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Adora can't sleep.
But then, she hasn't slept for years now, not really. Not since she left the Hoard. Not since she left the bed she'd known her whole life. She never thought she'd miss a hard cot and Kyle's snoring, but somehow, it had all become too familiar to leave. She's tossed and turned night after night in her nest of pillows on Bright Moon, in tents and sleeping bags and her bunk on Mara's ship. It doesn't matter where she is, it's never right.
Because what she's really missing isn't her old bed. It's Catra. It's feeling her form curled up at the bottom of the bunk. It's her smell, the warmth of her body, the safety and security and comfort that's always been associated with Catra.
But it's worse now, knowing Catra is so close. Adora wants more than anything to crawl into bed with her. She can't. She knows she can't. Catra snarls at her when she gets close. Flinches away from her touch. Screams at her to leave.
And Adora can't blame her, not really. They've been on opposite sides of the war for years. She loved Catra once. She's not sure what she feels anymore.
She remembers a time, so long ago now, when she came to bed after a particularly grueling day of training, covered in scrapes and bruises. And Catra, who had always been so indifferent to injuries, took notice, concern on her face for a split second.
"You're hurt."
"I'm always hurt." Adora scrubbed furiously at a blood stain on her jacket. She'd have to bleach it out, and that would take far more energy than she had left.
"Why do you do this, Adora? What's the point?"
Adora looked up at Catra. She was staring up at the fluorescent bulb in the ceiling, blinking. A trick Adora taught her, to fight back tears.
"Do what? It's not like I hurt myself on purpose. It's just part of training. Part of fighting. Part of being a soldier."
"They're just using us," Catra mumbled. "Shadow Weaver and Hordack and everyone else. They're using you. They don't care if you live or die, Adora. They don't care if any of us do."
Adora examined a particularly deep cut on her arm and said nothing. It was shocking to see Catra show an emotion other than desire, annoyance, or indifference. Or perhaps sarcasm, if that could count as an emotion. It did seem to be Catra's default state most of the time.
It wasn't as if she didn't care about Adora. She just never showed it.
Adora finds herself walking toward the room Catra is staying in. The ship is silent, everyone in bed for the night. She hears distant clanking followed by loud swearing as she passes Entrapta's- possibly a cause for concern, but the last thing on her mind at the moment.
She hesitates before the door. There's silence behind it, but that means nothing.
"Catra?" she calls, her voice barely above a whisper. There's no answer. She pushes the door open.
Catra is curled on the floor with her back against the wall, staring at nothing. She turns to face Adora, her face weary. "What do you want?"
"I just wanted to, um, check on you. Make sure you were, well, not okay, I guess, because I don't think any of us are okay, but, you know, alive. Breathing."
She has no idea when talking got so difficult. She's She-Ra. She leads the rebellion. And Catra is her best friend.
Was , she reminds herself. Catra was her best friend. Then tried to actively kill her for several years.
Catra raises both arms. "Well, here I am. Still, unfortunately, breathing." She laughs humorlessly. "When did you get so weird, Adora. Is it, like, a She-Ra thing? Can't talk to your old friends anymore?"
"I wasn't aware we were friends."
Catra visibly stiffens. "No. Of course not. But now that we're not sworn enemies, what the hell are we?"
"Is now really the time for a relationship defining talk? We were something, then we were enemies, now we're nothing."
"Nothing," Catra echoes. "Is that why you came to see me in the middle of the night, then?"
Adora sighs. "I don't know why I'm here."
"Me neither."
"I couldn't sleep." Adora wants to bang her head against the door. What is she doing? What is she saying? Why are things the way that they are?
"That's unlike you," Catra says, and Adora realizes how much she's missed.
"Actually, it's not. I haven't had a good night's sleep since I left the hoard."
"Why? Miss the lullaby of Kyle snoring loud enough to wake the dead First Ones?"
Adora smiles, then stops herself. "No. Definitely not. But...I missed you. I've missed you every single night since I left. I can't sleep without you. And now, you're here, and I just-" She doesn't know what she's saying. She doesn't know why she's saying it. Catra hates her, wants nothing to do with her, wants to be left alone and here she is, making things about herself as always.
Catra stares up at the ceiling, blinking. Adora turns on her heel, ready to leave. She's made things worse. Of course. "I'm sorry," she says, fighting to keep her voice steady. "Look, I know you hate me, and I know you being here doesn't change that, and I don't need it to. I appreciate you helping us, and I'm going to go now."
"You really don't get it, do you?"
Adora turns back to look at Catra. "What?"
"You are so fucking stupid. You show up and rescue me, save me from that horrible chip, feed me and clothe me and give me a bed- things I haven't had in months- and then you come in here to tell me how much you miss me. How you can't sleep without me. And you think I hate you? I've never hated you, Adora. I hated what you became. I hated that She-Ra took you away from me. I hated that you traded what you thought was one righteous cause for another and left me . I hated all of that. But I never hated you. I never could. That's the problem." Her eyes meet Adora's, just for a moment, and Adora sees tears. "I loved you. I love you. I have for so long, and you never noticed."
Adora braces herself against the doorway in stunned silence. "You...love me? As in, present tense?"
" Yes, " Catra spits, bitter. "I love you. All those things we did in the Hoard- those weren't just games to me. It wasn't just fun, or practice, or stress relief, or whatever it was to you. I was in love with you. I am in love with you." She turns to face the wall now. "You can go now. Leave, just like you always do."
"It wasn't ever just a game to me," Adora says softly. "I was in love with you, too. I've never stopped loving you. I just- I gave up on it. I tried to move on. It was the only way to survive. It would be so much easier if it meant nothing."
"You...what?" Catra stares at Adora.
"I was in love with you, Catra. Since we were like 8 years old. And you say I'm stupid." Adora rests her head on the door. She wants to smash through it, but that seems useless at this point. "Can I come in? This doesn't seem like the type of conversation to have from a doorway."
Catra nods. Adora steps tentatively toward her. She sits next to Catra on the floor, so close they're almost touching. Almost, but not quite.
"I guess we're both idiots," Catra says finally, breaking the silence.
"That does seem entirely possible, yes."
And then Catra is reaching out, and Adora doesn't pull away. She lets Catra wrap her arms around her and cling to her. Her claws dig into Adora's skin, the tank top she sleeps in not offering much in the way of a barrier, but Adora doesn't mind. She holds tight to Catra and pretends she doesn't feel her chest rising and falling with silent sobs. They'll both pretend this didn't happen in the morning. They don't have time to deal with love and feelings and relationships, not now. But for just a moment, they hold each other like they used to, and Adora remembers what Catra's lips taste like, and what her hands feel like, and a shiver runs down her body with the memory of it all. And for just a moment, that's enough for them.