A/N: Hi, this chapter is your reward for sticking through all the hurt of the last couple chapters. This is the hurt/comfort chapter that ties up this arc, heavy on both the hurt and the comfort. It's also massive, and I hope that between the length and the catharsis it was worth the wait.
There is a LOT going on in this chapter but it reads quickly (a necessity for an action-heavy chapter), so I'm sorry if it's completely overwhelming. You might have to read it more than once to catch everything. *shrug*
A note on formatting: In this fic I use the *o* to indicate flashbacks within flashbacks and also extreme perspective jumps within a scene where the action is continuous but both pov and environment are changing and no transition feels disorienting. This is the first time I've used both in one chapter, don't get lost. :)
CONTENT WARNING for needles, blood, suicidal ideation, discussions of self-harm, and emotional and (implied) physical abuse. The flashback within the flashback could be especially psychologically triggering for those of us too familiar with the subject matter, so tread carefully.
Everything hurts.
Adora's head throbs with every beat of the pulse pounding in her temples. Her eyes ache with fatigue and sting with tears. Her ears ring with a cacophony of metallic clatters and Entrapta's grating voice as she gives Lonnie directions. Her fingers tingle from how hard she's squeezing Catra's hand, but she's not letting go.
More than anything, her heart hurts.
Catra can't die. Catra is too stubborn, too tough. Catra is a survivor, more than anyone Adora knows. So she has to survive. She has to.
Maybe Adora's brain is too numb to truly spiral. Maybe it's too tired. But that's as far as she gets before her brain tunes out on her again and another wave of that strange numbing fatigue washes over her, almost making her slump forward onto Catra.
A pressure against Adora's right shoulder catches her attention, her eyes struggling to refocus as she lifts her heavy head. Rogelio's yellow eyes are gazing at her intently, calmly. He doesn't address her directly, just gives a comforting squeeze as he continues grunting to Catra, explaining to her what's happening. It's a technique to help keep a patient and those treating them from going into shock, Adora remembers this. Unfortunately she's too wrecked to be calm for Catra right now, so she's sure glad there's other, more functional people here to help.
"Okay, I'm ready!" announces Entrapta. Blinking away the haze, Adora looks up to find Entrapta plugging a tube into an empty blood bag and Lonnie reclining beside Catra, leaning against the wall just behind her head. Lonnie's knee is jiggling conspicuously, extremely uncharacteristic for their usually unflappable squadmate, but Adora doesn't get a chance to comment.
"Any chance you have any blood-borne diseases?" asks Entrapta, crouching beside Lonnie and taking an alcohol pad to the crook of her right elbow. When Lonnie squints in confusion, she elaborates, "From infections, diseases, unprotected sexual activity?"
"Uh," Lonnie coughs slightly, eyes darting away, "I doubt it."
"No time to test you properly, so I hope you're right!" With that, Entrapta opens the small case on the floor in front of her and Lonnie averts her eyes again, grimacing almost painfully. Her face pales, breaths getting shorter and quicker.
Even in the midst of her own panic, Adora can't ignore the sight of her squadmate in distress. Toeing Lonnie's shin with her free leg, she peers in concern as those anxious eyes lock onto hers. "What is it?"
Jaw tightening, Lonnie looks at her lap as she mutters, "I hate needles." Her eyes briefly flit back to where Entrapta is readying her syringe and go wide before squeezing shut. Lonnie's hand flies to her mouth as her body lurches, but thankfully nothing comes up. When her eyes open again they look dazed, vacant, and Adora stretches out to grab her shoulder before she keels over or passes out.
"It's okay, Lonnie," she assures her, squeezing as hard as she can given how off balance she is. "It's okay to be scared, we're all scared."
"I'm not scared," Lonnie grumbles unconvincingly, "it just grosses me out."
Knowing better than to argue, Adora rubs her thumb over the meat of Lonnie's shoulder encouragingly. "Don't look at it, look at me."
Lonnie pushes out a shuddering breath, eyes closing once more. When they open again, throat bobbing and hands clenching into determined fists, she doesn't look at Adora. She looks at Catra.
"Perfect, just keep that fist," Entrapta says from her other side, tying an elastic just under her biceps.
Lonnie whimpers under her breath but cuts it off with a cough, and Adora gives her an encouraging smile. Admittedly she's also a little squeamish when it comes to needles so she has to look away as well, but she hears the sharp intake of breath, feels Lonnie tense under her hand. A couple seconds later Lonnie sighs, shoulders relaxing just a little.
Draping a towel over Lonnie's arm, Entrapta says, "So you're not tempted to look."
"Appreciated," Lonnie replies with a weak smile. She still looks a little dazed.
Pulling her hand back to grip Catra's once more, Adora twitches her mouth in concern. "You okay?"
"Yeah, I'm great," deadpans Lonnie. "Not like I'm getting the literal life sucked out of me or anything."
Adora doesn't tell her she doesn't have to do this, because she wouldn't mean it and they both know it. Instead she says, "Thank you, Lonnie."
Lonnie shrugs, though she kind of looks like she's about to throw up. "You'd do the same for me. You know, if you could."
