The next day was Friday: the first round of the tournament.
Catra was buzzing with nervous anticipation at the thought of seeing Mara fight again. All throughout her day at work, she found herself focusing on that feeling in order to fuel her lightning stream. She thought of Mara's precision; her skill; her effortless form; her capable musculature; the look in her eyes.
She still received a rush of heat whenever she thought of the first time they'd locked eyes across the ring. She channeled it into her bending.
She also thought of the time they'd spent after that: first slouched together on Catra's couch, tension and conflict still lacing the air between them until má overwhelmed Catra's anger and she discovered just how welcome company could be. Mara helping her save her job, showing that she truly cared, adding the bonus of gentle fingers in her hair. The two of them wandering through the streetlit evening together, learning more about each other piece by piece. And finally, yesterday, when Mara swore to help Catra—to protect her—through the shitstorm of her life.
Her lightning was brighter, hotter than usual today.
…
She got off work just in time to throw down a meal at Loo-Kee before striking off toward the Underground. Mara had agreed to meet her at the bottom of the stairs to the tunnel, promising that it was more important for Catra to get in free than it was for her to spend the extra time warming up. Catra kept her pace brisk anyway so that she wouldn't have to wait long.
When she navigated the way to the hidden staircase and emerged at the entrance to the tunnel, Mara's golden mane caught her eye from the side instantly. The girl was leaned up against the side of the tunnel, arms crossed and one foot propped on the wall behind her. It was…disturbingly sexy.
Mara had been watching the doorway, so she laid eyes on Catra at the same time and broke into an immediate grin. That still sent Catra's heart jumping. "Hey," the bombshell said cheerfully, all too casual, and Catra allowed a crooked smile of her own.
"Hi, princess. Are you ready to knock some heads?"
Mara chuckled deep in her throat. "Just one head tonight. But yeah," she bumped Catra's shoulder playfully as she fell into step beside her and they started round the bend to the guarded door. "I am."
"Who are you fighting tonight?" Catra asked more out of a desire to hear Mara's voice again than to actually know.
Mara gave a reflective hum as she thought through the brackets for the night, trying to remember a detail she obviously hadn't put that much stock in. "Some girl from Dragon Flats," she recalled. "Forgot her stage name, though."
Catra was familiar with Dragon Flats. Her den wasn't too far from it. She chose to focus on a different detail. "There are other girls down here?" she asked, a bit surprised, not because girls couldn't fight but just because she'd seen precious few in the crowd during her time here. All of the fighters she'd witnessed were male, too. If she was being honest with herself, she had kind of just subconsciously assumed that Mara was the queen of the establishment, as it were.
Mara nodded. "A couple." Then she aimed a sly look at Catra, mouth twitching up at the corner, and teased, "Should I be worried?"
"That I'm going to like them better than you?" Catra snorted to disguise the color coming to her cheeks. "No, princess. You've got nothing to worry about."
Mara's little smile broadened into a bright grin.
Me, on the other hand…
…
The girl from Dragon Flats called herself the Horde Soldier, though Catra had no clue what horde she was a part of or what war she was a soldier in. Probably a code name for one of the triads in her part of town. She was dark-skinned, light-eyed, and competent enough, but still no match for Shira.
The fight was over almost as soon as it began, as the hotheaded Soldier rushed into every exchange like she had a personal vendetta, and Mara unfailingly countered every move. Once, she even used the girl's own fist to punch her in the face. Catra admired the Soldier's persistence, but the poor girl caused herself more harm than good by meeting Shira head-on like that. She winced at the counter to the gut followed by a spinning knockout kick than sent the girl sprawling to the ground for good.
"The warrior goddess Shira is once again your winner!" the announcer yelled as he ran in to swoop Mara's arm into the air. A team of volunteers shuffled behind him to bear the Horde Soldier off to the lockers to recover. Catra silently wished her well.
The crowd's reaction to Mara's victory was even stronger than it had been the first time Catra watched. The stands were packed with viewers here for the tournament, and it certainly made a difference in the way their ruckus made Catra's ears ring. Mara was smiling tightly under their praise, letting the announcer turn her around to each side of the arena to cater to the whole crowd. When she faced Catra's direction, though, her attention slipped away from the throng in favor of holding Catra's eyes across the room.
Catra tried not to have an aneurysm and gave her a genuine thumbs-up.
Mara kept looking at her until the announcer released her and moved on to introduce the next fight.
Catra knew that the match against the Horde Soldier was Mara's only fight scheduled for her tonight, so afterward the fighter was free to shower in the single stall in the back room and then join Catra in the stands. A quarter of an hour passed before Catra spotted her bounding up toward her from the lockers, as energetic as if she hadn't just spent a grueling several minutes locked in combat, and bit her lip against a fond smile.
"I have to get an idea of who I'll be up against in the semifinals," Mara explained as she reached Catra's spot and took a seat by her side.
Catra hadn't asked.
It sounded like an excuse.
She didn't really mind.
She enjoyed the other girl's presence by her side, even if they didn't really speak for favor of watching the second bracket of the night. Mara's aura was steady; protective. Warm. Catra could basically feel the radiation even though they weren't sitting all that close. It helped unwind the tight knot in her chest that seemed a permanent feature. Mara, too, seemed more relaxed than usual; content after her victory.
