A/N: So, season 3. Wow, huh?

Sorry for the delay in updating, I Just Have a Lot of Feelings about season 3 and I've been making gifsets and writing copious amounts of meta to cope.

I would like to preface this chapter by saying that I love Scorptra as a ship and enjoyed Entrapdak way more than I expected this season, but it makes more sense to stay the course with what I've been building in this fic (i.e. more Superpal Trio than in canon because it's seriously lacking and also Scorptrapta because they're chaotic and adorable). So I've adapted some concepts and dialogue from season 3 to match the established vibe, because they were too good not to use.

This chapter might seem a little like filler on first read because there's not a lot of action, but it's full of characterization and character/relationship development, and thematically it's a treasure trove. Basically what I'm saying is, sorry if it's boring, but take your time with it and you'll come to understand Catra a lot better.

CONTENT WARNING for emotional and physical child abuse and suicidal ideation.

A ringing sound dominates Catra's senses as she slips back into consciousness with a groggy groan. Her head throbs and gut churns. When it lurches suddenly, she has just enough sense to yank her body to the edge of the bed and vomit into the bucket on the floor.

Grimacing at the taste of bile, Catra grabs the glass of water by the bucket and rinses her mouth. Her dry lips and tongue persuade her to drink a little as well, despite her fear of it coming right back up. With those immediate needs satisfied, Catra finally notices the buzzing sound that's only exacerbating the ringing in her ears. That's when she registers that the lights are on again. Ugh, seriously, Scorpia? You had one job.

A cold rush suddenly washes over Catra, her ears perking up and fur standing on end. Whether by shadow spies or real eyes, Catra knows the feeling of being watched. She whips around with a growl, claws bared, and a pair of pink eyes right in her face makes her jump back with a startled shriek.

"Hi, Catra!" Entrapta shouts with an enthusiastic wave.

Catra winces, slapping her hands over her ears. "Damn it, Entrapta!"

"Oh, sorry," says Entrapta, cringing apologetically. "Scorpia said you had a headache. I'm just happy you're awake."

Groaning into her palms, Catra grumbles, "That makes one of us."

"Still not feeling well?" Entrapta's weight leaves the bed and a clattering noise makes Catra peek between her fingers. Entrapta turns back to her with a long tray dotted with an array of tiny bowls. "I made you soup!" she announces, plopping the tray down on Catra's lap. "Soup always makes me feel better!"

Wincing again, Catra grabs her throbbing head. "Entrapta," she groans in exasperation. The princess's voice is grating even on a good day, let alone with a pounding headache.

"Sorry, sorry." Entrapta makes a zipping motion across her lips. They fall slightly as she zeroes in on the bruise on Catra's face. Not keen on discussing that, Catra turns her attention to the bowls and gives one a sniff, frowning at the lack of aroma. Deciding to trust her friend's judgment, she takes a tentative sip.

It was a bad decision. The moment the concoction hits her tongue she chokes and spits it back into the cup. That's why she couldn't smell anything. It tastes the way the air smells. Making a face, she snarks, "What is this, engine oil?"

Entrapta's face falls. "I… no?"

"Making friends as always, I see." The invasive words echo in Catra's head and she cringes. It's the voice itself as much as the words that makes her blood run cold. Gritting her teeth and squeezing her eyes shut, she tries to block it out. But Shadow Weaver won't grant her peace, not even in death. "You don't even try to get along with others." Catra can see those white eyes glowing plain as day in the dark of her mind.

Forcing her eyes open, Catra meets Entrapta's with a sheepish quirk of her lips. "It's just… different from what I'm used to," she backpedals gently. "Thanks, though." Catra takes another swig of water, swishing it in her mouth a little to wash away the taste. Eager to change the subject, she inquires, "Scorpia sent you?"

"Yes," Entrapta stage whispers. "I didn't want to leave my lab, but she really wanted someone here when you woke up to make sure you were okay. So I brought some of my work with me!" Entrapta's hair picks up a small black box from the mattress in explanation.

"Good plan," says Catra. "She's working?"

"Yeah. I think she slept on your floor last night, but she had boxing this morning with some of the junior cadets," Entrapta replies absentmindedly.

