A/N: Howdy everyone, I'm back! Sorry for the minor delay, I was updating a bunch of my other fics and ironing out some crucial details of the upcoming plot. Good news is, I now know exactly what's gonna happen in the next 3-4 chapters (unless season 3 gives me any new and brilliant ideas), so updates should be more frequent for the next while.

This is another Catradora chapter, which means it's dual POV just like chapter 6. I did have this beta read, so hopefully there will be no confusion with all the POV switches.

CONTENT WARNING for references to past child abuse, and that's about it. Prepare to have your heart ripped out, regardless. :)

Adora is pacing a groove into the floor outside the prison when Angella emerges, a grim expression on her face. Stopping in her tracks, Adora gulps and braces herself.

"You have your work cut out for you, Adora," says Angella.

"Oh, no. What did she say to you?"

Angella's posture stiffens more, if that's possible. "To be completely frank and vulgar, she told me to go fuck myself." Adora deflates like a popped balloon as the air leaves her body. Angella eyes her with sympathy as she adds, "I offered her a restorative justice hearing and a place in the rebellion, but she says she doesn't want any special treatment on account of you."

Adora's eyes squeeze shut with a frustrated groan. Catra is stubborn to the point of stupidity sometimes. Adora's in a position of influence and Catra is refusing to let her use it out of what, spite? How could she throw away a chance like that, after everything Adora did to give it to her? Honestly, how dare she?

"I'm gonna go knock some sense into that idiot," fumes Adora. When Angella squints, she quickly clarifies, "Not actually. It's a figure of speech."

"If she's been through all you say she has, you might want to rethink your figures of speech," Angella cautions her.

"Right." Adora scowls at the floor, gnawing on her lip.

"Adora." Her eyes flick up and find a pensive look on the queen's face. "She'd never say it, but that girl needs kindness. And you might be the only person she'd accept it from."

Adora sighs. "I wish."

As she turns toward the gate guarding the prison entrance, Angella says, "Wait." She looks back curiously. "You're making this visit as Adora. Only Adora." Angella holds out an expectant hand. "Hand over the sword."

"What?" balks Adora. "Why?"

"You know why."

Her eyes narrow. "Seriously?"

"You said yourself what you'd be willing to do," states Angella. "I know to take you at your word."

Adora's lips pucker with barely contained indignation. It takes all of her self-restraint not to slap the sword down into the queen's waiting hand. "That better be waiting for me when I get back."

"And it shall."

Adora storms through the prison corridors, fueled by anger and betrayal. Why does everyone insist on making her life so difficult? By the time she makes it past the second gated checkpoint and to the door of Catra's cell, she's positively seething. The guard at the door seemingly thinks better of attempting any pleasantries, opening it without a word.

The first thing Adora sees is the row of bars cutting the room in half. Then she sees Catra, sprawled out on her belly on a cot on the other side. She's wearing a loose tunic over her usual ripped leggings, and from what Adora can see, she appears unharmed. Despite her anger, Adora can't help a small sigh of relief at the sight, nor her blush as she remembers how Catra lost her uniform top.

Catra's eyes are closed but she seems to be awake, lazily kneading and nuzzling the blanket. She isn't purring, but she almost looks relaxed. No. She looks bored. And while she must have heard the door open and can probably smell Adora already, she hasn't responded in the slightest. Adora's fists clench at her sides. Does Catra really have nothing to say to her after everything they said and did last night, after everything Adora's done since to try to protect her?

"What is wrong with you?" demands Adora.

Catra looks up with a lazy smirk. "Oh, hey Adora." She flops onto her back, limbs dangling off the edge of the small mattress. "Welcome to my humble abode."

Unamused, Adora marches straight up to the bars. "You told the queen to go fuck herself?"

"She looked like she could use a good fuck, what can I say? And I thought you were uptight."

"Damn it, Catra!" Adora kicks one of the bars in a fit of frustration, sending pain radiating through her foot and up her shin. "Ow, fuck!" Hopping around on her other leg, she tries to shake out the pain with little success.

