Work Text:
That tiny moment of joy... That sudden flutter of warmth in her chest, tingling like embers of the gentlest fire and bringing tears to her eyes... Snuffed out almost instantly, replaced with the most gut-wrenching pain imaginable. It felt like finally being handed the one thing you were always chasing after yet never actually thought you’d catch up to, only to have it destroyed the moment it grazed your fingertips.
Shadow Weaver finally said she was proud of her.
She had nothing to gain in saying that, no tricks or gimmicks to be pulled in voicing those words... She said it just to say it. She said it because she meant it, because it was the last sentence she’d ever speak and she wanted Catra to know.
And now she’s gone.
Catra had spent nearly her entire life trying to earn Shadow Weaver’s honest affection, just like the kind the woman had so freely given to Adora on countless occasions. The only times any seemingly loving gestures had ever been shown by her towards Catra was out of manipulation-- Shadow Weaver’s favorite card to play when she needed the perfect puppet to toy with or control because she knew how badly Catra wanted it to be real.
The validation, the acceptance, the care... It’d been dangling on a string just out of Catra’s reach for as long as she could remember, but now she’s finally gotten the smallest taste of it just as it’s become impossible to ever obtain again.
It’s weird. It’s like there’s this deep sense of emptiness inside of her that she had expected to at least feel a little fuller, but the emptiness stayed the way it's always been, if not growing a little bigger, a little colder. Like a flame being extinguished the moment it lit up inside of the void, nothing but a stinging gust of wind left behind in its wake that’d blow the ash around forever. And it hurt so fucking bad.
Sometimes, she’d randomly remember bits and pieces of the cruel things Shadow Weaver had said to her in the past. Words that felt like small pins laced in an agonizingly slow-killing poison poking at Catra’s heart, a reckless stab in and a rough jerk out, scraping against each other as they repeatedly pierce and exit in an unstable, ever-changing rhythm. But it was weak and it’d keep on healing over and over, no matter how often the damage was inflicted.
Catra felt like she could cry and laugh at the same time.
She hated Shadow Weaver. She hated her so much, but she always wanted to be cared about by her. She always wanted to impress her, to make her think fondly of her, to make her see value in her. But she hated her. She hated her more than anything.
It’s so strange and complicated to explain. She doesn’t even think she could try to explain it-- the only one who could even come close to understanding is Adora and Adora alone, but even she couldn’t be able to fathom the full extent. Sure, they were both raised by Shadow Weaver, but they were on opposite ends of the stick. Their experiences were almost completely different.
Catra hates that she feels the way she does.
Part of her is so happy and relieved to finally be free of Shadow Weaver for good, to no longer be afraid she’s going to suffer any more of the hurt and the lies and abuse by her hand any longer. But another part of her is so devastated and heartbroken-- not over Shadow Weaver herself, but for her inner child who never got to have all of the pain she endured justified or soothed.
Now that some time has passed since everything that went down at the Heart of Etheria, it’s just become numbing to be reminded of. It makes her feel sick.
“Hey,” Adora approached Catra where she was sitting by the window, looking out over the garden as the moon began its gradual descent for the evening. “You okay?”
Catra forced a smile onto her face, giving a small nod as her girlfriend sat beside her. “Yeah, I’m good. Just thinking about stuff.”
Adora took her hand and intertwined their fingers, scooting slightly closer so she could rest her head against Catra’s shoulder. “What are you thinking about?”
“Nothing important,” she answered quietly, resting her own head atop Adora’s. “Thought you were still busy helping out with the decorations. Did Sparkles set you free early for good behavior or something?”
Adora snorted a small laugh, “Actually, Castaspella fired us all, so she’s doing the decorating by herself now. Glimmer is supervising.”
“Supervising or being held hostage?” Catra asked with a chuckle.
“Same difference,” Adora shrugged, grinning softly.
The two fell into a comfortable silence, just enjoying the view and each other’s presence.
Maybe Catra will never get the closure she craves when it comes to her upbringing, but she wouldn’t change a thing about the life she has today. It doesn’t feel real most of the time, but it’s hers, and she gets to share every moment of it-- good or bad-- with Adora. It’s all she could ever want.
And she’s definitely at peace with that.