Chapter Text
It didn’t take long for Catra to find herself walking the halls of Bright Moon after the defeat of Prime. She’d never seen such an enormous space before - the architecture allowed for extraordinary resonance with its high ceilings and meticulously placed columns – but the boomy sounds of people passing in and out of its large doors threw Catra off balance. She had developed selective hearing from a young age – how else would she have lived with the constant buzz of the Fright Zone machinery? But the last time Catra experienced such a purposeful echo was in Prime’s rehabilitation hall…
The memories led Catra to a halt in the middle of the hallway. The others, including Adora, kept walking from room to room, assessing all the damage.
This was their home; of course they’d want to look around and see what they missed while they were gone. Catra couldn’t relate to their ambition at the moment, however. She was tired. She had been for a long time, and now, Catra wanted nothing more than to sleep for maybe a few decades.
She still stood idle in the hallway, out of place, as citizens of all kinds whizzed around her. She understood: Prime had destroyed people’s villages, they needed a place to stay, and Bright Moon was quite literally a beacon of hope. But Catra couldn’t help. She didn’t know Bright Moon, nor did she have the authority (or energy) to help assign rooms to people. Was there even a place for her here?
Catra took a step back, accidentally running into an ex-citizen of Thaymor. It only took one horrified glance from the Satyr to take off down the hallway, away from Catra. No one else seemed to notice the exchange, too busy greeting the saviors of the universe and asking for refuge.
Maybe she didn’t belong in Bright Moon – by the time the dust settled, it was more than likely that Catra would be exiled. Of course, no one wanted her around; she played a significant role in destroying their homes in the first place. There probably wouldn’t be a spare room, anyways. Her being there was a mistake, and Catra knew a lot about mistakes.
Catra’s mind drifted to the Fright Zone. The last time she was there, she made… quite a mess. Not like anyone was there to witness her battle with Hordak, but even Adora could feel her tension with the ruins when they tried to reclaim the area (and their friends) from Prime’s control.
She didn’t know if she’d be welcome there if anyone still lived in that hunk of scrap metal, but maybe that’s the only place Catra belonged, away from everyone else… where she couldn’t hurt anyone.
With that thought, Catra turned around and started to walk right back out the way she came. The traffic of Etherians had slowed down at that point, so Catra was able to make her way to the exit, but before she could weasel out the door, a mass blocked her feet from moving any further. A quick glance downward revealed Melog materializing out of thin air.
What sounded like a concerned mewl to onlookers was a declarative ‘turn around’ to Catra. Before she could fight Melog on their hindrance, Catra felt a hand slam onto her shoulder, and just like that, the world spun into a glittery haze.
-
Catra’s knees buckled at the unexpected onslaught of teleportation. She had only experienced Glimmer’s death power a few times up until this point, but Catra knew without a shadow of a doubt what had happened.
“What the fuck, Sparkles,” Catra wretched, clutching her uneasy tummy. Glimmer didn’t laugh, but she stated her following words with a smug, knowing grin.
“You were standing all alone, looking like someone had left you out in the rain to die. You should be thanking me.” Catra whipped around from her spot on the ground, taking in her surroundings. Glimmer stood over her, arms crossed with that same grin Catra heard in her voice. Catra must have looked especially pathetic because Glimmer dropped her attitude with a sigh to help Catra get off the floor.
“Would you relax? This is Adora’s room. I’m sure she won’t mind you staying in here ‘cus… you know,” Glimmer emphasized her claim by looking Catra up and down. The look made Catra self-conscious, causing her tail to wrap around her waist and her ears to fall flat. How much had Adora told her?
“Okay, I’ve got to go, bye!” And with a puff of sparkes, Glimmer disappeared, leaving Catra alone.
Adora’s room was massive compared to her old captain’s chamber. The ceiling mirrored that of the rest of the castle: sharp and never-ending. The room didn’t seem to be harmed by Prime’s raid. A few cushions were thrown askew, but that could easily be chalked up to Adora’s sleep-fighting habit.
Catra notices a few of Adora’s personal belongings on a shelf, a few figurines of herself, Bow, and Glimmer. In hindsight, Adora didn’t have a lot of material possessions in her room, but a few things were more than Catra ever had, so she admired them nonetheless.