Eyes going wide, Catra sits up and takes in the scene. "Dude, calm down." Approaching the bars, she peers at Adora's face, noting her pale and clammy cheeks and the dark circles under her eyes. "Have you even slept?"

Adora eyes her incredulously. "Have you?"

"Yeah. Pretty well, actually. This wasn't my first night in a holding cell," Catra reminds her with a sassy eyebrow. "Here they even have blankets."

"They didn't-" Adora shakes her head sharply, cutting off her own stupid question. "Yeah, that really shouldn't be a surprise."

"Still getting used to the whole 'Horde is evil' thing? Whenever we were fighting you seemed pretty sure of it."

"Doesn't mean I've gone back and reexamined everything I ever experienced," grumbles Adora. Her eyebrows quirk in thought. "Or didn't experience, in this case."

Catra scowls. "Rub it in, much?"

"I just don't want to act like I understand something I don't," Adora explains cautiously, in an attempt to avoid Catra's ire. Then she remembers why she's here and caution goes flying out the fucking window. Eyes narrowing, she snarks, "Like why you would turn down an offer of amnesty, for example."

Catra's eyes roll so far back in her skull she can see her own brain. "It wasn't amnesty, Adora. Like I was gonna humiliate myself in front of her and everyone else and pretend to be sorry for doing my fucking job."

Adora huffs, crossing her arms. "I know you hate apologizing, Catra, but would you literally rather die than say you're sorry?"

"It would be a lie. Besides, it's not just an apology." Catra squints warily at the naive soldier in front of her. "Am I really supposed to switch sides and work for someone I don't know anything about, swear fealty and submit to her every whim? Angella has some serious Shadow Weaver vibes, you know."

Adora blinks hard. "Are you joking?"

"What, you don't see it?"

Her brow furrows. Angella can be intimidating, sure, but that's about where the similarities end. But Adora can at least sympathize with an ingrained fear of the Queen of Bright Moon. "Look, I know they taught us to be scared of her-"

"Ugh, forget it!" snaps Catra, turning away and smacking her palm against her forehead.

Deflating with a sigh, Adora scans Catra's body for signs of damage. "Are you okay, considering?" she asks. "They didn't hurt you?"

"Not once they'd subdued me, no," Catra mutters bitterly.

Adora's mouth twitches. "I'm sorry about that. I really thought the rebellion was above that kind of behavior."

"Yeah, and your new bestie is a total backstabber." Catra cocks her head. "You really wonder how I could doubt your judgment?"

"...Yeah, that's fair," Adora admits sheepishly. Loosely gripping one of the bars separating them, she asks, "Can I come in?"

Caught off guard, Catra blinks. "Will they let you?"

Adora shrugs. "I can ask."

Catra mirrors the gesture. "Sure, why not?"

When Adora turns to knock on the door, Catra's eyebrows arch at the sight of her empty back. Considering what Angella said she threatened to do, it's not much of a surprise that Adora's not carrying her sword, but it's still an unfamiliar sight. Catra's chest aches with longing for a time when that wasn't the case. When Adora was just Adora.

The guard by the door steps into the cell, pointing her spear at Catra. "Prisoner, move back against the wall." Catra obeys with a scowl and she unlocks the gate, sliding a portion of the bars aside to let Adora enter. Handing Adora some kind of remote, she instructs her, "Press this button when you want to leave, or if you're in need of assistance."

"Got it," says Adora. "Thanks." The guard locks the gate behind Adora and then leaves the cell. Adora watches her go, frowning in thought.

When she turns back around she finds Catra watching her. Her tail flicks and she comments, "Pretty bold of you, coming into my cage without your sword."

"They wouldn't let me bring it," Adora says bitterly, crossing her arms with a scowl. Then her lips twitch sheepishly and she admits, "I might have threatened to break you out if the queen refused to help."

