A/N: So, how's Catra doing? Catra is... being Catra.

Be warned, there are some pretty heavy themes in this chapter regarding mental health, maladaptive coping mechanisms, grief and mourning, and child abuse (on brand tbh). So don't go into this expecting to find happiness, go into this expecting to find catharsis.

The flashbacks in this chapter aren't immersive or long, they're more referential to scenes already described/inferred. If you get lost, in particular they call back to the flashback in chapter 15 and another incident first mentioned in chapter 1 (and several times since). But you don't necessarily need to remember that stuff well to understand what's going on in Catra's head, that's more just a note for if you get confused because it's been a while since you've read the referenced chapters and you want to find those scenes.

CONTENT WARNING for violent physical and emotional child abuse, verbal abuse, self-harm, and suicidal ideation.

Feet skuffing the metal floor, Catra keeps her head down as she skulks through the hall housing the Force Captain barracks. It's not that she's not allowed here; non-officers are permitted in this area if invited by a Force Captain, and she kind of has a permanent invitation. But Catra doesn't like reminders of what she's lost.

It's why being around Adora hurts so much. Maybe things are finally starting to look up for them, but that doesn't change what Catra lost when Adora left. All the heartache she suffered. And maybe she still has an in with Scorpia, but that doesn't change how she was stripped of her own power. How she was demoted and disgraced.

Yet as much as she may hate them, some part of Catra clings to these reminders of what she's lost. Some part of her cherishes the pain, thrives on it, refuses to let it go. It's why she cried herself to sleep for weeks with thoughts of Adora. It's why her yearning eyes can't help looking up as she passes the door to her old room.

Scowling down into her collar, Catra strides the last few steps to Scorpia's door and raps on it insistently, wanting to escape the hallway before the pain has a chance to sink in and further sour her mood. She could just barge in like Scorpia had a habit of doing to her, but she can't really expect Scorpia to respect her personal space if she doesn't show her what that looks like.

"Come in!" Scorpia calls from the other side, her tone unabashedly surprised and hopeful. She doesn't even try to hide it. Catra can't help snorting in disgust, in envy. Who the hell is raised to think such displays of vulnerability are acceptable? Fucking princesses, that's who.

Pinching her brow, Catra sighs out her aggression before pushing the button to open the door. She came here to enjoy her friend's company, and she can't if she keeps thinking like this. She forces the glower off her face but can't manage anything more than a neutral expression as Scorpia's door splits and slides into the wall.

"Oh, hey Wildcat," Scorpia greets her, suddenly sitting up from her lounging position on her bed. Catra's eyes narrow quizzically at the lingering surprise in her tone. Who else would show up here? It's not like Entrapta ever leaves her lab, and Scorpia doesn't have any other friends. Catra doesn't have much time to consider this, though, because Scorpia's already asking, "To what do I owe the honor?"

"You said I was welcome anytime," Catra reminds her, weight rocking back on her heels.

"I know, it was a joke," Scorpia assures her, flashing a grin. "Come on," she urges, patting the bed. "How've you been?"

Feeling her lips turn up slightly, Catra twists them into a smirk. "You mean since yesterday?"

"A lot can happen in a day," says Scorpia.

Catra's day in Bright Moon comes to mind, and she snorts under her breath. "Very true," she admits. "I'm fine. It was just more training, you know."

Scorpia nods at her table as Catra approaches, and Catra pushes the power button on the sound blocker box before joining her on the bed. Scorpia asks, "They still treating you okay in the barracks?"

"Yeah, it's fine," Catra assures her. "Lonnie's watching my back and I have a bit of a reputation to begin with. People aren't keen on fucking with someone with claws and anger management problems." Not anymore, anyway. Now that Shadow Weaver's no longer around to police her 'animalistic' behaviors, Catra's not afraid to growl and bare her claws anymore. That sure keeps the idiot humans at bay.

Tipping her head, Scorpia asks, "You thought at all about what I said the other day?"

Constantly. For three days since Scorpia made the offer, the idea of defecting together has been dominating Catra's thoughts. The possibilities excite her. The possibilities frighten her.

Catra shrugs. "A bit, yeah."

"Just a bit?"

Tail twitching, Catra averts her eyes. "Look, if I'm slowing down your plan…" Her ears droop against her will. "I know you guys must be itching to leave."

Please don't leave.

Please.

Scorpia decisively shakes her head. "Catra, you're a big part of why I want to leave. Leaving without you wouldn't make me happier. Entrapta I think is fine for now. Well," Scorpia makes air quotes with her pincers, "'fine.' She's working overtime trying to hack the mainframes for information now, squirreling away tech she wants to take. She probably doesn't mind the extra time."

