A/N: CONTENT WARNING for blood and mentions of self harm/attempted suicide.
Catra gets plenty of visitors over the next couple days. Scorpia develops a habit of popping in every few hours to ask if she needs anything and to study her with sad, scared eyes. (Adora informs her this was going on her first day in the infirmary as well, but Catra was sleeping for so much of it she barely noticed.) The squad comes by that second morning and Lonnie returns again the third morning, joining one of Scorpia's hovering sessions. She hangs back and tries to look only vaguely concerned, but Catra's known Lonnie long enough to recognize her guard dog mode. It's comforting, truthfully, but she'll never admit that out loud.
Even Entrapta checks in a couple times, calling from where she's working under the belly of their new tank. She gives enthusiastic, unsolicited updates on her progress with the vehicle, but Catra's happy to listen so long as she can get Entrapta to use layman's terms. She's still technically running Dryl's defenses and needs to stay abreast of any developments, despite Adora's insistence that she rest. Her brain is definitely a bit foggy from the painkillers and general fatigue of recovering from a major injury, but she doesn't admit that either.
Adora's there with her most of the time too, of course, whenever she's not eating or training or helping with stuff around the castle so she doesn't feel like deadweight. The healers allowed her to sleep in Catra's bed, apparently wary of arguing with She-Ra. It's only on Catra's third afternoon in the infirmary that Adora is finally pulled away for a significant period of time. Their post-lunch Go Fish battle is interrupted by the ringing of her tablet, a call from Bow to help drive the Horde out of Thaymor again. Why anyone still lives in that doomed border town, Catra has no idea.
"Are you sure it's okay?" Adora asks Catra as she tidies up the cards, eyes full of earnest concern.
"Adora, I'll be fine," Catra groans, exasperated. "I can handle being alone for a few hours."
"No, I know you're fine," clarifies Adora, holding her gaze and lifting a placating hand. "I meant is it okay that I'm leaving you to go help Bow and Glimmer? I don't want you to take this the wrong way."
Catra's gut tightens, but she ignores it. "It's part of the deal," she deflects, waving this off. "They protect us, we protect them. Tit for tat."
Adora stares at her with those big sincere eyes, searching for any sign to the contrary. Catra refuses to give anything away. Despite her personal feelings about Adora's Bright Moon friends, she's well versed in diplomacy and all too familiar with the necessity of compromise. Besides, she knows Adora is itching to get back on good terms with the Alliance. And if she's being totally honest, she knows her jealous tendencies aren't exactly healthy, and she's trying to do better. If she can't move past said tendencies, whatever, at least she can acknowledge them. Baby steps.
The problem right now is that if she admits it bothers her, Adora will probably refuse to go. That could prove disastrous in the long run, for the fledgling alliance and their relationship.
Finding Adora's hand, Catra gives it a reassuring squeeze. "Look, I don't need your help right now, but other people do. Not even Bow and Glimmer, the civilians they're protecting. Go."
The tension bleeds out of Adora's shoulders, a small smile turning her lips. "Okay," she says. "I love you."
Hesitating just a second, Adora leans in and kisses Catra's forehead before turning to leave. She waves on her way out the door, and Catra waves back. Then her hand falls to her lap, the smile slipping off her face as it succumbs to the gnawing feeling in her gut.
It's not even that she's jealous, or at least not just that. Adora said the other night that Catra's her person, and Catra believes her. She's not afraid of losing that spot in Adora's life, not really. Adora's ceaseless devotion after all they've been through suggests she's pretty secure in it, in fact. Logically, she knows there's no reason to be anxious. Unfortunately, her gut doesn't seem to have gotten the memo.
Will watching Adora walk away from her ever stop feeling like a summons to the Black Garnet chamber?
Ugh, she's just tired. Restless. Of course she's not thinking straight. She's been cooped up in here for days and a creature like her is not designed for captivity, nor being indoors. The healers say it's better for her to rest as she recovers, but she's so used to being thrown right back into training after an injury. It doesn't feel right, lying around and waiting for things to improve. With nothing and no one to distract her, those old familiar taunts start cycling through her head again, in an old familiar voice.