Squirming at that loaded information, Catra nods at the box Entrapta is now fiddling with. "Whatcha working on?"

"My latest project, the mobile audio interference module," Entrapta says to the box.

Catra blinks. "The what, now?"

"Scorpia told me what happened with Hordak," Entrapta says plainly. "What he did to you, how he found out you were lying to him." She gestures at the box. "This will disrupt his spy's recording capabilities. It will allow us to speak freely, keep that from happening again."

Catra's eyes widen. "Maybe you shouldn't say that out loud until it's done."

"It's already working, I tested it on my recorder," Entrapta assures her with a wink. "I'm just making a few small tweaks."

Relief washes over Catra, followed by awe and gratitude. That was… thoughtful. Really thoughtful. "That was a great idea, Entrapta."

"What can I say? I love solving problems!" When Catra cringes again at the excessive volume, Entrapta grimaces sheepishly. "Sorry. Maybe now that you're awake I should leave you alone? Or would you rather I stay here?"

The suggestion leaves Catra surprisingly ambivalent. She's not in the mood to deal with people, especially someone chatty like Entrapta, but she's not sure she wants to be alone with her thoughts either. She shrugs. "Doesn't matter. If you have more work back at your lab I'm fine on my own."

Already collecting her tools, Entrapta says, "Well, if you're sure…"

Genuine affection curls Catra's lips. "Go on, Trapta, it's fine," she replies. "You're a busy lady." Another thought strikes her and she adds, "Hey, can you turn the lights back off? And get me a bag of ice from the mess hall?"

"I most certainly can!" agrees Entrapta, hair swatting the light switch. "Be back in a jiffy!" Her hair snaps her up into the vent, and then she's gone.

Lying in wait, Catra wonders how much longer she has before Hordak has her kicked out of this room. She's surprised it hasn't happened already.

The answer, it turns out, is about an hour. When the soldiers come to escort her out, she numbly gathers her few possessions without protest. At the door she looks back with a resigned sigh, pondering what was and what could have been. Those dreams turn to dust before her eyes when the door closes in her face. The decisive thunk echoes in her soul and aching chest, and she turns away.

Returning to her bunk in the cadet barracks, Catra takes the bottom bed without hesitation, dropping her things beside it and flopping down to recoup some energy. She's technically supposed to return to her own bed, but this was her bed for all intents and purposes. Maybe a few days ago she would have climbed up to the top bunk, avoided this one like the plague, but with the recent positive turn between her and Adora, she finds she doesn't mind. Her eyes flick to the scratched drawing before falling shut with a tired sigh.

Hours pass and no one disturbs her. In the old days she would have answered to Shadow Weaver for skipping training, but right now there's no second-in-command to enforce anything. Catra's old teachers and the other cadets probably don't even know she's back, none of them come looking for her either. So she lies there numbly, letting reality sink in.

She's lost everything. Adora. Shadow Weaver. Hordak's favor. Her power, her only means of gaining respect and protecting herself. And now she's right back here, where she was at her weakest. Only it's worse now because she's in disgrace, crawling back into the barracks with her tail between her legs. Humiliated. A failure. A joke. She can already imagine the jeers and taunts she'll get from the other cadets, all the ways they'll reassert their dominance. How they'll surround her and take turns showing her who's boss. And who's not.

Tears sting Catra's eyes. Nothing ever changes, does it? It doesn't matter what she does, she doesn't get to win. Try as she might to break free of her humble beginnings, the world will be waiting for her to fail so they can grind her into dust, remind her how worthless she is with their words and their blows. The only thing that's changed is Adora isn't around to protect her anymore. As much as Catra takes pride in protecting herself, having a respected and physically imposing ally made that task much easier.

With that, Catra's thoughts turn to Scorpia. At least she still has some allies. Annoying as they can be, she'll admit they can be helpful at times. Entrapta said upon her return with the ice bag that Scorpia had said Catra could rest in her room if she got kicked out of hers. The anxiety of what could happen if she doesn't accept that offer finally gives Catra the strength to move.

Back in the Force Captain barracks, Catra curls up in the dark. She feels no happier, but she does feel safer. Now she can just stew in misery, instead of misery and dread.