Catra hesitantly made her way over to the balcony. She loved high places, but the lack of barrier between Adora’s room and the outside world was a little unnerving. Even so, Catra enjoyed the view. It beat the view of her and Adora’s old spot of the Fright Zone machinery by a long shot. Particles of pure magic floated through the air, surrounding the creatures that She-Ra’s world-saving stunt had awakened. Everything is in tune with itself; perfect, blissful harmony.
And to think, Catra almost destroyed this reality. Creatures flying above seemed to mock her from their position in the sky, trees appeared to rustle bitter remarks about her to each other, even the floor beneath her feet started to burn from her presence. She didn’t deserve to be here, overlooking the same destiny she almost killed herself trying to prevent. Yet here she was.
Catra took a step back, suddenly overwhelmed by the beauty around her. Her bones screamed to rest. Her body ached with each extraneous step. Her mind weighed her down with accusatory thoughts.
With the last bit of energy left in her, Catra stumbled her way to the foot of Adora’s bed, curling herself into a ball and shutting her eyes.
-
Catra stirs to the feeling of the mattress dipping above her. She had always been a light sleeper, another Horde habit that will most likely stay with her for the rest of her miserable life thanks to Weaver’s spontaneous night training.
Catra peeks an eye open, silently watching as Adora settles into her spot on her bed. She wonders for a moment how Adora was able to get this far without waking her, but that thought quickly leaves her head when Adora meets Catra’s eye.
Adora freezes, one leg firmly tucked into her blanket, the other hanging off the bed. A clean smell of lavender and citrus hits Catra like a ton of bricks. Suddenly, Catra is painfully aware of how filthy she is compared to freshly bathed Adora. She should shower. Would it be weird to ask now? She already sat on the bed… is Adora mad at her for getting her bed dirty? Or being in her room at all?
Adora gives Catra a small smile, unaware of Catra’s mental turmoil, and moves the rest of the way under the covers.
This is wrong. Catra shouldn’t be here. Not like this.
Without a second thought, Catra shoots up off of the bed. Adora quickly sits up with a concerned expression. Adora’s eyes feel especially heavy on her, even in the dim light. Feeling self-conscious, Catra smooths out the ruffled fur of her tail, gripping it a little tighter than necessary with both hands.
“Where did you…?” Catra begins to ask but doesn’t exactly know how to finish her question. Adora’s concerned expression turns to confusion as Catra starts nervously gesturing a series of motions nowhere close to her goal of bathing. “Uh, can I, um… is there somewhere I can shower?”
Adora lets out a relieved sigh before getting up to show Catra to her bathroom. A brief exchange about the pointlessness of the apparently “not-for-bathing” waterfall in the corner of the room leaves Catra standing alone in Adora’s larger-than-life bathroom, but not before Adora slips some of her clothes and a towel onto the bathroom counter.
Catra had come a long way from community showers in the Horde, but the lavishness of the bathroom felt so intimidatingly artificial. When she was promoted to Force Captain, Catra shared a bathroom with the other captains; when she replaced Shadow Weaver, Catra had a bathroom of her own. Neither amounted to the sheer luxury of Adora’s double-headed shower, stand-alone bathtub, and marble countertops.
Even though a thin layer of dust covered whatever facilities Adora didn’t use for her nightly routine, Catra could still make out her reflection on almost every surface. It made Catra uneasy, as if she were being watched by dozens of versions of herself. And who were they to judge her now?
Catra begrudgingly turns her attention to the largest mirror behind the sink. She never liked water, so she routinely surveyed which parts of herself required the most cleaning to cut down her overall time underneath the spray.
For the first time, Catra is alone without a time limit to really see herself. She has changed. There are still bags underneath her eyes, but they don’t hold the usual weight of sadness. Her fur is covered in miscellaneous grime instead of the blood of her childhood friend. Her ears lay flat against her newly-cut short hair. She would have never cut her hair on her own accord; she knows that for a fact. Her hair, although unkept, brought her comfort. Unlike most material things in the Fright Zone, Catra’s hair was one of the only things that was hers. She doesn’t recognize the person staring back at her without it, but maybe that’s a good thing. Long-haired Catra hurt people. She knows it’s not as simple as a haircut, fundamentally changing who she is as a person, but it might be a step in the right direction.
