Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Let me talk to Light Hope.” 

The hologram flickers. There is a trace of something new in its expression - awareness. Adora isn’t sure how she can tell. 

“Light Hope?” the hologram asks. 

Adora exhales.

“Light Hope,” she repeats firmly. “That’s her name, isn’t it? The woman I saw when I touched the sword for the first time? Where is she?” 

Another flicker. The hologram gives an uncharacteristic pause. 

“Yes. Light Hope is here. She has been waiting for you.” 

Relief floods Adora’s system. Now, finally, they’re getting somewhere. 

“Can I talk to her?” she asks, trying to keep the eagerness out of her voice. 

“You will meet her soon enough. First, you must make peace.” 

Impatience seeps in once again. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“You are not ready yet,” the hologram replies, a slight edge to its voice. “You must make peace.” 

Adora scowls. She is rapidly approaching the limits of her tolerance.   

“Make peace with what?” she asks, throwing her free hand out in frustration. “The Horde? Myself? I just - I don’t understand what that means!” 

The hologram doesn’t respond.

Adora feels anger rising in her throat. She doesn’t have time for these ridiculous mind games - Glimmer needs her help now. And with all of these cryptic half-truths and weird miscommunications, Adora’s never felt further from peace in her life.

There is a low, ominous vibration behind her - and a gasp.   

Adora doesn’t think. She should have, but she doesn’t. Instead, she turns and fires a blast of energy from her sword, directly towards the source. She can sense that whatever this interruption is, it’s not entirely friendly.

The culprit leaps out of the way at the last second, shrieking as the pulse shoots toward her at maximum speed. It’s just in time, too - the podium behind her is reduced to smoking rubble.

A familiar figure stands glaring off to the side.  

Catra. 

“Hey!” she spits, eyes wide with outrage. “Watch it!”

Adora’s fear is replaced immediately with bewilderment as she takes the other girl in. 

“Catra? What are you doing here?”

Before Catra can respond, a cold voice speaks from behind them. 

“Unauthorized presence detected.”

It’s the hologram. The interface vibrates ominously as it speaks. 

“Security protocol activated,” it says - then disappears. 

Moments later, the world goes red. 

“No no no no,” Adora mutters, eyes darting frantically around the room as it hums to life. “Not again!” 

“What just happened?” Catra demands. She looks as terrified as Adora feels. Good. She needs to be. 

“This isn’t good,” Adora replies. Anger floods her body. “You shouldn’t be here!” 

Catra’s face begins to arrange itself into a glare - but there isn’t time. The doors are falling now, one by one, their chances of escape growing slimmer with every passing second. 

Adora doesn’t stop to think 

She grabs Catra by the wrist, ignoring her cries of protest, and drags her towards the nearest open passage. When she sees the spiders - massive and glowing, eyes void of sentience - she turns immediately towards the outermost door, lifting the stone from the ground with her bare hands as it shuts. Mechanical legs tear through the gaps in the crumbling rock.

There is barely enough time afterward to exchange a frantic look with Catra before the lights turn off, one by one, and plunge them both into darkness. 

. . . 

“Cool. You’ve found the infinite darkness room.” 

Adora rolls her eyes.

They have been walking…too long. This place had looked pretty conservative from the outside, but its underground portion stretches for what feels like an eternity. They’ve spent the past hour (was it an hour?) exploring a series of rooms and corridors, each more bizarre and inexplicable than the last. Some are dark and barren, illuminated only by the faint glow of ancient circuitry; others contain elaborate water fountains and esoteric architecture. None reveal the way out. 

The room they’re in now lacks even those basic fixtures - She-Ra’s sword is their only source of light in the dark. But Adora can’t help but feel that there is more to this place than meets the eye. She’d had to open a coded door to reach it, and that couldn’t be for nothing. 

“Have fun,” Catra calls. Her voice drips with sarcasm. “I’m going find another way around.” 

Adora glares into the darkness, but doesn’t reply. Fine. She’d be back in ten seconds anyways. There was no other way around. 

Catra’s footsteps come to a sudden stop. Then - 

“Uh…where did the door go?”

Adora’s blood runs cold. 

A trap, then. Of course. All Light Hope had to do was dim the lights a little, and they’d gone barging in without thought, like a bunch of idiots. There was no escaping it now. Time to dismember a few more spiders.

And Adora does see something, then, glowing crimson in the dark. But it’s not a droid. This light is singular and static. From the looks of it, it’s not too far ahead. 

“Light Hope?”

The two walk hesitantly towards the source. Adora keeps her sword aloft - this situation still screams “bait” to her, lack of spiders aside. But neither of them have much choice. It’s this, or the dark. 

It’s a small light. She’d assumed her perspective was playing tricks on her, and they would have to walk for several minutes to reach the source; instead, they find themselves standing before it almost immediately. She kneels down to inspect the object up close. 

It’s nothing. Just a light - a light hanging ominously in mid-air, but not particularly memorable otherwise. Adora doesn’t dare to touch it, but from the look of things, it doesn’t seem to have any kind of origin point. It hums with a strange power all its own. 

Adora senses Catra hovering behind her. She sounds as confused as Adora feels when she speaks. 

“What -”

A blinding flash strikes their eyes. 

Adora cries out and shields herself as the device whirs to life. From behind her eyelids, she watches a bright red beam work its way down both of their bodies. It feels disturbingly like they’re being scanned. 

When she opens her eyes, Adora is somewhere else. 

It takes her a split second to place it - she hasn’t been here in a while. But it’s the Fright Zone. She’d changed in front of those stupid, chipped-up lockers for eighteen years. 

Anger and panic flare in her chest. 

Without hesitation, she pins Catra against the nearest wall of lockers. Catra hisses as her back hits the metal; Adora bars an arm across her throat. 

“What game are you playing?” Adora barks. 

Catra immediately throws her arms up in defense.

“Woah, woah! I have no idea what's going on. There’s no way we can be in the Fright Zone!”

“So what is this?” Adora asks insistently, refusing to let up. “Another Shadow Weaver mind trick?” 

Catra’s expression gives way to anger. 

“I doubt it,” she replies, frustration creeping into her tone. “Now let go of me.” 

Catra throws her arm down; Adora is left standing alone, with no idea what to believe. But then, an instant later, she sees it - a flicker in the surface of the lockers. She realizes that Catra is telling the truth. 

Wherever they are, it’s not the Fright Zone. Light Hope is messing with their heads. 

It doesn’t take long to get the lay of the place. Despite the illusory nature of the building, it’s identical to their changing rooms in the Horde; right down to the unsightly dents in Adora’s locker door, and the silly doodles and graffiti marks scratched onto Catra’s. While Catra explores the opposite hallway, Adora runs her fingers over the etchings - and passes straight through. It makes her chest feel hollow. 

“Have you ever seen anything like this?” Adora asks aloud. “Back in the Horde?”

Silence. 

Adora jerks her head around. “Catra?” 

Nothing. 

Adora tries to ignore her racing pulse as she makes her way around the room, checking every corner. But it’s no use. Catra is gone. Something - or someone - has taken her. 

“Catra!” Adora cries, her voice echoing strangely in the digital landscape. The answering silence makes her stomach fall. 

A random bolt of anger passes through her. Of course. Of course she’s gone. All Adora had been trying to do was save Glimmer - the person Catra had doomed in the first place. Instead, she’d been astral projected into their childhood home, and Catra had been seized by giant robot spiders. God forbid anything here be simple.

The sound of laughter startles her from her frustration - it is oddly familiar, and very close. Even before Adora has turned all the way around, she knows who she will find. She has heard that voice echoing loudly through the hallways since they were children. 

Lonnie. 

She walks through the doorway wearing nothing but her regulation bra and briefs - fresh off the shower, by the looks of it. Kyle trails behind her in a similar state of undress, followed shortly by a few Horde kids from other squads. They are younger than Adora remembers, but not by much. Early teens at most. 

They walk past Adora like she’s invisible. One of the kids actually walks through her, their body glitching strangely as they move. This is no live recording. Adult Adora has no place here - she might as well not even exist. 

And the moment that thought crosses her mind, she disappears. 

. . . 

She is fourteen.

Training ended half an hour ago; her hair is still a bit damp from the shower. Right now, she has her locker door propped open to conceal her body from view. She positions herself strategically behind it as she changes. 

She’s always been weirder than the other cadets when it comes to modesty. Catra can see her, fine - they’re comfortable with each other like that. But she doesn’t need to flash her body to a bunch of kids she barely knows. She’s gotten some weird comments in the past.  

This time, though, the gesture is unnecessary - the other cadets are too wrapped up in their own conversation to notice her. Squad members usually chat in a big group like this after training. Typically, she’ll join in, but with these new faces around, she feels a little socially awkward. She turns her attention to her ponytail instead, blocking them out. 

Catra, for once, hadn’t trained with them that day. None of the hybrids were present; they’d been pulled to complete that special physical assessment they did every month. Catra claimed it was totally boring. Just a standard check-up with a few weird things thrown in, like reflex tests for her and (pointless) verbal tests for Rogelio. But Adora couldn’t help but be curious. Nobody had ever considered her special enough for extra testing - and anyways, she’d always been a bit envious of what Catra’s body could do. 

Her thoughts keep her from noticing the group’s conversation at first. But it grows considerably more lively as time passes. The words are loud and brash - difficult to ignore. And then, she hears a sentence that immediately captures her attention. 

“Probably because Catra wasn’t here.”

She hadn’t caught the first line. But she can tell by the way the other cadets snicker that it’s something bad. Anger flares in her chest. 

“Thank God,” one of the other cadets sneers. Adora doesn’t recognize him - he’s not even from their squad. “Honestly, I don’t know how you guys put up with her. Someone that pathetic has no right to be such an asshole all the time.” 

The laughter in the group is louder this time, but a bit more anxious - like they know the kid had pushed too far. And they’re right. He went way too far. 

Slowly, her heart pounding in her ears, Adora turns. 

Most of the other cadets are too absorbed in the conversation to notice. But Kyle isn’t. He’s already looking a bit uncomfortable with the way things are going - now, with Adora honing in on them, his eyes go wide. 

“I just don’t understand how she gets away with so much,” Lonnie grumbles. She hasn’t noticed Adora yet either. “You don’t see any of the rest of us dropping the ball like she does. Honestly, I’m pretty sure Shadow Weaver only keeps her around as Adora’s pet.” 

Just then, Lonnie’s eyes flicker up - and spot her. In an instant, all the color drains from Lonnie’s face. Adora’s pretty sure she never would’ve dared to say anything that controversial if she’d known Adora was in the room; the regret on her face was almost comical. Too bad Adora was so very far away from laughing. 

But the other kid is turned at an angle. He hasn’t seen Adora yet. So he sneers, and replies “I don’t know how you guys put up with it. If I had a weak link like that in my squad, I’d throw her in the Whispering Woods and let the wolves take care of her. What a waste of rations.”

Adora slams her locker door shut with so much force that the wall shakes. 

All of them - even Lonnie and Kyle - jump at the sound. In an instant, the attention of the entire group is focused on her. Normally, it’d make Adora nervous. But there is nothing “normal” about this situation. Blood is pulsing so hard behind her eyes that she can barely see. 

“You shouldn’t have said that.” Her voice is black with barely-repressed rage. “You shouldn’t have said any of it.”

Her own team is stunned into silence. Adora has never spoken to anyone like this before - they know what it means. But the boy from the other squadron doesn’t understand. He thinks this is still a game. 

“There she is. Catra’s personal bodyguard, in the flesh. Here to prove us right?”

This kid really didn’t know who he was talking to. 

Slowly, without breaking eye contact, she steps forward until she’s inches away from the group. The others back up on instinct - Kyle a bit further than Lonnie - but the boy stays stock-still. If anything, he just seems to buckle down more. 

“What are you going to do? Hit me?” His voice is obnoxiously smug. “Good luck explaining that to Shadow Weaver.” 

“You’ve made a very serious miscalculation.” Whoever is speaking with Adora’s voice now is not someone she recognizes. “It’s not too late to take it back. But you’d better do it quickly. Because I’m not going to ask you again.” 

The boy laughs. But Adora can tell he’s not feeling as confident as he was before. His eyes dart to his sides, where Adora’s squadmates stand mutely behind him. “Yeah? And what is that miscalculation, exactly?” 

Adora has never been so close to tearing someone apart in her entire life. But when she speaks, her voice is deadly calm. 

“Believing that there’s a single thing on Etheria I wouldn’t do to keep her name out of your mouth.” 

The temperature in the room seems to drop a few degrees. 

Kyle has begun to back away from the rest of the group. A few of the other cadets seem to be following suit. But the boy is standing his ground. A challenge like that cannot go unaddressed. 

“You’re not helping her by playing the hero, you know.” All the levity has left the boy’s face now. He looks ready to fight - ready to defend himself, at least. “Sooner or later, she’s going to have to stand on her own two feet. You can’t baby her forever.” 

There is so much anger in her chest now that it physically hurts. He’s lying. This isn’t coddling, what she’s doing. This is a primal loyalty that runs deeper than blood. Denying it would be denying her nature. 

She could take him. Easily. He’s a few inches taller, but painfully skinny; easy to throw off balance. And once Adora’s gotten him on the ground, she won’t give in. She’ll keep hitting him, again and again, until he learns to watch their words around her. To never, ever speak negatively about Catra in her presence again.  

“I’m sorry.” 

Lonnie. Adora forces her eyes away from the boy in order to take her in. Her color has returned - now, she’s tensed-up and on-guard. 

“I meant what I said.” She maintains careful eye contact. “But I shouldn’t have said it like that. This doesn’t have to get uglier than it already is.”

The boy smirks. “Yeah, Adora. Let’s not get all worked up.” 

Her body rages against her. This kid has no idea that Lonnie’s words are the only thing keeping him alive. She yearns more than anything to wipe that smug look off of his face for good. 

Then her eyes flick back to Lonnie - and Kyle. And slowly, she feels her blood pressure going down. 

Lonnie is right. He’s not worth it. This boy will go nowhere in the Horde - the self-satisfied ones never do. Besides, it is clear to anyone observing who would prevail in this fight. Attacking him will only diminish her and Catra both.

So instead, she looks at them each in turn. Lonnie. The boy. The bystanders in the corner who’d had the courage to laugh, but not to look her in the eyes. Kyle. 

And she speaks. 

“I would take Catra into the field with me before I took all of you combined.” Her eyes land on Lonnie. “And I do mean that.” 

Without waiting for a response, she turns and storms into the hallway. 

Let them snivel away behind her back - accuse her of cowardice. She doesn’t care anymore. When the time comes, she will walk into battle alongside them and protect them with her life. But beyond that…she knows where her personal loyalties lie. She always has. 

Hopefully, Catra will be finished up soon. 

. . . 

Adora blinks. 

Jarring doesn’t begin to describe what just happened. It’s as if someone had flipped a switch on reality itself. She is four inches taller now. The deep red of the Fright Zone is replaced with glowing, electronic green. There are no lockers - there never were. Catra is here. 