Lazy… worthless… weak…
The words don't cut deep the way they usually do. Instead they pressly dully on her psyche, making her constantly aware of their weight. She's not sure which is worse. At first it was a relief, the way the painkillers seem to numb the edges of her dreams and memories, and emotions in general. But now she finds herself kind of missing the sharpness, in a way. It's what she's used to, and she knows how to handle it. Catching mere glimpses of her lurking demons is much more ominous than facing them head on. That flimsy barrier is barely keeping them at bay, and she needs to be prepared when it breaks.
That's not the only reason the side effects make her nervous, either. With the impacts on her mind and body, she can't help but wonder if the drugs were prescribed first and foremost to make her cooperate, rather than dull her pain. Were that the case, she'd choose to endure the pain just to feel like herself, every single time. Isn't that what she was doing all those years with Shadow Weaver?
Shaking those thoughts from her head, she shuffles around in search of the remote to adjust the bed. She might as well get in a nap now that she's got some time alone, without Adora's neediness or Scorpia's hovering draining her energy faster than she can recover. As much as she resents her current lethargy, an afternoon nap is a luxury she's had few chances to indulge in throughout her life. Might as well take advantage of the shitty situation.
She's still fruitlessly digging in the nest of blankets when her ear flicks, picking up incoming footsteps. It's one of the healers, she recognizes his relaxed, lumbering gait. Thank Hordak he's not whistling this time, it makes her want to rip her eardrums out.
Catra sits back with a scowl, abandoning her mission for the time being. It's only a moment before the young man pokes his head around the doorframe, flashing a smile in greeting. She twitches her mouth half-heartedly in return. These people are helping her, she figures she might as well try to be polite.
"Hello, Catra," he says, stepping into the room. Nodding down at the tray of supplies in his grasp, he adds, "Figured I'd change your bandages now, that okay?"
"You guys don't usually do that until later," she remarks.
"Yeah, but with She-Ra gone I thought now might be a good time. I know you don't like people seeing you indisposed."
Catra bristles. "You don't know anything about me."
"It wasn't an insult," he clarifies, raising an eyebrow. "There's nothing wrong with being a private person."
Shrugging this off with a huff, Catra gestures at her wounds. "Whatever, you're here. Might as well do it."
"That's the spirit," he says, and she barely refrains from rolling her eyes. She barely refrains from kicking him out of her fucking room. Catra can only handle so much obnoxious positivity, and Scorpia has that well in hand.
Laying the tray down on her bedside table, he asks, "Can I flatten the bed?"
"No," she snaps. It's not even a question. Supposedly it makes it easier for them to work by adding tension to the skin, but she doesn't need to feel any more defenseless than she already does.
This healer doesn't argue, unlike the others. He just shrugs and snaps on some gloves, asks her to adjust the blankets and gown so he can get at her thighs. Catra complies without protest or even discomfort. A bit of casual nudity is nothing after the Horde communal showers, and she's wearing underwear anyway.
No, the discomfort only seeps in once he's gotten to work, intently studying the wounds on her left leg as he peels the bandage back, carefully mopping up some fresh blood from one of the deeper gouges. Obviously she hates being helpless under someone else's hand, not to mention being reminded of her physical incapacity. But it's the earnestness with which he works that bothers her most. She's not used to being taken care of.
Said discomfort turns physical when he starts dabbing the cuts with disinfectant. Catra grimaces, mostly in surprise, but he notices.
"You in much pain?" he asks.
"I wasn't, until you did that."
"Sorry," he says, smirking sheepishly. "We started reducing your dosage this morning so you can start feeling a little more like yourself."
Well, thank Hordak for that. About bloody time.
Catra shrugs impassively. "S'fine. Went through way worse on the weekly back in the Horde."
He smiles at her, though it's forced and honestly looks more like a grimace. Like barely disguised pity. "I think you'll find we're not the Horde."
"No shit, genius," she grumbles.
The guy snorts under his breath, shaking his head as he goes back to work, annoyingly unfazed. "Okay."
There's just enough sass in his tone to raise Catra's eyebrows. She watches him silently for a minute before speaking up again. "So when are you guys gonna let me out? No offense, but it's kinda boring here, and I've got shit to do in the castle."
