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She-Ra is gone.
Double Trouble’s words still echo in her head like a broken transmission on repeat.
It’s only when Catra reaches her chamber that those words fully unwrap in her mind, taking roots like poison ivy over the metallic walls in the Fright Zone.
Tomorrow. They’re going to strike down Bright Moon tomorrow. The final move she has been eagerly counting the days for. The picture is so vivid in Catra’s mind – Adora’s shattered and devastated face when she sees her new home being taken over.
She might’ve left the Horde, but the Horde will never leave her.
Catra inhales deeply before she sinks down onto the edge of her bed. The nightmares have gotten worse since Scorpia left. Her ghost was haunting her – her laugh wakes her up at night, her silhouette flashes in front of her eyes when she climbs onto the rooftops. Scorpia had nowhere left to go, with her kingdom long gone. For a second the thought of Scorpia joining the Rebellion crosses her mind. Catra swallows down the stinging burn in her throat.
If that’s the case the victory will taste even sweeter on her tongue.
And that’s when everyone will finally see what she is capable of. That she can make it on her own, no matter who is leaving her. If anything it makes her stronger, knowing these attachments have given her nothing but pain. Pain that only holds her back from her full potential.
Taking over Salineas might’ve felt less victorious than Catra had hoped for, but Bright Moon, that will erupt the most glorious spark.
A faint smile forms on Catra’s lips when she brushes her loose bangs behind her mask. She rises from her bed, but before she can leave the room, her own face flashes in the mirror next to the door.
A long moment passes as her eyes wander over her own reflection, the aftermath of her sleepless nights coating her features. The shade under her mismatched eyes slowly loses its darkness. Catra’s body feels heavy and her feet sink down into the cold concrete floor.
Soon. Soon, this is going to be over.
She takes a deep breath one last time before leaving her room behind for the final inspection of the day.
Wandering through empty hallways used to frighten Catra to her core. Now, it’s familiar, almost calming, like the rare, warm sunrays she felt as a child when they’ve managed to sneak out the Fright Zone after training. Catra lets out a mumbled hiss at the thought.
That’s over. The past.
Tranquility spreads through Catra as she passes the chambers along the hallway. They’re empty, just as they’re supposed to be. The corner of her lips curls at the thought of her orders being carried out without protests this time.
As the hallway comes to an end, Catra passes the last room of the corridor.
Her old barrack.
She hasn't stepped into this room since she was promoted– since she made herself Force Captain. And there is no need to do it now.
Catra curses herself when her feet don’t execute her orders like the soldiers do. She comes to a stop, her body still facing the end of the hallway. A cold breeze grazes her arm coming from the very room she wanted to burn down to ashes when Adora left.
And then – a laugh.
One that doesn’t sound like Scorpia’s.
She should ignore it, like she’s done for the past months. The sharpness of her nails almost breaks her skin when she balls her fists. But the strength leaves her body and a hidden force takes over, luring her further inside the somber room.
Most of the bunkbeds seem untouched due to the losses the Horde had to bear. The soldiers were moved to another sleeping hall. She isn’t the only one associating bad memories with this place.
And yet she finds herself standing in front of the bed she tore apart a long time ago.
The remains were removed, replaced with new sheets and a pillow. It’s like this bed holds no feelings, no memories, no pain. Like it was never there in the first place.
The lump in Catra’s throat grows unbearable when her eyes land on the engraving on the wall. Or what's left of it.
She forgot about it, buried it deep into the ground with everything Adora had left behind. Catra’s hands shiver and despite her desperate attempts to stop it, she fails gravely.
It’s pathetic, the way her knees give in and let the weakness spread through her body worse than any dark, twisted magic Shadow Weaver used on her.
Catra is still kneeling when her arms wrap around herself. There’s a distant feeling knocking in the farthest corner of her mind. Like it’s asking for permission, daring her to give in, to let her have a glimpse of what could’ve been. And the way her throat dries and her breath quickens show her that she doesn’t have a choice. That, maybe, she never had a choice in the first place.
So the fleeing sense of comfort pulls her in against her will and lays her down next to the face that hunts her at night. Instinct takes over Catra when she curls up, her eyes focused on Adora’s engraving.
How badly she wishes those scratches would disappear, fade into the air around her. Just so that she can drag her nails all over it again, even deeper than before.
But once again her own body refuses to comply and instead of raising her hand, tears burn the corner of her eyes.
Why is this happening? Why can’t she let it go? All this suffering, pulling together, just to be cut open again.
She should feel powerful, strong, but instead – she feels miserable.
Maybe, after everything, that’s where she belongs. Right on this hard bed with the cold air gnawing on her bones. Maybe she was always supposed to be alone.
“So my news didn’t cheer you up after all?” A familiar voice straddles Catra.
It takes nothing more than a heartbeat to find her posture again. She sits upright just enough to see Double Trouble leaning against the doorframe.
“What’s wrong, darling? Cat got your tongue?” They grin.
Usually, Catra welcomes that smirk. But now, she would rather scratch it off their face.
“What are you doing here?” She hisses, baring her fangs just enough to prove her point.
“Why, am I not allowed to see how my favorite kitten is doing?”