She looks as if a skiff ran over her twelve times in seven different directions, but she still has this unnatural glow to her. Perhaps it’s relief that the war is finally over. Maybe it’s happiness that she played a part in the end. Or, possibly, it’s love. For it to be attributed to herself would be a long shot, but it could be for someone else…
A knock at the door causes Catra to break her gaze with the mirror.
“Hey, are you doing alright? You didn’t fall in the toilet, did you?” Adora’s muffled voice fills Catra’s chest with inexplicable comfort, especially given her half-assed attempt at teasing.
“Yeah, I’m alright, dork,” Catra calls back,” you can go to sleep, you know? I’m pretty sure I’m capable of turning on a faucet without the help of magic.”
It’s silent for a moment following Catra’s response which brings her a slight panic. Was that rude? It’s not that she doesn’t appreciate Adora’s help; she just wants Adora to be able to relax around her and not treat her like a ticking time bomb. But is it selfish to reject Adora’s kindness because of her own pride? Then, at last, an abrupt series of muffled giggles halts Catra’s spiral.
“You’d be surprised. The handle for the shower is inverted. If you want hot water, you have to turn the handle towards the blue C,” Adora’s giggles die down, and Catra assumes she is alone again.
One more quick glance at the mirror leaves Catra with the dread of knowing she’s going to be in the shower for a while. She decides to test the water before anything else. Heeding Adora’s advice, Catra turns the shower handle towards the C. The shower erupts to life, both heads spraying rough streams of water. Intimidated by the sheer amount of water in one place drives Catra to turn one of the faucet heads towards the shower wall, effectively rendering it useless. She didn’t know how to turn it off, so diverting the stream would have to do for tonight.
Catra watches steam begin to rise from the falling water. The Fright Zone ever only had frigid water in every scenario – bathing, drinking, training – so seeing so much hot water slip down the drain felt wrong. It felt like she was wasting precious resources.
Without further delay, Catra peels off her suit and folds it over the side of the stand-alone bathtub. Then, with a larger breath than necessary and her eyes clamped shut, Catra slinks under the running water of the shower.
Hot. Too hot.
The water feels like that one time she touched a rogue pipe near one of the Fright Zone’s broken radiators, but all over her body. Catra’s hand finds the handle right away and slams the knob in the other direction labeled H.
Cold water replaces the previously molten liquid on Catra’s body. A sigh of relief escapes her lips as her tense muscles begin to loosen. The feeling of cold water dripping down her back unnerves her, but the temperature just barely keeps the experience pleasurable enough.
A ledge full of various bottles catches Catra’s attention. After surveying her options, she decides she doesn’t want to waste products that aren’t hers, so Catra measures out a tiny dollop of shampoo for her hair and a slightly larger sum of regular body soap for the rest of her body.
Some harsh scrubbing leaves Catra a little sore but clean. However, the pleasure of the water’s temperature proved to be a temporary novelty as Catra quickly became overstimulated by the texture of her own wet fur. Soon after her discovery, her shower promptly ended.
Now standing on the bathmat, Catra experiences a full-body shiver from the stark lack of pressure on her body. God, she hated water, but the feeling of emptiness was almost worse than the way her fur stuck flat against her skin. Keyword: almost.
Catra usually prefers to air-dry because towel-drying is course on her fur, but at the moment, Catra wanted nothing more than to return to sleep, so the towel had to do. Even so, when she neared her ears and tail, she opted to only lightly dab them with the towel, still rendering both quite damp. Satisfied with her progress thus far, Catra finally sorts through the clothes Adora haphazardly picked out for her: one of her sports bras which would fit Catra a little looser than it would Adora, a pair of boyshorts, and a familiar-looking white long sleeve dri-fit shirt. Typical. Of course, of all people, Adora would continue wearing the most uncomfortable clothing item the Horde had to offer.
Catra slips on the boyshorts and bra, leaving the shirt on the counter. With one last look at herself in the mirror, Catra leaves the bathroom, making sure to shut the door quietly behind her, expecting Adora to be long asleep.