The healer pauses, his mouth opening, but then he hesitates. Catra's heart stutters in its cage. "What?" she demands, sitting up taller and squinting down at her wounds. "Am I getting worse?"
He clears his throat, resuming his work. "No."
"Then what?"
Finishing up the last cuts on that thigh, he smooths a clean dressing over the area and presses down gently with his hand. "Your physical condition is steadily improving, Catra. That's not what concerns us."
Her shoulders tense, eyes narrowing accusingly. "What exactly are you saying?"
"I'm saying that we want to keep you here for observation until we're certain there's been an improvement in your mental health."
"What's that?"
He chuckles, smirking back at Catra. But when her deadpan expression fails to crack, the mirth drops off his face. "Wait, are you serious?"
Shoulders curling forward, Catra blinks away. "Arrow Boy said something about it once, didn't explain it."
"Wow, okay," he says almost under his breath. Then, louder, "Uh, I'm referring to your state of mind."
Catra bristles, the hackles starting to rise on her neck. "I don't see how that's any of your fucking business," she all but hisses.
He bobs his head as though this is reasonable. Grabbing an elastic bandage from his tray, he starts to loosely wrap the dressing to her thigh. "Healers - or the good ones, at least - don't just treat wounds. We try to take a more holistic approach, prevent future harm by addressing the root cause of an injury."
A pit opens in Catra's stomach, her innards sliding down, down, down. Chuckling through her sudden unease, she deflects, "So, what? You're gonna declaw me?"
There's that smile/grimace again. Catra's gut gurgles in protest before he even opens his mouth. "You're clearly a person who's carrying a lot of pain-"
"Oh, fuck off," she huffs, falling back against the bed.
"-and has some serious issues with disordered thinking. And you're not alone," he rushes on, "it's extremely common for folks who escaped from the Horde. War, indoctrination, abuse, it all adds up to some serious trauma, and many people feel after leaving the Horde that they haven't actually escaped it. Like they'll never escape it, like even trying is hopeless."
Catra can't breathe. Those words drove a stake straight through her heart, a searing pain paralyzing her lungs just as effectively as Hordak's terrifying contraption. She stares straight back at the healer, frozen in the light of these undeniable truths, in the mortifying ordeal of being seen. How can he know? Is she really not so alone in these feelings? Her eyes begin to sting but she still can't look away in this haze of panic.
"But you can get better, you know," he adds gently. "Healers across Etheria have seen good results with the rare defectors who are willing to challenge those negative thought patterns and try to create better ones."
Catra can't help thinking this is probably bullshit, based on the reception she and even Adora got in Bright Moon, but she has bigger fish to fry. "Create better ones?" she snarks. "Wow. You idiots think you can wave a magic wand and erase someone's whole life?"
"No, not at all," he parries. "But there are some healers who specialize in psychiatric illnesses - mental health problems, that is - and they can certainly help. We have one here in Dryl. We won't feel comfortable releasing you until she gives us the okay, and we're going to try to match you up with a therapist to oversee your care after your release."
"What the fuck is a therapist?" she demands suspiciously.
"They aren't healers in quite the same way," he says cautiously, "but they're trained to help people improve their mental health by talking them through their disordered thought patterns and the trauma that caused them."
"Oh hell no," says Catra, shaking her head sharply. "I don't want to talk about that stuff."
When she dares to glance back up, she finds a look almost like disappointment on his face, one that makes her squirm with ill ease. Ugh, why does she care what this asshole thinks? She doesn't even know him. And despite what he may think, he sure as fuck doesn't know her either.
Tossing her hands in the air, she protests, "Whatever, there's nothing to talk about anyway. Shit happened, so what? We can't undo it, so what's the point?"
His head tips slightly as he measures his words. "You can't change what happened to you, true, but you can change your perception of it," he says slowly.
"I don't think so. Remembering this shit only ever makes me feel worse." Gesturing listlessly at her wounds, she grumbles, "How do you think I ended up like this in the first place?"
This time it's his eyes that flit away, but not before Catra can see the sadness in them. And she hates it. What reason does he have to be sad? Seriously, what right does he have to be sad about some shit that happened to a random soldier? It's her pain, not his, or Adora's, or Scorpia's. All everyone wants is to take her pain away, but they have no claim to it. It's hers. It is her. She is her pain, she doesn't even know who she'd be without it. People being sad for her just feels like they wish she could be someone else. Someone better, someone not so broken. Someone who doesn't exist.