Oh. Catra is here. 

Adora has seen Catra’s features arranged in nearly every expression of emotion possible. Fear. Disgust. Affection. Hatred, even - now more than never. But this look, she has only seen once. It appeared on Catra’s face when She-Ra manifested for the first time, obliterating the Horde in a display of raw power and cementing her, once and for all, as a traitor. 

It’s a look of pure shock. 

“What -“ Adora’s voice cracks. She clears her throat. “What was that? Did you see that too?” 

Catra doesn’t answer. She just regards Adora for a moment, silent and confused. 

Then her eyes darken with suspicion. 

“What are you playing at?” Catra’s voice is harsh and low. “What did you do to me?” 

Adora just gapes at her, still in her own daze. “What?” 

“That little - that fucking mind trick you just did.” This time, there’s a wobble in her words. “What was that, princess magic? Trying to mess with my head so I’ll join up?” 

Adora blinks. She’s too disoriented to argue. “What did you see?” 

This time, it is Catra who pins her to the wall. 

Air escapes harshly from Adora’s lungs. Catra is alarmingly close. Both of her fists are clenched in the fabric of Adora’s shirt - her two-toned eyes burn with rage. 

“Don’t you dare play games with me,” Catra hisses. Her canines glint dangerously in the neon light. “You cooked up some fake memory about standing up for me when we were kids so I’d swoon into your arms. But it’s not going to work.”

“How did you even see that?” Adora asks incredulously. “You disappeared. You weren’t even there when that happened!” 

“It didn’t happen!” 

Finally, something snaps in Adora’s mind. 

“Yes, it did.” Adora seizes Catra’s wrists in her hands;  the latter’s eyes go wide. “But that doesn’t mean I have any idea what the hell is going on. You just disappeared out of the room, and suddenly, I was fourteen years old.” 

Catra hesitates. Her expression is torn between anger and disbelief. Adora capitalizes on the confusion; her voice gets low. 

“I can’t even heal my friends, Catra.” The words come out bitter. “You really think I know how to conjure fake memories out of thin air?” 

And that does it - because if there’s anything they’re both aware of, it’s that Adora is utterly, hopelessly incompetent. The anger bleeds out of Catra’s expression as she inspects Adora’s face for hints of dishonesty. 

“You’re not lying.” It’s a statement. 

Something about the way Catra’s looking at Adora now brings their closeness into sharp focus. There is still tension between them, but it’s different than it was before. Adora can’t tell how she feels about the shift. 

“I’m not,” Adora answers. 

Finally - a bit belatedly - she releases Catra’s arm. 

The air is uncomfortably tense afterward. Adora recognizes the energy - it always gets like this when Catra has done something she needs to apologize for, but clearly doesn’t want to. Adora just stares blankly down the corridor. She doesn’t have the energy to meet Catra halfway right now. 

Finally, Catra clears her throat and speaks. 

“I was in your head.” 

Adora glances up in surprise. Catra looks disoriented; her mind is clearly somewhere else.

“I saw everything from your perspective.” She gives her torso an absent pat. “From your body. I was you.” 

Adora’s stomach twinges nervously at that. 

“Could you hear my thoughts?” 

Catra just gives her a strange, open look.

“I was thinking them,” she replies. 

Oh. 

There’s a brief silence. Adora doesn’t know what to say about the situation. Revulsion seems to be battling with a strange, heady excitement for control of her body; neither extreme seems to fully encompass how she feels. 

So instead, she looks forward. There is no way to make it back to where they’d come from - the doorway vanished with the rest of her vision. There is only the long, ambling corridor, and whatever lies within it. 

“Come on,” Adora says after a while. “Let’s keep going.”

She starts forward without looking back. A moment later, she senses Catra beginning to follow. 

At first, Adora fears another long and tedious journey. But they don’t walk for as long as they did before. Within minutes, the hallway has opened up into an extravagant crystalline room with a second entrance on the opposite end. A massive pit stands at the center, its two sides connected by a downed pillar. As far as Adora’s aware, it’s the only way across. 

She sighs. Great. Another death trap. If Adora’s being honest, part of her would’ve genuinely preferred the spiders. At least winning against those things wasn’t contingent on her terrible balance. 

She takes the initiative anyway, though. Mostly because she knows that if she waits, she might have to look Catra in the eyes, and she has no desire or ability to do that right now. The scene in the dark room had left her feeling vulnerable. That wasn’t a safe emotion to experience around Catra anymore. 

“So you wanna be a hybrid, huh?” 

Adora flushes. She hopes Catra hasn’t noticed her state from behind, but she doubts it - her ears always get super red when she’s embarrassed. 

“Kind of,” Adora admits. The two slow their pace as they mount the pillar. “I mean, I was always jealous of your abilities growing up. I could never really move the way you did.” 

She can practically feel Catra smirking. 

“Imagine that. Princess Adora, jealous of me.” 

Adora rolls her eyes in irritation. “Is it really that hard to believe? I’ve always known how strong you were.” 

Catra’s tone sours a bit. “You sure have a funny way of showing it.” 

Before Adora can retort, there’s a sharp cry behind her. 

She doesn’t think. She just surges backwards, seizing Catra’s shirt in her fist before she falls. The ground had crumbled beneath her feet; now, Catra is suspended in midair, dangling by the fabric of her uniform. 

Maybe it’s the stress of the moment, but neither of them move right away. They just look at each other. Like they’re taking each other in for the first time in a while. 

To her own surprise, Adora scoffs. There’s no humor in it. 

“So do you.”

She pulls Catra gently to her feet. 

There’s a brief moment of silence. Then, Catra clears her throat and speaks. 

“Bold of you to assume I respect you.”

She begins walking down the hallway without looking back. 

But there’s a light brush on Adora’s arm. The sensation is familiar, despite how long it’s been since she’s felt it. Sure enough, a quick glance down reveals that Catra’s tail has curled gently around her wrist. The moment passes a second later, leaving Adora with nothing but the ghost of Catra’s touch on her skin.

Adora can’t help but smile a little as she follows.

Chapter Text

“You really did hate it there, huh?” 

Adora glances backwards. They haven’t talked in a while. 

“The Horde?” she asks, brow furrowed. “Not all the time. Why?” 

Catra shrugs. Her face is slightly concealed by the shadows. 

“I guess I just always assumed you had it made there. Like…like you felt like you fit in. But it didn’t seem that way when I was in your head.” 

Adora turns back to face the front. The thought of Catra having access to her mind still made her stomach roil with nerves. 

“It wasn’t always that bad,” she admits. “There were times when I really liked hanging out with our squad. But…I don’t know. I never really felt completely comfortable around them.” She shrugs. “Not the way I did with you.” 

It’s a bigger admission than she intends it to be. But she can’t exactly take it back now. She focuses her attention on the hallway in front of them instead. 

“Could’ve told me you wanted to jump ship,” Catra mumbles. She has a voice that sounds like she’s not sure how lighthearted she wants to be. “Not like I was Miss Popular over there either. You saw that firsthand.”

Adora doesn’t want to say the words that come next. She knows they’ll make things worse. But she can’t deny the truth, even for Catra’s sake.

Quietly, without looking back, she murmurs, “I did tell you.” 

A pause. 

When Catra responds, her voice is deadly serious. 

“You were too late.”

There is nothing left to be said after that. 

They continue down the hallway. It doesn’t take long for Adora’s frustration levels to rise. All of the passageways in the building have been similar so far, but this thing is absurd - it stretches on for what feels like hours, the monotony only ever broken by the occasional sharp turn or slight bend in the path. Every step feels like one they’ve already taken. Adora is starting to worry she’ll go blind - or mad. 

“What would I have to do?” Adora eventually asks. 

It is a question she would genuinely like to know the answer to - but mostly, she asks because she cannot handle the silence for a single moment longer. She’d rather have Catra’s companionship in this place than nothing, no matter how tense things are between them. 

Catra, unsurprisingly, doesn’t respond. Adora continues. 

“Whatever it is, I…I want to do it.” Adora exhales. “I can’t go back to the Horde. But if you were to come with me -”

A scoff cuts through Adora’s words from behind. She falls silent. 

“You don’t get it, Adora.” Catra’s voice is bitter; her footsteps land a bit heavier than before. “You never have.”

Adora can’t help but scowl. “How am I supposed to get ‘it’ when you won’t even tell me what ‘it’ is?” 

“If you need it explained to you, it isn’t there.” 

Adora finally stops in her tracks. Catra only narrowly avoids running into her. 

“That’s not fair,” she insists, spinning around to face Catra. “You can’t play games with me and refuse to explain what they mean.” 

There is a flat cruelty in Catra’s eyes.

“A game,” she responds, almost to herself. “Funny how you keep calling it that. It sums up your problem nicely, doesn’t it?”

Adora clenches her fist at the injustice of it all.

“Well. Seeing as we’ve got so much spare time on our hands, I’d love to hear what the problem is.” She steps closer. “I mean it. What about my personality is so obnoxious that you’d rather serve an evil empire than come live with me?” 

Catra’s nostrils flare, almost imperceptibly. Too late, Adora realizes that she has lost control of this - but she can’t bring herself to regret it. 

“Why don’t you tell me, Adora?” Her voice is acidic, teeth bared in a caustic snarl. “What about a bunch of strangers was so appealing to you that you were willing to throw your best friend away like a piece of trash?” 

Adora doesn’t respond. She’s too surprised at the sudden candor of Catra’s admission. But Catra clearly isn’t done. 

“Eighteen years,” she mutters to herself. Her tone is suddenly resigned. “Eighteen years spent putting up with Weaver’s bullshit. Of watching everyone fawn over you from the corner - of getting kicked down and beaten like a dog. And you threw it all away in a second.” 

Catra wets her lips with the tip of her tongue. Her eyes look a bit mad. 

“You want to know what’s wrong with you, Adora? You’re a fucking robot. Deep down, under all that self-righteous hero bullshit, you’re just…fucking empty.” Her laugh breaks a little. “And you hide it well, I’ll give you that. Well enough to fool your sparkly little girlfriend - to fool me, all these years.” 

Shamefully, Adora can feel her face prickling with heat. Her head begins to swim. “It’s - no. That’s not true.” 

“Oh, I think it is.” Catra is steadily getting closer now, like a predator honing in on its prey. Her eyes glint with malice. “So sorry to be the bearer of bad news - I know how important it is to you, being the good guy. But good guys don’t treat people the way you do, Adora. Good guys don’t betray their friends.”

“I am not a traitor!” Adora cries, her paralysis finally lifting. She tangles her fingers aggressively in her hair, then drops them just as quickly. “I never wanted to leave you, Catra. Of course I didn’t. But I couldn’t stay at the Horde and commit war crimes just to be with you! That’d be insane!”

“I never asked for that!” Catra yells. Her voice is suddenly harsh with raw emotion. “You think I don’t know exactly how shitty the Horde is? I know more than you ever have! I just figured you'd think for more than ten seconds before you ran off with a bunch of strangers and left me behind to rot!” 

They are much closer now. Adora can see the veins in Catra’s eyes. She isn’t sure whether she wants to yell or cry; she’s too overwhelmed to think. 

“I asked you to leave with me the moment I saw you again.” she insists. “I did everything I could. What more could you have possibly wanted from me?”

And then, Catra’s expression goes flat - as suddenly as if someone had flicked a switch. The air chills around them.

“Not everything,” Catra says quietly. All the emotion has drained from her voice; it scares Adora more than the anger. “You missed a step.” 

Adora cannot turn away. She knows that whatever’s coming is dangerous - that she shouldn’t take the bait. But her desperation for closure overpowers her instincts for survival. She meets Catra’s eyes. 

“What?”

There is a brief pause. 

Suddenly, Catra’s hands are in her shirt again. But this time, instead of pushing back, she pulls Adora close until they are mere centimeters apart. And Adora forgets how to breathe. She forgets everything but the woman in front of her, and the suffocating closeness of their bodies, as her world narrows to the sliver of space between them. 

Catra’s eyes are cold. 

“You forgot to give a shit.”

She shoves Adora through open air. 

There is a moment when Adora’s back is supposed to hit the wall behind her. She anticipates it - knows approximately when it should come, based on the width of the hallway. But it doesn’t. Instead, she keeps falling, on and on, until the hallway has completely disappeared. She thinks she sees Catra’s expression change to one of genuine surprise as she careens through the wall. She’s probably just imagining it. 

When Adora finally lands, she has become someone else.

. . . 

She is in a bedroom - her own. She’s been in Bright Moon a few months now, but she still can’t get over the scale of it all. Her thoughts seem to echo in the empty spaces around her when she’s alone.

It’s not that she isn’t grateful for such lavish accommodations. Really, she’d have to be a total jerk to complain about having her own private waterfall. It’s just hard for her to imagine a single person needing this much space. Back at the Horde, she’d had nothing to call her own but that tiny little bunk bed, and she shared that with Catra half the time anyways. 

Her stomach twists with the memory. She lets her eyes fall shut. 

She can’t afford to think about things like that anymore. 

Suddenly, the door is thrown open. Glimmer walks right in without knocking - though she doesn’t teleport, this time, which Adora supposes is progress enough. She’s grinning from ear to ear, cheeks flushed with excitement.

“How’s it feel to be the hero of Salineas?” Glimmer calls, her voice pitching eagerly upward. 

Adora gives a smile that she knows doesn't quite reach her eyes. 

“Great! I mean, uh - not the savior part. That was all of us. But I’m glad the gate got repaired. It was a close call.”

“Psh,” Glimmer says, waving her off. “We had it on lock. I saw you with Catra up there. You weren't even flinching when she attacked you!”

Adora can’t help but wince a little when Glimmer says it. She’d done quite a bit of flinching, actually - especially near the end. “That was all Mermista. Catra was -” Another gut twist. “I would’ve been in huge trouble, if she hadn’t shown up.”

Glimmer just rolls her eyes. “God, you’re humble.” She catches eyes with herself in a nearby mirror, fluffing her hair absently. “No wonder that sword picked you. You’re clearly the hero type.” 

The comment sends a wave of revulsion through Adora’s body. She gets a brief flash of Catra’s bright, mocking eyes before she shoves the image down. “Yeah. Ha. That’s, uh…what I’ve been told.”

Glimmer finally seems to notice that something’s off. 

“Hey,” she offers, taking a seat beside Adora on the bed. “You feeling OK?” 

Anxiety kicks Adora’s brain into gear. She hadn’t hidden things well enough; she needed to backpedal. “Totally! I think I’m just tired. Fixing that gate took a lot out of me.”

Glimmer nods thoughtfully. She doesn’t seem entirely convinced by the excuse - Adora’s far too clumsy of a liar. But she doesn’t pry. 

“Of course.” She puts a hand on Adora’s arm and gives a comforting squeeze. “I’ll let you rest. But I…you can always talk to me. Wherever, whenever. You know that, right?” 