She's not sure how much time passes, if she sleeps or not, but eventually Scorpia shows up. "Hey, Wildcat," she greets her with a smile. "How're you feeling?" She's bearing a cup of dark liquid and a small package of what looks to be some kind of… wafer? Catra can't remember the word, though she remembers seeing something similar at Princess Prom.

"Been better," Catra grumbles, sitting up and pulling her knees to her chest.

"You eaten anything?"

Catra waves away her concern, and the implied offer. Even if she wasn't still nauseated from the blow to the head, emotional distress always saps her hunger, makes eating a chore. "S'okay," she mutters. "I've gone days without food before, I can handle it."

"That's a weird thing to brag about," Scorpia remarks, concern narrowing her eyes. "Besides, were you injured at the time? It's diff-"

Scorpia cuts herself off when Catra dryly raises an eyebrow. Catra watches her face as the new information works its way through her brain, manifesting as confusion, then horror, and finally pain. A deep kind of pain that makes her shoulders hunch and eyes darken with anguish.

"Oh," she says.

"Yeah," Catra replies indifferently, resting her chin atop her knees.

Forcing a smile, Scorpia steps forward and extends the sustenance in her grip. "Well look, I brought you some crackers and juice. Easy on the stomach, high on carbs. Your body needs the energy." When Catra's nose twitches unenthusiastically, Scorpia insists, "You gotta take better care of yourself, Catra."

Eyes falling to the blanket, Catra huffs, "Why bother?"

"Hey!" snaps Scorpia. "What kind of attitude is that?"

"Look, it doesn't matter," Catra grinds out through gritted teeth, jaw hard as stone. "Nothing matters anymore. I had a chance to make something of myself, and Hordak took it away all because of one stupid mistake."

A loud metallic clatter makes them both jump and turn to where Entrapta is popping out of the vent, the cover now lying discarded on the floor.

Landing before them, Entrapta remarks, "Actually, Catra, I can see why Hordak would be uncomfortable with a second-in-command who lies to him. You can't blame it all on him."

"Entrapta?" Scorpia calls gently, raising a pointed eyebrow.

Entrapta's eyes jump from Catra to Scorpia and go wide. "Oh, sorry. Am I doing that thing again?" she asks, glancing back and forth between them.

Catra barely contains a growl. "Why are you spying on us, now?"

"I'm not!" chirps Entrapta, much to the chagrin of Catra's tender ears. "The vents are faster and Scorpia forgot this in the lab." Tossing the sound blocker box (or whatever it was called) onto the bed, Entrapta waves farewell. "Anyway, I need to get back to work. Bye, guys!" Her hair shoots out and launches her back into the vent before either of them can respond.

Eyeing Catra apologetically, Scorpia lays the food on the table and joins her on the bed. She picks up the box and fumbles trying to press the power button. After several failed attempts, Catra silently reaches in and does it for her. Scorpia forces a grateful smile and sighs. "She's right. It's not Hordak's fault, it's mine," she says quietly. Her eyes shine with guilt. "I'm the one who asked you about Adora, he wouldn't have heard if it wasn't for me."

Jaw twitching, Catra draws her knees back into her chest. The thought has crossed her mind already. And while Scorpia is a convenient target for her anger, directing any her way would bury Catra in guilt. She knows that. Besides, she doesn't want anyone to see her getting emotional right now, especially Scorpia. Not after yesterday's flagrant display of weakness.

"Yeah, well," Catra grumbles to the blanket. "Probably would've found out eventually, anyway. If he's anything like Shadow Weaver." Snorting inwardly, she remarks, "I don't know why I thought I could get away with lying. It hardly ever worked when I was a kid. Sometimes she thought I was lying even when I wasn't."

"Shadow Weaver was magical. Hordak uses tech." Scorpia lifts the box gleefully. "And now we've got a defense against that."

"Yeah. Great," mutters Catra.

"If it's not enough protection, you know… we don't have to stay here," Scorpia broaches cautiously. "We can leave, go somewhere else."

Catra's eyes narrow inquisitively. "I thought you said you didn't mean that seriously."

Scorpia shifts, eyes flitting away. "Yeah, I didn't really, at the time. Was just kinda running my mouth. But the more I think about it…"

"What?" Catra demands when Scorpia trails off. "Seriously, why would we leave? Give me one good reason."

