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“Wake up,” Adora’s voice rang. An echo of a dreamlike state, but sounding far too real to be so. Catra’s eyelids opened, seeing Adora’s hand on her shoulder. Then her eyes met with blue, happy eyes, sparkling in the daylight. A smile on Adora’s face. “You want to catch a cold?”
Catra blinked a few times, waking herself up. “Adora?” The sun shone brightly, causing her to perplex against the light. Light. There was light. Light in the fields. Fields. In the mountains. Mountains. Mountains? “Since when did I fall asleep?”
Adora smiled before turning away, bringing in a basket of fish. “You must have been exhausted,” she said. “Takes a lot doing nothing, huh?”
A few more blinks. Mountains. Trees. Light. Fields. Blue skies. A house.
No plain land. No clouds. No dust.
“That was - all a dream?” Catra found herself asking.
Adora set down the fish. “We’ll take it easy,” she assured, still smiling. “Caught some big fish out today, so you don’t need to-” Adora’s eyes caught back onto Catra. “Catra?” Her smile fell, face twisting into confusion. The world became blurry for a moment. “Why are you crying?”
The sight of the world was cleared as teardrops fell down Catra’s cheeks. Catra lifted a hand to her face, fingertips catching the tears. She stared at the drops on her fingertips, light glistening against it. “I don’t know.”
Adora walked over toward Catra, sitting down next to her. Her face was written with concern. A concern that felt as if it was something unfamiliar. Something from a past long gone. “Was it a bad dream?”
Catra continued to stare at the tear, watching as it slipped into the palm of her hand. “Just…” her voice sounded shaky, tired. Confused. “I feel like we don’t belong here.”
From the corner of Catra’s still watered eyes, she could see Adora’s face sadden. She rested her head on Catra’s shoulder, letting out a sigh, one that sounded far too much like regret and longing. “I wish there was something we could do about it,” she whispered, breath whispering against Catra’s neck. “But we made our choice when we left that day.”
Catra looked down at Adora, whose head continued to rest on her shoulder.
“I still can’t believe it’s been two months since the war on Velvet Glove ended,” Adora spoke, positioning herself in a more comfortable position, hair tickling against Catra’s neck and collarbone. “The invasion of Etheria will come soon,” Catra couldn’t quite see Adora’s eyes, both her and Adora’s hair blocking the view. Yet she could still tell as Adora’s eyes squinted, an aura of determination spreading between the both of them, but not necessarily shared. “Running away was the only way for us to survive.”
Catra leaned her head down to see Adora’s face, having been correct to assume that her eyes squinted in that determined form. “You’re not worried about everyone else?”
Adora raised her head from Catra’s shoulder, eyes speaking before words left Adora’s mouth. “Of course I am,” she claimed. “Bow and Glimmer are probably worried sick for us, wondering where we are, if we’re alive.” Adora’s voice sounded so concerned despite her well-being, so worried over others who were supposedly worrying for her and Catra. Yet there was a sense of resolve, the determined aura continuing to loom over. Regrets that were nonexistent. “But I couldn’t send my friends to hell and continue with this endless slaughtering,” Adora took Catra’s hand, squeezing it. “Or destroy all of humanity outside the walls.” Her voice lowered its tone, strengthening all other feelings of assuming resolve, determination, and no regrets. A shadow loomed itself over Adora’s face. One that felt far more familiar than her concerns and smiles. Adora looked up at Catra, shadow disappearing, allowing the light to brighten her face, blue eyes sharing in the light along with her smile. “So why not just choose to spend the last four years I have in peace with just the two of us?”
Just the two of them. Adora’s fingers interlaced with Catra’s, smiling as if it’d been the most common thing to have done.
Just the two of them. Catra looked down at their interlocked hands, not knowing what exact expression she held. Perhaps she was supposed to let her cheeks flush. Perhaps she was supposed to allow her heart to flutter at the sight. Perhaps she was supposed to smile, let her emotions pour out into the open rather than buried down into the depths of herself.
But she did not do any of those things.
And it made Adora tilt her head, eyes demonstrating a concern that continued to feel so unfamiliar. “That’s what you asked, wasn’t it?” Adora asked. “To run away?”
Memories clouded. The screen of it rolled, pictures moved, coming to life, sketches moving outside of the page and escaping into reality. Into Catra’s hands. Above Catra’s heart.
A smile spread across Catra’s face.
“Yeah,” Catra rested her head over Adora’s.
Adora’s thumb brushed over Catra’s hand. “I’m sorry,” Adora said. “I know we promised not to talk about it.”
“It’s ok,” Catra said. Because it was, it was ok. “We’ve got a lot of promises already.” This was one of the greatest truths Catra could ever say.
“Can we make one more promise?” Adora asked. Her thumb continued to make circles over the back of Catra’s hand, eyes staring out into the forest that stood ahead of them, just a mile beyond the fields. “When I die - could you throw this pin away?” Adora asked, free hand reaching up towards the pin above Catra’s chest, a type of red shadowing over her fingertips. “You’ve got such a long life ahead of you, you shouldn’t keep the past with you.” The hand on Catra’s pin went down and covered Catra’s other hand, lazily, tiredly. “Forget about me. Be free.”
Planes flew overhead. The wind blew. Birds flew out of the trees.
“It’s ok,” Adora assured. A smile etched between her voice. Her thumbs did not make circles over Catra’s hands. “I’m ready.”
Trees brustled. Leaves flapped over one another. Wind passed through the leaves.
Red wrapped itself around Catra’s heart.
Catra’s eyelids snapped open.
Dust. Strong winds. Flames.
Reality.
Red surrounding more than just Catra’s chest. Spread across the stones, stretched over the skies, built up into tall moving mountains of stitched-up muscles, made its way into the sea. Made its way to Adora.
Catra’s hand clutched onto her pin, edges leaving marks on her hand.
“Sorry,” she spoke, voice echoing quietly through the wind. “I can’t do that.”