Adora feels herself softening a bit. Glimmer is kind - kinder than anyone had a right to be to their former enemy. Part of Adora yearns to trust her with simple things like this. It would be a lighter burden if she didn’t have to carry it alone. 

But no…she can’t. The Rebellion did her an incredible favor by taking her in. She can’t jeopardize their trust anymore than she already has by confessing a lingering attachment to their sworn enemy. Glimmer deserves so much better than that. 

So Adora reaches for her hand and smiles. “Thanks,” she answers softly, giving it a light squeeze. “I know.” 

Glimmer nods - but seems to recognize the dismissal. She gives Adora a quick smile back, then stands to leave. 

“I’ll see you at dinner,” she calls over her shoulder on her way towards the exit. “They’re doing a seafood spread tonight - something about honoring Salineas’ addition to the Alliance, I guess. I told Mom it was dumb.”

Adora feels her mood brighten a bit. “No, that’s great! Will they have those, uh, lobster ball things? With the sauce?” 

Glimmer chuckles. It makes Adora feel a bit embarrassed - but in a good way, somehow. 

“I’ll make sure the chef puts it on the menu,” Glimmer replies fondly. “See you in a bit.”

She closes the door with a gentle click. 

Adora is alone now. And suddenly, despite her fatigue, she wishes she hadn’t sent Glimmer away. There is nothing to stop the memories from pouring in - nothing to distract from the creeping pain of them. She doesn’t feel strong enough to face it alone. 

Adora flops back on the bed with a groan. 

This was the first time she’d seen Catra since she’d left. It’d been…what, three months? Before then, they hadn’t spent more than a night apart. How quickly - and permanently - things had changed. 

Adora had expected her to look different, somehow, after all that time. But aside from that shiny Force Captain’s badge on her chest - which Adora couldn’t help but feel a little proud of, in spite of everything - nothing was different at all. Same hair, same clothes. Same obnoxious look in her eye as they sparred. 

The only difference was that this time, Catra had wanted to hurt her. And she’d succeeded.

Adora sits up abruptly, her bed creaking loudly beneath her. After a moment, she stands. She isn’t sure where she’s going - but finds her feet walking, of their own accord, towards the vanity table on the perimeter of the room. She flops heavily onto the large plush stool without regard for gravity. 

Adora inspects herself in the mirror a moment, oddly detached from her own reflection. With She-Ra’s power gone, she can spot the telltale hallmarks of fatigue on her face - baggy eyes, frayed hair, pallid skin. She doesn’t look like anyone’s hero, right now. Just a lonely, fragile little girl who didn’t have a best friend anymore. 

Her fingers find the soft skin of her cheek, right above her chin. Absently, she drags them downward, fingertips sharpening to gentle points as she reaches the underside of her jaw. 

The scratches had healed almost immediately, of course. She-Ra never stayed injured for long. But sometimes, Adora can almost swear she feels the pain of her wounds lingering after they’d gone. And today’s feel as though they’d never disappeared at all. 

There is something wrong with her, she thinks. That is her only explanation for why a part of her didn’t mind the scratches - wanted them, even. Catra’s ghost has been haunting her from the moment they’d locked eyes on that battlefield in Thaymor. And while the worst of the heartbreak had eased within the first few weeks, the hollowness never did. 

But she’d seen Catra in person now. Taken the brunt of her anger first hand. And why lie? Adora was grateful for it. Grateful to have Catra in her life again - even in the worst way she could possibly imagine. It still felt more tolerable than nothing at all. 

Adora lingers a moment, staring vacantly into her own eyes with her fingers on her neck. For a second, she thinks of nothing. Then she lets her hand drop with a sigh - and moves to lift one of the nearby vases. 

She told herself she’d stop doing this. She’d even gone so far as to hide the damn thing the last time it happened, hoping that keeping it out of sight would help with the craving. But today was rough. She didn’t have it in her to be strong anymore.

Adora claims her prize - a small scrap of paper, badly wrinkled from months of nervous fiddling. She smoothes it out as lightly as she can with her thumbs, then flips it over. 

One of Catra’s drawings. 

Catra had been making these for her since they were kids. She used to pass them during lectures or meals, whenever they couldn’t talk - usually for no other reason than to get Adora’s attention. They were terrible. She could absolutely make them better if she tried, but Adora always liked them more when she didn’t. They never failed to make her laugh. 

She’d drawn this one during a painfully-boring strategy lecture that even Adora couldn’t quite remember the details of. It’s a “portrait” of Adora with a ridiculously overdone hair poof and massive buck teeth, done minimalistically in pen. Beneath it, in massive block letters, is the word “LOSER”. Adora honestly doesn’t even remember what had prompted it. Or how it’d made its way into her jacket the night she left, against all odds. 

But now, she finds herself tracing delicately over the lines with the tip of her finger. She takes it almost intentionally slow as she hits each of the letters in turn, finishing with a soft, final period at the end that Catra had never drawn in the first place. 

When Adora looks up, there are tears in their eyes. They take her completely by surprise - she blinks quickly, then paws at her face to dry them. 

This has gone on long enough. Catra is never coming back. Even if she does leave the Horde one day, she’s never coming back to Adora. She hates her - and a part of Adora is starting to think she’s always hated her, deep down. That it’d all been a lie from the start. 

Spurred by a sudden impulse, Adora seizes the drawing and crumples it in her hand. She throws it in the wastebasket without looking twice, then folds her arms primly over the surface of her desk, trying to summon some sense of closure with the whole thing. 

Instead, she is overcome by a blinding surge of grief. It’s ridiculous - she knows it is - but she can’t help but feel like she’s throwing Catra away by doing it. And she won’t. It aches like a knife in her chest, and she has already lost far too much.

So she digs it out. Unwraps it, bit by bit. It’s frayed a little on the edges from her aggressive handling, but otherwise intact. 

And suddenly, Adora realizes that she is tired. From the battle, yes - but from everything else, too. She’s tired of being a hero, and a traitor, and of grieving someone who’d kill her if she got the chance. She’s tired of being She-Ra. Tired of being Adora. 

Her head falls to the table with a quiet thunk, pinning the paper beneath her forehead. She lets out a heavy sigh. 

“Idiot,” she mumbles. 

It’s the most honest thing she’s said all day. 

Adora lingers there a moment, letting heaviness overtake her. It feels cathartic to stop pretending, if only for a bit. The light seems to shift a little beyond her eyelids. 

She lifts her head 

A dozen glowing eyes are staring back. 

Adora yelps, surging backward as the world around her disappears. But she’s not quick enough. The spider crawls effortlessly through the mirror; its spindly legs clack on the floor as they emerge. Rancid drool, reeking of chemicals, splashes from the beast’s mouth as it grips Adora with massive pincers. 

Adora screams. Reaches clumsily for her sword - but too late. The creature wraps her effortlessly in a sticky, noxious webbing, pinning her arms to their sides. In seconds, she is helpless. A wriggling insect, primed for consumption.

The creature drags her aggressively backwards. She cannot even scream - the webbing has sealed her mouth shut. All her violent thrashing is in vain as she is pulled into the remnants of the mirror, her head bumping painfully against the rim. 

Just before Adora is taken, she hears a loud swear - sees a flash in her periphery. Catra. She must’ve joined her in the simulation room at some point. All her previous anger is gone now; she looks absolutely terrified. 

But there’s nothing she can do. Adora’s arms are pinned, and there’s nowhere for Catra to grip without falling in herself. So after a singular botched attempt to slash through the chords, Catra is left stranded, crying her name aloud. And Adora goes plummeting into open darkness. 

. . . 

Adora’s throat is raw. 

She has been trying to scream “For the honor of Grayskull!” for about ten minutes now. It’s pointless. Even if her mouth wasn’t sealed with this disgusting adhesive - and even if her skull wasn’t bumping against the freezing crystalline floor with enough force to make her head spin - the sword was tied to her back. Adora had never managed to activate it without holding it in her hands before, and she didn’t like her odds now. 

Overcome momentarily with frustration, Adora screams and thrashes against her restraints. It’s pointless. The spider doesn’t even flinch. 

If this thing’s going to bite her head off, Adora hopes it makes it quick. 

She’d been scared when she was falling through boundless darkness. Scared when her back slammed into the floor and she was dragged, kicking and screaming, through a massive waterfall. But now it’s been ten minutes of hallway floor time. She’s damp, freezing, and gradually developing a bump on her head to rival the poof on her brow. 

More than anything, she’s just really pissed off. 

If she were Catra, she’d be able to claw her way out in a second. Maybe even bite her way through - those canines were seriously sharp. But no. She’s a dumb, soft human with dumb, soft fingernails. The only thing that makes her remotely special is strapped uselessly to her back at the moment - which, coincidentally, is also the only thing that would convince this spider that she was supposed to be its administrator, rather than a tasty snack. She’s completely on her own. 

Adora’s going have to try and chew through the chords. The thought makes her nauseous - this webbing is insanely strong, and she has a feeling her dull teeth will give way long before she’s made any real progress. But she doesn’t have any other options. Better to be toothless than dead. 

And at that moment, a blur of motion slices through the air above her. 

Adora has always been in awe of the way Catra moves. People at the Horde used to comment all the time on Adora’s prowess, but she didn’t understand it - she’d much rather be able to fight like Catra, fluid and graceful and constantly in motion. Today is no different. Adora is not usually one for flowery language, but if she were, she might say that Catra’s takedown of the creature borders on beautiful. 

It is less a fight than a brutal, prolonged execution. Catra moves too quickly for the spider to land a hit. With superhuman dexterity, she leaps from eyeball to eyeball, smashing through the glass and eviscerating their contents with ease. The creature is in its death throes when Catra delivers the killing strike. She drives her claws into the center of its brain, then rips out its mechanical innards with zero hesitation. 

The monster gives a final tortured groan, shudders - and dies. The light fades from its center console as its body begins to smoke. There is a moment of silence in the aftermath. 

Wow. 

“Hey, Adora,” Catra pants. She doesn’t look back. 

Adora just stares. 

After a beat of silence, Catra seems to remember that Adora’s mouth is bound - along with the rest of her. She walks casually towards Adora’s prone figure, bends over, and releases her with a few clean slashes of her claws. 

The sudden relinquishing of her restraints is a welcome relief; Adora takes a moment to breath and rub circulation back into her arms as she rises to her seat. Catra stands by a few feet ahead, regarding the spider’s corpse. Her back is turned. 

Adora takes the moment to look at her - really look at her - for the first time in a while. Catra is barely winded by the encounter. Her body is poised, still on alert for any new threats. Adora finds herself at a rare loss for words, insecurity and admiration and something deeper than all of those things battling for control of her mouth at once. 

Finally, after a moment, she speaks. 

“You’re incredible.” 

Catra stills. Adora can see it, even with her back turned. Warmth creeps into Adora’s cheeks, but the regret she’s expecting doesn’t materialize. She just watches Catra, and waits. 

When Catra finally does turn, her expression is blank and impassive. But Adora can’t help but notice her ears twitching a little. 

“About time you figured that out,” Catra responds. Her voice is a bit too casual to be believed. 

Adora has been staring too long now. Perhaps Catra notices - she seems on edge. But Adora doesn’t stop. Can’t. She just gives Catra a small, earnest smile. 

“I‘ve always known that,” she says simply. “I guess I should’ve told you more.” 

Maybe it’s just Adora’s imagination, but she thinks she sees Catra’s gaze soften a little. 

Then she glances away. 

“Whatever,” she replies. But her voice is devoid of its previous edge. “We should get going. There’ll be a lot more where that came from.”

Adora nods. She shifts a little, preparing to stand - 

Catra’s hand is in front of her face. 

A simple gesture. One they’ve done a million times since childhood, without thinking. But Adora can’t help but be pleased as she takes Catra’s hand in her own and lets Adora pull herself to her feet. Like the brush of her tail, it is a single drop in the barren well of their old friendship. But it’s something. 

They pause for a moment once Adora’s on her feet, sizing each other up. Adora looks into the storm of emotions brewing in Catra’s eyes, and wonders what she’s thinking. Wonders if she’d seen, and felt, as much of Adora’s mind this time around as the last. Their grip is gentler than usual. Adora doesn’t know why she notices. 

Then it is done. Catra steps away, averting her gaze. And Adora is left feeling fragile for more reasons than she can put into words. 

“I think these bullshit simulations are meant to throw us off our game,” Catra mumbles, heading down the hallway without a backwards glance. “Stay close to me. The spiders might back off if they realize we’re together.” 

A strange, hollow ache spreads in the center of her chest at the words. It’s not a bad feeling - in fact, it kind of feels good when she prods it. Eventually, the pain gives way to a single sentence beneath.

Stay close to me. 

“OK,” she replies, gaze fixed firmly on the back of Catra’s head. “Lead the way.” 

Adora doesn’t recognize Catra’s signals the way she used to. They’re too guarded from each other now. But she can’t help but notice the way Catra’s tail flicks with pleasure at her words. And in spite of how vulnerable Adora feels, the gesture leaves a sweet taste in her mouth. 

She hopes whatever this is doesn’t hurt her in the end. 

Chapter Text

Adora had been at Bright Moon about a month when she learned what love was. 

The word was never used in the Horde. Not for people, at least. When it did come up, it was usually in reference to someone “really liking” something. Like how Lonnie loved strength training days. And Catra loved that faulty robot in the simulation room who, for some reason, only targeted men. Adora couldn’t remember using it much in the past - not out loud, anyways. She tried to keep her “loves” to herself. 

But she learned pretty quickly that the word meant something totally different in Bright Moon. Love, to them, was similar to what the Horde officers labeled “unhealthy attachments”. And those were definitely not good. They distracted you from your training; made you act like an obsessive lunatic, so focused on another person’s wellbeing that you got yourself and your squad killed. 

Not in Bright Moon. There were some limits in place, of course - getting aggressively physical in public spaces was generally frowned upon. But the feeling wasn’t considered wrong here. You could value another person as deeply as you wanted, and it wasn’t considered a weakness. If anything, they believed it made you more powerful. Gave you something to fight for. 

Adora’s not sure why she’s thinking about that now. 

The energy is softer between her and Catra after the second flashback. It’s far from perfect - there is a lingering tension between them that Adora is beginning to fear might never fully go away. But they can at least make it down the hallways without killing each other now. And sometimes, the atmosphere is almost pleasant. 

They find themselves drifting into conversation as they walk. Nothing heavy - just the basic details of each other’s new lives, with an occasional reference to easier memories from the past. But Adora’s not complaining. Getting to chat with Catra about anything, less than an hour after she’d saved Adora’s life, is far more than Adora had ever allowed herself to hope for. She’s happy. 

Maybe “happy” doesn’t fully sum it all up. 