A look of vague amusement crosses Scorpia's face as she tips her head. "Uh, because you hate it here?"

"I don't…"

Catra can't finish that sentence. She frowns, brow creasing as she absorbs this uncomfortable truth.

"Hear me out, okay?" says Scorpia, ducking her head into Catra's eyeline. "I don't know about you, but I've never cared much about conquering Etheria. All I ever wanted was a place I felt I belonged. The Horde treated me better than the princesses. But if it's really no better, what's the point?"

Crossing her arms, Catra scoffs hard. "You got somewhere better to be?"

"Yeah. Away from here." Nodding at Catra's bruised eye, Scorpia says, "I don't want to work for someone who would do that to you. Do you?"

Catra shrugs. "Used to it."

"Will you stop?" snaps Scorpia. The gravity in her tone makes Catra's head snap up, eyes wide. "Look, Catra, that's not how things are supposed to be. Shadow Weaver was a shitty guardian, okay? Just because you're used to it doesn't mean you should accept it."

"I can handle it," Catra reiterates crossly. Eyes flicking away, she remarks, "Besides, I find it's better to keep my expectations low."

Scorpia scoffs. "Well, maybe that's your problem." After a moment of silence, she reminisces, "You know, I wasn't expecting anything when we captured Entrapta. The three of us together was total chaos, and it was stressful at first. But, you know, I started liking it." A soft smile turns her lips as she meets Catra's eyes. "That belonging I was talking about, that feeling of home, I've found that with you and Entrapta. So why would we stay here, where leaders don't care about us and we get hit for making mistakes? We could go somewhere else, all three of us." Blushing slightly, she concludes, "We could, you know, be happy."

Happiness. What a foreign concept that is. It's not like Catra has never felt happiness, fleeting as it was, but she's never bothered to factor it into her plans. It was irrelevant. All that mattered was protecting herself and Adora and proving her worth to Shadow Weaver, to Hordak, to Adora. But of course a princess cares about that shit. Scorpia had the opportunity to care. Catra laughs bitterly.

"I'll never be happy if I run away in disgrace like some coward. I need to show Hordak he was wrong about me." Clenching her fists, Catra growls, "I will not be the weakling they all think I am."

"Hey, there's nothing weak about standing up for yourself," counters Scorpia. "Leaving the only home you've ever known to make a new life for yourself is maybe the strongest thing you could do. And you don't even have to do it alone, Entrapta and I will be there too."

Grateful for the opportunity to change subjects, Catra scoffs, "How do you even plan on convincing Entrapta? She loves it here, all this tech to play with."

Scorpia frowns. "Maybe if we stole a bunch of tech to take with us, she could be convinced?"

Eyes rolling, Catra snarks, "What, you think we'll be able to load up a skiff and sneak out undetected?"

Her thoughtful expression fading, Scorpia's face flares up in a wicked blush. "I think maybe she likes me. Maybe she'd come just for that," muses Scorpia. Her cheeks flush even redder as she meets Catra's gaze. "Do you think she likes me?"

"Sure, Scorpia," deadpans Catra. "I dunno." Scorpia deflates and Catra's already queasy stomach burbles with guilt. Twitching her mouth in an apology she can't bring herself to say aloud, she sheepishly backpedals, "My head hurts."

"Right." Scorpia sighs. "Well, I guess I'll head back to the lab, then. Let you get some rest." Raising an eyebrow, she insists, "Just, promise you'll think about it."

Slapping her palms over her face, Catra groans, "Ugh, fine. Whatever."

"That's my girl." Scorpia smiles and nudges her shoulder before scooting off the bed.

"Hey," Catra says before she can leave, "thanks for letting me stay here. The barracks would've been a nightmare." Seeing the sympathetic look coming over Scorpia's face, she squares her shoulders and blusters, "I mean, it's loud and all. Bad for the head."

"I know, Wildcat," Scorpia assures her, holding her gaze perceptively.

Catra gulps, her throat swelling with conflicting emotions. Validation and vulnerability. It's scary, knowing there's someone she can't bullshit. That was the upside to Adora being such a dumbass.

