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~~
“Go through the door in front of you.”
Bow looks at the wall. Bow looks back at Adora, then Glimmer, then looks back at the wall again. With a sigh he reaches for his earpiece, sucks in a weary breath.
“There’s no door.”
“The schematics say there’s one right there.”
“And my eyes are saying there isn’t.”
“Sounds like a skill issue on your end.”
“Entrapta,” Adora says, picking up the slack with her own earpiece, “please stop saying we have skill issues.”
“Well then how many times do I have to repeat myself? DATA NEVER LIES!”
“Yeah, well, data can’t just walk us through walls!”
“I could have gotten us on the other side,” Glimmer sulks under her breath, for the hundredth time since they’ve rescued her, and Bow groans. “I’d call that a skill issue.”
“Glimmer-”
“It’s true! Queen Glimmer has become thirty-three percent more redundant without the use of her runestone powers!”
"More redundant?!"
“Only thirty-three?”
“Entrapta, Glimmer, Adora," Bow calls, firmly exasperated, "none of that is helping! Focus up! We have to find a way through.”
“Are you in need of a door, Bow?”
The Best Friend Squad freeze in their tracks as the fourth of their party steps between them, the chip on the back of her neck ever-humming with power through the spacesuit. Catra walks silently, bright green eyes focused on the wall with laser intent. Her claws glint even in the low light as they unsheathe, and in four swift slices they cut, and with one swift kick the loose panelling falls to the ground with a bang and a clatter, leaving the way into the dark clear.
Catra turns back to face Bow, ramrod straight, a calm smile on her face. Her ears flat, her tail down. Not a single breath is exerted from her effort.
“I have bestowed upon you this gift of a door,” she says, flat and monotone like a door-to-door salesperson. “Rejoice, and be merry.”
~~
“You utilise an arrow that transforms into a magnifying glass?”
Bow turns from his observation of mineral growths and looks up at Catra. It’s a curious question, from what Glimmer can tell, because Catra phrases everything in the same light, tap-dancing tone since they rescued her from Prime.
The supreme commander of the Horde becomes a yes-man when a mind control chip gets inserted into her neck, it turns out, hovering at the side of the nearest person that can give her instruction, purpose, a guide. It's so alien to the catty brat that threw Bow off a cliff and scratched up She-Ra's back and bit Glimmer right on the arm one time.
Wait, no. Not the nearest person. Glimmer catches Bow’s gaze over Catra’s shoulder, and pain spikes in his expression as he looks back at the blonde girl standing beside Glimmer. Glimmer turns to find Adora worrying at her bottom lip with trembling teeth, sees the weight of the water in her blue, blue eyes, ever-about to spill out onto her face. From where Bow's crouched, his dark eyes are saying what they’ve said to Adora already, the things that Adora knows, but Glimmer gets that it’s hard.
Adora's been with Catra since they rescued her from Prime. Since the moment Catra woke up in Adora’s arms, still with those piercing green eyes and said ‘Hello, Adora’. Catra hasn’t stopped speaking like that, not even when they disabled the tracker. Whatever Wrong Hordak's going through is 'similar but different', Entrapta had helpfully explained, and the scientist is, for once, puzzled. She doesn't know how to snap Catra out of it. She-Ra's magic couldn't snap her out of it.
Nothing - nobody - can help her. Not while the chip is grafted to her spinal column. Without a properly trained surgeon, without being back on Etheria and without flawless, precision-based equipment Glimmer doesn’t think even exists yet, that’s where it’s going to stay. This is how Catra's gotta be.
'My place is at your side,' Catra keeps telling Adora, every day, like a broken record. If not for the mono-tone in which she spoke, and the way she practically hangs onto Adora's every word, the way she goes to procure food for Adora when her stomach so much as growls, it would almost sound uncertain.
After only a few nights of this, Glimmer ordered Adora to reluctantly order Catra to stay on the bridge while she took Adora to the bunkroom. Bow gave her Glimmer's Kowl plushie that he brought from Etheria, Adora cuddled it, and together they sat in their bed, and they told Adora, and they snapped at Adora, that she doesn't have to promise not to cry. She doesn't have to hold it all in.