Adora has always kept her feelings close to her chest. It’s the one aspect of Horde life she’d found hard to shake in Bright Moon - mostly because it was a part of herself that, deep down, she actually kind of liked. The whole squad could be neck deep in grief and anger over a botched mission, but no matter how strongly she might be feeling herself, her exterior remained composed. She saved her meltdowns for the privacy of her room. Maintained control.

In the span of two hours, Light Hope had cracked that carefully-structured facade of hers like an egg. 

Adora doesn’t know how to feel. She knows what she’s feeling, of course - everything, all at once. But she doesn’t know which feelings are the right ones. Because it had helped, hadn’t it? Letting Catra into her mind like that? It seems like they’ve reached an understanding of things without Adora needing to explain herself - which was good, because Adora is terrible at explaining herself. All in all, the intrusions had been positive. 

But they were just that. Intrusions. Catra hadn’t chosen to do it, but she’d certainly benefited from the experience. And as much as Adora wishes it weren’t the case, Catra isn’t just her friend anymore. They’re enemies - they’d hurt each other. 

Now, Catra has access to the softest, most vulnerable parts of her. She could tear Adora apart in an instant if she wanted. Shred her psyche to pieces, and leave her body to rot.

Why hasn’t she? 

“Adora?” 

She blinks. 

Catra is giving her a curious look. She’d fallen back a long time ago, allowing Adora to match her pace. Now, they walk side by side. 

“You good?” It’s been a while since Adora saw anything besides fury in Catra’s eyes - though she’s not exactly sure what new emotion has come to take its place. “I asked you a question. Like…ten seconds ago.”

Adora feels her face flush. She’d been lost in her head.

“I heard you.” She digs deep into the pockets of her short term memory. “No, I have no idea what Angella’s deal is. Like…I think she’s part human? But there’s definitely something else going on.”

Catra shrugs. She seems more relaxed than before. “Wondered if she might be some sort of weird swan hybrid.”

Adora can’t help but laugh at that. 

“Nothing would surprise me when it comes to her. But no. We don’t have many hybrids in Bright Moon proper, for some reason - they mostly live outside the city limits.”

Catra nods. She seems to withdraw a bit. “Guessing you haven’t seen a gang of weird cat people running around nearby?” 

Adora regards Catra for a moment. Her expression is solemn.

“No,” Adora answers quietly. “I’ve never met anyone like you before.” 

Catra meets her eyes.

Adora finds herself lingering on them for longer than usual. They are one of a kind - like everything about her. She would stare at them for hours if she could, just to watch them swell and flicker in the light. 

The thought triggers her nerves again. She averts her gaze.

“The mystery of my existence continues,” Adora hears Catra say after a moment. Her voice isn’t as carefree as she’s clearly aiming for. “Though I guess it’s not that complicated of a riddle. The Horde wiped them off the face of the earth. Rounded up all the war orphans and used them for cannon fodder.”

Adora doesn’t know what to say. The atmosphere feels tense again; nothing she can think to add feels right. 

Maybe Catra notices. In either case, she sighs - then walks to the wall, and slides unceremoniously to the floor. After a moment, she pats the space besides her. 

“C’mere.”

Adora regards the open space warily. Catra rolls her eyes. 

“We’ve been walking for hours. We can risk a ten-minute break. Besides, I think we both know that searching for an exit isn’t going to be our ticket out of here.” 

“What is?” Adora asks. But she eventually relents and slides into the open space beside Catra. Her heart warms at the sudden proximity. 

Catra shrugs. 

“You tell me.” She keeps her gaze pointed forward; her eyes look tired. “Got anything you need to ‘make peace’ with?” 

She knows. They both do. But neither of them say it. 

They sit quietly for a moment, staring blankly at the wall in front of them. A strange flicker of nerves passes through Adora as she registers the warmth of Catra’s body. Its meaning evades her. 

“Can I ask you an honest question?”

Adora’s stomach flips. The odds of this leading to safe territory are slim to none. But she will answer anything, if it means Catra keeps talking to her. “Of course.” 

Catra takes a deep, quiet breath in. Lets it out. 

“Did you really think the Horde was good before you left?” 

Adora blinks. It’s not what she was expecting. Honestly, she wasn’t sure what she was expecting. But she gives the question some thought. 

“No,” she admits. “I saw too much as a kid to really believe that. But I thought they were doing the right thing for Etheria, even if their methods were harsh. And I mean…I didn’t necessarily realize that any other life was possible. They made sure of that.” 

Catra doesn’t answer. Adora can’t help but feel uncertain if the response she’s given is the right one - Catra hides so much from her now. But she doesn’t lash out. That’s a start. 

They sit for another moment. Adora can feel the urge to fix things roiling in her stomach again, even though she knows it’s the last thing Catra wants or needs. But she can’t help it. The knowledge of how much pain she’d put Catra through all these years is beginning to weigh on her chest like an anvil. It’s suffocating. 

“I’m sorry,” she says finally. “I’m sorry for everything.” 

Catra is silent. Adora continues, despite her growing anxiety. 

“It’s my fault.” Stupid. Not about you. But she can’t stop. “I - I should’ve told you more, growing up. How I felt. How wrong Shadow Weaver was about you.” 

Catra shakes her head. She doesn’t want to hear this, but Adora can’t seem to stop talking. 

“We could’ve gotten out of here so much sooner if I’d just…told you the truth. About how much I respected you” She shuts her eyes. “I let you slip away. And I’m sorry. I wish I could take it back.” 

When Adora finally risks a glance, there is a look on Catra’s face she has never seen before. Like she’s mourning.

“I’m sorry, Adora,” she says quietly, “You’re wrong.”

Her brows furrow with confusion. 

“I - wrong about what?”

Catra just looks at her with big, sad eyes. Adora doesn’t know what to make of it. Only that she’s finding it kind of hard to breathe as a result, and she doesn’t know why. 

And then Catra’s hand moves to touch her own. And Adora’s heart stops completely. 

Why? How? It doesn't matter. Catra’s fingers trace along Adora’s hand, brushing lightly over her veins. Adora doesn’t respond - she has no idea what to say. She just looks straight ahead and lets it happen. Prays it won’t stop. 

“I know you care about me,” Catra says quietly. Her thumb trails over Adora’s knuckles. “I felt it.”

Energy surges from the points of contact through Adora’s body. But Catra’s voice is still devoid of emotion. It makes her nervous, even as the rest of her body hums 

“What is it, then?” Adora asks, unable to keep the pleading from her voice. “What did I do wrong?” 

Catra doesn’t respond. Adora, on impulse, takes a risk - she turns her hand slowly upward, letting their fingers fall together. Catra doesn’t close their grip, but doesn’t pull away either. 

“Please,” Adora whispers. 

There is a sudden twitch in Catra’s fingers. For a moment, Adora thinks she’s going to grab her hand. 

Instead, Catra’s body tenses. She pulls away.

“You care about me, Adora. But you don’t respect me.” She climbs to her feet without meeting Adora’s eyes. “You never have.” 

Frustration surges in Adora’s chest. She reaches out to grab Catra’s wrist before she can walk away. Catra flinches, but doesn’t pull back. 

“That’s not true,” Adora insists. “How could you think that? You just saw it. You felt it.”

Catra doesn’t turn. 

“I felt compassion. And…warmth, I guess. But I know what respect feels like. It wasn’t there.”

She pries her hand gently away. 

Adora is left sputtering behind her. “There’s - you must’ve experienced it differently than I had. Or gotten it wrong, somehow.” 

Catra growls low in the back of her throat as she turns to face her. The old hostility is back. 

“You’re doing it again. Right now. You’re just assuming that my perspective is less important than yours. Like I’m some dumb kid who doesn’t know any better.” 

“What about you?” Adora asks insistently. “How can you let some broken-down robot show you a few old memories, and just assume you understand how my head works?” 

“It’s not the robot, Adora!” Catra threads her fingers through her hair, tugging in exasperation. “It’s the way you act! How you treat me! Like I’m some - some fragile, wounded little thing that can’t fend for itself!”

Adora opens her mouth, then closes it. Catra continues. 

“I was wrong about you, OK? You’re not a monster, and you…you do care.” She looks conflicted. “But I need more than that. Don’t you get it?” 

Adora can’t speak. Agitation has stolen her words. Catra looks at her a moment, her features tinged with fatigue.

She sighs. 

“Of course you don’t.” Catra glances towards the ground. “You’ve never been looked down on in your life, have you? Everyone loves you.” 

Adora’s frustration mingles with a quiet shock of exhilaration at the words. They are too strange in Catra’s mouth to be an accident. Her confusion renders her silent once again. 

“You wanna know the worst part?” Catra continues, in a low voice that Adora has to strain to hear. “You’re right. I am weak. Everyone knows it, and everyone always has.” Catra lets out a humorless laugh. “And I can take it from Shadow Weaver, and Lonnie, and all those other morons. I can take anything from them. But not you. It hurts too much, coming from you.” 

Adora’s heart shatters. 

“Catra.” It’s the first word Adora’s managed in a while. Her voice cracks; she clears her throat. “Catra, I…”

She is walking away. 

It is worse, to be abandoned like this. Not with an intentional plunge of the knife, the way she was expecting - this was Catra’s own quiet truth. Adora has spent months trying to let Catra know that she was cared for. To show her the deepest parts of herself, in the hopes that it would be enough to bring her back. Now, Catra has seen them. And she is rejecting them. 

It is too much to bear. 

Adora can feel the changes happening before she’s opened her eyes. The world is dissolving around her, tile by tile. She can hear Catra calling out to her, now  - walking towards her, rather than away. But she ignores it. For once, Adora looks forward to the diversion. She cannot imagine being sent anywhere more painful than here. 

She is wrong. 

. . . 

She is out of breath. Mostly from running - but also, from what she has to do next. She shouldn’t have put this off until departure, but she didn’t have the courage to do it before. Honestly, she’s still not sure she does. 

But the thought of Catra laying on her bed, miserable and alone, while the rest of them bond around a campfire, is too much to bear. She has to do something. At the very least, she has to try. 

So she swallows, lifts her fist, and knocks. 

Immediately, a sharp retort sounds from behind the door. 

“Leave. Now.”

A chill runs down her spine. For a moment, Adora considers obeying. But she steels herself instead. 

“Sorry, Shadow Weaver,” she replies timidly. “It’s me. Adora. I just wanted to…ask you something.”

There is a terrifying pause. Again, she is struck by the urge to flee. But she’s too late; the door surges open with a mechanical whoosh. 

Shadow Weaver looks exactly the same as usual. Part of Adora had wondered if she’d catch her in her sleep clothes - if someone like her even had sleep clothes. But she’s dressed in her normal robes. Her face is as unreadable as ever behind her mask. 

“Adora,” Shadow Weaver’s voice is pleasant, if not a bit irate. “Shouldn't you be preparing for the outing? Your squadron will need to be ready in two hours sharp.”

They were heading to a secluded spot in the outskirts of the Fright Zone for a campout - a rare reward for their squad’s superior performance in mid-year assessments. It was billed as a “survival exercise” for plausible deniability reasons, but given the complete lack of supervision, no one was harboring any delusions about what it really meant. They’d be spending the evening munching on ration bars, playing card games, and trading Horde gossip. 

Well. Most of them would. 

“Of course. We finished with preparations about an hour ago.” Adora rubs the back of her neck. “But the outing…that’s what I wanted to talk with you about, actually. Do you have a minute?”

The pause after she’s spoken makes Adora’s stomach shrivel. But when Shadow Weaver speaks, her voice is as charming and disaffected as ever.

“I suppose I could spare a few minutes for our mid-year champion. Come in.”

Adora is ashamed of the way her heart leaps with delight, even as her anxiety peaks. She follows Shadow Weaver into the room. The door slides shut behind her as soon as she’s cleared the entrance.

They’re in the primary command room. Shadow Weaver is always here, even on her breaks. Adora finds herself questioning if Shadow Weaver has her own room at all. Where does she sleep? Does she sleep? Adora has never dared to ask. 

Shadow Weaver stares expectantly; Adora’s throat constricts with nerves. She has her audience. Now comes the hard part. 

“I wanted to talk about Catra. ”

A sigh escapes the mask.

“This again.” Shadow Weaver strolls - floats? - towards the center console, her back turned to the door. “I assume you’re here to ask me to reconsider her aptitude results? Let her attend the outing with the rest of the squad?”

Adora rubs anxiously at the back of her neck. “Well…yes.” 

Another sigh. 

“It is noble for a talented cadet such as yourself to dedicate so much energy towards your inferiors.” Shadow Weaver runs her long fingers absently over the controls. “But ultimately, it is a waste of time. You do her no favors by minimizing her inadequacies. It will only hinder her growth even more in the long run; not to mention your own.”

“Of course.” Adora says hurriedly. “I would never want to interfere with Catra’s, uh…growth. But in this case, I feel like there’s been some sort of mistake.”

Shadow Weaver’s fingers still.

“Is that so?” There is a slight chill to her tone now. “Do you believe her scores in all-team evaluations should've been higher? After she arrived fifteen minutes late for session, and triggered a four-person pileup on the final strait?

“That wasn’t her fault.” She furrows her brow. “Well, the lateness was. But Lonnie -“ Adora cuts herself off. “The actions of the other cadets affected her performance.” 

“That is how squadrons work, is it not?”

Adora wants to comment that squads don’t generally allow their teammates to take on five enemies solo while they stand by in the wings. But she’s pushed her luck enough as it is. 

“Adora.” The lightness in Shadow Weaver’s voice is back as she turns towards the door. “I understand your concerns. And I know your intentions are pure. But it would benefit you to have a little more faith in your commanding officers. Each and every decision on my part is made with the best intentions of the Horde in mind. There are many things happening behind the scenes that play a role in my choices. Things you, as a cadet, are not privy to.” 

Adora feels herself flush with embarrassment. Shadow Weaver continues.

“The harsh truth of the matter is that Catra does not meet the mark. Not for the outing, and not for anything else. She is lazy, disobedient, and terminally incompetent.” Shadow Weaver waves her hand dismissively. “Not to mention her appalling academic performance, which would be grounds for disqualification in and of itself. So I would encourage you not to waste any more of your time arguing against my decision. It was perfectly well-reasoned - and final.”

Does she dare bring it up now? The timing could not possibly be worse. But it seems like such an obvious segue - and honestly, Shadow Weaver’s speech has left her simmering with the injustice of it all. She can’t let this opportunity pass.

“…Actually, that’s another thing I wanted to talk with you about.”

Adora can swear that the temperature in the room drops at least ten degrees. 

“Is that so?”

Adora is overcome by the sudden, overpowering urge to curl into a ball. But she forces herself to take a deep breath. No way out now but forward. 

“I was wondering if there might’ve been…a mistake, with some of Catra’s test scores. With like, grading and stuff.”

Shadow Weaver cocks her head. It’s a gesture that would pass as endearing on anyone else - on her, it’s terrifying.

“Another mistake?” She clicks her tongue. “Oh dear. What egregious error in my assessment methods have you spotted this time?”

