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After dinner the second day – the five of them talking and laughing again, like they've been friends all their lives – Catra retreats.
She's not sure how to be in this space, how to fit. Their forgiveness wraps round her like a hug and like a net, something warm and trapping all at once. She wants to thrash free, scream how do you not hate me? You should hate me, don't you understand–
She and Adora talked about it already. She promised to be better. Adora told her she wanted her to stay. But it's still– it's so hard to believe it. Maybe Adora, all her trust, all her affection, her endless too-big heart, but it's impossible to believe the others don't hate her. Could choose, after everything, to forgive what she's done.
Catra feels itchy in her skin. Prime's voice still echoes in her head. She can't stop reaching for the back of her neck, convinced the chip's still there, a phantom sensation. She can't stop replaying everything that happened and everything that could've, because she's missing pieces, that's the thing.
The moments when the chip was active are mostly gone. All she has are blurry fragments, green-tinged and only half-hers. Catra doesn't know when her hair was cut, or where Prime took her clothes, or how. Doesn't know half of what she did on his ship, after. What he made her say to Adora, what he made her do.
And then there are the lost moments between standing on the edge of a drop, reaching for Adora's hand, and waking up on this ship in Adora's lap. Catra doesn't know what happened in those moments, either, but she knows something went wrong, badly wrong, unfixably wrong. Except that Adora is She-Ra. Adora fixes impossible things.
Still, there's a lurching hollow wrongness, like she touched something she should never have touched, crossed somewhere she wasn't meant to come back from.
Sickness rises in her throat. She sits on the mattress, knees to her chest, arms wrapped around them, curled in on herself. Digs her claws into her skin, just enough to sting, just enough to remind herself she's still here.
The knock on the door is soft, hesitant. It still startles her, still has every muscle tightening, still has her tail frizzing up. Catra wonders if her body will ever be anything but a walking fight-or-flight reflex. If she will ever feel safe in her own skin.
“Catra?” Adora's voice is soft, almost shy. “Can I come in?”
Catra smoothes her tail down, forces her muscles to relax. Scavenges words from her throat. Formulates, “Okay,” so quietly she has to repeat herself before the door slides open with a soft swoosh.
“Hey,” Adora says.
“Hey,” Catra whispers back.
Adora hesitates in front of the door, swaying back and forth a little on her feet.
“You can sit,” Catra mumbles.
Adora crosses to her, perches awkwardly on the edge of the mattress. “Are you okay?” she blurts. “You sort of disappeared, and– sorry if you wanted to be alone, I wasn't sure– I mean, I can go if you want.”
Catra manages a smile. Shuffles a little closer, lets her tail brush Adora's arm. “I said you could come in, didn't I?”
Adora grins. There's a nervousness in it, a hesitant incredulity, almost a wonder. Like she can't believe they're here, after it all. Talking, sitting in a room together. Not enemies anymore. Like she can't believe they could find their way back to each other.
Or maybe that's just Catra projecting her own feelings, because sitting here with Adora is like– It's like a miracle. It's like a bubble and she's waiting for the pop, staying braced. Because surely, surely something has to go wrong.
“So are you okay?” Adora repeats. “I guess... I mean, I know this is probably a lot for you.”
And Catra wants to scream and claw and cry. A lot for me, a lot for me,don't you remember what I did to all of you, don't you hate me, why don't you hate me–
Instead, she curls up tighter. Starts to nod. Shakes her head.
“What happened?” she asks, unable to contain it, the words bursting forth like blood from a wound. “On Prime's ship? When I was– when he was– and then after. When I– I fell, didn't I? And then I woke up here, with you, and– what happened in-between, Adora? So much is missing, it's like–”
She swallows, presses a thumb to her temple, too hard, lets her claw dig in almost enough for blood. “It's like I sleep-walked somewhere and woke up with no idea how I got there. I don't know what– I don't know what he did to me, I– can you tell me? The parts you were there for? I don't care how bad they are, just– please.”
Adora nods. “Of course. Yeah. But I... Catra. I need you to know that I know it wasn't you doing it, alright? What he did to you, what he made you do– it wasn't your fault.”
Catra curls her hands round her knees again, grips tighter. Wants to say, what about the rest, what about everything that came before– Says, instead: “Tell me what happened after he electrified the chip. When I– I must've fallen. I want the rest, but first– Adora, something happened, didn't it? I didn't just black out. Something happened to me.”