Scorpia's smile turns bright, if a little shy. "You're always welcome here, okay?"

"Okay." The word comes out weak, but not because Catra doubts Scorpia. It's because she doesn't.

***o***

Claws scraping the metal floor, Catra thrashed in Shadow Weaver's grip as she dragged her into an empty cell. "Please don't!" she begged in pure desperation. "I swear, I didn't do it! I swear on Hordak's name!"

What was coming next was so awful that Catra couldn't help her protests, despite knowing there was no use. Shadow Weaver was hellbent on proving Catra was the culprit, had already torn apart her and Adora's bunks searching for the missing ration bars.

*o*

"It wasn't me," Catra insisted flatly, watching with crossed arms as Shadow Weaver tossed Adora's stripped mattress off the metal frame.

"So full of lies!" Shadow Weaver turned on her with a hiss, her rage making her levitate higher than normal. "You're the only cadet on a fast right now. Who else would it be?"

"Uh, literally anyone?" It was a struggle to keep her composure, but Catra's determination was not to be underestimated. She wasn't a little kid anymore. "Someone greedy. Or someone who wanted to set me up."

Those terrifying white eyes looked down on her with a callous, condescending laugh. "Set you up? Oh, Catra. Nothing is ever your fault, is it?"

*o*

…So much for not showing fear.

The sight of a small bottle appearing magically in Shadow Weaver's hand made Catra struggle harder and lock her jaw shut. Shadow Weaver huffed irritably and flicked her fingers, producing red bolts of energy to hold the unruly tween in place. Forcing her mouth open with the binding magic, Shadow Weaver poured the whole bottle down her throat before shoving her toward the toilet in the corner.

The taste alone made Catra's stomach buck and eyes water at the awful memory. Only once had she caved and scrounged for scraps in the throes of her hunger, a few years prior. Once was enough to learn her lesson. Shadow Weaver had given her the same potion to make her vomit the crumbs back up, and she'd been unbearably weak and nauseated for days after. Well, to be fair, the weakness might've been due to the hunger, or the part where Shadow Weaver paralyzed her with magic and beat the living shit out of her for her defiance and disobedience. Hard to tell.

This time nothing came up but water and bile. Hugging the metal toilet bowl, Catra rode out several waves of heaving and retching. She panted heavily as the urge finally passed, claws scraping at the metal surface in the midst of her cold sweat. Acid burned her throat and nostrils, tears leaking from her stinging eyes. This is what she got for obeying Shadow Weaver, for submitting to her cruel whims.

Resting her cheek against the cool metal, out of the corner of her eye Catra caught a glimpse of Shadow Weaver staring in disbelief at the empty bowl. Her eyes slipped shut with a tired sigh. "I told you it wasn't me."

She wasn't even intending to be sassy, not really, but of course Shadow Weaver took it that way. Grabbing Catra's shirt, she tossed her into the wall. "You think you can fool me?"

The impact rocked Catra's core, making her heave again on impulse as she collapsed on her hands and knees. But there was nothing left to come up. Closing in, Shadow Weaver pointed a bony finger in her face. "I know what you did, and you will pay for it, no matter how well you hid the evidence."

"You're wrong!" Catra shouted, voice breaking in frustration. "You know you're wrong! Why can't you just admit you made a mistake?"

Shadow Weaver raised a hand and Catra flinched despite her best efforts. "Insolent child!" the sorceress boomed. "The only mistake I ever made was taking you in."

"Well I wish you hadn't!" Catra yelled right back, angry tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Is that so?" Shadow Weaver tipped her head patronizingly. "You don't have to stay here, Catra. If you'd prefer, I could banish you to Beast Island, far from the only people who have ever cared for you." Catra's eyes flicked away as a stab of pain struck under her ribs. "You're nothing without the Horde, without me," boasted Shadow Weaver. "You're lucky Lord Hordak convinced me to give you special attention."

"So lucky," Catra muttered under her breath. Next thing she knew, Shadow Weaver was lifting her off the floor by the front of her shirt. Bitch was stronger than she looked. Must've been the magic.