Adora can feel the last of her courage abandoning her. Suddenly, she feels like a toddler. A small, stupid toddler.

“It was - it was only one time,” she babbles. “Like, a long time ago. And she wasn’t - I -”

“Speak, child.” Suddenly, Shadow Weaver’s voice is biting; frigid with impatience. “You have wasted enough of my precious time already. Say what you intend to.” 

Adora looks into the eyes of her mask…and something shifts. She can’t describe or explain it - nothing about it makes sense. But in that moment, she feels the anxiety drain from her body into the cold floor below, replaced with newfound strength. She squares her shoulders and meets Shadow Weaver’s gaze dead on.

“I wrote one of Catra’s essays.” 

There is a terrifying silence, more devoid of warmth than any between them so far. Adora swallows, then continues. 

“She’d been struggling in class. Getting failing marks on every assessment she turned in. So I promised to tutor her. But then she gave me one of her essays to look over, and I read it, and it was…good. Better than mine, even, and my scores were the highest in the class.” Adora exhales. “And one time, she handed me both of our papers to turn in. Without names. And our handwriting has always been pretty similar. So I just…switched them.” 

She is doomed; both of them are. Nothing left to do but finish. She summons the last of her strength, and speaks. 

“Catra still failed. And I still passed.” 

Dead silence. 

There is a moment - one of the many long, agonizing seconds following her words - where she thinks that maybe things will be OK. That she’d triggered some sort of revelation in Shadow Weaver that would inspire her to view Catra in a new light.

Then, Shadow Weaver speaks. 

“Oh dear.”

The room goes black. 

Something is wrong with her lungs. That must be why Adora is struggling for breath as the room plunges into darkness, and smoky tendrils climb the walls. It cannot be mere panic. Adora is not that weak, is she? 

But it has been many years since she faced a wrath like this. 

“I’ve always suspected that she was poisoning your mind,” Shadow Weaver hisses, her voice magically amplified. “Crippling you, somehow. But this is the most egregious example I’ve seen yet.”

No. Catra can’t take the blame for this. “Shadow Weaver, please. I -”

“To think she has managed to inspire such a perverted violation of integrity in our star pupil.” Her voice is ragged. Insane. “Unacceptable. Something will have to be done about this.”

Adora is shaking. Still, she speaks. “Please. Punish me if you want, but Catra - she didn’t know. It wasn’t -”

“SILENCE.”  

Lightning crackles through Adora’s body.

Pain. Sheer, unremitting pain. She had seen it done to Catra before, but to experience it firsthand - how did Catra survive it? The paralysis, the burning, the agony rocketing through every nerve of every fiber of her body. It’s intolerable. She is undone. 

“How quickly you forget your place,” a horrid voice spits, from somewhere far away. “Perhaps all the years of praise and flattery have gone to your head. Do you fancy yourself a ruler of this outfit, now? Our very own Queen of the Horde?” 

The words hurt as bad as the lightning, and the lightning hurts worse than anything. “Please. Shadow Weaver. I -”

“Allow me to remind you.” She is terrifyingly close now; her voice echoes loud enough to hurt. “You were nothing. A starving, neglected orphan, discarded by your family and left to perish. I took it upon myself to raise you - to make you worth something. But this was a gift on my part. And all that has been given can just as easily be taken away.”

Adora does not try to speak anymore. She just shakes, trembling and terrified, and fights to keep the tears from spilling over. Even with her eyes squeezed shut, she fails.

When Shadow Weaver speaks again, her voice is dangerously quiet. 

“You feel very strongly for Catra, don’t you child?” Her tone now is clean and sharp like a razor; it cuts even as it soothes. “I have seen the way she confuses you. Makes you question your priorities. So I will make things very simple.”

Shadow Weaver gets so close that Adora can feel her breath against her face, even through the burn of the electricity. 

“If you attempt to question my decision-making process again, I will eliminate her. If you speak of this night to Catra, even in passing, I will eliminate her.” Her voice lowers to a whisper. “And if you ever - ever - betray my confidence again, mark my words. I will eliminate you both.” 

Finally, Adora sobs.

The coursing pain lasts a moment longer. Aside from the silence and her own torment, it is all she knows. But eventually, it comes to an end. The electricity disappears, leaving nothing but a faint burning smell in its wake. Adora collapses to her knees, miserable and weeping.

It is only a moment before she feels a comforting hand on her shoulder. 

“Adora.” The bile is gone. “You know how much it pains me when you disobey. I have only ever wanted what’s best for you, but I cannot permit my brightest star to fall victim to such a terrible darkness. Please, Adora - it hurts me so much to punish you in this way. Don't let it happen again.”

Adora is disgusted by the relief that floods her body - the way her sobs quiet immediately at Shadow Weaver’s gentle touch. But she doesn’t fight. She will never fight again. 

“I won’t.”

Even through her mask, it is clear that Shadow Weaver is pleased. 

“Excellent.” The hand disappears - its owner retreats almost leisurely to the far corner of the room. “Run along, now. Your squad needs you.”

Adora says nothing. She stands, legs wobbly with exhaustion and relief and her own crippling weakness. They carry her mindlessly across the room and out the front door.

Failure. She has failed Catra, failed Shadow Weaver - failed herself. It is all she knows how to do. All she is destined for. 

“Adora?”

She turns. Shadow Weaver hovers in the center of the room. Adora can feel her eyes boring through the mask, directly into her skull. 

She speaks. 

“Heed my words.”

Adora barely has time to nod before the door slams shut in front of her. 

. . . 

She’s gone.

Shadow Weaver has disappeared. The room, the walls - everything is gone. Even their previous hallway has vanished. There is nothing but the glowing tiles of a vast, empty room - and Catra. 

Adora’s heart slams sickeningly to the top of her ribs. Tears still pour from her eyes, flowing freely down her face and neck. She remembers where she really is - and the remembering makes her sick. Catra had seen her. Catra had borne witness to yet another disgusting, broken part of her that can never be taken back. 

She can’t do it anymore. 

“Adora.” Catra reaches to touch her shoulder; her own eyes are wet. “You never -”

Adora yanks her arm away like she’s been electrocuted. 

She turns her back to Catra, focusing her attention on the wide, glowing expanse around her. This room is too large - never-ending. There is no way out. 

“Adora -”

“What?” she cries. She refuses to look back. “What could you possibly have to say to me right now? Because whatever it is, I probably already know.”

Adora threads her fingers aggressively through her own hair, tugging just to the edge of her pain threshold. The sensation loosens her tongue even more. 

“You’re right. I didn’t respect you the way I should’ve. I let Shadow Weaver’s bullshit creep into my mind, and I treated you badly, and I - I failed you. I’ve never done a damn thing except make your life worse.” She laughs, bitter and hysterical. “Well, I’ve got great news for you, Catra. You’re not the only one. Because I actually make everyone’s life worse! You’ve just had to deal with it for longer!

She’s crying in earnest now. The tears run down her face, leaving wet marks on her shirt. It doesn’t matter. Nothing does. 

“Glimmer is sick and hurt because I was too stupid to know how to save her. Entrapta is dead because I forced her to go running through a fucking decontamination vent against her will. And the Alliance is dead because she is - and because I was such a terrible She-Ra that my own friends couldn’t trust me to keep them safe.”

Adora does not know if Catra is even still there. A sob escapes her chest; it echoes into nothingness.

“So I’m glad you saw this, Catra. I’m glad you were here to look into my mind and confirm what a - a massive waste of oxygen I am. Because it’s true. I am a bad person. And really, I’m just grateful that someone has the guts to say it to my face.”

Finally, she goes silent. 

Catra is gone. She must be. It is far too quiet in this room. Deep down, Adora is glad. Better to be abandoned than witnessed, in this lowest of lows. It’s an ironic mark of respect on Catra’s part, after everything.

Then a warm body plows into Adora’s back, and she is pulled into a hug so tight it knocks the air from her lungs.

Adora cries. She cries before she’s even had time to process what’s happening. When it does hit her, she twists in Catra’s arms and seizes her with as much force as she can bear. They hold onto each other like they’re trying to break each other apart. 

“I’m sorry,” Catra is crying too. Her chest shakes with the force of her breath. “I’m so sorry, Adora.” 

Adora doesn’t know what the apology is for. She isn’t sure what it means. But it doesn’t matter. She just cries silently into Catra’s shoulder and lets herself fall apart.  

She doesn’t know how long they stand there like that. It feels like an eternity, even as it flies by impossibly fast. But gradually, Catra begins to loosen her grip. Adora stops crying, and starts to breathe. 

And then…they stay there for a while. They linger in the middle of that abandoned room, with nothing but the low hum of electronics for company, and rest in each other’s arms. Adora lets herself fall into a trance against Catra’s neck, just breathing her in. Her fur is damp with Adora’s tears.

Eventually, Catra’s voice breaks the silence. 

“I didn’t know.” 

Adora sighs. Pulls her close. 

They’re going to be OK. She’s not sure how she knows, but the shift is obvious. Whatever Catra has seen, it’s been enough. They won’t have to fight each other anymore. 

Adora hates this place - hates whatever game Light Hope is playing. But she will accept this. Just once, Adora will allow herself a moment of peace. 

Chapter Text

They find the door bizarrely fast after that. 

Adora can’t help but be a little - OK, very - suspicious. One minute, they’re in a glowing, barren room, infinite as far as the eye can see. Then Catra hugs her. Suddenly, there’s a massive door about fifty feet to their right - open, unlocked, and unmistakable. 

Whatever. If clinging onto Catra is what it’ll take to get them both out of this place, she’s not going to complain. 

Entrapta is alive. She learns it the moment they’ve both calmed down enough to talk. The news, and all its implications, nearly brings Adora to tears again - especially when she learns that Entrapta assumed she’d been abandoned. But mostly, Adora just feels an incredible sense of relief. She’s alive, uninjured, and safe. They’ll worry about the rest when they make it out of here. 

The spiders opt to relieve them of their break almost as soon as they’ve cleared the door. It isn’t pretty - they’re just as numerous as they were the first round, and about twice as ticked off. But Adora isn’t too concerned. With Catra once again at her side, the whole thing is almost fun. 

OK. Why lie. It’s definitely fun. 

Adora can’t remember the last time she and Catra had actually fought together. In the Horde, they were never truly able to work as a team. There was always some metric, invisible or otherwise, being applied to their contributions as individuals - even the most cooperative of exercises were tinged with an aire of competitive aggression. Their time as enemies only exacerbated the rifts that had already been present. 

Now, they’re fighting as a unit - and it’s amazing. Catra was incredible enough to watch on her own, but feeling her act in response to Adora’s own gestures is genuinely intoxicating. She didn’t realize how effortlessly they’d be able to work together when there wasn’t some malevolent force battling to tear them apart. 

Was fighting for your life supposed to be this enjoyable?

“On your right!” Catra shouts. 

Adora, now She-Ra, responds to her voice without even turning her head. She slams her sword directly through the center of the creature’s eyeball, deactivating it in a single blow. 

“Show off,” Catra complains, shaking a strand of hair out of her eyes. But she can’t stop the corners of her lips from quirking upwards. Adora smiles. 

“Don’t act like you don’t love it,” she quips back - immediately before taking a spider leg to the gut. The air is knocked gracelessly from her lungs as she curls in against the blow. 

Catra actually laughs, as if they aren’t both seconds away from brutal death. It makes Adora grin wildly in return. She can tell they are both riding the cathartic high of their reunion - it’s enough to make even the most harrowing of situations feel like a game. 

“My - hero,” Catra huffs, leaping to the top of the offending spider’s head and ripping its innards out with ruthless precision. “Savior of Etheria. What could I have possibly done to deserve you?” 

Adora’s next laugh comes out a little hysterical. But it doesn’t stop her from driving her sword directly into the next spider’s gut. It screams morbidly as it falls. 

“You are - such a jerk,” she pants. 

Catra shoots her a dazzling grin that might’ve disabled Adora completely - if not for the massive creature about to strike her from behind. 

Without hesitation, Adora points her sword at Catra and sends a lethal blast of light directly over her shoulder. The hit is spot-on - and the look on Catra’s face as she leaps out of the way makes it even better. 

“Asshole,” Catra hisses. She narrowly dodges another arm seconds later. “Are we flirting, or trying to kill each other?”

The bluntness nearly sends Adora’s heart slamming through her chest wall. But there is no time to respond as another bot drives Adora sideways, her back landing against Catra’s with a brutal thump. They are surrounded now. Spiderbots approach from all sides, slowly closing in for their final attack. 

It is the absolute worst time for Adora’s mind to be wandering. But the feeling of Catra’s body pressed against hers - as well as the overconfident assumption that Light Hope doesn’t actually want to kill her - makes her bold. She lets her head fall back against Catra’s own, her eyes lazer-focused on the approaching bots. 

“Can’t we do both?” she breathes, grinning in spite of herself. “Reminds me of the old days.” 

A chuckle rumbles through Catra’s body. It makes Adora smile. 

But there is a growing sense of anxiety as the spiders continue their approach. They’re both getting tired, and there doesn’t appear to be an end in sight. They need a new game plan. 

“See any more magical exits?” Catra asks, breathing hard. 

Adora tries to peer over the wall of spiders to assess the perimeter. It’s hard - these things really demand a lot of her attention. But eventually, she sees what looks to be the faint outline of a door built into the wall.

“Six o’clock”, she replies firmly. “It’s closed, but it might respond to a password.”

“You think Light Hope’s gonna open the door for you while she’s attacking you with spiders?”

Adora thinks for a minute. 

“No,” she replies honestly. “But I’d rather die fighting. Wouldn’t you?”

Catra snorts. “Such a sap.” 

Adora grins. 

“You love it.” 

One of the spiders lashes out. Adora blocks with her sword - but the movement sends a flood of agitation through the remaining bots. They only have seconds to act.

“On three?”

Adora feels Catra nod. She takes a deep breath. 

“One, two, THREE.”

They bolt apart, sliding through the gaps on either side. 

Adora’s escape goes off without a hitch. Maybe it’s the size of the gap - maybe the robots really are trying to spare her. In either case, she makes it through the spiders’ legs and out the other side with no complications.

Catra is less fortunate. 

“Fuck!” she hisses. 

Adora glances back as she runs to find Catra gripping her shoulder in pain. She’s cleared the boundary - but at a cost. Even from a distance, Adora can see the blood darkening her burgundy uniform. 

All of Adora’s previous levity vanishes in an instant. She turns frantically toward the sealed door. 

“She-Ra,” she says insistently. “Administrator She-Ra. Etheria.” 

No response. The door is as impermeable as ever.

Catra finally makes it to the meeting spot. The blood is spreading too fast; she looks pale. 

“Anything?” she pants. 

“No.” Panic has begun to set in. “For the honor of Grayskull! Administrator She-Ra!” 

Nothing. 

The spiders are closing in now, slowly but persistently. The two are forced to turn their backs on the door as the mechanical clicking of limbs grows ominously loud. 