Wincing, Adora averts her eyes. She hates that this burden has fallen on Lonnie. Protecting Catra is supposed to be her job. Protecting the whole squad, really, but Catra in particular. Lonnie isn't supposed to have to do this.
"I'm sorry it has to be you," murmurs Adora.
"It's been you our whole lives, Adora." When Adora looks up, Lonnie's grave expression breaks a little, green eyes sparkling with an oncoming smile. "But in case you didn't notice, I've had your asses the whole time." Nudging Adora's hip with her foot, she urges her, "Don't worry about me, worry about Catra."
Despite the severity of the situation, or maybe because of it, Adora's chest erupts with choked laughter. "That's not helpful." Still, Lonnie smiles at her, and Adora finds herself smiling back.
Their little moment is broken abruptly by Entrapta stepping between them, placing an IV stand between Lonnie's thigh and Catra's head. "There we go." Glancing down at Lonnie's pallid, sweaty face, she explains, "I'm drawing faster than is ideal, that's why you're feeling sick. Sorry about that, I want to get this blood into Catra as soon as possible."
"S'okay," mutters Lonnie, though she looks far from okay.
Stepping back and surveying the scene, Entrapta asks, "Do we have anyone else with Type O blood? She's lost a lot, Lonnie might not be able to save her on her own, not without risking her own life."
Adora's eyes flash back to Lonnie, whose eyes are nearly bugging out of her head. Meanwhile Rogelio grunts out that he's not Type O but he'll call Kyle and ask him.
"I don't know what that means," says Entrapta.
"He's calling Kyle," Adora translates, gesturing at him as he picks up his tablet.
"Oh, perfect. I'll call Scorpia." Entrapta freezes suddenly, face falling. "I should have already." Smacking her face with her hair as she walks away, she mutters, "Stupid. Stupid, stupid."
Turning back to Lonnie, Adora finds her staring back with glassy eyes. Swallowing hard, Lonnie sets her jaw. "I'll do it," she declares, clenching her trembling hands. "I'll do it if I have to."
Adora just stares at her, amazed. She knew they'd all have each other's backs in combat but this is something else. And for Catra? No offense, but Adora's had to break up so many fights between them this seems implausible.
Seeing her questioning look, Lonnie explains, "It's my fault." She shakes her head, voice tight and threatening tears. "I upset her, I said she was like Shadow Weaver. That would make anyone kill themselves."
"No, Lonnie, it was me," Adora quickly intervenes. Her brow creases suddenly. "Actually, I think it was Shadow Weaver. She gets nightmares, really bad ones." Catra's chilling screams and despondent words from last night echo in Adora's head, making her swallow against the sudden ache in her throat. "She said she wanted it to be over. I didn't know she meant her whole life."
Lonnie leans forward, grabs the back of Adora's hand and squeezes. Adora's finger's are tied up with Catra's but she frees up her thumb to stack on top of Lonnie's fingers, squeezing back. The look they share is one of mutual fear and determination. Mutual understanding.
Rogelio's tablet continues to ring, to no avail. Ending the call with a grunt of frustration, he orders Adora to take over for him and runs out of the room. That leaves Adora to kneel on Catra's left thigh as well, both hands now pressed to her stomach. Still, she manages to keep the tips of her fingers linked with Catra's.
A shadow darkens the floor and Adora looks up to find Entrapta standing over them, frowning. "Scorpia doesn't have the right blood."
Adora's heart sinks, her stomach turning. Lonnie slumps and looks about ready to tip over, but Entrapta's hair snaps out to steady her. "Don't worry," she says. "If all else fails we can check with the soldiers and the residents of the city. O is the most common blood type, someone's bound to have it."
Lonnie exhales, her expression a mix of irritation and relief. "You couldn't have led with that?"
"Sorry, my bad," says Entrapta, cringing apologetically. She kneels beside Lonnie, peeking under the towel. "I'm gonna change out the blood bag now. Don't worry, I don't have to stab you again."
"Small blessings," mutters Lonnie.
Fiddling around for a few moments under the towel, Entrapta emerges with a half full blood bag. Lonnie pointedly looks away but Adora watches as Entrapta hangs it from the IV hook. Her brow creases. "Wait, don't you have to put it in a spinny thing first?"
Entrapta's face lights up at the question. "Ideally you'd centrifuge it to separate the red blood cells from the plasma, get more bang for your blood, but we don't have time. Besides, her blood volume is way down and Lonnie's is all we have right now. The more we can use, the better."
Adora frowns. "Oh. That's not what they said in the Fright Zone."
"Ohhh, I gotcha." Entrapta's eyes widen slightly as she nods. "They would've had to do it when Catra donated to you, so the antibodies in her plasma wouldn't react to the antigens on your red blood cells, but since Lonnie and Catra are both Type O it should be fine. In theory."
Completely lost but willing to trust the smartest person she knows, Adora simply nods and withholds any further protests as Entrapta kneels to hook Catra up to the blood supply.
Lonnie, meanwhile, narrows her eyes curiously. "How do you know all this stuff? I thought you were into machines, not the human body."
"The human body is a machine! A fascinating one!" Entrapta looks up from her work for a second, squinting. "Well, Magicat body in this case."
Lonnie blinks. "Magicat?"