-
As expected, Adora is tucked tightly into her bed. The lights had been turned off, but Catra didn’t need them. She swiftly made her way to the edge of the bed, curling into herself at the foot. And then, her eyes close. A long day – a long lifetime – finally put to rest.
Tap.
Catra feels a gentle push against her back. Adora usually shifts in her sleep, so Catra ignores the feeling and turns her attention back to the surface of the blankets underneath her. She lets go, allowing her full weight to slump into the mattress. Her last nap didn’t allow her time to appreciate her condition as she basically immediately passed out from exhaustion. Coming straight from the cold, hard beds in Darla, Adora’s mattress is a comforting change of pace. It’s soft, but not suffocating. Firm, but not rock hard. As far as mattresses go, Bright Moon really hit the ball out of the park.
Tap.
Alright, Catra can’t deal with this. At the second gentle push, Catra twists around to be met with the sight of Adora, blanket pulled to her chin, wide-eyed staring at her. Catra stares back.
Finally, Adora breaks the silence.
”You don’t have to sleep down there, you know?” Adora makes a show of scootching further over to the left side of the bed, pulling back the opposite covers, and patting the spot next to her.
Catra continues to stare at Adora, unmoving. Something in the back of her head is telling her it’s a trap, a joke she will be teased about after. But then again, the way Adora is looking at her doesn’t show any sign of malicious intent. Instead, Adora appears more nervous at Catra’s silence than anything.
Slowly, Catra crawls up to the space beside Adora, settling underneath the covers. Catra turns on her side to face Adora, who is poorly concealing a grin. Her bed is small; only a few inches worth of space separates the two ex-soldiers. Catra holds her breath, afraid to take up too much room or do anything that could make Adora change her mind about promoting her from the foot of the bed. Adora brings her hand up, yawning.
“Hey, Catra,” Adora whispers, placing her hand in the small space between them. Her eyes look heavy. Drained is a good word to describe them both, but Catra doesn’t feel the urge to close her eyes anymore, let alone sleep. What if she blinks and the illusion ends? She’s back on Prime’s ship, watching Etheria erupt from the unruliness of its own magic. Shut up, Catra. Stop ruining the moment.
“Hey, Adora,” Catra answers just as softly. For a moment, she wonders if Adora can feel the intensity of her beating heart because right now, it’s echoing in her ears.
“Crazy day, huh?” Adora capitalizes her attempt at small talk by nervously tapping her hand on the mattress.
“Oh, do you not defeat intergalactic space dictators on the daily?” Catra manages to maintain her snarky tone, but her insides feel like they are about to rupture. She quickly swallows a lump in her throat while Adora laughs at her joke. Catra curls her tail around her waist to prevent it from thumping against the bed in her anxious state.
“You know, not as often as I’d like,” Adora quips, snuggling the side of her face further into her pillow. They settle into a comfortable silence, both observing each other in the darkness of the room. Amidst the quiet, Catra can just barely make out Adora’s heartbeat. It’s fast, like hers, which brings Catra a little more solace.
Slowly, Adora reaches her hand up to push a rogue strand of hair out of Catra’s face. The gesture is painstakingly intimate, so much so it causes a low purr to rumble through Catra’s chest. Adora gives Catra a soft smile as her hand drifts downward to cup the side of Catra’s face, the one not pressed up against a pillow.
Catra watches as Adora tries to feign her fatigue. Every blink extends for a moment longer until her eyes close for good. Adora’s hand slides down Catra’s face, not off completely, but enough to tell she is no longer in control of it. Catra stares at Adora, still subconsciously afraid to break the illusion playing out in front of her.
With Adora asleep, Catra allows herself to take in slightly deeper breaths. She uses her heartbeat as a guide for pacing. It helps the thumping in her ears become less erratic.
Adora looks so peaceful: a slight smile rests on her lips, the furrow usually permanently attributed between her eyebrows is gone, and her breathing is calm and steady. Catra feels unworthy next to her. Her hands begin to clam, her purr flattening with her ears.
For the first time since her period in space, it’s quiet. Truly silent. It makes Catra’s insides churn. She’d been able to heed off memories of Prime thus far, but now she doesn’t have any distractions. She’s awake, and she’s alone.