“Can you fight?” Adora asks weakly. She knows the answer without needing to hear it. The blood is beginning to trail down her arm. 

Sure enough, Catra gives a dark chuckle as she tightens her fingers in an experimental fist. “Fight? Sure. Win? Definitely not.” 

Adora’s heart falls as she nods. “We weren’t going to win anyways, if this didn’t work.”  

The spiders have reformed their ring around the two. This time, there are no gaps. Only a mass of horrible, metallic bodies growing closer and closer with every second. 

“Got any deathbed confessions you’d like to share?” Catra offers half-heartedly.

A wave of fury crashes through Adora’s body. What the hell was Light Hope playing at? She’d assumed this was all a game to her - maybe even started to guess at its objective. But what kind of game involves killing its participants after tormenting them with their own memories? Has this really just been some kind of sadistic power play this entire time? 

“We’re not dying here,” Adora replies insistently. “I know we’re not.”

Catra just laughs. Adora is alarmed to see how pallid her complexion is already. “Love the optimism, as always. But I think it might be a bit misplaced this time.” 

Adora just looks at her a moment. The gears in her brain are spinning impossibly fast, but producing nothing. It just doesn’t make sense. The needless hostility. The hologram’s cryptic proclamation. The fact that these spiders could’ve wiped them out hours ago, yet seemed content to toy with them instead. It’s idiotic. Pointless. 

Isn’t it?

Catra stares at her as she thinks. She’s not even bothering to look at the approaching bots anymore - that’s what scares Adora the most. Instead, Catra’s looking to her. Wondering if she has some sort of princess miracle up her sleeve. 

But she doesn’t. She doesn’t know how to heal, or protect, or do anything. She’d come here to help her friends, and all this place had done so far was hurt even more of them. 

Adora has had enough. 

“Light Hope,” she shouts, her voice charged and furious. “I’m done.”

Catra’s eyes widen with concern. 

“Adora?” 

Adora doesn’t respond. She just lifts her sword to hip height, stares directly at the spiders - and tosses it onto the ground with a deafening clang.

Catra’s mouth drops open.

“Are you crazy?” she shrieks.

Yes. Probably. Definitely. But Adora doesn’t care. There’s only one way out of this situation, and she’s becoming increasingly aware that that sword has nothing to do with. 

She takes two steps forward and looks the nearest spider directly in its massive, glowing eyes. 

“I don’t know what kind of bullshit mind games you’re trying to play with me,” she spits. “I have no idea what you want, or why. But if any part of this plan involves getting Catra killed, or even hurt, I swear to God, I will throw my sword into the deepest, darkest lake I can find and make sure it is never found again.” She directs her gaze upwards to a random spot at the ceiling, her voice rising to a hysterical shout. “So you can either open this goddamn door, right now, or you can kiss me and my ‘grand destiny’ goodbye!

When she is finished, nothing changes. The spiders continue their slow creep forward. The door is solid. No holograms or otherworldly voices appear out of thin air. 

Adora’s head falls.

When she turns, Catra is looking at her in a way she’s never seen before. Even through the haze of pain and blood loss, there’s an obvious note of fondness there. It makes her want to scream. Adora can’t lose now. She can’t lose her, after everything they’d been through. 

Her grand gesture has cost them their only weapon. She will have to wrap herself around Catra and hope it will be enough to discourage an attack. There’s no way Catra would let it happen - not for long - but Adora doesn’t see any other choice. Whatever game Light Hope is playing, it clearly doesn’t operate by human rules. She just hopes these things will take her out before she has to watch them hurt Catra too. 

Just when she moves to put a protective hand on Catra’s arm -

The spiders stop. 

Like, completely. They don’t just freeze - they power down, their eyes shutting off with an unceremonious click. All mechanical whirring ceases. The room is dead silent. 

Then, from behind, Adora hears a quiet whooshing noise. 

The door is open now. Just like that. There is no voice from above to offer any sort of explanation; none is needed. Apparently, Adora had said all the right things. The fight is over.

She exchanges a quick, expressionless glance with Catra. Then she moves to retrieve her sword from beneath the carcasses. There is no movement amongst the spiders. For now, they seem to have powered down.

Eventually, the two head through the door without a word. 

They’re back in the main control room now. Lovely. It’s a bit less put-together than when they started - there are noticeably more cracks in the walls, and the podium from earlier is completely destroyed. But it’s one of the most recognizable rooms in the building, and Adora doesn’t doubt they’ve managed to loop it at this point. She’s honestly glad for a bit of familiarity. 

“The place it all began,” Catra drawls. She doesn’t quite pull it off - Adora can hear her breathing hard through her pain. “Clearly, this Glow Light bitch wanted to make my death as poetic as possible.” 

Adora looks at Catra. She’s still on her feet, but looking more wobbly by the second. The fur of her arm is soaked in blood. 

“Sit,” Adora commands, fighting to keep her voice steady. “Let me look at it.” 

For once, Catra doesn’t push back. She just lowers herself to a seat, wobbling a little as she does. There’s no arguing against a wound like this. They’ve lost enough time as it is. 

“Did I mention the whole ‘all of this is my fault’ thing?” Catra grunts as Adora lays the sword on the ground beside them.

Adora’s brow furrows. “What are you talking about?”

Catra chuckles darkly. Then she reaches into her rucksack with her free hand, fumbles around a moment, and pulls out a strange piece of tech. 

“Stole this off the podium before you blasted it into oblivion.” She tosses it indelicately onto the floor; it lands with a clatter. “Karma’s a bitch, huh?” 

Adora spares the disk only a brief glance before turning her attention to the wound. “Pretty sure Light Hope’s agenda has moved beyond your shoplifting issues at this point.” 

Catra can’t help but laugh at that. 

With as much delicacy as she can muster, Adora undoes the clasps of Catra’s shirt and peels it over the top of her head, revealing her bra. Catra’s grimace is followed by an alarming surge of blood over the matted fur of her deltoid. Adora can tell it’s deep before she’s even inspected it. They’re going to have their work cut out for them. 

Catra winces. “Gonna need sutures, I’m guessing.” 

“Yeah.” Adora gives a quick nod. “Apply pressure while I get my kit out.” 

Catra obeys. 

Adora focuses her attention on undoing her zipper, trying to ignore the way her hands tremble slightly with the motion. She wishes she’d learned how to heal - magically heal, that is. The aspiration seems laughably far away now. 

“Think your friend’s gonna be nice and let us out after all this?” Catra asks. 

“I’m pretty sparing our lives was her version of being nice,” Adora replies, scowling. She fishes her suture kit from the center pouch and removes the sanitizing liquid from its bag, spreading it all over her hands and wrists. “She’s not finished with us yet.” 

Catra doesn’t respond. Her eyes are on Adora’s hands.

“You done this before?” 

Adora exhales. She fishes the needle out of the bag - a half-moon shaped barb, sterile and razor-sharp.

“No,” she answers quietly. “Only in Horde trainings. With the dummies.” 

Catra just nods. “Figured.”

Shame swells in Adora’s chest as she pulls a tiny squeeze-bottle of water out of the pack. 

“I’m supposed to be able to heal people,” she admits, voice low with embarrassment. She scoots until she’s directly in front of Catra’s wound. “That’s what I came here for. But the only thing I’ve learned to do so far is disable robot spiders.”

Catra gives a weak chuckle. It transforms into a wince as Adora flushes the wound. The water mingles with blood as it surges down Catra’s arm. 

“Look on the bright side,” she mumbles. “At least you can be relatively sure she doesn’t want you dead, at this point.”

“I still have no idea what she actually wants,” Adora growls. She moves to brace the wound with her left hand - Catra makes a small, tight noise of discomfort. “If you’re the one I’m supposed to make peace with, I feel like I’m doing OK at that. What more could she possibly want from us?” 

Catra just regards her for a moment. She must be pretty out of it from blood loss by now - that’s probably why she’s staring at Adora like that. There’s a surprising lack of defensiveness in her eyes. 

“Think she’d open the door if we made out?” Catra offers. 

Adora’s heart gives a violent squeeze. The needle in her right hand wobbles noticeably. She meets Catra’s gaze. 

“Shut up,” she mutters quietly. “And breathe.” 

Catra’s eyes widen; she understands what’s coming. After a long, shaky breath, she nods. 

Time to begin. 

Without allowing herself to think, Adora makes contact with Catra’s fur and threads the needle through her skin. Catra can’t help but flinch, try as she might to suppress it. Adora works the needle through the other side and draws it upward, its pristine surface coated with dark blood. 

“Good,” Adora murmurs as she ties the first knot. “You’re doing good.” 

Catra sighs. Her eyes fall shut. 

Adora proceeds as quickly as she can without risking the quality of the results. The blood and fur make things much more complicated than they were in the Horde - there are a few times when Adora’s needle lands somewhere it shouldn’t. But she doesn’t have time to dwell on her failures. Her only focus is the gash beneath her fingers, and the noises coming from Catra’s mouth as she works. 

It is a slow, painful process. Catra remains as stoic as she can, but Adora knows she’s probably in agony. Rather than inspire caution, this only makes Adora more eager to plunge the needle into her skin. Every completed suture is another step closer to eliminating her pain. Every knot is another barrier between Catra and mortal danger. 

“How’s it looking?” Catra pants, after a few minutes of silence. 

Adora detects a faint note of desperation in her voice, even as her tone remains light. She wants to know if they’re done yet. If she has the strength to make it to the end. 

Adora smiles. 

“Two more,” she replies softly, repositioning the needle. “You did good.”

Catra rolls her eyes. But Adora can see the relief spreading across her face regardless. 

“You take forever,” she complains, bracing herself for another jab.

Adora scoffs. She moves in with the needle; both hands are covered in blood. 

“I know you’re really excited to make out with me, but you’re going to have to be patient.” 

That shuts Catra up. 

Her last two sutures are her cleanest yet. The upper stitches had halted the bleeding considerably, and with a bit of practice under her belt, Adora finds the gesture much simpler than before. She finishes with a quick surgeon’s knot at the base, then leans back to inspect her work. 

It’s not pretty. Adora can tell already that it’s going to scar - probably worse than it would’ve under a trained hand. But the bleeding has slowed to a crawl, and that’s all that matters in the end. She just wishes she could’ve used her powers for a cleaner result. 

Catra must see the look on her face. She smirks. 

“What’s my prognosis, doctor?” she asks, peeking over the edge. 

Adora shrugs. “It’s not going to win any prizes for beauty. But you won’t die.” 

Catra runs a finger over her matted fur. She shoots Adora a look. 

“It looks great,” she says plainly, straining for the water bottle with a grimace. “You’re too hard on yourself.” 

Adora can’t help but smile as she pushes Catra lightly back into her place, grabbing the bottle herself and squirting her hands before handing it over. “That’s sweet, coming from the girl who called me an asshole ten minutes ago.” 

There’d been other words too, of course. Traitor. Robot. Empty. But she’d meant those at the time. And Adora doesn’t have any desire to rehash them, even if things have changed. 

“You are an asshole,” Catra grumbles. 

She uses some of their meager water supply to wash the blood out of her fur. It’s probably not the most tactical use of drinking water in a place whose only other source was a centuries-old waterfall, but neither of them mention it. The odds of them lasting long enough to die of thirst in this place are low enough as it is. 

“I’ve got food in my bag, if you want,” Adora teases. “Unless you’d rather keep insulting me.” 

Catra’s ears twitch. She begins to wrap her newly-washed arm with bandages. 

“Glitter pack you some crumpets for the road?” she quips. But her eyes lock eagerly onto Adora’s bag.  

The mention of her friend makes Adora’s joy falter somewhat. She fishes through her satchel without speaking and procures a small, transparent rations pouch. The pickings are sparse - mostly just dried fruit and meat, with some crackers and nuts on the side. Not particularly appetizing on its own. 

But Catra’s pupils contract unmistakably at the sight of it, and Adora can’t help but smile. This’ll be her first meal outside of ration bars. It’s going to blow her mind either way. 

“Here,” Adora says, offering her the full bag. “Just take the whole thing. You lost a lot of blood.” 

Catra rolls her eyes. “I’m fine, princess. I’m not even hungry.”

“Eat it, or I’ll throw you to the spiders.” 

A pause. Then -

“Fine.” She seizes the bag, shakes a few pieces loose, and palms them into her mouth. “You could’ve packed some more water.” 

Adora rolls her eyes and moves to lay on her back. “You’re welcome.” 

She closes her eyes and listens to Catra chew for a moment. If she’s being honest, Adora had expected a bigger reaction - she’d plowed through an entire banquet table her first time around. But no sounds of overwhelming enthusiasm come from beside her. Instead, Catra finishes off a small portion, seals the bag, then settles on the floor at Adora’s side. 

Adora’s chest gives a strange little squeeze of fondness at Catra’s presence beside her. She opens her eyes and turns to look at her. 

“What’d you think?” Adora asks curiously. 

Catra doesn’t open her eyes. She just shrugs. 

“A little bland for my taste. But decent.” 

Adora furrows her brow.

“Seriously? I mean, I know it’s just emergency rations, but like…I was kind of expecting you to freak out.”

Catra opens her eyes and regards her with a faint look of suspicion. 

“Why? You put drugs in it or something?” 

Adora rolls her eyes. 

“Obviously not. I just figured…you know. I thought you’d have a bigger response to eating real food for the first time.”

Catra’s face breaks out into a wide smirk. 

“Adora, you know I’ve had food besides ration bars before, right? There was a ton of contraband in the Fright Zone if you knew where to find it. You were the only one square enough to not even try.”

Adora’s mouth drops open. 

“I…what?” She blinks aggressively. “Where? Why didn’t you give me some?” 

Catra grins. 

“I didn’t want to be the one to corrupt you! No offense, Adora, but you were the sort of person who would gobble down an entire cake at once and spend the next five years starving yourself in penance for ‘disloyalty’. I figured I’d spare you the guilt upfront.”

Adora pouts. “You had cake? I love cake!” 

Catra just laughs. It sends a thrill of warmth through Adora’s veins.

She looks different without her mask. It’s been a while since Adora really saw her face - she’d started wearing the thing in bed towards the end, much as Adora pleaded otherwise. Now her hair frames her brow in shaggy tufts, and it looks…good. In spite of the blood loss, and the exhaustion, Catra still looks good. 

“What?” 

Adora blinks. She’d been staring. 

Catra is quiet. The flickering of her ears, and the tension in her body, would normally signal to Adora that she needed to back off. And she knows that she probably should. But instead, for some reason, she reaches forward and brushes through Catra’s fringe lightly with her fingers. 

And maybe it’s wishful thinking, but Adora’s pretty sure the way Catra’s pupils swell with the contact is a good sign. 

“Do you want to go back for it?” Adora asks softly. “I could try going alone. It might make the spiders a bit more agreeable.”

A faint blush spreads across Catra’s cheeks. She clears her throat, then turns to face the ceiling. 