"That's what Catra is," supplies Adora. "There's a word for it."
"Huh," mutters Lonnie. "The more you know." She shivers slightly, drawing Entrapta's attention.
"Oh, I'm sorry!" says Entrapta, hopping to her feet. "I should have gotten you a blanket too." Her hair springs her over to the med bot and back, and she drapes a blanket over Lonnie's mostly naked body. "You're a patient now too," she says, smiling and giving Lonnie's head a little pat with a lock of hair.
Lonnie looks up at her with an expression somewhere between gratitude and confusion. She's saved from having to form a reply by the sound of thunderous footsteps pounding the metal floor of the hall. A few seconds later Scorpia rounds the corner, crashing into the doorframe to catch her breath. She rests there only a second until her eyes lock onto Catra and go wide.
"Wildcat!" Scorpia sprints toward them, falling to her knees beside Adora. Her tearful eyes survey the scene, taking in all the blood on the floor, on Adora's hands, on Catra's claws. Her cheeks go slack and somehow even paler than normal, and she takes Catra's free hand in one of her pincers. "Oh Catra, what did you do?"
Her uncharacteristically hushed voice makes Adora swallow. Her eyes brim with fresh tears as she watches Scorpia press the back of Catra's hand to her cheek. She blinks them back with a sniffle, ducking her head to wipe her eyes on her shoulders.
"I've never seen it this bad," says Scorpia gravely. "I mean I was worried about her but I never thought she'd actually-" A sob bursts from her throat, cutting her off and driving yet another knife under Adora's ribs. Voice strained and painfully quiet, Scorpia laments, "I thought she was doing better now that we were out."
Not knowing what to say, Adora says nothing at all. If she's being honest, she's surprised Scorpia knows about Catra's poor coping mechanisms. She was surprised Lonnie knew too but was too busy freaking out to really think about it at the time. It's selfish and stupid, she knows it is, but it makes her stomach turn. If Catra let it slip to other people or didn't do her best to hide it, Adora can't help thinking she was not as special to Catra as she thought. Or, worse, that she wasn't doing enough to help.
But of course she wasn't. She left.
"It's okay, Scorpia," says Entrapta, coming to stand behind her. Hesitating a second, she reaches out and rests a gloved hand on her girlfriend's shoulder. "We've got Lonnie's blood and I'm sure we'll be able to find someone else if we need to. Chances are, she's gonna be okay."
Forcing a cheery tone, Scorpia says, "You hear that, Wildcat? You're gonna be okay." She barely gets through the last sentence without choking up, a pincer flying to her mouth to muffle another sob.
"Scorpia, hey," Adora says gently. If she had any hands available she'd reach out to touch her arm.
Blinking tears from her eyes, Scorpia whispers hoarsely, "I should have known."
"Hey, you couldn't have known," Adora assures her. "She would barely even talk to me about how she's feeling." Eyes briefly flicking up to Entrapta, she adds, "You can't be expected to know there's a problem if no one tells you, right?"
Scorpia sniffles. "I'm supposed to be good at that stuff."
"And I'm supposed to be her best friend," says Adora. "If anyone failed, it's me."
"Will you two shut up?" grouses Lonnie, startling them from their pity party. She's trying to look annoyed, though her pained expression and trembling lips don't help with the intimidation factor. Rolling her eyes, she says, "Look, there's no use blaming yourselves. What's done is done. All we can do now is help her through this and try to be better." Looking down at her lap, she mutters, "Gods know I can."
A flash of red flies by Adora's face, startling her as Scorpia reaches across Catra to grab Lonnie's hand. "Thank you for doing this, Lonnie," she says earnestly. "Thank you so, so much."
Lonnie winces. "Ow, ow!"
"Oh, I am so sorry!" apologizes Scorpia, letting go suddenly. A fresh line of red is slowly welling up on Lonnie's hand where Scorpia's pincer clamped down on her.
"S'okay, I'm already bleeding," Lonnie chuckles breathlessly, nodding down at her arm.
"They're really sharp near the hinge, I wasn't thinking," stammers Scorpia.
"It's okay," Lonnie repeats, putting a reassuring hand atop her pincer. It might be more reassuring if it wasn't still bleeding, but it's a nice thought at least.
"Fascinating," murmurs Entrapta.
Lonnie looks up. "Huh?"
"Let me patch that up," says Entrapta, springing to the med bot and back. She quickly disinfects Lonnie's wound, and to Lonnie's credit she barely winces.
Entrapta's pressed a fresh dressing onto the wound and is just starting to wrap it with a bandage roll when more thunderous footsteps approach. This time it's Rogelio rushing in, toting his injured boyfriend in a bridal carry.
"I'm O positive," announces Kyle. "Hook me up."
"Oh, thank Hordak," mutters Lonnie.
Entrapta squints at him. "Are you sure?"
"Of course," he says resolutely, sounding almost offended that she would ask. "It's Catra."
When Entrapta glances down at her unfinished work, Scorpia touches her hand. "It's okay, babe, I'll take over. My fault, anyway."