"I'm opting out of this bullshit," she declares, swiping at her traitorous brimming eyes. "Gonna call Entrapta and tell her I want out of this place, today." She reaches for her tablet, stretching to reach over his tray of supplies.
The healer shakes his head, eyes still downcast. "We won't keep you here against your will, Catra. We've been told that would be even worse for your mental health, given your history."
Thunking the tablet back down on the bedside table, she turns to him with a glare. "Great, what the fuck else has Adora told you?"
"It was Princess Entrapta, actually," he clarifies, mouth twitching into a half smirk as he meets her gaze. "She said based on the data available concerning your childhood, locking you up in an attempt to protect you would be counterproductive."
Catra scoffs. "Well at least someone around here has half a brain."
"But she supports our plan to move forward with mental health interventions, as does Princess Scorpia," he adds pointedly. "Like me and the rest of the team, they're concerned that if this goes unchecked you'll try to kill yourself again."
"I wasn't…" Catra cuts that protest off with a sigh, hand falling to her lap mid gesture. "It's not that simple."
He quirks an eyebrow. "Sounds like maybe you do have things to talk about."
Catra's eyes narrow. "I can barely even talk to Adora about it, how am I supposed to talk to some stranger?"
"Most people find it easier, speaking to a neutral third party," he shrugs. "You don't have to worry about upsetting them or causing problems in your relationship."
"We're not in a relationship," Catra corrects him quickly.
"I meant that word in a more general sense," he clarifies, though he barely tries to suppress his smirk. Catra rolls her eyes and pointedly ignores him as he leans over her, starting on her other leg.
The reprieve from irritating jackasses doesn't last long, sadly. He's about halfway through cleaning her stomach when Lonnie wanders in.
"'Sup, bitch?" she greets Catra with a grin.
"Not much, dipshit. You?"
Lonnie gives a casual shrug in reply as she comes closer. Peeking over the healer's shoulder at the damage, she grimaces theatrically. "Yeeesh. I know you always prided yourself on your shredded abs, Catra, but this is getting excessive."
The healer snorts under his breath but Catra just rolls her eyes. "Hardy har har. That's an Adora joke."
"I know, I'm sad she missed it."
"I'm sure you'll tell her all about it, finger guns and all."
The healer finishes up quickly and gathers his garbage, tossing it in the trash and retrieving his tray. Pausing briefly, he raises his eyebrows and holds Catra's gaze. "Think about it, okay? It could really help you."
"What would really help me is if you fuckers all minded your own business," she deadpans, raising her own eyebrows in mockery.
He snorts, meeting her with equal sass. "If you say so." Giving her one last smirk, he turns and leaves her in arguably even worse hands.
As his retreating footsteps echo down the hall, Lonnie steps closer, a curious squint wrinkling her brow. "What's he talking about?"
"Nothing," Catra dismisses quickly. She settles on the first subject change she can think of. "So why're you back so soon? Don't tell me you actually care."
Lonnie scoffs. "Hardly. We brought Kyle to get his leg looked at. It was boring, what can I say?"
"Rogelio doesn't need you for that," Catra comments, eyes narrowing. "He can bridal carry his little boyfriend all day long."
"Yeah, I guess I came for moral support." Lonnie shrugs, eyes flitting away.
"Riiiight. Because moral support is wandering off when you're bored. Obviously."
"Fine," huffs Lonnie, crossing her arms, "I wanted to see you."
"Alone," observes Catra. Lonnie doesn't deny it. "What's going on?"
"Nothing. I'm fine. I just-" Groaning loudly, Lonnie smacks her own face and digs her nails into her forehead. "Ugh, I'm sorry, okay? I was a dick."
"That's just business as usual," remarks Catra, eyebrow sky high.
"You're one to talk," Lonnie fires back.
"Not arguing that," says Catra. Relaxing back against the bed with a smirk, she adds, "Please, continue."
"Forget it," mutters Lonnie.
As she starts to turn away, Catra's eyes roll back in her skull. "Lonnie."