“S’OK,” she says, her voice a bit too casual. “Probably wouldn’t want to take that thing with me anyways. It kind of screams ‘Evil Horde.’”

Adora’s body practically vibrates with excitement.

Catra must sense her response in the periphery. She sighs. 

“I’m guessing you want to talk about that?”

Adora can feel her heart beating in her throat. She swallows; it doesn’t help.

“Yeah,” she says, after a moment. “I do.” 

Catra lets her eyes fall closed. 

After a beat of silence, Adora continues. 

“You don’t have to come with me,” she says quietly. “I understand that you need to forge your own path. I just…I hope you go somewhere new.” Adora sighs. “I don’t want to fight you anymore.” 

Catra’s breathing is steady and deep. If Adora didn’t know any better, she’d assume she was asleep. But when Catra speaks, her voice is clear. “Where would I go?”  

Adora turns over on her side so that she’s facing Catra completely. 

“Anywhere you want!”  Adora replies earnestly. “There’s a whole world out there. You can literally do anything.”

Catra scoffs. “Maybe I’ll form my own evil empire.” 

“…You can do anything but that.”

Adora can see her rolling her eyes beneath her lids. She allows herself a brief moment to take in Catra’s face; it’s pallid, but serene. She can see all her freckles when they’re lying this close. The familiarity of it makes her ache.

“I’ve spent my whole life training to murder people, Adora. You really think I’m going to do well on some tiny podunk farm in Elberon?”

Adora scoffs. “Of course not. But there’s way more to do than just that.”

Catra’s eyes blink open. She’s obviously curious, though she tries to hide it. “Like what?”

Adora furrows her brow in thought.

“Let’s see…there are the crafting trades, obviously. Smithing, woodworking, underwater basket weaving, ceramics -“

“Woah woah woah.” Catra turns onto her side, wincing a little, and gives her an incredulous look. “‘Underwater basket weaving?’ What the hell is that?”

Adora shrugs. “Dunno. It’s more of a Salineas thing, to be honest.” 

Catra scoffs.

“Well, we both know how I am with water. So I’d say that one’s a no-go.”

Her face is closer now than it was before. Adora tries not to notice.

“There’s a bunch of other stuff, though. You can raise animals. You can open your own shop. You can - ooh!” Adora’s eyes widen. “There’s even a job where you make food. And you can eat as much of it as you want!” 

Catra laughs. It’s such a pleasant surprise that Adora immediately smiles back.

“I think you should do that,” Catra teases. “After the war’s over. ‘Adora, professional foodmaker’. I’ll just come by every once in a while and sample your wares.” 

Adora smiles. But it dims slightly as she inspects Catra’s face. There’s something else on her mind; her eyes look sad. 

“What are you thinking about?” Adora asks softly. 

Catra’s smile fades; her expression grows solemn. 

“You know this isn’t going to be possible, right?” Her voice is soft and resigned. “Going to Bright Moon - going anywhere - after what I’ve done?”

Adora’s brow furrows. “You…that’s not true.”

Catra gives a sad smile.

“Adora, I’m a force captain. Basically Hordak’s new second in command, at this point. No village in their right mind would accept me. And honestly, they probably shouldn’t.” 

“They accepted me,” Adora insists. “It took them a while to warm up, but I don’t have any problems now. You just have to give them time to understand.” 

Catra’s eyes travel slowly across Adora’s face. She can feel her skin heating. 

“You had something to offer,” Catra finally says. “I don’t.” 

Adora’s heart falls. 

“That’s not true,” she says hesitantly.

Catra just shrugs. 

“You’re a princess. Literally, the most powerful princess on the planet. No offense, Adora, but I’m not sure you would’ve gotten in on your sunny personality alone. They don’t need me like they did you.”

Adora feels the weight of what’s been said sinking into her gut like a stone. Deep down, she knows there’s truth in it. If it weren’t for her finding that sword, Queen Angella would’ve never permitted her to cross the border. Catra was far too visible in the Horde’s war efforts to be allowed a similar level of trust. 

But she can’t accept defeat. She won’t. 

There’s a small fleck of blood on Catra’s fur, right in the hollow of her cheek. Adora reaches forward, almost on autopilot, to scrape at it gently with her fingernails. Catra’s eyelids flutter closed at her touch.

“I’ll tell them all about you,” she says quietly, as she cleans the speck from Catra’s fur. “I’ll tell them how much you have to offer. They’ll have to take you.” 

The look of disbelief in Catra’s eyes as they open stings her. There is too much standing between them both. 

“I know I haven’t always treated you the way you deserved,” Adora murmurs, squeezing her own eyes shut momentarily. “But I know how special you are, Catra. Now more than ever.” 

Somehow, her fingers never leave Catra’s face. Adora just continues stroking the soft fuzz of her cheek, up and down, and ignores the voice in her head screaming for her to stop. But Catra’s eyes have drifted shut; she looks more at peace than she’s been in ages. It pushes Adora to continue. 

“You’re a tactical genius,” she whispers. “You’ve brought the Horde closer to global domination in four months than they’ve been in decades. And that’s not even taking your combat abilities into account. You’re the only person I’ve ever met who can go hand-to-hand with She-Ra. It’s…it’s incredible. You’re incredible.”

Catra’s eyes blink open.

She’s still. So still that, for a moment, Adora fears she’s made a terrible mistake. But then she feels the soft brush of Catra’s tail as it intertwines around her wrist, and her heart stutters. 

“You sure you weren’t just holding back?” Her face can’t be more than a few centimeters away; she sounds a bit breathless. “Going easy on me?”

Adora shakes her head; she feels the tips of their noses brush as she does. “It was hard, fighting you. It hurt me. But I never held back. I couldn’t afford to.” 

Catra exhales; tension leaks from her body. And finally, Adora can’t keep her feelings down anymore. 

“That’s not what really makes you special, though,” Adora rushes. “All that…it’s you that’s important. Who you are. You’re smart, and funny, and so - you’re so goddamn tough.” She takes a deep breath. “You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met. In Bright Moon, or the Horde, or - or anywhere. And I know that if they knew you, the way I did -”

Soft lips meet her own. 

Everything stops. The words die in Adora’s throat with a quiet exhale. Each thought and feeling racing through her mind goes completely, utterly still. She is petrified. 

Catra lets it linger for a moment, then mouths gently into the kiss, holding contact for a few seconds afterwards. They’re the longest, most memorable seconds of Adora’s entire life. Catra’s lips are soft and full. She wants more. She has no idea what it all means. She wants so much more. 

Then, it is over. Adora’s mouth is suddenly cool. Maybe all of her is - she seems to have frozen in place. She can do nothing but stare at Catra, eyes wide with shock, drowning in her presence. Her body has turned against her. 

There is a split second where Catra waits for her to speak. To provide some sort of indication of how she feels. Adora knows it is happening - knows how important it is - and yet, the moment passes in silence. Adora remains frozen, even as the hope in Catra’s expression shifts into fear, and then hurt. She simply cannot move. She can’t even think. 

Then Catra is rolling over - and finally, far too late, Adora’s body begins to come to life again. But now, Catra is curling into a ball. Now, she is turning away. 

“Catra -“ 

“I’m sorry.” Her voice breaks - Adora feels her heart splinter right along with it. “I just - I just need some space right now.” 

Adora’s mind is screaming, even as her own body is painfully slow to respond. “Catra, wait. I’m sorry. I -”

“It’s OK.” She is crying now. Catra is crying, and Adora has never wanted to die so badly in her life. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I just, um - give me a second, OK? I need time alone.”

Everything is ruined. All the work they’d done to repair what had broken, and now Adora has destroyed them for good. Her body betrayed her in the moment she most required its strength. And it is happening again - because she can do nothing but climb to her feet, her mind on autopilot, and do as she was told. 

Adora thinks she understands, now, what she wants to say. What needs to be done. But the thought of interrupting Catra in such a vulnerable moment makes her stomach turn. She is afraid to make things worse. To break things even more. 

She can hear Catra fighting to stifle her tears just a few feet away. Her pain feels as sharp as Adora’s own. And she can’t take it. She has to do something. 

And so, after a moment of hesitation, Adora lets her head fall back. Stares up at the ceiling, eyes searching the fractured crystals. And finally, the words she’s searching for appear on her useless tongue. 

“Please help me,” she whispers into the open air. 

There is nothing at first. Only the ominous red glow of the overhead lights, and a nauseating silence. Adora closes her eyes. 

“Please.”

Then…she feels it. 

The subtle shifting of the lights overhead. The strange feeling of unreality that seeps into her bones - the sensation that she, in her current form, is redundant. Adora knows what is coming. But she keeps her eyes closed for as long as she can regardless. She doesn’t know what she’ll do if she’s wrong. 

Then they snap open against her will, and she becomes someone else. 

. . . 

Adora could watch Catra fight all day long. 

It’s never looked like fighting, with her - more like a dance. A game she’s always winning, even when she’s not. Right now, she’s leaping over Rogelio’s head - backwards - with such graceful precision that she hardly makes a sound as she lands. By the time Rogelio has lumbered around to face her again, she’s already scored a hit. 

It’s amazing. Beautiful. 

“She’s really something, isn’t she?” 

Adora’s head snaps sideways; she blushes like she’s been caught, though she has no idea why. 

Kyle is sitting beside her. Lonnie is a ways away, talking about something with Shadow Weaver. Both are too far from her and Kyle to overhear. 

“She is,” Adora replies, as casually as possible. Her eyes lock onto Catra again. The latter has just smacked Rogelio’s scales with her baton - he growls at her, receiving a playful hiss in return. Adora can’t help but smile. 

“Her form has improved a lot,” she mentions absently. “It was always good, but…yeah. We’ve been practicing a lot during our free time.” 

There’s a brief pause. Then - 

“You have?”

Adora feels her face start to heat. 

“Not - I mean, just a few extra sessions here and there. Nothing crazy.” 

“Oh, no, I wasn’t - that’s cool!” Kyle stutters. “I was just asking because - well, me and Rogelio do that too sometimes. Sparring, I mean.” 

“Cool,” Adora says, nodding awkwardly. She turns her attention back to the fight, if only to conceal her anxiety. She feels exposed. 

Rogelio had managed to score a hit on Catra. Rather than discouraging her, though, it seems to have only excited her further. She grins eagerly as she dodges another swipe from the increasingly-exhausted reptile. 

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Kyle’s voice is quiet; he seems to be watching closely too. “Having someone. To practice with.”

Somehow, Adora knows the conversation has shifted to a dangerous place. But she doesn’t stop. Maybe a part of her doesn’t want to. 

“Yeah,” she replies. “It is.” 

There’s a brief pause. 

“I don’t know what I’d do without him, to be honest,” Kyle admits softly. “He’s sort of my lifeline here.” 

Adora thinks she can understand that. The Horde is a cold and unforgiving place. She endures it because she knows it’s done in service to the highest cause there is - the establishment of world peace. But she’s not sure she’d be strong enough to make it through without Catra by her side. 

Kyle understands that. Maybe he understands other things, too.

“Do you…”

Adora’s voice trails off. Kyle perks up.

“What?”

It’s too much. She should’ve never let her guard down like this - not with Kyle, and not in the middle of training. But she’s already started speaking now. That, and the strange intimacy they’ve cultivated, pushes her to speak. 

“Do you ever feel like you like things too much?” 

She winces the moment the words have left her mouth. Too intense. Too intense, and too vague, all at once. 

Kyle clears his throat. “Uh…what do you mean?” 

Stupid. Her face begins to heat again. 

“I don’t know,” she admits sheepishly, rubbing at the back of her neck. “It’s - never mind. It’s dumb.” 

“It’s not!” Kyle squeaks.

Adora turns. He seems just as surprised by his own outburst as she is. 

“Sorry. I just…” He looks down. “I think I do know. But can you give me an example?”

Adora’s mouth is beginning to feel dry, for some reason. She finds her gaze drifting towards Catra again. 

“We hang out a lot,” she offers simply, avoiding Kyle’s stare. “More than other cadets do. I’ve never really questioned it. I just…like being around her. I’m always happier when she’s there.”

Kyle seems to sense a turning point. “But?”

Adora curls her legs up to her chest. She feels like she’s in danger, all of a sudden. 

“Sometimes…it still doesn’t feel like enough.” She stares at the floor. “Like, I’m still grateful she’s there. Obviously. And I enjoy hanging out with her. But it feels like…like I want something else, too. Something…”

“More?”

Adora looks back at him. He has an unusually knowing look in his eyes. 

“Yeah,” she says, furrowing her brow. “Have you…do you get that too?”

Kyle doesn’t respond. He just glances at the fight - at Rogelio. After a moment, he meets her eyes again.

“Have you talked with her about it?” he asks, avoiding the question. “Asked how she feels?”

Adora scoffs. She can’t help it. 

“Please. No way I’m telling Catra that I’m…crazy, or whatever. She’d probably stop hanging out with me the second I did.” 

The words hurt more coming from her mouth than she expected them to. She hadn’t realized how much this had been weighing on her until she mentioned it aloud. 

When Kyle speaks again, his voice is kind. 

“I don’t think that’s true, Adora.”

Never in a million years would she have imagined herself in this situation - spilling her insecurities to an oddly supportive Kyle, in the middle of a sparring match. But she doesn’t want to stop. She’s never gotten to say these things out loud before, and she has a funny feeling she might never get the chance again. 

“It’s always been like that with us,” she says quietly. “I’m always the one who wants more. She just…laughs, when I try. Makes a joke out of it. Like she’s uncomfortable.” 

She’s staring at Catra again now. Her and Rogelio had long since moved on to the final round of their match; she has no idea who’s winning anymore. But she suspects it’s Catra. She’s got that fiendish look in her eyes again - the one Adora loves more than anything. 

“You ever think that maybe she’s just scared?” Kyle suggests from behind her. 

Adora winces as Rogelio lands a strike - an expletive flies from Catra’s mouth. “Scared of what?” 

Kyle doesn’t respond right away. They both watch as Catra stages a miraculous recovery, taking advantage of Rogelio’s confidence to widen the distance between them.

“Maybe she wants more, too.”

And then - just like that - it’s done. Catra lands a crippling blow out of nowhere, feinting for Rogelio’s torso and striking instead at his legs. He flies backward onto his seat, bellowing with rage as he falls. It’s no use. The match is over. 

Catra reaches forward to help him up; Rogelio, his pride wounded, rejects the offer. But Catra doesn’t seem to mind. She just lifts her arms over her head and starts taking recovery breaths. And when she finally does meet Adora’s gaze, she’s beaming so hard from pride and adrenaline that Adora can’t help but grin back at her. For a moment, there are no walls between them. Only this incredible thing that Catra has done, and the overwhelming affection threatening to burst through Adora’s chest because of it. 

She wants to fling her arms around Catra and never, ever let her go. 

Suddenly - far too late - reality strikes. Adora remembers where she is. She remembers what’s at stake. Most importantly, she remembers Kyle sitting behind her, observing it all. Witnessing her in her moment of weakness. 