While Scorpia finishes up with the bandage (surprisingly adept with the blunter parts of her claws), Entrapta sits Kyle down beside Lonnie and gets him prepped. Switching back and forth between dealing with his and Lonnie's bags keeps her busy for the next little while, and she also finds time to call the infirmary in the city to send additional help. Lonnie continues to comfort Scorpia while Scorpia attempts to comfort Catra and Rogelio comes back to help Adora. It all kind of goes by in a whirlwind for Adora, who's still clutching Catra's hand and watching her lifeless face, barely taking in anything else.
Her patience runs out when Entrapta wedges in between her and Lonnie to hang Kyle's bag on the IV hook.
"Why isn't she waking up?" demands Adora, not caring how desperate she sounds.
"Could be many things," Entrapta replies with a hum. "Her body could be overworked fighting a deadly infection, or maybe she has brain damage from lack of oxygen. The possibilities are endless, really." Glancing down and taking in Adora's wide eyes and horrified expression, she adds, "Or she could just be tired."
Shaking her head sharply, Adora squeezes Catra's hand with both of hers now, her gaze earnest and unyielding. "Come on, Catra, you're not done. Not yet. Please don't go, I need you to fight it." She kisses Catra's palm, her eyelids squeezing shut and pushing out more tears.
"I need you."
***o***
Catra couldn't stand to be here one day longer. One hour longer.
Despite her inner turmoil, her tail barely flicked against the metal floor of the crane. Her glazed eyes stared vacantly at the rising moons and murky void beyond the Fright Zone. Often after a disciplinary encounter she'd be pacing around, her thoughts racing and full of anger and fear, but right now her thoughts and body were almost unnervingly calm. Methodical.
Perhaps the most obvious option, she could run away. Shadow Weaver loved to say how Catra was a wild animal, so surely she could survive in the wild. But she knew Adora wouldn't come with her, especially not now that she was on the verge of being promoted. And maybe Catra could live without Adora, but she didn't want to.
She didn't want to live at all.
Shadow Weaver had quite literally been beating the will to live out of Catra for years, and surviving out of spite no longer held the same appeal it once had. Survive just for another day of heartbreak and suffering? What was the point?
Tempting fate, Catra leaned forward, teetering on the edge.
*o*
Knees wedged under her chin, Catra hugged her legs tight to her chest and stared blankly at the cell wall, trying to still the rapid beating of her heart. There was no point freaking out when there was nothing she could do but wait for judgment to come raining down on her. No point worrying about what Shadow Weaver would do. What she would say. What she would use.
There was no point to anything.
Catra used to tell herself that this would all stop eventually. It had to. Maybe when she turned fourteen and became a junior cadet, or when she turned eighteen and became a senior cadet. But here she was, a senior cadet, and nothing had changed. If anything, it was worse.
Yes, in two more years Catra would graduate into the regular ranks and be out of Shadow Weaver's custody entirely, but she was no longer naive enough for false hope. Shadow Weaver was still Hordak's second-in-command. She could do whatever she wanted, to whoever she wanted. And Catra was old enough now to understand that Shadow Weaver enjoyed torturing her far too much to ever give it up.
She was never going to be safe.
This was never going to stop.
The sound of the force field deactivating made Catra jump slightly, but she forced herself to raise her head slowly, disinterestedly. The one thing she still had control over in this situation was her reaction. And, as she had discovered over the course of her teen years, acting like her punishments didn't bother her in the slightest got on Shadow Weaver's nerves just as much as mouthing off or fighting back.
Better yet, denying Shadow Weaver the satisfaction of a reaction wasn't something Catra could be punished for. After all, Shadow Weaver had insisted on fixing Catra's 'problem' of crying during the beatings, so what could she do about it now? In her eagerness to be an absolute monster, she had unintentionally provided Catra a way to resist without making things worse for herself. It was the only thing that made the situation remotely bearable.
When Catra finally opened her eyes, her worst fears were confirmed. There was a belt in Shadow Weaver's hand, a deadly cocktail of hardness and fire in her eyes. Sighing impassively, Catra began to shrug out of her shirt before she could be told to. One less indignity to suffer.
"Stop." Shadow Weaver's calm yet icy voice paralyzed Catra mid movement, a shiver running down her spine and into her tail as the back of her neck prickled in a primal warning she couldn't suppress. Just one more thing she was helpless to stop. "You will do what I tell you when I tell you, and not a moment sooner."
Catra's jaw clenched behind the shirt. She hated this bitch's mind games so much, the insistence on wresting every last scrap of control from her grasping hands. Something inside Catra urged her to disobey, to fight back, but it was a pointless fight and she knew it. Forcing her scowl into a neutral expression, she let her hands fall to her sides, the shirt sliding back down her stomach.
Shadow Weaver floated closer, a low chuckle rumbling from her chest. "I know what you're doing, Catra. You must think you're very clever, don't you?" Reaching out one spindly hand, she lifted Catra's chin with the loop of leather in her grasp. "Tell me, who is in charge here?"
Catra averted her eyes, gritting her teeth as a surge of anger rose in her chest. Why did Shadow Weaver have to destroy her dignity along with her life? Her mind along with her body? Why couldn't she just leave her the fuck alone?
"Use that superior hearing of yours, Catra. Don't let your one talent go to waste," said Shadow Weaver. The belt tapped insistently under her chin. "Who is in charge?"