Adora swallows, now. Stares at the floor, unshed tears shining in her eyes. “You fell,” she starts, her voice catching on the words. “You fell so far, Catra. And I– I couldn't think. I just jumped after you.”
“You jumped,” Catra repeats, a surge of something like fury curling incandescent through her bones. “You jumped after me?”
“Of course I did,” Adora says, helpless. “I– It's– You're Catra.”
“You keep saying that,” Catra spits. “I don't understand what it means. I already told you I don't matter.”
Adora's voice goes soft. “And I already told you that you matter to me. So yeah, I jumped. I'd do it again. And you were–” Her voice breaks. She cuts off, swallows, a sound like a stifled sob. “You looked so small. You looked so broken. I think I smashed up my legs in the fall, and when I managed to get to you, you were– Catra, you were hardly breathing.”
I smashed up my legs in the fall. Catra chokes, sickness rising. How does she ever repay this? How does she ever deserve this?
Adora takes a shaky breath, steadies, continues. “They were closing in. He was, in the body of one of those clones, I dunno, but– they were closing in and I didn't know if you were breathing anymore. I thought I'd lost you.”
The words curl small and broken, devastated, and Catra's chest aches so much she can barely breathe. Adora, after everything, talking about her like that. Like the world would be shattered forever if Catra wasn't in it.
“I thought you were gone because of him and I– I still don't really understand it, but She-Ra was there again. When I opened my eyes, it was all blue, and I transformed. It healed whatever happened in the fall. I could stand again, so I stood up, with you, and I took them all out. Carried you back to the ship. Made sure they wouldn't follow us. Well.” She shrugs, half-rueful. “Not straightaway, at least. And when I got back in, you were– you were on the ground. You were so still. And I thought, again, I thought–”
She reaches out a hand, shaky, brushes Catra's where they curl around her knees, like reassurance. Like she's reminding herself Catra's still here.
“But I was She-Ra again. I held you and I reached for the healing and I just– I hoped. I hoped so hard. I don't think I really breathed either, till you opened your eyes again.”
Catra tries to exhale. Reaches for Adora's hand, grasps it tightly in hers, so tight she's worried it might hurt, but Adora holds on. Squeezes back. Smiles broken-hearted.
“So I was...” Catra whispers. Holds tighter. “I was dead. Wasn't I?”
“I don't know,” Adora says. “I don't know, I– maybe. But you're not now. You're here now, Catra.”
“I just don't understand,” Catra pleads, helpless. “Why would you do all that? For me?”
“Because I–” Adora hesitates, swallows. “I dunno. I just would. I always would. 'Cause I– I care about you.”
Catra crushes the small pathetic hope into a ball. Stows it somewhere far down in her chest. Fumbles for something, anything to focus on that might hurt less, might not catch and tear open a hundred thousand wounds. “You really just carried me out of there? You fought them carrying me?” She huffs, pokes Adora's arm. “I mean, you always did train a lot, but still.”
“I was She-Ra,” Adora says. “And you're not that heavy.”
Catra tries to laugh. Elbows her in the side. “I've trained more too, you know.”
“Yeah.” Adora gives her a single flickering glance, a light pink dusting her cheeks. “I know.”
Catra tries not to think about that. Tries not to linger on what it might mean. Tries not to look at Adora and break into a thousand pieces. All her damn heroism and heartbreaking devotion. Catra wonders what it'd be like, if Adora fought for herself as hard as she does for everyone around her.
“I'd do it for you too,” she whispers, squeezes her eyes shut, the vulnerability like barbs under her skin. “I need you to know– Adora, I'm so sorry for everything. I always will be. And I need you to know I'm going to try my hardest to make it right. I need you to know I'd save you too. If I could. If I ever can. I'd jump after you.”
“I wouldn't want you to do that.”
“Too bad,” Catra says, blunt. Thinks let me, please. Let me give this devotion back to you. “You look out for me, I look out for you, remember?” She squeezes Adora's hand, still can't look. “I broke that promise, but from now on, I promise it again, alright? For good this time.”
“I promise, too,” Adora whispers.
They sit in silence for a while, hands curled in each other's.
Maybe they'll survive what's coming, Catra thinks. If they can just keep that childhood promise. If they can carry each other through the end.