"Well that was stupid," remarks Catra. "You don't threaten to do something that's supposed to be a surprise, dumbass. Whose bright idea was it to make you a Force Captain, again?"

"Shadow Weaver's."

"Right." Catra's ears twitch.

Adora sighs. "I was just trying to explain how far I'd go to save you. At that point I wasn't really thinking about if I actually had to do it, I was hoping I wouldn't have to."

"So you were bluffing," mutters Catra. Of course she was. How many times did Adora promise to protect her, only to fail as soon as Shadow Weaver showed up? "Should've guessed."

A light grip on Catra's wrist makes her look up. "Hey, I meant it," Adora says earnestly. "I just wasn't planning that far in advance."

"Sure, Adora."

Gaze hardening into a glare, Adora crosses her arms with a huff. "Nice to know it means anything to you at all that I'd risk being banished or worse to guarantee your safety."

"What do you want me to do, get down on my knees and kiss your feet in gratitude?" sneers Catra.

Adora's jaw slips open as she stares helplessly at Catra, at a complete loss. Just hours ago she had Catra in her hands. In her arms. And now she's pushing her away again.

"Why are you being like this?" Her voice cracks slightly and Catra's eyes flit away, but Adora doesn't let her off the hook. Stepping closer, she lays a hand on Catra's shoulder. "Catra, I meant everything I said last night. Didn't you?"

"What does it matter? We can't turn back time. We're still gonna be stuck on opposite sides of a war." Catra regains eye contact, and her previously harsh voice nearly fails her as she asks, "You're not coming home, so why bother?"

"Home?" says Adora. "Catra, the Horde was never my home. You were."

"Oh my gods, just shut up!" shouts Catra, knocking Adora's hand away. "You don't get to say things like that, not after what you did. You set fire to our home. You destroyed it. You destroyed me."

"And I'm trying to fix things! Why won't you even let me try?"

"Because it's not fucking fixable!"

"You don't know that," argues Adora. When Catra snorts dismissively, her eyes narrow. "You know, I never thought you'd be lazy when it comes to me, but here we are."

Catra stiffens, face going dangerously dark. "Oh, don't you fucking dare."

"What, are you gonna deny it? Either you're lazy or you're a coward."

"No," scowls Catra, "I just know a lost cause when I see one."

"Then why did you kiss me?" demands Adora, crossing her arms pompously.

Catra's eyes fall, jaw shifting. "I felt like it."

Adora scoffs. "I have never met someone more full of shit."

"Fine, it's because I finally had a chance to do it after all that time, without Shadow Weaver looming over us," admits Catra. She nibbles at her lip. "Figured it would probably be my last chance."

"Well it will be, if you insist on dying in prison," retorts Adora. "What, were you trying to get her to execute you?"

"Do I look like I have a death wish?" Catra crosses her arms with a sulky glare.

Adora scoffs. "Hard to tell when you keep trying to provoke authority figures."

Catra's mouth slips open. "Are you saying I deserved the way Shadow Weaver treated me?" she asks, voice cold and low as she stalks forward.

Adora stands her ground. "No, I'm saying you don't win yourself any favors by being such a fucking brat."

"I'm not gonna be a meek little submissive prisoner ever again," declares Catra.

"You think having an attitude makes things better?"

Catra shakes her head, a frustrated chuckle bursting from her lungs. "You don't get it. You couldn't even if you tried."

"I am trying," insists Adora.

"No you're not."

"Well it's not like you're trying to understand me either, Catra!"

"Oh, I understand perfectly," asserts Catra. Her eyes bore into Adora, seeking out the truth she already knows. "If I die, you have to deal with the guilt for the rest of your life. Poor, poor Adora. How would you ever recover from such a tragedy? From failing so horribly?"

"Are you saying you'd die just to spite me?" Adora inquires indignantly. Suddenly, she chuckles. "Actually, yeah, that sounds exactly like you."