Eyes still on the floor, Catra muttered, "You are."
"Speak up, child," demanded Shadow Weaver. She dragged her weapon slowly up Catra's cheek, spelling out exactly what would happen next if she disobeyed. "Look at me when I'm talking to you."
Of course Shadow Weaver wouldn't allow Catra to escape even one measly scrap of humiliation. That was her favorite part.
The urge to growl grew in Catra's throat, countered by a sharp ache and growing lump thankfully obstructing her windpipe before the sound could escape. Swallowing it down inside her body, where she kept everything too painful to bear, she dug her claws into her palms and forced her eyes up to meet Shadow Weaver's.
"You are," she stated. Her voice sounded so hollow. Not like her at all.
"Maybe you're not a complete imbecile after all," remarked Shadow Weaver. And that comment should have made Catra angry, but it barely registered as an insult at that point. Nodding downward, Shadow Weaver commanded, "Now, assume the position."
Catra obeyed numbly, wordlessly, eyes glazing over as her body automatically followed the order. She barely even felt her knees touch the floor. Her heart thundered in her chest, betraying her body's fear, but there was no point delaying the inevitable. Catra was tired, and wanted this over and done with.
She was tired of pain.
Tired of everything.
*o*
When Catra was young she used to cry out to the universe, desperate for some entity to come help her, save her from the cruel whims of her tormentor. But she was past all that now. She knew no one was coming to save her.
Claws digging into the metal edge, she peered down into the abyss. Everything looked so small compared to her dangling feet. It was far enough. She'd barely feel a thing. Then it would all be over.
That would be a good thing. Yet her heart pounded in her chest and her limbs shook, her whole body screaming at her in fear and protest. It didn't want to die.
If only she felt the same way.
"Are you okay?"
Catra startled as the voice shattered her reverie, almost pitching forward off the edge. Her body reacted instinctively, grabbing the edge and steadying itself before releasing a relieved breath. She turned her head to level a glare at Adora, who was holding a grappling hook and watching her with concern. She'd been there that afternoon when Shadow Weaver had laid into Catra in front of half the class and dragged her away on one of their 'walks.' Of course she was concerned.
"Whoa, sorry, didn't mean to scare you," said Adora, wincing with guilt. "I assumed you heard me coming." Easing closer with cautious steps, she asked, "What are you thinking about?"
Clawing Shadow Weaver's face off. Jumping to her death. Mostly the latter. But Catra couldn't very well say that out loud. Turning back to the moons, she chose her words carefully. "Have you ever thought about what it would be like? To, you know…" It was too shameful to even say. "...disappear?"
She felt more than heard Adora broach the final few feet between them, her body disturbing the air currents and brushing lightly against the exposed fur on her upper arm as she sat beside her. An arm looped around her shoulders, pressing on the tender, burning skin beneath her shirt. Catra didn't even wince. Though she was extremely aware of her body's pain, she was completely numbed to it.
"You know as well as I do how dangerous it is out there," Adora said quietly.
Catra relaxed slightly under the weight of Adora's arm. It was better, letting her think that was what she meant. This wasn't Adora's burden to bear.
"Gotta be better than here," she muttered.
A gentle hand came to rest on Catra's thigh as Adora promised, "Look, I know things are hard right now, but one day this will all be over." Adora's thumb brushed the torn leggings almost absentmindedly. Catra could just hear the creases of determination in her face as she declared, "We'll be running this place, and everything we had to do to get there will be worth it."
Catra's throat throbbed, forcing her to swallow, but none of that pain manifested in her voice. It was as tired and flat as ever when she asked, "When, Adora?"
"I don't know," confessed Adora. "But I'm trying, I'm really trying." Her hand moved up to Catra's lap, taking one of hers and lacing their fingers together. Catra's glazed eyes dropped to take in the sight, creamy and caramel digits intertwined. It should have made her feel less lonely.
"Catra, please," begged Adora, squeezing her hand almost to the point of pain. "Don't leave. I don't know what I'd do without you."
"You'd be fine," Catra said to the sky. She wasn't even saying it because she felt sorry for herself, she said it because it was true. Adora didn't need her. She never had.
"No. I need you," insisted Adora. When Catra didn't answer, she changed tactics. Knocking their knees together, she said almost teasingly, "Come on, who else is gonna watch my back in squadron evaluations? Kyle?"
Oh, right. They were due to take on a sim room full of angry bots tomorrow. Catra's eyes fell shut with a sigh. She couldn't leave Adora to face that alone. She'd promised years ago to look out for Adora, she couldn't very well abandon her in a time of need. This would have to wait.
Steeling herself, Catra tried to dredge up some optimism from the depths of her battered soul. Maybe something would change one of these days. Maybe she would even be around to see it. She could try, for Adora.
"Okay," she said. "I'll stay." Tightening her grip on Adora's hand, she met her gaze and held it with conviction.
"I'll stay."
A strange sinking feeling overwhelms Catra. It's like she's being swallowed up by some kind of darkness, floating in the void. The only thing tethering her is Adora's grip, still so tight on her hand. Catra can't move, can't even open her eyes, it's like there's some kind of pressure pushing at her from all sides. The dark, crushing void could be frightening, should be frightening, but she's so tired. And something about it almost feels… peaceful, in a way.