And she didn't. ‘She-Ra could fix her, but she can’t save her,’ Adora had told Bow and Glimmer, in the dark of the bunkroom. She told them how guilty she feels, how she couldn’t bring herself to sleep in the brig with Catra there, but not there, the ears and tail that always told her what Catra was thinking numb to every emotion. She doesn't climb anything. Doesn't groom herself. Doesn't flit her tail away when Adora goes to pet it, the way she always did back in the Fright Zone, and it's making Adora lose her mind. When Glimmer stepped out to get water while Adora was venting her frustrations, and when she came back to the bridge, Catra had relieved herself.
She hadn't even moved from where she stood. Hadn't stopped smiling. And now, Adora really doesn't go anywhere without her, and Glimmer can’t stand it.
She’s only not chipped along with Catra because of Catra, because she did one good thing with her life, after years of cackling maniacally and trying to burn the world Glimmer loves. Now, she doesn’t laugh, she doesn’t go to sleep, doesn't do what her body needs her to do without Adora providing an order, without instruction. She doesn’t look at the world through blue-gold clashing eyes, can't ever be redeemed beyond that one good thing, can't even actualise anything for herself. Catra got Glimmer's mom killed. A part of her should be validated. Glad that she's suffering.
But Entrapta did, too. And this isn't justice.
And now, on the surface of Krytis, her green eyes flashing with a sickly lime colour, Catra's just asked a question. Unprompted. Without instruction.
Glimmer wants to say something, so Adora definitely does too, but Bow flashes them a quick ‘it’s okay’ with the furrow of his brow and looks back at Catra, giving a vague shrug.
“It’s helpful.” He says, simply, sheathing the glass and dropping the arrow back in his quiver. After a moment of computing, Catra’s head turns forward, her body following it down the path.
“Your glorious victory against Hordak and myself was assured, then, for we could never have anticipated your brilliance.”
Glimmer blinks. Bow stands up, clearly wanting to walk over to Adora, but Glimmer grabs his arm first, then hers, and brings them into a whispering huddle.
“Did that sound… sarcastic?”
The trio turn to watch Catra, sauntering ahead through the mist of glowing pollen. One tuft of it taps her nose, and they can hear her give off a slight sniffle.
~~
“By the way, who’s your new friend?”
At Entrapta’s buzzing, the Etherians turn around. There in the path behind them is a beast in their visage, a blue-burning bush wrapped around its head like the helmet of the spacesuit Adora had blessed her to wear.
The creature’s eyes are a piercing, demonic blue to match the glow of the rest of Krytis. She felt her weaker, former self wanting to bristle at the sight of this planet, wanting to cower from the dark of its evil, but she would not allow it. She has seen the light. Darkness is blinding, a weakness, any form it threatening to expose her. Weakness makes it more likely for Adora to get hurt.
Adora. Her primary directive since her reactivation. She serves her.
Adora is in danger. She dives at the creature, silent as a stealth missile, with the intent to bring it to ground and slash in defence of her party. Demons live in the dark, and she will cast them out, destroy them all, do anything to keep Adora whole.
Her plan does not work out the way she intends. She clatters to the rough ground and recovers instantly, bounding upright despite the crack of her bones.
Adora told her not to do that anymore. She scans her surroundings. She is back in the opening, outside of the crashed Horde vessel. The creature is nowhere in sight, but the signature pollen comes down around her like a swarm of fireflies. She flinches as one brushes past her nose, resisting.
In her earpiece, Adora wails her displeasure down the line, in the form of her first name. Catra.
She allows the heresy of identity. It makes Adora comfortable.
“I am safe, Adora,” she reassures, the instant her finger makes contact with her earpiece. “I am back outside of the structure.”
She hears growling. Decades of feral reactions flutter uselessly, stamped out by her indomitable will as she turns to regard the reformed creature in penitence. The beast shifts shape and colour, teeth snarling as they grow to a great size, as their maroon body stains a deep, vibrant red.
She stands there, claws ready, both scanning and praying for the light to reveal an opening in the creature’s sharp defence. The pollen falls in stronger cloves from the sky, and the instinct to react is tempted again, even stronger this time, and she must school herself before-
“Aa-choo!”
Catra’s ears and tail fluff out.
The - she doesn’t know what the fuck that thing is - the big thing rears back, she screams, falling to the ground and catching herself with her hands.
Dirt. Soil. Beneath her claws. Is this real?
The beat's growl cuts off, and the redness all over their body morphs back into the blue and purple she first saw them in. Only now, they kind of look like her.
The creature watches her, ears up, tilting their head. Catra clutches her chest. She can't stop breathing. The creature's eyes widen.
“You are trapped inside,” they say, somehow, without even moving their mouth. They lower themself to the ground, bowing in submission. “I am Melog. I can help.”