"So not only do you disobey and lie to me, you show no respect for the sacrifices I've made for you. All the time I've put into raising you." Shadow Weaver tightened her grip on Catra's collar, a deadly heat in her narrowing eyes. "Apologize this instant, you ungrateful runt."

The ever-present chug of machinery was deafening in the otherwise silent room as Catra stared down her tormentor. Despite her well documented stubborn streak, she would often apologize under threat of pain, sacrificing her pride for a bit of relief from her hellish existence. But not this time. Catra would not apologize for something she didn't do. She would not apologize for being a victim of circumstance, for being Shadow Weaver's punching bag. For being the person she used to act out her sick fantasies of power. No, Catra wouldn't give her that satisfaction.

Finally, a menacing chuckle pierced the air. "You dig your own grave."

Shadow Weaver opened her hand, letting Catra fall to the floor in a heap. "Stay here and think about your defiant, selfish behavior, child," she ordered, looming over Catra menacingly. Her suddenly sweet tone made it all the more chilling when she promised, "Don't you worry, I'll come back." Cold fingers caressed Catra's cheek, making her shudder. "And when I do, you'll be sorry you were ever born."

Shadow Weaver underscored her own theatrics by disappearing into thin air, leaving Catra alone in the cell. Wincing at the spinning and pounding in her head, Catra dragged herself just far enough to collapse against the toilet. She was too weak from hunger and magic and that damn potion to make it to the cot. What was the point, anyway? Why take even a morsel of comfort from this place where she only knew suffering?

Besides, she might puke again, and Shadow Weaver would have her head if she made a mess of the cell. Catra crossed her arms over the metal seat and rested her forehead on them in preparation for any future episodes. Hot, helpless tears dripped into the murky water below, polluted with her previous offerings. Too tired to flush, she settled for letting the stench burn her nostrils. Because really, at that point, why the fuck not?

No matter what Catra did, she'd always end up right back here, degraded and tortured for having the nerve to exist. Like that was her fault. Shadow Weaver didn't need to do anything more to her. She already wished she'd never been born.

In her mind addled with exhaustion and despair, a new thought emerged. She didn't have to endure whatever horrors Shadow Weaver was planning for her. Turning her head to focus on one hand, she protracted and retracted her claws a few times, comforting herself with the knowledge that she had a way out. She couldn't help fantasizing about the results. What if Shadow Weaver found her limp body in a pool of blood? Bet she'd be sorry then for how she treated her. Bet she'd be…

No, who was Catra kidding? Shadow Weaver would be thrilled. No more having to deal with that nuisance, that pest. That animal. Best of all, no more having to fight for the attention of her precious Adora.

Adora.

In an instant, the fantasy lost its appeal. The thought of Adora hearing the news and crumpling to her knees with a cry of despair made Catra's chest swell and ache. Catra knew that if she lost Adora, she'd feel like part of her own soul had died. How could she subject Adora to that same feeling? She couldn't. There was no way. So she couldn't go. She had to stay there… and wait…

Tail flicking anxiously behind her, Catra tried to redirect her thoughts to happier things. At some point she'd get out, get to curl up on Adora's lap or chest and cry into her shoulder. Knowing that was in her future made the thought of whatever would come before more bearable.

Besides, Catra was no quitter. If she took her own life she'd be remembered as a weakling and a coward, if she was remembered at all. The mere thought was humiliating. Anyway, what better way was there to stick it to Shadow Weaver than to continue to exist and be a pain in her ass? If Catra was good for anything, it was that.

So Catra resolved to stay, refuse to give up or give in. She'd give Shadow Weaver zero satisfaction, endure the unjust punishment with zero complaints or apologies. She'd show Shadow Weaver how strong she was. Maybe one day Shadow Weaver would even see what she was worth.

But not today. Definitely not today.

Catra's eyes pop open in alarm, one ear flicking instinctively. The room is empty, but she can distinctly hear footsteps approaching. She curls tighter into herself, eyes trained unblinking on the door as she swallows down another wave of nausea. When it opens, letting in the bright light of the hallway, Catra has to shield her eyes. Hearing it close with an ominous thunk, she shudders and peeks past her arm to find Entrapta standing there.

Wait, Entrapta?