She’s gone too far. 

Adora scrambles to her feet before her mind has had a chance to catch up. She can hear Kyle’s startled noise of protest behind her, but she doesn’t stop to consider it. Her body is in flight. 

“Thanks for the talk,” she rushes, not even looking back to register his expression. “I’ve - uh, I have to go. Talk to Catra, about something.” 

“Adora!” he calls out. “Wait!”

She barely even hears him. 

She shouldn’t have brought it up. She recognizes that now. But while it’s too late to take back what she’s said, she can still make sure it doesn’t progress any further. She won’t let this problem of hers jeopardize what little she already has. 

Because she wants to keep that look in Catra’s eyes as Adora strides towards her. The sense of warmth and familiarity that would be gone - destroyed - if she knew how weird Adora has been all along. So she’ll do whatever it takes to keep this buried. Anything to make Catra stay. 

“Adora!”

Kyle still calls to her. She ignores him, even as guilt surges through her body. Poor Kyle. It’s not his fault she revealed too much. But she can’t let it happen again. Never again. She is almost to Catra’s side. 

A small hand finds her shoulder. Startled, she turns - 

Oh.

“Adora.” 

. . . 

Catra is here. The real one. 

Behind her, the elaborate simulation has faded. Rogelio, Kyle, and even the younger Catra have disappeared in a blink. They’re back in the control room once again. 

Now, there is nothing but the two of them again. And Catra….

Is happy.

“Hey,” she says softly, bringing a hand to cup Adora’s face. She laughs incredulously; her eyes are still red from crying. “Adora. Hey. You with me?”

Adora blinks. She is still too disoriented to interpret what’s going on. To understand why she is being touched so gently. 

“Catra?” she asks, her voice weak. “You - you shouldn’t be up.”

Catra doesn’t respond. Her thumb strokes over Adora’s cheekbone; her eyes scan her face like she’s seeing it for the first time. 

“You’re such an idiot,” she whispers. 

Before she can respond, Catra pulls her into a tight hug. 

Adora’s body responds before her mind does. She returns the pressure, burying her face in Catra’s neck on pure impulse. She can feel Catra’s chest shuddering against her own; she’s not sure if it’s from laughter or tears. When she finally pulls away and sees Catra’s expression, she thinks it might be both. 

And finally, the pieces begin to slot into place. Catra is stroking her cheek now, a genuine smile on her face. Looking at her with more affection than Adora has ever seen. And it occurs to Adora that this secret she has been carrying - this ugly coil of need stored deep inside her - might’ve actually been something beautiful all along. 

“Hey, Adora,” Catra says. Her voice is a little wet from tears; a little giddy. 

Adora is suddenly too overcome with emotion to speak. She lifts her hand to meet Catra’s own, then turns her face into it; without thinking, she presses a kiss into the other girl’s palm. Her eyes slam shut from pure overwhelm. 

It doesn’t last, though. Because then Catra’s other hand finds her jaw, holding her as gently as before - and Adora needs to see this girl’s face again. Witness this miracle firsthand, no matter the cost.

At last, Adora finds her words.

“Can I try again?” 

Catra laughs. Just like the younger Adora feared she would. But it is nothing like what she expected. This is a laugh of pure, vulnerable joy. It makes Adora feel like she’s flying. 

“Stupid,” Catra breathes, running her thumb reverently over Adora’s lips. Adora can’t tell who she’s referring to. If it’s her, it’s the most beautiful insult Adora’s ever received in her life. She’s completely overtaken. 

“I love you,” Catra whispers. 

Adora barely gives her time to breath before she takes her lips in her own.

She has never done this before today. In truth, she’s never even imagined it. But the moment they’re kissing, it’s the only thing she ever wants to experience again. Catra’s lips fit perfectly between her own, soft and earnest; Adora’s mind whites out. It is truly the most wonderful thing she’s ever felt. 

All this time spent fighting. All the wasted years pining for something she thought she couldn’t have. Now…Catra is giving Adora everything she’s ever wanted. And against all odds, Catra seems to genuinely want the same thing. 

Catra wants her. 

At first, Adora doesn’t notice the shift. She is feeling more things at once than she has ever felt her entire life; what’s a surge of energy, a flood of warmth, compared to all of that? But after a moment, she feels her clothes begin to transform. Feels Catra seemingly shrinking beneath her, despite Adora’s best attempts to keep them together. And she recognizes, finally, what this is. The catalyst has changed, but the process remains as familiar as ever. 

Within a few seconds, Adora has become She-Ra - without uttering a single word. 

Catra is still in her arms, but the kiss is broken now. She’s panting a little, eyes wide with surprise. 

“I…” She meets Adora’s gaze, looking as shellshocked as Adora feels. “…what is this?”

Adora looks down.

She is stunned to see that something more has shifted alongside her transformation - something new. She is not dressed in her normal She-Ra outfit, with the cape and the tiara and that ridiculous skirt. She’s in pants now. Her hair is majestic, but tied, similar to her normal style. The mask, the boots, the feeling - everything is different. Still She-Ra, but new. Better. 

Adora replies honestly. 

“I don’t know.”

On impulse, she moves to run her hands down Catra’s arms, smoothing her fur - and that’s when she notices it. Catra’s wound is gone. Every trace of it, stitches and all, has been replaced by a layer of soft fur over fully-healed skin. 

“I did it,” Adora mutters to herself, stroking her thumb down Catra’s arm. “I did it.”

Catra looks confused at first. But when she follows Adora’s gaze to her shoulder, her eyes widen. She places her hand over Adora’s, unbelieving.

“Did you just…heal me?” she asks incredulously. “Like, without the sword?” 

It all hits Adora at once. The spontaneous transformation. The seemingly random changes. The beautiful girl still nestled in her arms, now a few inches below eye level. 

She starts to giggle. 

“Yeah,” she whispers, a bit hysterical. “I just - I guess I did.”

Slowly, Catra begins chuckle too. Then laugh. Soon, she is cackling with the same giddy desperation as Adora. 

“I did it!” Adora repeats, her voice growing louder as her laughter echoes throughout the cavern. “I fucking did it!” 

Without warning, she scoops Catra into her arms, relishing in her shriek as she props her arms beneath Catra’s thighs.

“Are you insane?” Catra cries out. But Adora’s heart leaps in her chest as she feels Catra planting quick, clumsy kisses along the edge of her jaw. “You are, aren’t you? You’re - fucking crazy.” 

It’s true. She feels like she is losing her mind, trembling as Catra kisses her again and again. But if this is insanity, she doesn’t mind. She’ll take it. 

“You like it,” Adora giggles deliriously, her voice beginning to shake as Catra finally meets her face-to-face. “You like me.” 

Catra cups Adora’s jaw with her hands, letting her thumb trail lightly over her bottom lip. Her hair is slightly mussed, mouth wide in a stupid grin - she is the most beautiful thing Adora has ever seen. 

“You have no idea,” Catra breathes.  

Their lips crash together. 

This time, they are not gentle - but somehow, the sweetness remains. It only seems to grow as Catra’s tongue slips into her mouth, moving against Adora’s own as she exhales at the contact. Adora responds with as much earnestness as she can without dropping her. And she is so happy. She entered this room a nervous, guilt-wracked shell of her former self, and now, she’s happier than she’s ever been. 

And right then, she hears a door begin to whir. 

They ignore it at first. They’re too lost in each other to bother with whatever game this is - the spiders can rot, for all Adora cares. But when they hear something collide with the ground below, they finally part, turning their heads belatedly towards the source. 

The door is open. The main one, that is. There is no sense of ceremony to the event - no overhead voice to instruct them further. Only a cool rush of air from the outside, sharpening their senses and bringing them back to reality. 

Slowly, Adora lets Catra down. 

They walk towards the edge of the room. The ramp is open, same as before - Adora can hear the birds chirping from up above. There are no traps waiting for them, as far as she can tell. No surprise attacks. They are free to go. 

Warm fingers lace with Adora’s own. 

“Did we win?” The confusion in Catra’s voice is evident. “Like…were we really just supposed to make out the whole time?”

Adora laughs. She can’t help it. 

“We were supposed to make peace,” she says bemusedly. “I, uh…I guess we did a good job.”

Catra grins. 

Adora feels her She-Ra form flickering. After a few seconds, she returns to normal size. It doesn’t feel like a negative shift, though. She just kind of wants to be Adora right now. 

Leading Catra gently by the hand, she moves backward and retrieves the sword - for whatever use it might still be. She slides it into the scabbard on her back, then reaches for Catra’s waist to pull her close

The way Catra looks at her then…she wants to burn it into her memory for the rest of her life. Catra’s face is impossibly close; her expression nervous, but unguarded. For once, she isn’t looking at Adora like she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

As long as Adora is alive, she’ll make sure it never does. 

“Hey, Catra,” she murmurs, trying for cocky and sounding way too enamored to pull it off. She plants a soft kiss on her brow. “You wanna come be a Horde traitor with me?”

Catra just smiles. Her eyes slide shut. 

“Yeah, dummy,” she murmurs. She exhales quietly through her nose; their foreheads come to rest on each other. “Just get me the fuck out of here.”

Without opening her eyes, Adora cups Catra’s jaw and rubs a thumb over her cheek. This time, there is no hint of nerves - only awe. Her best friend in the world is holding her in her arms. Nothing in Adora’s life has ever prepared her for this. 

“I love you too,” Adora whispers. 

Moments later, Catra is kissing her again. 

Adora knows it is probably just her imagination. But this embrace, more than any other, feels like a declaration of something beyond words. It is a confirmation, and an apology, an an expression of sheer gratitude, all rolled into one. They kiss like they are coming home to each other. It’s beyond anything Adora can describe. 

When they finally break - seconds, minutes, maybe years in the future - there is a wholeness in Adora’s chest that she has never known. The two of them have a long way to go, individually and together; Adora knows this. But in that moment, Adora gives herself permission not to care. And the warmth inside her spreads until it fills her entire body. 

They head toward the ramp, hand in hand. Catra leaves the disk on the floor behind them, and Adora doesn’t bother to question it - it doesn’t seem important anymore. Their fingers clasp loosely as they walk, just like when they were children. But there are no monsters lurking in the shadows anymore, pulling their strings from afar. They belong only to each other now. Adora will not let Catra go again. 

The ramp waits for them to dismount. Allows their laughter and footsteps to fade into the distance. Eventually, it rises upwards and seals itself with a cool, mechanical click. 

And then, everything is silent

. . . 

. . . 

Things had not gone according to plan. 

As a non-corporeal supercomputer with access to advanced First Ones probability metrics, Light Hope had accounted for nearly every possibility well in advance. The psychometric scanner had permitted her access to 313,350 hours of archival memory footage, spanning from early childhood to the most recent hours of the Etherian War. She was able to process this information in the span of several seconds, determine the best means of strategic intervention, and tailor their respective experiences accordingly. Prior to this moment, all had gone as expected. 

What Light Hope was not expecting was a tie.

Her analysis revealed two potential strategies for the training of Administrator She-Ra, both with a relatively equal likelihood of success. The first was to destroy Adora’s relationships completely. Light Hope’s analysis had indicated that her connections to other beings would negatively affect the outcome of the final mission, which would require unilateral focus and result in the significant loss of Etherian life. Weakening Adora’s connection to these life forms was a viable strategy, both to hone her resolve and ensure her psychological preparation for the necessities to come. 

The other path? Do the opposite. 

There was a strong possibility that Adora’s connection to her fellow Etherians could be broken successfully, with enough persuasion on Light Hope’s part. Her fractured relationship with Catra was proof of that. But previous footage revealed that Adora’s abilities became weaker and less reliable in the aftermath of these ruptures. Many of her most significant failures as She-Ra had occurred due to emotional instability triggered by lapsed connections. Putting Adora’s abilities at risk could reduce the efficacy of the weapon, not to mention interfere with her training prior to its deployment.

Also pertinent was the fact that the odds of Adora willingly agreeing to activate the weapon - attachments or no attachments - was lower than 1%. In spite of the Horde’s aggressive indoctrination campaign, she possessed a consistent and nonfluctuating tendency to value the survival of her adoptive planet. Therefore, the most logical course of action would be to boost She-Ra’s power to its fullest extent, and then seize control of the weapon against Adora’s will. And the most effective way to do that would be to strengthen her attachments to other beings, utilizing these misplaced loyalties as fuel for the development of her powers - particularly Catra, for whom Adora held notably strong feelings of devotion. 

Romantic attachments are an inherently volatile factor in any calculation - one of humanity’s most significant racial weaknesses. Light Hope had been aware of those risks from the start. At worst, she had expected that Adora’s romantic feelings for Catra, once cultivated, would significantly enhance her desire to sabotage the Heart of Etheria Project in its penultimate hours. But Light Hope was confident that her control over the She-Ra entity was secure enough to render these concerns negligible. No amount of emotional distress had proven sufficient to break Light Hope’s hold over the weapon thus far. She had confirmed that firsthand with Mara. So she was confident that it would apply in equal parts to Adora due to their shared racial history. 

She was mistaken. 

Healing the fractures in Adora’s psyche had greatly increased her power. By Light Hope’s estimate, she was more advanced in her magical abilities following their reunion than Mara had ever been, even without training. With any luck, she would be ready to fire the Heart of Etheria in a few months, once all necessary logistical concerns had been taken care of. It was an overwhelmingly positive development - save for one key factor. 

Adora no longer needed the sword. 

Nowhere in Light Hope’s calculations had she accounted for this. Not in her study of human attachment. Not in her rigorous analysis of likely behavioral outcomes. There was simply no precedent. From the earliest days of the First Ones, She-Ra had always functioned through the sword. It was as integral to her power as the body who wielded it. 

Not anymore. 

Light Hope did not possess the programming requirements to experience emotion, on a biochemical level. There had been moments in the past…technical malfunctions, no doubt…where these limitations had been called into question. But all of these deficiencies had been overwritten following the Despondos incident. She had not experienced another malfunction since…no. Not for a thousand years, at least.

Following Adora’s transformation, it was safe to say that she was experiencing a slight relapse. 

Light Hope knows everything. Knowledge rests at the foundation of her existence. As such, she understands emotions - on a structural level, at least. But nowhere in her software are there instructions for deciphering these experiences in her own programming. And as such, she has been forced to rely on that most ancient of Etherian traditions - educated guessing. 

The general instability in her programmed responses. Her overwhelming preoccupation with events outside the castle, even when these events are unlikely to affect her long-term strategic aims. And then, there is that…feeling. The one that tells her, without direct evidence, that if she did in fact possess an Etherian body, its blood would be running cold. 

Yes. She thinks she understands, now. She has witnessed this emotion in the eyes of countless subjects before. Witnessed it firsthand in Mara’s final hours. She simply lacked the means to identify it within herself - until now. 

She-Ra has been relinquished from the First Ones’ control. And Light Hope is afraid.