Her next hiss cuts short when she tears her eyes away from them. She knows they don't mean it, not in a way that isn’t transactional anyway. And it makes her sick, knowing that and still feeling a tinge of hope stinging in her chest.
Double Trouble’s devious smile still lingers on their lips when they step closer to Catra and squat down to her level, tail swinging lazily behind their back. Catra catches their eyes grazing past her.
“She really did a number on you, mhm?” They hum low.
“It’s not like that,” she growls back.
Catra despises it. Of course Double Trouble had to find her like that, in a moment where she let her guard down too carelessly.
Their long fingers tap their chin in thought. After a while, their face lights up.
“You know what? I think you miss her.”
Shut up.
“Oh, look at you. Poor thing.”
Fuking shut up. Leave.
But when Double Trouble doesn't move, Catra realizes her words never left her mouth. The only thing that left were tears falling from her eyes, softly damping the fabric of her thigh highs.
There’s nothing she would want more than for the ground to open up and suck her in entirely. Strip her free of every pungent pain she had to endure her whole life.
“Maybe, I can help?” Double Trouble says softly.
Catra pushes herself enough to finally look into their eyes again. She is not sure what she’s hoping to find in them. Maybe it’s sincerity. But all she can find is – nothing.
Nothing but a hollow question tied to conditions.
“For a–,”
“Price. I know.”
Double Trouble’s form flickers and reshapes with the same unchanged grin on their lips. Only that those lips look more familiar now, with soft curves and a gentle shade of pink.
Adora’s striking blue eyes glow expectantly and Catra struggles to swallow down the anxiety building up inside of her. Double Trouble mastered not only her appearance, but her expression as well. Their job as Flutterina had surely given them enough time to be around Adora, studying her mannerisms to perfection. The way Adora’s gaze paints a soft veil, a dimple embeds itself in the corner of her smile and her brows frame her eyes tenderly, almost makes Catra believe she is really here.
The last chance to resist dies the moment Adora slowly reaches forward and brushes her soft palm along Catra’s ears. And it makes it impossible to hold back the purr rumbling in her chest. Adora draws cautious circles with her thumb as Catra closes her eyes at the overwhelming sensation. The touch is intimate, something Adora used to do when Catra couldn’t calm herself from her breakdowns.
She doesn’t care how Double Trouble could possibly know about this. Because with every caressing rub, Catra’s purr turns into quiet whimpers, pulling her deeper into the feeling she desperately tried to drown.
The feeling of how much she misses her.
She misses their playfulness, their closeness – them.
It’s only then that Catra is brave enough to open her eyes. She expects this to be a dream and for Adora to be gone. But she is still here, right beside her, the way Catra always thought she would.
Adora’s caring gaze drills a hole in her chest, right through her heart. And when Adora’s gentle breath grazes Catra’s lips her words spill out on their own.
“Can you…can you lie down with me? Like we used to?”
“Of course, Catra. I would do anything for you.”
And oh, the way her voice carries this loving undertone makes Catra believe every word she says.
Catra shifts her body enough for Adora to fill the space she left for her. Their bodies aren’t touching, but the warmth radiating from Adora tickles Catra’s skin nevertheless.
Facing each other, Adora’s glance wanders along Catra’s eyes, past her freckles, the bridge of her nose, all the way down to her lips. And it’s agonizing, to be this close to her and yet at the same time, as far as they’ve ever been before.
There are so many things Catra wants to say, so many things she wants to scream out until her lungs burn.
But those words dissolve and only leave a bleeding trail of regret.
She can’t bear to see her face. This stupid, hopeful, beautiful face. So Catra claws her nails in Adora’s jacket and nuzzles under her chin.
She buries her face deeper into Adora’s chest, closer to her steady breath, closer to her beating heart.
When Adora wraps her arms around Catra’s back, she feels thrown back in time, all the way to their childhood. Catra’s breath shudders against the person that held her together all of her life. The same body that took everything she’d ever cared for.
Adora’s scent fills Catra’s nose when she inhales her presence. It’s different, not as concise and sweet as it used to be. But it’s enough to break her.
“Why did you leave me?” Her voice trembles.
It’s stupid for Catra to even have the slightest hope for an answer. She quit a long time ago and the silence weighing down the air around her only proves she should’ve given up sooner.
And when Adora doesn’t respond, Catra can’t hold herself together anymore. She unravels in her arms, her quiet sobs pierce through the silence and her tears drench the white fabric of Adora’s shirt.
Why did you leave me?
Her crying cuts her breath short.
Why don’t you need me anymore?
Makes her choke her own tears.
Why can’t you see how much I love you?
About to suffocate her entirely.
Catra loses every sense of reality when time and space dissolve around her, merging past and present into an undefined matter. It’s only when the familiar cold creeps up her spine that she realizes she had fallen asleep. She doesn't know for how long she has dozed off, but the space next to her is empty and frigid.
Double Trouble left.
Just like Scorpia did, like Shadow Weaver did, like Adora did.
The hole in her chest grows when her eyes adjust to her lifeless surroundings. Her skin aches from the salt that had dried on her cheeks.
It didn’t help.
It only made it real that she’s never going to be with Adora. Not like they used to be. Not like that.
And not ever again.