"What I'm saying is, it's all about you. Always has been, always will be," growls Catra. "Shadow Weaver was always like, 'Will these feelings for you distract Adora? Will you beating Adora in a training exercise irreparably damage her self-esteem? Adora this, Adora that.'"

"Are you shitting me?" snaps Adora. "My whole fucking life I've been cleaning up your messes."

"I never asked you to!"

"Of course not. You love your messes. But when you kept making trouble, guess who got lectures about being more responsible?"

"Oh that's right," Catra coos mockingly, "you had to keep your naughty little pet in line just so mommy would love you."

"Fuck you!" Adora's hands shoot out and shove Catra, sending her stumbling back against the wall. She closes the gap she just created in two large steps and nabs Catra's collar with one hand, the other tightening into a fist. "Fuck you, Catra!"

Two sets of heavy breaths fill the silence in the small space between them. There's a rabid look in Adora's eyes that makes Catra's go wide. She can feel Adora's fingers trembling with rage where they rest against her chest. Hers are trembling too, despite her best efforts. There's a throbbing pain in the back of her head where it smacked against the stone wall, but all her attention is on Adora. Analyzing her breaths and muscle twitches, preparing to block or evade the blow if and when it comes.

Catra's huge eyes are what break through the blinding rage in Adora's head. Usually when she gets hold of the pesky Force Captain she's greeted with a proud smirk, a display of brazen fearlessness. But this expression, she's only ever seen it directed at one person.

Adora lets go and makes a show of drawing her hands back, pointedly defusing the threat. Then she frowns down at those traitorous hands. This isn't the first time she's cocked or swung a fist at Catra outside of sparring or play fighting, but it's always been part of a larger conflict, and almost always in She-Ra form. Clearly some habits are bleeding over the supposed divide between them.

She risks a glance at Catra, who scowls back at her and pointedly rubs the back of her head. Part of her feels shame. Part of her wants to apologize and ask if she's okay. But another part of her is still pissed, so she does neither. The shame and Catra's icy glare do, however, force her eyes away again.

"Hey, Adora?" says Catra, still recovering her breath. "Anyone ever tell you you have anger issues?"

Crossing her arms, Adora grouses, "Like you're one to talk."

"At least I take it out on inanimate objects, not other people," retorts Catra, and Adora is unspeakably grateful in this moment that Catra was not around to witness her punching Glimmer in the face.

It also helps that Catra is fucking wrong.

Scoffing hard, Adora retorts, "Uh, my back would beg to differ."

Catra waves her off. "We were in battle, Princess. Suck it up."

"In battle?" Adora pointedly scrunches up her face. "Funny, I don't remember fighting back when you attacked me in Salineas, but that sure didn't stop you."

"When I attacked you? I've never hurt Adora. Only She-Ra."

"It wasn't She-Ra you wanted to hurt. You wanted to hurt me," states Adora. Softening her tone, she continues, "And I get why, okay? I do. I kinda deserved it. But you should at least have the decency to admit it."

After a long moment of silent glaring, Catra rolls her eyes. "Fine. I was attacking you. You wouldn't listen no matter how much I begged and pleaded, you kept saying you wouldn't come back with me, and it hurt, and I was frustrated. So I lashed out. Happy?"

"Yeah, actually," says Adora. "Thanks for the honesty."

Catra narrows her eyes. "Don't go acting like you have the moral high ground here."

"I don't," Adora assures her. "Look, I've been thinking about this all night. All the ways I hurt you and betrayed you. All the ways I failed you." Reaching out for Catra, she speaks earnestly. "All I want to do is make that up to you."

Catra lifts a hand, impeding her path. "Then stop trying to control me."

"What?" Adora blinks hard. "I'm not trying to control you, I'm trying to help you."

"By getting me to join your princess club, go back to being your pathetic little sidekick."

"What do you want me to do, let you die?" Adora's throat aches and swells, forcing her to swallow. "I can't do that, Catra."