"What?" she growls over her shoulder.
"I'll stop, okay?" sighs Catra. "Just, tell me what you're talking about."
Lonnie turns, squinting in surprise. "Isn't it obvious?" Her tone gets lower, rougher as she spells out, "I said you were like Shadow Weaver."
Catra's stomach tightens, wriggles uncomfortably at the reminder of Lonnie's accusation. And its truth. And boy, it is tempting to rub Lonnie's face in her shame, but Catra can't help feeling bad for her either. Her compassion beats out her pettiness, barely, and she dismisses the confession with a scoff and a casual shrug. "I have my moments."
Head shaking sharply, Lonnie counters, "Shadow Weaver was mean because she got off on it. You're not like that." She snorts under her breath. "Not usually, anyway."
Stomach turning yet again, Catra squints at her squadmate. She can't even tell if that last sentence was entirely serious. She can't help fearing it was. Breaking the tension with a smirk, she jokes, "This is your version of an apology?"
Lonnie sighs in exasperation, dropping down into Adora's chair. "Are you even capable of having a serious conversation?"
"Yeah, I just hate it," Catra says frankly. Lonnie rolls her eyes and she finds herself mirroring the gesture. "It's something I'm working on, okay? It's hard enough with Adora, let alone anyone else."
"I'd think it'd be harder with Adora," remarks Lonnie, eyebrows arching. "She's intense."
Catra scoffs. "Tell me about it."
Lonnie shuffles, clearing her throat as she idly scratches her neck. Eyes glued to the floor, she mutters, "Look, Catra. I know we don't always get along and all, but it'd really suck if you died. So, don't do that, okay?"
Eyelids fluttering, Catra shakes her head sharply. "What?"
"Ugh, you're important to me, okay? Don't make me say it again."
"No, I mean…" Catra sighs, dragging a frustrated hand through her hair, "ugh, why does everyone assume I was trying to kill myself?"
Lonnie's brow creases. Head bobbing from side to side, she remarks, "I mean, no offense, but you've been a little…" She wobbles her hand back and forth.
"Don't finish that sentence," Catra interrupts sharply.
Shrugging demonstratively, Lonnie takes a different tack. "You gotta admit, it looked that way."
Catra snorts. "I wouldn't have minded, to be honest," she admits, sinking back against the bed, "but it wasn't on purpose."
"You still hurt yourself on purpose," counters Lonnie. "And look, I can't pretend I get why, but if you were punishing yourself over something I said…"
"It's a lot more complicated than that," Catra cuts in automatically. Her first impulse is to deny her vulnerability, always. But Lonnie's looking at her so openly, her own armor already discarded at her feet. And she looks… disappointed, almost. Catra can't imagine why you'd want someone to acknowledge the pain you've caused them. Maybe to absolve your guilt. Maybe just for the assurance that you're even capable of hurting them. That you matter to them.
Catra squirms, her deepest instincts fighting against her, but she acknowledges Lonnie's point with a grimace. "But you're right, the things you said… didn't help."
Lonnie's mouth twitches guiltily. "I guess you're not the only one who lashes out when you feel attacked. Sorry."
"I know," Catra assures her.
Lonnie gives a weak smile in reply, eyes bouncing away, and Catra's stomach aches. She knows what Lonnie wanted to hear, but she finds accepting apologies just as awkward as giving them. It too requires a certain level of vulnerability. But after all the shit that's gone down between her and Lonnie, it's the least Catra can do. When Entrapta said it, it helped her. Might as well pass it on.
"I, uh…" Catra coughs against the sudden tightness in her throat, "I forgive you."
Head snapping back her way, Lonnie stares at Catra, apparently just as shocked as her. Shaking it off, she replies, "And I forgive you for punching me when I first got to the Fright Zone. I don't think I said that the other day, when you apologized."
Catra blinks. "I apologized?"
"Yeah, after you woke up in the gym. You don't remember?"
"Bits and pieces? I was pretty out of it." Her eyelids flutter as she recalls the muddy memories. "I remember teasing you and Hel, and him shutting me up. Scorpia freaking out and fawning all over me. Oh, and you apologizing to her for being a bitch about Entrapta."
"What about Adora kissing you in front of everybody?" Lonnie interjects.