Catra squints. "How does Entrapta work overtime? Did she ever stop in the first place?"

"She stops to sleep, sometimes. But now she's using some kind of drug to keep herself awake." Scorpia frowns. "It's actually freaking me out a little."

Well, that explains a lot. Catra just came from the lab, having checked there first under the assumption Scorpia would be there, as usual. Instead she found Entrapta whizzing around on her rolling chair even faster than normal, blabbing about stuff Catra didn't understand. Despite repeated attempts to get her attention, she barely acknowledged Catra, too busy rattling off numbers and shrieking about the data while a haggard Emily looked on and beeped urgently at Catra to intervene. Catra finally resorted to jamming her foot against the chair to stop Entrapta's momentum before leaning in close and asking where Scorpia was with loud, slow, emphatic syllables.

"Try stinging her with your tail?" suggests Catra.

"I- what?" Scorpia balks, eyebrows practically at her hairline. "Catra!"

"Well, it would put her to sleep."

"I can't attack my girlfriend like that," Scorpia scolds her. Eyes flitting away, she mutters, "Or whatever she is."

Catra frowns. "What's up, Scorp?"

Jaw twitching, Scorpia sighs. "I wish I didn't have to sting her to get her to stop. Like, I wish she would just hang out with me and stuff. Don't get me wrong, I like her. A lot. I just wish I could have more of her."

"Hasn't she always been like this?" Catra points out.

"Yeah, but it's been worse since we started talking about leaving."

Teeth catching her lip, Catra frowns down at her tapping foot. "Maybe you should just tell her not to worry about it. Calm her down."

Scorpia sounds surprised and yet not surprised at all when she asks, "Decided you want to stay?"

Catra's eyes fall closed with a sigh.

'Want' has nothing to do with it.

It's not that Catra has never wanted to leave the Horde. There were many, many times she fantasized about running away and never looking back. But she couldn't leave Adora behind. Not just because Adora was her best friend and lifeline, but because she didn't want to leave Adora alone in the Fright Zone, being raised by Shadow Weaver of all people. She looked out for Adora, and Adora looked out for her, that was their promise. And Adora never would have left, she'd always swallowed the Horde's propaganda by the bucketful. So Catra stayed.

The older Catra got, the rarer those thoughts became. Not because her torment at the hands of Shadow Weaver lessened - quite the opposite, in fact - but because she had too much pride to entertain them for long. Deserters were weak, cowardly people, and Catra already had enough people calling her weak and cowardly. She'd show them. She was stronger than any of them, she had to be after all she'd been through. In the back of her mind she always knew it wasn't the best reason to stay, that she wasn't happy, but the closest thing she had to happiness resided in the Fright Zone. If her pride kept her in the same place as Adora, she was okay with it.

...Funny how that worked out.

Now that Catra is stuck in this dilemma, between sacrificing her pride or sacrificing her heart, she wishes she could've gone out on top. Wishes she'd made second-in-command then happily fucked off to start her own faction. Then it would have looked like a bold choice instead of running away with her tail between her legs. But would she have left if she hadn't lost everything?

Honestly, probably not.

"Look, I know everyone thinks I'm lazy and shit, but I'm no quitter," declares Catra, hands furling into fists. "I was good at my job and I know I can get it back if I work hard enough. There must be something I can do." Hordak's ultimatum pops into her head and she quickly clarifies, "Other than killing Adora."

Peering at the fading purple remnants of Catra's black eye, Scorpia cautions, "I dunno, Catra. Looks like he was pretty serious."

"Hordak has a temper," says Catra, dismissing this with a wave. "I can convince him. I just need something good." When Scorpia gives her a doubtful look she snaps, "What? You expect me to just give up on my dreams?"

"Giving up isn't the same thing as cutting your losses," says Scorpia. "There's nothing wrong with surrendering a battle you know you can't win. You save yourself effort and resources. Better than losing everything."

"What do I have left to lose?" scoffs Catra.

"Other than me and Entrapta?" snarks Scorpia, one eyebrow high on her forehead. She pretends to mull this over before coming back with, "Hmm, your life, maybe?"

Catra snorts, glancing away. "Yeah, I don't really care about that."

"Well you should," insists Scorpia. The harshness in her face fades slightly as she studies Catra. "Is that really your dream?"

"What?"

"Ruling the world, ruling the Horde, whatever," says Scorpia. She appears genuinely curious, and maybe a bit concerned. "Is that all you care about?"

"I mean, no, but…" Catra drags her fingers through her hair, trying to piece together a coherent argument.

"You're nothing without the Horde, without me."