"It's not up to you!" snaps Catra. She has just about had it with this fucking bonehead. Narrowing her eyes, she tries to dumb it down, spell it out as best she can. "Adora, you can't fix everything with brute strength and sheer force of will. You can't force people to do what you want all the time." Brushing by Adora and into the more open space of the cell, she mutters, "This is not your decision to make."

Adora grabs her arm as she slips by, stopping her in her tracks. "Well maybe it should be," she snarks. "You obviously don't know what's best for you."

Catra's ears flatten. Yanking her arm from Adora's grasp, she spins around and steps back, finally out of reach. Her head begins to shake as she stares at Adora in disbelief. "Gods, you're just like her."

"Don't." Adora's voice is quiet but dead serious. "Don't fucking say that."

"You are. You always have to have things your way, always have to control me."

"Not you in particular," grumbles Adora.

"Adora knows best, right?" mutters Catra, not even acknowledging that Adora has spoken.

Adora throws her arms up in frustration. "Why are you acting like it's a bad thing that I don't want you to die?"

Again, Catra ignores her. Tipping her head, she demands, "How much further do I need to push you before you bend me over this bed and impart your blessed wisdom because I need to learn what's best for me? How much more provocation do you need?"

Adora's eyes bulge as it dawns on her what Catra is implying. "What is wrong with you, Catra? I would never do something like that. Never."

Catra snorts. "Sure, Adora."

"Listen," begs Adora. "Please, listen to me. I'm not trying to control you, okay? It's not about that."

"Then what is it about?"

She squints, unable to fathom Catra not knowing. And here she thought she was an open book. "Don't you get it? Catra, I'm terrified of losing you."

"Losing me?" Catra chortles. "Oh, that's rich."

Pursing her lips, Adora clarifies, "This would be losing you for good, no more chances to make it right."

"Oh, Adora," drawls Catra, shaking her head with a chuckle. "You ran out of chances a long time ago."

"Then what happened last night?" demands Adora, lifting her chin defiantly. When Catra averts her eyes, her tone turns earnest. "I don't understand. We were getting somewhere. What did I do wrong?" Taking a cautious step forward, she declares, "Catra, there's nothing I want more than to fix this."

"Nothing?" Catra searches Adora's eyes and finds them full of sincerity. They warm and pull at her heart, urging her to trust once again. But she's known for years that Adora can absolutely believe she means something only to cave at the last minute for fear of punishment. Or worse, fear of being a bad girl. And besides, she already chose Sparkles and Arrow Boy over Catra anyway. Why would she change her mind now that she really knows them and she's settled into her cozy new life?

Catra's ears and shoulders droop with a resigned sigh. "I don't believe you."

"Please," Adora urges her, her voice as desperate as she feels. "Please, just let me fix this…" The immutable nervous energy in her veins forces her to start pacing, grab a fistful of hair with one trembling hand as the other grasps at air.

"It's not your job to fix me, oh mighty She-Ra," says Catra, with only a fraction of the taunting energy Adora expected.

Adora's breathing speeds up, eyes bouncing around the cell as her brain whirs at hyperspeed. If Catra refuses this offer, what else can she even do if she can't bring in her sword? She can't fight her way into the prison to save Catra, not without someone sounding an alarm and probably getting herself locked up for real. Not without killing or seriously injuring innocent guards. There's no coming back from that. There's no coming back from any of this.

Tears suddenly flood her eyes, blocking her view out the window. A sharp sob crumples her body and she slumps forward against the bars and stone, letting the wall take her weight as she begins full-on ugly crying. But that energy still needs a way out, and her fist smashes into the wall. She punches it again and again, her breaths coming in shallow gasps.

"Whoa, Adora!" she hears behind her. "Adora, stop!" Slender but strong arms loop around her and pull her away from the bloodied wall. Adora struggles a little but she's too spent to truly fight back. Catra hugs her tightly from behind, resting her chin on her shoulder. "Adora, hey," she whispers gently but firmly into her ear. "Breathe. Adora, breathe."