The inventor's eyes narrow in concern as she crosses the room, wiggling one hand out of its glove. "Catra, are you okay? You're looking a little pale." Reaching the bedside, she reaches out to touch the back of her hand to Catra's forehead, but Catra flinches away before she can make contact. Entrapta blinks inquisitively. "Catra?"

Ducking farther out of Entrapta's reach, Catra rasps, "Just feeling sick." Her throat is still tight from the emotion of the nightmare. Or memory, really. She wishes it was just a nightmare.

When Entrapta pulls her hand back, Catra's body finally relaxes. Shaking her head to clear it, she asks, "What are you doing here?"

Eyes dropping to her glove as she works her hand back in, Entrapta quietly answers, "I came to say I'm sorry if I offended you earlier. You're my friend, and I try to be honest with my friends. Scorpia says sometimes it's better not to tell the truth, but it's hard for me." Her brow creases in thought. "I mean, I always want my friends to tell me the truth." Swallowing, she meets Catra's gaze. "Anyway, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. And what Hordak did to you wasn't your fault, and it wasn't okay. That wasn't what I meant, but… Scorpia said it might have sounded that way to you."

"It's fine," mutters Catra. "You weren't exactly wrong."

Entrapta's gaze falls to her fidgeting hands. Haltingly she asks, "Do you forgive me?" Her eyes peek up slightly, checking Catra's reaction out of the corner of her eye. Catra finds herself torn between the urge to grind the heel of her hand into her forehead and the urge to smile. Smiling wins out, barely.

"Yeah, Trapta," she chuckles with a sigh. "I forgive you."

The princess's demeanor brightens considerably. "Okay, good." Backing away, she juts her thumb out at the door behind her. "I should get back to the lab, Scorpia's waiting for me."

As she's turning for the door, Catra calls out on instinct. "Hey, Entrapta?" She turns back and Catra takes a deep breath. She said she wanted honesty. Here goes.

"When I was in Bright Moon, I told Adora how Hordak gave you the Black Garnet," says Catra. "She just about fainted. Turns out she thought you were dead. They all did." Holding eye contact, she dips her head meaningfully. "They didn't mean to leave you behind."

Entrapta turns her face away, gloved hands fidgeting once again. "But you said they abandoned me because they didn't care about me."

"I didn't know. With how Adora left me, and how the others treated Scorpia, I assumed. I… I was wrong." Tension rises in Catra's throat from that simple admission, but she gulps it down. She told Shadow Weaver before her execution that she'd never be like her, and she meant it. Summoning her inner strength, she concludes, "I'm sorry, I made a mistake."

It's a moment before Entrapta responds, a sad but genuine smile forming on her lips. "It's okay, Catra. No one's perfect," she assures her, a pigtail reaching out to pat Catra on the head before sliding down her cheek. Pulling it back to her body, she says, "Thanks for telling me. And I forgive you, too."

A strange floating sensation rises in Catra's chest. Her ears flick against her will, much like they do when someone compliments her. Disoriented by this turn of events, she blinks in rapid succession. "Uh, thanks."

Entrapta exits with a tiny wave and Catra slumps back down onto the mattress, frowning at the ceiling. She feels… lighter? More relaxed. That's one less secret on her plate, and revealing it didn't even result in her being attacked. What a novelty.

Exactly how she's feeling takes several seconds to sink in. Better. She feels better. Catra's nose scrunches, a strange thought crossing her mind. Maybe that's how apologies are supposed to feel.

A/N: The next update should be up within the next couple of weeks, but I can't really estimate a date yet since I'm working on other projects as well. In the meantime, I have a few more SPOP pieces you can check out if you like. Full Hearts is a super fluffy Catradora future fic (oneshot, soon to be twoshot) and Done Waiting is an angsty AF Scorptra confrontation post season 3 (oneshot, complete). I also write a lot of meta, you can find any of that tagged on my Tumblr (url: johannas-motivational-insults).

Finally, if you're enjoying this piece and feel so inclined, you can leave me a tip on my Ko-fi (url: johannas_motivational_insults). If you can't, that's totally cool, I also appreciate comments and fic recs. :D

Bonus: Rec this fic on social media and tag/alert me and I'll give you early access to the next chapter.

Until next time!
-JMI