Catra's eyes squeeze shut with effort to stay in this moment, not sink into the haunting memories. And yet, darkness tempts her to wallow in the murky depths, to revel in her own misery. Why bother fighting it? Why not surrender this battle she can't win? Since her nightmare after Hordak attacked her, that awful day has been playing on repeat in her head. Nausea, and hopelessness, and-

Pain. So much pain. Magic squeezing her ribs so tight she couldn't breathe, words so scathing tears streamed down her face, blows so vicious her bruises lasted weeks.

Catra gritted her teeth, bit down on her tongue, determined not to beg for mercy. She'd committed to suffering in silence and she sure as shit wasn't going to give in and let Shadow Weaver see her weakness. The tears were bad enough, but she could control her mouth. Maybe not her screams, but her words.

Shadow Weaver would not break her.

"Look, if I leave now, everything I did will be for nothing." Catra's voice comes out even lower than usual, barely getting by the lump in her throat. "Everything I suffered will be for nothing."

"You need a way to make it better, somehow," Scorpia rephrases, nodding with understanding. "Make something of it."

Catra's eyes burn and blur as she holds her friend's gaze. "How do I do that?" she asks genuinely, desperation leaking into her voice despite her best efforts.

Mouth twitching, Scorpia gives a resigned, wistful sigh. "I dunno, Wildcat. You might just have to make your peace with it."

"How could I possibly make peace with something like that?" Suddenly unable to sit still, Catra hops to her feet and begins to pace, fingers winding in her hair, tugging at her scalp. "Shadow Weaver is dead and I'll never…" She swallows hard, barely gets out in a whisper, "Nothing I do could ever bring her back or make this right."

When Catra looks up, she finds Scorpia raising a pointed eyebrow. Her own words hit her like one of She-Ra's punches, leaving her shaken and reeling, a sharp pain tearing through her chest. "Fuck," she whispers. Emotion surges within her and she smacks her own forehead. "Fuck!"

"Careful!" Scorpia warns her. "You're gonna hurt yourself."

Catra barely hears her, too occupied digging her claws into her forearm. Her throaty growl gives way to a sigh of relief as the sweet pain smothers all her thoughts and emotions. Next thing she knows her hands are being ripped apart, wrists gripped tightly in a pair of pincers as Scorpia wraps her up in a firm hug from behind.

Claws flexing, Catra snarls, "Let me go!"

"No," Scorpia says firmly.

Thrashing in her grip, Catra hisses and growls like the wild beast Shadow Weaver always told her she was. "Scorpia, I swear to Hordak-"

"Please! You need to stop hurting yourself!" The pain in Scorpia's voice drains the fight out of Catra. She goes still, exhaling heavily as her eyes fall shut. "That's it, just calm down, okay? We can work this out."

Catra is not calm. Catra is resigned. Catra stares blankly at the wall in front of her. "There's nothing to work out. It's over."

"Look, you're right, you can't bring her back. You can't change the past," Scorpia says into her shoulder. "That's why you need to make peace with it. If you don't, it'll eat you up for the rest of your life."

With her lungs still compressed, Catra's ironic chuckle comes out a little bit strangled and insane. Scorpia loosens her grip slightly and Catra scowls at her over her shoulder. "Let me guess, I need to 'let go'?" she snarks. Tongue tucking under her lip, she scoffs and shakes her head. "You don't understand."

Several seconds pass before Scorpia admits, "You're right. I wish I could." She releases Catra, watching sadly as her captive steps back a safe distance and crosses her arms. "I hate seeing you like this, Catra. I just want you to be happy."

"I don't get to be happy," spits Catra. "You ever had a bad day, Scorpia? Well, I've had a bad life. If I want something, it's taken from me. If I win a fight, I lose the war."

"Don't you want to change that?" asks Scorpia, her eyes big and soft and stupid. So stupid. Just like Adora.

"I told you, I won't be happy if I run away like some weakling," Catra reiterates impatiently. "I'd just prove all of them right." Her eyes sting and she has to look away, blinking hard. Shifting her aching jaw, she quietly declares, "The only things that could make me happy are things that will never happen."

"Oh, Catra," sighs Scorpia. She waits until Catra makes eye contact again before saying, "I'm sorry that's how your life's made you feel."

Catra cocks a challenging eyebrow. "But?"

"But nothing," says Scorpia, quiet and sincere. "I'm just sorry."

Catra's jaw shifts again and she sniffles, quickly wiping under her nose as she brushes by Scorpia. "I should get back to the barracks," she says on her way by. Glancing over her shoulder at the door, she adds, "Night, Scorpia."

***o***

Catra doesn't go back to the barracks. Catra climbs up to the top of the crane and cries.

Pulling her legs tight to her chest, she rests her head on her knees. Hot tears drip from her cheeks and soak into her leggings as she shudders with low, mournful sobs.

"You pathetic creature."

