
And then there’s light. So much light.
At some point Glimmer tugs on his arm and leads him off the bridge to the corridor outside. “We should… let’s see if we can set up somewhere for her to sleep,” Glimmer says. “Catra, I mean. Somewhere private, somewhere that’s not the bunkroom with the rest of us.”
Bow nods. “I bet Entrapta knows how we can make that happen. Let’s go ask her.”
It turns out Darla has a brig—that’s how it’s labeled on the schematics, but it’s really just a room that Entrapta’s been using for storage because it’s close to the bridge. There’s a bunch of metal pieces stacked in the corner that Glimmer manages to assemble into a sparse but functional cot while Bow finds other places on the ship to store the various boxes and crates.
Finally, it’s as ready as they can get it. The room is essentially still a metal box, but that’s every room on the ship—it’s warm, it’s quiet, it’s private. Catra’s safe now.
“I’ll go tell them,” Bow says, squeezing her shoulder. “You’re still in your spacesuit. Go change into something comfortable and rest.”
She puts her hand over his. “Okay. I’m going to shower first, though. Take care of Adora and… and Catra. Then you change out of your spacesuit and come rest with me.”
Bow’s eyes widen a little, but he doesn’t say anything—he just smiles at her, and nods, and then leaves the room, only reluctantly letting go of her hand.
The tank top and shorts Glimmer was wearing under her spacesuit are all sweaty now, but somehow, after her rescue, she’d found a bag of her own clothes from Bright Moon that someone had packed and brought on the ship. And she’s pretty sure Adora doesn’t know her way around all the drawers and closets in Glimmer’s room.
It’s not the first shower she’s taken on Darla. It’s not even the first shower she’s taken on Darla after escaping from Horde Prime’s ship. But gods, it almost feels better to wash the residue of that place off herself the second time. Now there’s no reason they’ll ever have to go back. Now they can go home.
She towels off and puts on the pyjamas Bow—probably—had packed for her. The soft, clean cotton feels so good against her freshly scrubbed skin that she could almost cry. But she just gathers her things, walks back to the bunkroom, and lays down on top of her bed.
Bow comes in a few minutes later, also freshly showered, in his own sleeping clothes. The way he smiles when he sees her makes the whole room—the whole ship—the whole universe narrow to just the two of them.
“Look at you, resting,” he says.
“Look at you standing,” she scolds playfully. “To bed with you, mister. We had the same extremely fucked-up day today.”
He laughs. “I cannot argue with that.” It only takes him a second to stow his shower things and then he’s sprawled out on his own bunk next to her.
“How are they doing?” Glimmer asks.
“Uh… hard to tell,” he says. “She carried Catra herself, wouldn’t let me help her—and she could have used it; I think she hurt her legs on Prime’s ship. She barely let me near her. She just… held her, and carried her into the br—the room, and then it was pretty obviously time for me to go.”
Glimmer hums thoughtfully. She’s still not sure what’s going to happen next. But at least they have Catra now. They have She-Ra back. And they have each other.
She turns her head to look at Bow, only to see he’s already looking over at her. “Hey,” he says when their eyes meet.
“Hey,” she says back. There’s an energy in the moment that feels new between them. Glimmer doesn’t know what it is, but it makes her feel better than she’s felt since—well, for a long time.
He reaches across the gap between their bunks. She grabs hold of his hand so immediately he laughs, and gives hers a tight squeeze.
“We did it,” he says. “We saved you, we saved Catra…” He laughs, “Entrapta even saved poor Wrong Hordak. We did it.”
“We did it,” Glimmer says. She wishes she could say something besides just repeating what he’s already said.
He breaks eye contact for a second—he looks like he’s trying to make a decision—and when he looks back at her, he tugs gently on her hand.
“Come cuddle?” he asks tentatively. “It’s okay if you—ooof!” Glimmer practically leaps across the divide and burrows instantly into his arms. She takes long, shuddering breaths like she’s trying not to cry, but eventually they even out.