The confidence in Catra's voice shocks Adora into obedience. It leaves no doubt in her mind that Catra knows what she's doing, that she's in good hands. And good arms. She melts into them, letting Catra hold her steady. It's just like with Bow. When her mind is filled with chaos and her body wants to dissolve into frenetic movement, being held still by someone she trusts is the ultimate comfort.

Wait, she trusts Catra? Well, she must. The Force Captain's fangs are inches from her throat, but the proximity is calming, if anything. Adora pushes out a slow breath. Her fingers still tremble, but at least she has control of her lungs back.

Catra brushes a thumb over one of Adora's biceps. "Let's sit, okay?" Adora wants to answer, but her mouth refuses to move. She settles for nodding.

Catra takes Adora's hand and leads her to the bed, sits her down and then settles beside her. Wrapping one arm around Adora's shoulders, her other hand gently squeezes both of Adora's, which are clasped in her lap. Feeling them quiver slightly, she takes a look at Adora's face. Her eyes are distant, darting about. Before she can regress into another full blown panic attack, Catra quickly says, "Name three things you can see."

Adora blinks and catches her eye. "What?"

"Do it," orders Catra. It's a technique Scorpia taught her after she witnessed that meltdown following her rather violent encounter with Shadow Weaver the morning after the battle. Catra wishes she'd befriended Scorpia sooner. She could have used this trick in the days and weeks following Adora's defection.

"Bars. Chairs," says Adora. Her eyes fall to their linked hands. "Blood."

Catra breathes steadily in the hope that Adora will follow her lead. "Okay, two things you can hear."

"Heartbeat. Birds outside."

Catra nods, squeezing Adora's shoulder encouragingly. "One thing you can feel."

"You're so warm," Adora whispers, voice cracking. She tips sideways to lean into Catra, tears streaming from her eyes. They drip down her cheeks and onto Catra's arm as she wraps it around Adora's stomach.

Holding Adora tight, Catra rests her chin atop her head and rubs comforting circles over her arm and side. "Shh. I got you," she murmurs, recalling the words that used to bring her so much comfort as a sad, scared kitten. "I got you. It's gonna be okay."

"No it won't," sniffles Adora. Her voice cracks again as she implores, "Catra, please. Please don't leave me." She breaks down into another round of sobs, squeezing Catra's shirt tightly in her fist.

Rolling her eyes is Catra's immediate and irrepressible reaction. Equally strong is the urge to ram those words back down Adora's throat. The gall this bitch has, to say something like that. But Catra somehow manages to keep her mouth shut. Because as good as she is at holding grudges, they've never stopped her from taking pity on people who have hurt her. For them to have hurt her, after all, they must have meant something to her in the first place. The sad fact is, no matter how much she hates Adora (or wants to hate her), she hates seeing her in pain even more.

"Shh," she whispers, planting a kiss atop Adora's head. "I'm here." For now, anyway.

Those are the most comforting words Catra can offer, because she doesn't want to lie to Adora. Consoling her with false hope would only be cruel at this point. Catra can't guarantee anything, because even now she's sure as shit not taking Angella's offer. This sympathy she feels for Adora, hates feeling for Adora, it's not enough to make her give in. She's spent her whole life giving ground, allowing herself to be used and abused for Adora's benefit. Not anymore.

Besides, if Catra gives in for Adora's sake then she'll never stop resenting her. And for the first time in a long time, she's not sure if she wants to anymore.

A/N: This is a sad chapter, but I think it's important to examine the way growing up in an abusive environment gives people massive control issues and terrible conflict resolution skills, and how children of abusive parents often absorb some of their worst qualities (ruling by force/abject cruelty, in this case). Don't fret, though. Things will soon be looking up. ;)

Thanks to Revelation_Dis (over on the AO3) for the beta read. If you like your shit dark or you like wacky crack fics, their page is the place to be! I especially recommend the series "The Violation" and the one shot "Death Like Sleep" (but that second one only if you want to be absolutely destroyed lol).