Her breathing becomes labored as her heart starts to race. She closes her eyes, not wanting to see Adora in front of her while her brain forcibly pushes Prime to the forefront of her attention. It’s suffocating. The silence of the room is so loud. She can almost feel the green liquid filling up her ears, nose, and mouth. It’s too much. Her senses are drowning.
Suddenly, a hand is pushing on the back of her neck. The feeling sends lightning bolts down Catra’s spine. The chip is gone, the chip is gone, the chip is gone. Who is she without the chip? Her thoughts are so empty without Prime’s dialogue. She’s alone in her head, with herself.
Catra’s eyes snap open when she feels Adora shifting closer, so close their foreheads almost touch. It’s then that Catra notices the absence of Adora’s hand on her face. Instead, Adora had moved it to the back of Catra’s neck in her slumber, pulling her closer.
Relief washes over her at the comfort of Adora’s hand instead of Prime’s, but Adora’s proximity somehow enables her heart to beat even faster. Catra is acting dumb, she knows she is, but it takes her entire willpower to prevent herself from trembling. Adora likes her! Loves her, even! She said it herself at the Heart.
But what if that was just a heat of the moment thing? If Adora really loved her, would she have let Catra stay with her at the Heart? What if she actually wanted her to die in there? Adora has all the reason to want that. They really need to talk about what happened to ensure they’re both on the same page. As if Adora could hear Catra’s thoughts, she begins to stir.
“Mmm, Catra, what is that noise?” Adora croaks, eyes still clamped shut with a slight furrow between her brow. Catra has no idea what sound Adora is referencing, so she stills to listen. In the process, Catra’s tail stops thumping against the side of the mattress. Oh.
“Sorry,” Catra whispers, moving her tail back around her waist.
“S’okay,” Adora slurs,” ‘night, Catra.”
“Wait, Adora,” Catra whispers before she can stop herself. Adora makes a sound of acknowledgment, eyes still closed. Fuck, well, now she has to ask her.
“Did you mean it?” Catra asks, holding herself a little tighter.
“Mean what?” Adora finally opens her eyes, squinting at Catra in the dark room. Catra swallows another lump threatening to form in her throat. With that, her mouth feels suddenly dry.
“What you said,” Catra starts until she realizes she has to clarify,” in the Heart. How you love me, too?” Adora’s eyes widen, fully understanding what Catra is insinuating. Adora moves her hand from the back of Catra’s neck, down her arm, to her waist.
“Yes, of course, I did. I do,” Adora whole-heartedly assures,” Did you?” Tears prick at the corners of Catra’s eyes. This had to be one sick daydream. It’s all too good to be true.
“Yeah,” Catra’s voice breaks, causing Adora to pull Catra into her chest. It was meant to be a hug, but it turns into more of a snuggle since they’re lying down. Catra doesn’t care. She embraces Adora, pushing her face further into Adora’s neck. A purr erupts from Catra’s chest, making Adora laugh.
“I love you, Catra,” Adora mumbles into the top of Catra’s head. Catra pulls back from their embrace to look Adora in the eye. Somehow, seeing her face affirms the truth of her claim. Catra leans in ever so slightly just for Adora to crash her lips onto her. It surprises Catra, but she matches Adora’s intensity immediately. Her hands wander up Adora’s body, ending up clutching at the back of her shirt. The kisses are sloppy, uncoordinated, but they increase in quality as they keep going. Practice makes perfect? Finally, Catra breaks first, needing air. Adora chases her lips as she backs off, panting slightly.
“Sorry,” Adora huffs,” I wanted to do that all night.” Catra is positive her heart explodes at that moment. She reaches her hand up, cupping Adora’s face, to pull her in for another quick kiss.
“I love you, too, you dork,” Catra mumbles into Adora’s lips, a smile etched into her features.
They stay like that for a while, intertwined with each other, whispering sweet nothings. Eventually, Miss Savoir of the Universe falls asleep again. Who can blame her? She, arguably, had a hard day. Catra drifts in and out of consciousness, still afraid to break the illusion of happiness that seems to frame her present life.
It takes until the bedroom is flooded by the warm light of the moonrise for Catra to truly accept the beautiful woman sleeping next to her in earnest.
Maybe Adora is Catra’s new beginning.