"Please… please. Don't leave me."
The despairing words echo in Catra's ears, distorted and far too faint for how close Adora must be. The urge to frown builds in her paralyzed face, ears wanting to twitch in response. She was always weak for Adora's distress calls. It's her deepest instinct, to protect and comfort this girl who took her in so long ago, gave her hope when she felt so lost and alone. How did she ever think she could leave Adora behind?
She can't. She could never abandon Adora, leave her all alone in a cold, cruel world.
Besides, she said she'd stay. She promised to look out for her. So she fights to lift her leaden eyelids, move her fingers, anything so Adora knows.
She's not going anywhere.
*o*
Adora's eyes are all but glued shut, sodden lashes weighing down the lids. It does nothing to stop the tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. They must be mixing with the dried blood on Catra's hand, leaving smears on her cheek, but she doesn't care. Let the blood show how wounded she is, give voice to her grief. Her mental ailments are invisible, but more debilitating than any broken bone.
She feels like she's the one clinging to life.
A small twitch against her cheekbone makes her eyes pop open. They dart down to Catra's face, finding it still lifeless and unresponsive. The disappointment tempers the flare of hope in her chest, but can't extinguish it entirely.
"Catra?" she says quietly.
Another twitch. More fingers move this time, curling just a little against her cheek. Adora's stomach bucks, knocking the air from her lungs. She barely manages to whisper it one more time.
"Catra?"
It takes a few more seconds, but finally there's movement in Catra's face. Her placid expression turns pained, her eyelids fluttering. Finally they crack open just a smidge, pupils unfocused behind them.
Despite the elation rising in her chest, Adora's still holding her breath as she watches her dazed best friend regain consciousness. Entrapta said there could be brain damage. What if Catra isn't… Catra? Adora would still love her, she would, she always would, but she'd never be able to stop mourning this loss-
Catra's pupils converge, locking onto Adora with such intent it snaps that train of thought. Catra's lips twitch upwards, face and body relaxing under Adora's gaze.
"Hey, Adora," she croaks.
Gasping in relief, Adora gathers Catra into her arms and kisses her, heedless of the many sets of eyes around them. She'd been so scared she'd never get to do this again, she doesn't give a shit who's watching. Catra is apparently too stunned to respond, but it doesn't dampen Adora's spirits at all. She ends the kiss only to pull Catra into her chest in a crushing hug.
Catra splutters out a cough and Adora immediately realizes that probably wasn't the best idea. She loosens her embrace, though not her grip on the back of Catra's shirt. Still holding Catra's palm to her cheek, she eases her down onto her back again. When she looks up, she finds Catra wearing a hint of a smirk.
"Happy to see me?" she teases.
Something half sob, half laugh erupts from Adora's chest. "You have no idea."
The sight of Adora in pain slices through Catra's chest, makes her gut turn with the unpleasant and all too familiar sensation of guilt. She can distinguish it even past the sharp pain and crushing pressure on her abdomen. And thighs. She winces and squirms against the discomfort, squints down at Rogelio and Adora. Why are they kneeling on…
Her heart sinks, a chill passing over her as it all comes back to her. She had a relapse. They had a fight. She said…
That guilt strains and twists in Catra's gut, gnawing away at her insides as she refocuses on Adora's face, on the sorrow behind her smile and the solitary tear trailing down her cheek. Brushing it away with her thumb, Catra says, "Adora, I'm sorry."
"Yeah, you should be," Adora scolds her, lightly punching her arm. "You scared the shit out of me."
"Not for that." Catra swallows, stroking Adora's cheek again as if it can make up for all the pain she's put her through. "For what I said. It wasn't nothing, what she did. I shouldn't have…"
All the humor leaves Adora's face, leaving first pain and then determination in its place. "Don't worry about that right now," says Adora, her voice firm but full of affection. "Let's get you better, and then we'll talk about it."
Catra frowns, mouth opening to protest, but it falls shut again. She's too tired to argue.
"How're you feeling, Wildcat?" asks Scorpia. Catra grimaces with effort as her eyes struggle to lock in on the voice coming from her left. When she does, she finds Scorpia wearing a tight, tearful smile.
"Like shit," mutters Catra, eyes slipping shut with fatigue.
Adora's heart leaps against her ribcage at the apparent lapse. But then she sees Catra breathe, frown in thought, and that relief settles in again.
"Hurts," Catra elaborates, weakly gesturing down her body. "Sticky."
"Yeah, well, you lost a lot of blood," Scorpia tells her. Adora watches as her smile wavers, slips into an expression of dread. She swallows hard before revealing, "You could have died, Catra."
Catra's face doesn't change at all. Adora's gut lurches at the sight, slowly sinking the longer Catra fails to react. So that was what she wanted. To be gone.
Finally Catra murmurs, "Oh."
"Yeah, 'oh' is right," Scorpia scolds her with a scoff, but she brushes a pincer affectionately across Catra's forehead, pushing a stray lock of hair off the sweaty skin. "You're lucky we had donors available."
Catra's brow creases, her eyes still closed. "Donors?"
"For blood," says Scorpia. "Lonnie and Kyle, they saved you."