"Stay away from me!"
Catra growls through the ringing in her ears. She feels it coming again, feels herself being swallowed back down the drain. She scrambles away, reaches for her earpiece. Her controls are sluggish, she doesn’t even know if this is real. She pushes to talk, to shout into what might just be the void of her mind.
“ADORA!” She screams. The rest of her words die on her tongue. She feels the chip take hold from the scruff of her neck, and she basks in the light once more.
~~
Adora hasn’t slept a wink since Prime. She probably never will again, after Krytis.
She hasn’t been able to summon She-Ra since - since Catra called her name.
Not the chip - Catra.
She sounded so scared. At first, Adora thought the chip was damaged, that she was free, and then she thought that whatever damaged it was about to kill her. She got Catra’s real voice back in her ear, in the moment where she thought she was going to lose her again.
She can't lose her again. In that selfsame moment, She-Ra broke out of the ship and out into the opening. Her feet dug harshly into the dirt with each stride and she didn’t wait for Glimmer and Bow to catch up, because, in the nicest way possible, she just wasn’t. She begged and pleaded to dear Mara above that Catra was okay, that as much as she seriously didn’t want to hear Catra talking like Horde fucking Prime, she would kill to hear anything.
And then, Melog. The big alien cat-thing, curled up at Catra’s bedside. The big alien cat-thing that has quickly become such a darling presence, one who can read Catra's body and tell her when she needs food, or the bathroom, or space.
A little while ago, she needed sleep, and Adora ordered Catra to listen to Melog, so she obeys.
"Good night, Adora." Catra had said, changed into her sleep clothes and lying back in bed. "Be at peace."
Adora watches Catra’s chest rise and fall, listened to her soft breath, her body lain uniformly flat on the mattress, long after she slipped into REM.
Adora recalled being on the bridge, long before they made it to Krytis, sat in the chair as she tried to materialise the sword in her bare hand, Glimmer and Bow on either side of her like the angel and the devil on her shoulders they are. And then she saw her in the doorway, still in her Horde whites.
She told Adora to ‘concentrate’, and it was so familiar, but just so wrong.
And Adora lost it. She promised, after that, to never again cry in front of her friends, even after they sternly snapped back that she was allowed to.
She's not going to, because Catra’s in there. She remembers Adora, remembers them together, and remembers them apart. She looked into the hive-mind and saw Prime’s plan to take control of Etheria. She's fought back so much already. She doesn't lie anymore, doesn't mince words, and her eyes are horribly homochromic but Catra’s in there and Adora can’t leave her and Catra can’t get out and Adora can’t do anything and-
Adora never thought she’d hear the real Catra ever again. The warrior welded over Adora’s very soul has never come back to her so swiftly, than when Catra called out for her like that. She thought that, maybe with Melog, things could seem a lot more bearable, but it's still so much.
It's still too much. Adora curls her knees up under her chin, watching Catra from her bunk. She promised that she wouldn’t cry. She promised that she wouldn’t cry.
She promised. And then Melog nudges her. She takes a snotty breath through her nose, wipes her dry-red eyes.
“Melog?” She asks the alien, in a silent, weary query. Their mane is red. “What’s wrong?”
“Adora.”
She turns to look, bracing for - well, she doesn’t know what. The girl on the far side of the brig hasn’t moved an inch, and her eyes are still closed, and her chip is still glimmering a little green from the back of her neck. Catra’s body exhales, still sleep-deep, and then inhales automatically.
She's not moved. She's hundreds of miles from awake. How could she speak if she's-
“Hey,” Catra says, with the faintest lilt of something in her voice.
Adora’s breath fucking catches in her throat.
“C-Catra?”
She brings an arm to her mattress, is about to push herself up-
“Stop. Don’t move.”
Catra breathes out the words, and her body cycles the air for her while Adora holds incredibly still. Though not as still as her.
“You need to be quiet," Catra explains. "She can’t hear you.”
“Who?” Adora asks. Another cycle of breath lingers before Catra answers.
“Me,” Catra says, her voice a snoozing whisper on the wind. “Don’t wake me up.”
Adora scans Catra’s face. Beneath closed eyelids is no green glow of Horde Prime’s making. Her slightly pursed lips rumble with a self-soothing sound, a forced purr, like she's hurt.
It’s Catra.
She’s here.
She's here?