"Oh, yeah," mutters Catra, cheeks flaring up. "That too."
"Gross," huffs Lonnie. "You're lucky I didn't hurl all over you. Hadn't had breakfast yet."
Squinting, Catra studies Lonnie closely. There's something there, beyond the feigned disgust. Lonnie's squirming subtly in her chair, fidgeting, and if Catra's not mistaken there's also a hint of a blush reddening her darker skin. She looks legitimately uncomfortable. Embarrassed, even. But why would she be embarrassed by-
Suddenly, several previously unrelated pieces of evidence snap together in Catra's mind. Lonnie asking about Scorpia back in the Horde, making fun of Entrapta, poking at the holes in their relationship, being grossed out by their PDA. Catra didn't think much of it at the time because Lonnie always acts grossed out by that stuff, but come to think of it Lonnie had no way of knowing Scorpia and Entrapta had become a thing before she got here. She was probably surprised. She was probably expecting something different…
A vicious, triumphant grin crawls onto Catra's lips. "So, you gonna tell me what's going on with you and Scorpia?"
Lonnie visibly startles. "What're you talking about?" Catra's smirk only grows smugger and she sputters, "What, I show up here with her once and you think we're best friends or something?"
"Yeah, that's clearly what you're after."
Lonnie's face and voice darken. "Catra."
Unfortunately for her, Catra has way too much experience ignoring that tone of voice. Far from being deterred, she openly laughs in her face. "What, you're telling me there's no reason you get so awkward around her? Make fun of her girlfriend? Blush when you talk about her?"
"I would shut up right now if I were you," threatens Lonnie.
"Oh, would you?"
Lonnie nods, eyes roaming pointedly over Catra's injuries. "So many cuts for me to punch, no blonde bodyguard to stop me."
Catra calls her bluff easily, shaking her head. "You wouldn't. You already feel bad about this."
"Watch me, asshole," growls Lonnie, leaning forward and cocking a fist. Catra doesn't even make a move to defend herself. She just raises her eyebrows, daring Lonnie to make good on that threat.
Guilt and anger war within Lonnie's expression, a clear clash between her pride and her loyalty. It takes several seconds, but that bubbling rage fizzles out and she drops her hand, sinking back into the chair. "You are fucking infuriating."
"I know." Catra throws her head back and cackles. "Man, I wish I'd gotten to see you with a crush in the Horde. It's hilarious."
"Trust me, it gets old," huffs Lonnie.
"Is that a shot?"
"Better believe it is. The two of you were nauseating, good gods." Groaning loudly, Lonnie slaps both hands over her face. It's clearly due more to her lingering embarrassment than her supposed disgust, but there's no need to humiliate her further. Catra's already won, and they have more important things to discuss.
Leaning forward, Catra peers closely at her oldest frenemy, her bitter rival, her stalwart ally. "Lonnie?"
"What?" she growls, face still buried in her hands.
"Scorpia's like the nicest person I've ever met."
Lonnie scoffs, finally looking up just so Catra can see her rolling eyes. "Great, is this the shovel talk?"
Catra presses on, unfazed. "She gives a lot of love, and she needs a lot back. Poor woman got stuck with me and Entrapta, we're not exactly… in touch with our feelings."
"You don't say," deadpans Lonnie.
"You're a good friend, Lonnie," Catra declares quietly, holding her gaze with a rare sincerity. "You're really good at taking care of people. Scorpia could use someone like that. As a friend or whatever, I dunno. Just, please don't hurt her."
Squinting in surprise, Lonnie tells her, "I don't plan on it."
"It's rarely planned." Half waving a tired hand, Catra grumbles, "Just look at me and Adora."
Lonnie snorts. "I'd rather not."
It's difficult not to crack a smile, and Lonnie flashes one back at her. For a moment the connection feels nice, but it quickly grows overwhelming. Catra finds her eyes fleeing within seconds, her body shifting restlessly.
"Hey, uh, I think I'm gonna take a nap now," she mutters, scratching behind her ear.
"Recovery's a bitch, huh?" remarks Lonnie.
Catra scoffs as she adjusts her pillow. Resuming her search for the remote, she retorts, "More like I'm drugged up and dealing with your ilk is exhausting."