Confusion continues to addle Catra's brain, this time so striking her eyelids flutter open. Squinting at Scorpia, she asks, "Why would they save me? I was horrible to them."
"Because you're one of us," says Kyle. Following the voice, Catra finds him standing proud on his good leg behind his boyfriend, a bandage wrapped around his forearm. He smiles when she meets his gaze. "And you're our friend."
Catra shakes her head. "I'm a terrible friend."
"Sometimes," agrees a voice from her right. Lonnie.
Catra turns her head, bleary eyes seeking her out. When they come back into focus, she finds Lonnie sitting cross-legged with a blanket draped over her shoulders. Her arms are crossed but the affection in her eyes is unmistakable. Affection Catra doesn't deserve. The guilt from last night is burbling up in her gut again, the ache spreading into her chest and throat. She welcomed Lonnie to the Horde with a punch in the face. And Lonnie just saved her life.
Twitching her mouth as Catra continues to stare, Lonnie admits, "We all need work."
A sob escapes Catra's throat before she can stop it. "Lon…"
A smile equal parts warm and smug spreads across Lonnie's lips, and she reaches out to lay a hand on her shoulder. "Hey, Catra."
"I'm sorry," Catra chokes out.
"Shh, it's okay," Lonnie murmurs with a gentle squeeze.
"No, it's not. I… I shouldn't have hit you in the barracks. I shouldn't have treated you… I was a bad Force Captain. I-"
A hand claps over her mouth, stunning her into silence. Her bite reflex doesn't even surface.
Lonnie leans in, emphasizing every word as she says, "Catra. Shut the fuck up." Snorting as she removes her hand, she adds, "And for the record, you were a great Force Captain. A mean one, but that's to be expected."
Catra's gut turns, her eyes floating up to the ceiling. "I want you guys to expect better. I want to be better. I just don't know if I can."
A set of encouraging snorts brings her attention to Rogelio, to his steady eyes and hands as he continues to stem the flow of life from her body. He nods assuredly and she nods back. She can take the challenge. She can try.
Adora squeezes Catra's hand, pride and affection swirling around in her chest. She never wanted to see Catra this broken, but if Catra wants to take some kind of personal growth motivation from this horrible incident, Adora's certainly not going to stop her.
Catra's ear flicks suddenly, her eyes narrowed but alert. "Someone's coming."
"Healers from the city," explains Lonnie. "They're gonna stitch you up."
"Cool," mutters Catra, head lazily turning her way. Suddenly she squints, her eyes flicking between Lonnie and Rogelio. "Uh, why are you guys in your underwear? You weren't fucking over my dying body, were you?"
Adora snorts. She can't help it, hand flying to her mouth in a pathetic attempt to stifle it. Okay, Catra's back. She's going to be fine.
Lonnie directs a glare at Adora before turning it on Catra. "We used our clothes as bandages," she says flatly. "You're welcome."
"Convenient excuse," muses Catra, chapped lips cracking as she grins.
"Hey," snaps Kyle, hopping closer and steadying himself on Rogelio's shoulder. He pulls his shoulders back, making a truly pathetic attempt at an intimidating scowl. "That's my boyfriend's honor you're messing with, missy. So cut it out."
"Missy?" Catra throws her head back, that sweet cackle Adora loves so much filling the air. "Oh gods, Kyle's grown a pair. What ever will I do?"
Rogelio leans harder on her stomach and Catra gasps, face twisting in pain. "Ow, ow! Okay, I'll stop!"
He relents, but not before giving her a quiet warning growl. As he settles back on her thigh and she struggles to catch her breath, a pathetic little whimper breaks in her throat.
Adora punches Rogelio's arm, hard. "Hel, she's hurt!"
Still panting and wincing, Catra manages a chuckle. "S'okay, Adora. Deserved that."
"Damn right," mutters Lonnie, reaching out to wipe away the sweat glistening on Catra's brow. "You're an asshole."
Catra's latest chuckle comes out half wheeze. "All part of my charm, dipshit."
In the silence that follows, the approaching wheels and footsteps are finally loud enough for everyone to hear. Moments later two healers round the corner, rolling a stretcher along with them. One of them winces sheepishly and says, "Our apologies, Princess Entrapta. We got a little lost."
"That happens," Catra says dryly, culling surprised snorts from Scorpia and Adora.
"I'm sorry, I made the directions as clear as possible, but these halls are designed to disorient intruders," explains Entrapta. She frowns, a lock of hair tapping her chin. "I really didn't think that through, did I?"
"No trouble at all, your highness," says the other healer. Nodding at Catra, he assures them, "We'll take her from here."
Relieving Adora and Rogelio of their duties, the healers get Catra situated on the stretcher and wind heavy duty compression wraps around her thighs and another around her abdomen. It makes breathing a bit of an issue, though not much more than with Adora and Rogelio squishing her. Once they've got her wounds packed, they assure her that everything's under control and they'll be right back. A moment later she hears them asking Entrapta about the incident and her treatment so far.
Ears straying from that boring conversation, Catra catches another over by where she woke up.
"Need some help, there?" asks Scorpia.
Grunting with effort, Lonnie answers, "Nah, I'm good. Just a little dizzy."