The voice casts a chill over Catra and makes her muscles go rigid, but the tears continue to flow.

"Stop your snivelling this instant." The reprimands only made Catra's whimpers devolve into choked sobs. Shadow Weaver sighed in exasperation before saying with finality, "I've had enough of this." There was a loud crack, a sharp blow on Catra's raw skin, a flash of pain that made her cry out. "You will learn to control yourself." Another blow, another howl. "We are not leaving until you do."

"No, no no no!" Catra yells aloud, drowning out the voice in her head, clawing her bleeding arm again to pull herself from the memory. The last time she ever cried in front of Shadow Weaver. That's one she can't see. Not right now.

"You need to kill your weakness, soldier."

"No!" Catra jumps to her feet and begins pacing, covering her ears and humming nonsense.

"This is for your own good."

"Shut up! Leave me alone!" she screams. "Leave me the fuck alone!" Anyone who hears her will think she's gone crazy. Has she gone crazy?

Catra roars and boots a loose piece of pipe off the crane, sending it careening to the ground below. It lands with an unsatisfying clatter and she smacks her face with both hands, claws digging into her scalp. She roars again into her palms, but the pain swelling in her chest only grows. It takes no pity on her. Doesn't give her a moment of peace.

"Why did you hurt me like this?" she shouts into the void. "What did I do to deserve it? Why couldn't you have just-" Cut off by her own sobbing, she falls to her knees. "Why couldn't you have just loved me? It couldn't have been that hard." Her voice breaks, making her sound every bit the trembling child she feels. "Was I really that bad?" she squeaks. "I wanted to be good, I did. I'm sorry, I tried… I tried."

Merciless as ever, the haunting voice swirls in Catra's head, mocking her relentlessly.

"Catra has been nothing but a disappointment to me."

"I should have drowned you in a bucket when you were a kitten."

"You're not good enough for her. You'll only drag her down, like you've been doing your whole sorry life. You'll disappoint her. That's all you're good for."

"You've made a grave mistake, my lord. Soon you will see that."

"You're anything but a success story, Catra. You're the weakest cadet I've ever raised."

Catra tips her head back and screams her anguish at the sky.

"Why did you do this to me?" she yells, fists clenching. Her throat aches, voice cracking with tears. "All I ever wanted was for you to be proud of me."

Proud. Catra can almost hear Shadow Weaver's laugh, mocking her from beyond the grave. How could anyone look at her and be proud? She's weak. A snivelling disgrace. No wonder Hordak doesn't want her either. All she ever does is make a fool of herself.

Wrapping her arms around her ribcage, Catra begins to rock slightly, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I tried," she whispers hoarsely. "I really tried."

Trying accomplishes nothing. Catra figured that out years ago, hence all the faux laziness. Trying only made everything hurt, because she was never rewarded. Still, she never really stopped, only pretended to in the name of sparing her pride. Was she a glutton for punishment, or just stubborn? Either way she was foolish, playing a losing game over and over again when it was rigged from the start.

Catra was never meant to succeed. She was always going to end up here. A failure. A disgrace. She can't help wondering, though… what could she have been if she'd been supported? If she'd been loved? She could have made something of herself. She had potential, but Shadow Weaver refused to acknowledge or nurture it. If only she'd been something more... a better soldier, magical, human...

Shaking her head, Catra blinks away her tears. There's no use thinking about these things. She can't ever go back and fix this. She'll be broken like this forever. Shadow Weaver can never give her what she needs to heal.

This thought hits Catra much the same way it did in Scorpia's room, drowning her in a new wave of grief. She clutches her aching chest as another round of sobs wracks her body. Tipping forward, she catches herself with one hand and looks out past it, at the edge of the crane. At the void beyond. Dark thoughts begin to cloud her consciousness. How she can end her pain, her exhaustion and frustration, her life of suffering and fruitless striving. It would be so easy to crawl to the edge, let herself fall to oblivion. Her body hitting the ground would be much more satisfying than the pipe. A final protest to this hellish existence that has the nerve to call itself a life.

A pathetic protest, though. Catra's forehead creases at the thought. She's always been determined to go down fighting. And suicide? That's even more disgraceful than running away. Catra can just hear what people would say. That poor, stupid animal couldn't handle it, couldn't handle anything. She was weak, a coward, a disgrace. She gave up.

Catra won't give up.

Letting her forehead kiss the cool metal of the crane, Catra releases a shuddering sigh and a few residual tears. She tips over onto her side, stretching out her legs before settling on her back. Eyelids creaking open, she looks up at the heavens.

"Why?" she whispers. To Shadow Weaver, to the Horde, to the whole goddamn universe.

"Why?"

A/N: Catra x Therapy is the ultimate otp of this series I s2g