"I live to serve." Lonnie shifts in her seat, but rather than getting up she pulls her tablet out of her jacket and settles in deeper.
Remote finally in hand, Catra stares at her incredulously as she begins tapping and scrolling. "You're not gonna go chase down your lady love?"
Shrugging nonchalantly, Lonnie answers without looking up. "Eh, she's bound to come around sooner or later to wring her claws over you some more. Might as well wait here."
Eyes narrowing, Catra tells her, "I don't need a bodyguard, you know. The person most likely to kill me around here is you."
"I know you don't," says Lonnie, meeting her gaze. She smirks. "But it'll look good when she comes around if I'm here watching over you, right?"
Catra snickers. "So this has nothing to do with how I'm important to you, huh?"
Hardening her face slightly, Lonnie raises an eyebrow. "Or I could always leave. You know, if you prefer." She holds Catra's gaze in a silent standoff for a moment before shrugging, moving her hands to the arms of the chair.
She's just pushing herself to her feet when Catra gives in with a huff. "Whatever, knock yourself out. Stay, if you want to."
"Do you want me to?" asks Lonnie. There's a noticeable sincerity in her tone, despite her teasing smirk.
"Not if you're gonna keep being a dick about it," deadpans Catra.
Chuckling, Lonnie drops back into the chair. "Scandalous. You actually like having me around?"
"It's nice having a visitor who isn't so intense all the fucking time," grouses Catra. That half confession is all Lonnie's gonna get. "Don't get me wrong, I love Adora, but she stresses me out. Don't even get me started on Scorpia." When Lonnie doesn't reply, she glances over and sees her squadmate grinning at her in a very unsettling manner. "What?"
Lonnie smirks, eyebrows sky high. "Don't get you wrong but you what, now?"
"I-" What Catra just said doesn't dawn on her so much as smack her upside the head. She pinches her brow. "Shit."
Lonnie snorts. "Don't tell me this is some big revelation."
"It's not something I ever say out loud," Catra says into her hand, fingers fruitlessly rubbing at the sudden tension in her forehead.
"Why not?"
"I dunno."
Scoffing loudly, Lonnie tosses a hand in the air. "Well no wonder Adora's so on edge. Look, I know you're scared, but you know how fragile her ego is."
Catra hisses. "I'm not scared."
"Great, then you should tell her," Lonnie says flatly.
"Says you," snarks Catra.
"Scorpia has a girlfriend, Adora is your girlfriend," argues Lonnie. "Big difference."
Heat floods Catra's face, spilling into her cheeks. "She's not-"
"I swear to Hordak, if I hear either of you say that one more time I'm throwing myself out a fucking window," growls Lonnie. "You two are so fucking dramatic, just bone already! Spare the rest of us the saga."
"Hey, we tried, okay?"
Lonnie's demeanor flips in an instant. Her eyebrows arch, ears all but perking up in interest. Oh that was a bad, bad slip of the tongue.
Still battling that blush, Catra waves her off. "Long story." When this appears to have no impact on Lonnie whatsoever, she points out, "You just said you don't wanna hear about it."
"No, I said you should get on with it. Now spill."
Arms crossing defensively over her chest, Catra huffs, "It's none of your business."
"You made it my fucking business," insists Lonnie. "I've had a front row seat to your bullshit for thirteen years, the least you could do is tell me about the good parts."
Scowling down at her lap, Catra weighs her options. Lonnie is not someone you want to get a whiff of your weaknesses, years of experience have taught her that. But she doesn't get the vibe this time that Lonnie intends to use it against her, either. If anything, she seems genuinely interested, even if it's mostly morbid curiosity.
Yeah, Lonnie actually does care… to some degree, anyway. If she didn't, she wouldn't ask.
"Okay, whatever, it's not like it was a big deal anyway," Catra grumbles, relaxing her shoulders with an exaggerated shrug. "It was in Bright Moon, right before Princess Sparklebutt locked me up."
"And, what?" Lonnie blinks bewilderedly. "You can't pick up where you left off?"
Fiddling with the blanket in her lap, Catra mutters, "That's not why I stopped."
"You stopped?"