"I insist," says Scorpia, followed by a small grunt of her own as she hoists Lonnie onto her feet. "There you go."
"Thanks," mutters Lonnie.
"No, thank you," Scorpia says in that disgustingly sincere way of hers. "You saved my best friend's life."
There's a few footsteps, but suddenly they stop.
"Hey, listen, Scorpia," Lonnie begins, her voice uncharacteristically nervous. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry, about yesterday. Your girlfriend's not crazy. She's brilliant, actually. A little different, but… I get what you see in her."
"W-well gosh, thank you." Scorpia's stumbling over her words in a very familiar way; Catra can just imagine the way she's flailing her claws as she grasps for words. "But you already apologized for that, you didn't need to again."
"I was apologizing for saying it," Lonnie clarifies, the shame evident in her voice. "Now I'm sorry I even thought it."
"Aw, well that's okay, buddy," says Scorpia. "I mean, don't do it again, but I know you didn't mean any harm."
Lonnie's strained chuckle lands hard in Catra's chest, making her frown. "Right, of course not," she says.
Catra doesn't get a chance to puzzle out that weirdly loaded interaction before Adora's stepping into view and completely stealing her attention. Smiling shyly, she takes Catra's hand and says, "Hey, you."
"Hey," answers Catra, wincing at how weak and gravelly her voice sounds. Clearing her throat, she tries to keep the pleading out of her eyes and voice as she asks, "Coming with me?"
"You kidding?" scoffs Adora. "I almost lost you. I'm not letting you out of my sight."
A warmth floods Catra's chest, spreading up her neck and into her cheeks as she relaxes back against the stretcher. Ducking her face into her shoulder, she plays off the obvious blush with a snort. "Always the control freak."
Adora's cheeks tighten with a fond smile as she looks down on the wounded Magicat. Her free hand moves of its own volition, reaching out to brush away some stray hairs plastered to Catra's brow. It rakes back through her mane on the way to scratch behind her ear, which makes Catra's eyes fall shut and a quiet purr rumble out from her chest.
The sound is perhaps the most soothing melody Adora knows, but even it can't quiet her mind. There are too many unanswered questions bouncing around in there, one in particular. She slides her hand down to Catra's cheek, resulting in a disgruntled mrp. Catra's eyelids squeak open enough to level a glare at her that's somehow just as terrifying as it is adorable, but Adora doesn't give in. She needs to know.
Brushing her thumb back and forth through Catra's cheek fur, she quietly asks, "Were you trying to kill yourself?"
Catra deflates, eyes darting away in a way that makes Adora's throat ache. "I don't know," she whispers hoarsely. "I just wanted everything to stop."
The sincerity is evident in her weak voice and wilted posture, in her vacant eyes. Adora couldn't not believe her if she tried. Besides, she wants to. Exhaling in relief, she trails her fingers down to Catra's chin, turning her face to meet her gaze.
"Catra, if you ever feel that way again, I want you to tell me," she says firmly. "Even if I'm mad at you. If you can't tell me, tell someone else. You're not alone. We all want you around."
Sighing, Catra acquiesces with a nod. "Okay."
"You don't have to hurt yourself to make it stop." Adora frowns. "Not that bad, anyway."
"I was feeling extra destructive," mutters Catra. Her mouth twitches with a shrug. "Like I deserved it."
"You have already had so much more pain than you deserve," Adora states with absolute certainty. Catra's doubtful scoff is like a kick to the gut, hurtful in more ways than she could possibly know. Glaring down at her, Adora protests, "It hurts the people who love you too, you know. If you can't stop for you, stop for me."
Catra's lips part with a droll chuckle, eyes glinting. "Adora, you idiot. You're the reason I stopped in the first place."
Adora's eyes narrow and Catra can't help but laugh, choking out a painful chuckle. Adora's failing badly at suppressing a smile of her own, but her eyes are still completely serious. Pulling their linked hands to her chest, she demands, "Promise me you won't do it again."
Catra sighs. Adora has no idea. But she means well.
"I can't," Catra answers honestly. "But I'll try." Watching as Adora's face falls with dismay, she rubs her thumb over the back of her hand. "I promise I won't do it like this, okay? I never want to see that look on your face again."
Adora swallows and nods. That's good enough. It'll have to be.
"Okay," she says.
Catra shifts, eyes slipping shut as she nuzzles into Adora's palm. "M'tired," she murmurs. Eyelids cracking open a little, her hand flexes in Adora's grasp. "Don't leave."
Smiling down at her, Adora traces her thumb over Catra's lips before moving her hand back behind her ear to resume scritching. As those quiet purrs start up again, she gazes at Catra with unguarded affection. Her heart aches, bursting with love and sorrow alike.
"Wouldn't dream of it."
A/N: Giving blood is not usually so traumatic, fyi, but this was a speed-first operation. Don't let it dissuade you from saving lives. :)
Sorry not sorry for that terrible reveal at the very end of the flashback, but I live for the pain.
That being said, this chapter concludes this particularly painful arc of the story. For the most part it's going to be uphill from here. Obviously trauma still rears its head, but the ways in which they deal with it continue to improve. I'm looking forward to adding some hope to this vast landscape of bleakness.