“I didn’t know if I’d ever…” Glimmer trails off and clears her throat. She can’t finish that sentence, but she knows Bow understands from the way he holds her a little tighter. “I didn’t know when you’d be ready for this.”
Bow sighs. “It’s… I don’t know. It’s complicated. I don’t want to be angry with you, Glimmer. I thought… you’re the best friend I’ve ever had in my life and I almost… I would have…” He pauses for a few deep breaths himself. “Angry is one thing. But I almost lost you. I can’t push you away, not after—not after that.”
“I’m so sorry,” she whispers. Just like every other time she’s said it, it doesn’t feel like enough.
But Bow just says, “I know,” and he says it so gently she knows it must be true.
It’s a few minutes before either of them speaks again. “So, um,” Bow starts. “Should we talk about… what happened right before the mission?”
Glimmer feels herself blushing fiercely. “Oh. Right. That.”
“Listen,” he says, “I didn’t—” But she interrupts him by blurting out “I’m sorry!”
“Wait. You’re sorry? For… for what, exactly?”
She looks up from where she’s been nestled into his chest. “I just… I was so scared, and you… knowing you were there was making me feel less scared, and I was just… I felt grateful. I didn’t know how else to show it. I didn’t mean to cross a line.”
“Glimmer,” Bow says in possibly his gentlest tone of voice. “I didn’t mind it one bit.”
Silence. Then she speaks, voice extremely small. “Really?”
“Really. I just wish you’d given me a little warning so I could have paid closer attention.”
There’s a moment of stunned silence, but only a moment. “Well…” she says, voice still small and even shakier than before, “I could warn you right now.”
“Oh… yeah?” he says. “This is my warning, huh?”
“Yeah,” she says, “as long as that’s okay.”
Bow nods very earnestly. “Warning received loud and clear.”
It’s so much better the second time. Not that there was anything wrong with the first time, but… wow. Bow wasn’t kidding about wanting to pay close attention, she thinks; he is an attentive kisser.
They pull apart, both a little breathless, and Glimmer nuzzles back under his chin. After a few seconds, she starts to giggle.
“What?” Bow asks. “What’s so funny?”
“I was thinking,” Glimmer says, “you wanted to talk about what… happened, but it just… happened again. So now we have twice as much to talk about.” He laughs too, and she feels it through her whole body.
“Uh-oh,” he says. “This could get out of hand.”
“How so?”
He just barely touches her chin, but it’s enough for her to tilt her head up, and he kisses her again, the sweetest yet.
“Three times now,” he chuckles. “They’re stacking up fast.”
She’s about to compound the issue another time or two when they hear rapid footsteps in the corridor outside. It doesn’t feel like they’ve been doing anything wrong—entirely the opposite, in fact—but Adora has enough on her mind right now.
Even though they heard her coming, she still startles them when she suddenly bursts in. She spares them a quick glance—and the look on her face means Glimmer’s bound to hear some teasing about this later—but she’s looking for clothes for Catra right now. And, apparently, the location of the incinerator.
Oh, Glimmer realizes. That awful white robe. Of course. And the clothes Adora’s holding are basically just underwear. She reaches over to her own bed and balls up the blanket, throwing it at Adora on her way out. “Take this too!” she shouts, and Adora waves her thanks as she disappears through the door and her footsteps recede again.
“Hmm,” Glimmer says once they’re sure she’s long gone. “I might have made a mistake there.”
“How so?”
“That was my blanket I gave Adora. Now I don’t have one.”
“Hmm,” Bow says. “I have a blanket.”
She pokes him in the ribs. “Okay, rub it in.” Even after the kisses, even after… everything… just lying here teasing each other feels as much like them as ever.
He laughs. “No! I mean… you know… share with me tonight.” He snuggles her tightly against him. “There’s plenty of room.”