“I won’t,” Adora whispers, despite her confusion. She doesn't need to understand, doesn’t know what to say. “It’s - you’re - I can’t -”
“Is this real, Adora?”
“What? Yes, yes of course this is real. I’m here.”
“I can’t open my eyes.” Another breath cycle. “I can’t see you.”
“I’m here, Catra. I promise.”
“You promise?”
“I said that already.”
Catra’s sleeping body huffs and her ear twitches, it twitches, like she’s having a funny dream. And then the next thing she says causes Adora’s heart to collapse.
“Let me out.”
“What?”
“Please let me out, I’ll be better,” Catra wheezes, waiting for another inhale. “I promise I will be better.”
Adora blinks, once, until realisation hits her, and she feels sick up to her mouth.
“No, it - we didn’t -”
“I’m sorry for everything,” Catra says, and part of her tail thwaps the mattress. “I'll be good. Please let me out.”
“I'm not-“
“Adora, let me out.”
“You're not-“
"Get me outta here, Adora."
"Catra-"
“Adora, please-”
“-I would never trap you like this!” Adora wails, her voice coming so much croakier and breathless than she intends. Her view is just tears. She swipes at them though they keep coming. “I want to let you out, okay, I promise we want to, we just don't know - I will never stop trying to - You don't deserve this, not at all, I-“
“Please don't wake her.”
Adora halts immediately, and stills, and then anger and rage boils inside of her, at herself, at everything. Thoughts of Prime’s lifeless corpse being pummelled into the ground break in, take hold in her brain, until she's beating and beating with glowing fists until he’s nothing, until his blood and guts and gore slip down the drain and fill up the deepest pit of sadness Adora’s ever known, and she sobs and she sobs and she sobs.
“I hate seeing you like this,” Adora admits, everything rattling out of her chest. “I miss you. You’re right here and I miss you.”
“It’s... okay…” Catra gasps out, and really, Adora’s so fucking pathetic that she’s the one who's getting comforted here. "Adora..."
“Can I- can I hold you?” Adora asks, because a part of her needs that and maybe Catra needs that, but every other part of her needs to know if she can, and she doesn’t know if this will ever happen again.
Catra’s chest goes high, taking her deepest breath all night, taking in all the air in the room. She’s completely catatonic, fast asleep, as she exhales one word.
“Please?”
Adora pads over, with Melog, to Catra’s bed. The pair slowly clamber aboard the bunk, Melog curling up in front, Adora carefully wrapping an arm around Catra’s shoulders as she hugs her side. Catra's sleeping body responds, shifting until Adora's spooning her, two pairs of legs and a tail tangling together.
“I’ll get you out,” Adora promises Catra, hushing in her still-twitching ear, her temple rubbing the back of Catra’s short hair, the chip just barely in her lower peripheral. “I won’t stop fighting until I get you out.”
Catra says something but it’s in audible, and she doesn’t say anything else, but the chip doesn’t wake up, either. Maybe Catra, the real Catra, has fallen asleep. How long was she awake?
Adora calms herself, catching the proverbial wall before she can fall into the proverbial spiral. It’s okay. Adora knows what she asked. She repeats it back to her quietly, and she will repeat it, again and again until Catra believes it. She will wait by Catra's bedside for every moment the chip falls asleep, waiting to talk to the Catra within because while this is torturing Adora, it's not her every waking moment.
Adora falls under sleep’s spell in tentative peace, and in her dreams she’s making her plans. In her dreams, a fire brews.
There’s a well in the middle of a battlefield, and Catra is there, at the bottom. The Horde Force Captain is gone, mask of rage and uniform shredded, and all that’s left is a girl Adora knows better than herself.
So Adora’s weaving the longest rope in the world. She’s going to tie it around her waist and drop down, down and down, and reach for her hand and drag her out, kicking and clawing and screaming if need be all the way up and back out again and away from all the carnage. She silently wishes to every power in existence that one day, maybe even someday soon, Catra will turn around with blue and gold in her eyes, and a smile on her lips, and a quirk in those wondrous ears and a wag from her infuriatingly gorgeous tail. She has no idea how she’ll get there. There’s no path to that destination.
There’s no path anywhere Adora wants to go.
Still, Adora wishes - in the deepest part of herself, a place closed off from all light for all the years of her life - that once all is said and done, that Catra might stay. She doesn't know what that means. Not really.
It's all she's ever wanted.
She looks up, in her dream. The light’s at the top of the well, and it’s just gotten a little bit closer.
==