"Yeah, I…" Weight shifting as her eyes dart away, Catra mumbles, "I'm weird about being touched." She snorts inwardly. "Even by Adora, apparently."
"Pfft," Lonnie waves this off, "sure didn't look that way this morning, snugglebun."
Shooting her a glare, Catra flips her off with both hands. Lonnie only reacts with a chuckle, of course. She enjoys the casual hostility as much as Catra.
Grasping at the shreds of her dignity, Catra protests through yet another blush, "It's different, when it's like that. You know." Lonnie's eyes drop, followed by Catra's jaw. "Wait, have you never-"
"I could have," Lonnie cuts her off sharply. "I was just too busy keeping the four of you alive."
"Huh," grunts Catra, brow furrowing as she studies her squadmate. "Wouldn't have guessed."
"It was very against the rules, if you recall," Lonnie says pointedly. "I didn't really see the point." She shrugs. "If you're gonna do it, might as well be with someone who's worth getting in trouble for."
Sensing a chance to turn the tables yet again, Catra leans in and flashes a vicious grin. "Are you secretly a romantic, Lonnie?"
"Shut the fuck up," Lonnie warns her, but it lacks bite. Catra just sits back with a smirk, watching as Lonnie squints in thought. The hostility slowly melts from her expression, a quiet moment passing before she casually suggests, "Adora might not be weird about it, you know." She shrugs, carefully meeting Catra's gaze. "Could be easier that way."
Eyes rolling back in her skull, Catra huffs, "Trust me, it's crossed my mind."
"I'm sure it has," snickers Lonnie.
"I'm taking my time, okay?" snaps Catra. "Things got really explosive when we were first back together again. I was a huge bitch. And I thought I was doing better, but the other night I did it again, lashed out and said some really shitty things. I don't want to jump back into things while I'm still mad and end up hurting her again." Eyes dropping to her lap, she sighs and runs a hand through her tangled bangs. "Adora deserves better than that."
There's a precious moment of silence from the peanut gallery before Lonnie finally remarks, "You know, I think that's actually a really good idea."
"Oh good, I'm so glad you approve," snarks Catra. Lonnie just chuckles, and Catra can't help wondering if she knows she actually kind of means it. Just a little.
Rolling her eyes, Catra asks, "So are you done interrogating me? Gonna let me nap now?"
"You do your thing, I'm chill," says Lonnie, slumping back into the chair and whipping out her tablet again. She pointedly ignores Catra as she adjusts the bed, but throws her feet up to rest on the edge as soon as it's flat. Typical.
"What are you even doing on that thing?" Catra grumbles as she gets settled on her side.
"Reading."
Catra wrinkles her nose. "What?"
"Uh, this one's some kind of underwater murder mystery. 'The Pearl Who Knew Too Much.'" Lonnie shrugs. "I dunno, sounded dumb but fun."
Squinting bewilderedly, Catra remarks, "You never liked reading back in the Horde."
"Studying. That shit was boring." Waving the tablet vaguely in Catra's direction, Lonnie turns it to give her a peak of the screen. "There's a whole digital library on Dryl's mainframe. I'm sure you could find something you like."
"Yeah right," scoffs Catra.
Lonnie smirks. "There's even romance and shit. You could read some trashy novel with Adora, move things along…"
"Oh, fuck off." Catra flips over abruptly, ending that conversation.
The sound of Lonnie's laughter rises up behind her, but the timbre is more joyful than vicious. It makes Catra's skin tingle with warmth, not buzz with adrenaline and fear. Her ear flicks curiously at the soft, unfamiliar sound. Maybe life out of the Horde is already changing Lonnie. Or maybe it's just letting her be a better version of herself, shed the protective shell they all grew to survive in that hellhole. Maybe that's never who she really was, or wanted to be.
...Eh, probably not. But either way, Catra is more than used to falling asleep mere feet from Lonnie. She drifts off within minutes, eased into unconsciousness by the scent and quiet breathing of someone safe and familiar.
A/N: I could write 100k purely of Catra and Lonnie bickering I s2g. That scene just kept getting longer and longer because they kept setting each other off and wouldn't let me end it. Fun when the characters take control like that...
Next chapter we move over to Thaymor for some best friend quad shenanigans and a big Adora chapter. Stay tuned!