It was nice.
All of this was nice.
At least, until she noticed Shady Shin sitting halfway around the amphitheater, a level or two up from them, his pockets definitely bulging with a healthy stock of má.
Oh, shit, was the first thing through her head.
Because now that she'd seen him, she wasn't going to be able to stop thinking about how she might be able to go over there and get supplies; just a bag or two to make up for the appointment she'd missed. Just enough for a little while.
She'd rationed her stock to last for four days, but that was only providing for the mornings she had work. There was nothing to get her through the evenings or weekend except Razz's odd bottle of baijiu. Why shouldn't she go get some more? Shin was in the same room as her. He was right there. She was sure she could distract Mara long enough to buy her a moment to go see him. She was sure she could go scratch her itch and be back without anyone noticing.
She willed Shin silently to look back at her so they could communicate. What if she just?—
"Catra," broke into her unwilling reverie.
"Huh?" She jumped and looked toward the source. Mara was regarding her with concern, sky eyes searching her face.
"What's got you so distracted?" she asked, and when her gaze shifted past Catra to scan the crowd for the perpetrator, Catra leaned instinctively to block her view.
"N-nothing."
Mara's brows lowered. "No one is giving you trouble, are they? Because I—"
"No," Catra cut her off quickly. She was equal parts warmed by Mara's sentiment and chilled by the guilt of hiding the truth. "It's nothing. I'm just exhausted."
Mara's mouth thinned into a contemplative line as she considered what was obviously a lie. She tried to glance past Catra again, but the brunette made sure she could not spot the figure she was looking for. She gave up with a sigh and settled for studying Catra's multihued eyes with tenderness. "Should we go, then?"
"I—" Catra glanced back over her shoulder, her reasonable side screaming yes! but the rest of her begging no.
She wanted to go meet Shin, just to secure herself a safety net for the next several days, just to make sure she wouldn't have to suffer the demons that came for her some nights, but—
She looked at Mara again, desperate indecision written all across her face in a silent plea: choose for me so I don't have to.
And Mara seemed to understand without really understanding. Wordlessly she stood from the stone bench and reached out her hand, and for once Catra willingly took it.
Catra refused to look back at Shin as they left.
The way out of the Underground was a blur, mostly because her mind kept wandering infuriatingly to the opportunity she was leaving behind—but, she reminded herself like a mantra, this was better. Being clean was better. Being with Mara was better.
Catra clung to her hand a little tighter than was necessary as they walked and didn't even have the awareness to feel embarrassed about it.
As they emerged on the surface and tracked their way through the city streets, Catra wasn't really paying attention to where they were going, so when Mara halted at length and she raised her head to see the entrance to a bar standing before them, she was mildly surprised.
Also interested. Maybe a little alcohol would help temper her hunger for má. If she was inebriated, she wouldn't need to be high, too, right?
"I like to come here after matches sometimes," Mara bent her neck to say in her ear, because the clamor of voices and music wafting from the establishment was impressive.
Catra raised her brows. She hadn't gotten the impression that Mara was a drinking girl. Although, she also hadn't expected her to be an underground brawler, either. She shrugged off the surprise and motioned for the other girl to lead them in.
Stepping inside wasn't as jarring as she'd expected. It was loud, sure, and neon lights cut through the darkness, but it was tastefully managed with the bar on the near side and the dance floor on the far so that entering guests wouldn't immediately be swept away. The lack of fistfights and má smoke told her that this must be a higher-class dive than she would normally brave.
That and the shining surfaces that lined every part of the room.
By a wordless agreement, Catra found them a two-seater table near the wall on the bar side of the establishment while Mara approached the bar itself to order them a pair of drinks. The service was as fast as the decor was fancy, and the brawler was placing a bottle down in front of Catra and sliding into her seat within a minute.
Nursing her alcohol in the safety of her seat, Catra got the chance to better soak in the details of the bar. Bright Moon, it was called, and the steel countertops reflecting the blue luminance of the neon lights above definitely alluded to its namesake. It was much nicer than the ruins of the Fright Zone above her den. She didn't fit in here, she knew, but with Mara across from her she didn't feel as anxious about that as she should have.
She relaxed back into her seat and enjoyed her drink and the atmosphere and Mara, thoughts of Shin temporarily fading into the background.
It wasn't until they'd finished their first drinks and started on a second round that either of them spoke.
"Good job tonight," Catra felt the need to say, because she couldn't stop thinking about the way Mara had sexily pounded that Horde girl into the turf earlier. That and the glow of her clouding eyes in the blue light.
The corners of Mara's mouth turned up but she didn't allow herself to look too pleased yet. "I've still got a long way to go."
Catra snorted. "If all the folks down there fight like that girl did, you could crush them with your little toe."
That made Mara throw her head back and genuinely laugh. "Thanks," she said once she'd composed herself to just giggles. "I had a very good mentor."
"The one at your old village?" Catra asked, seeing an opening for information and taking it.
Mara's eyes shadowed but she didn't close herself off like she had the other night. She hummed an affirmative and took a big sip of her drink as if to steady herself. "Her name was—is—Light Hope. Which is ironic. She was the most pessimistic, stonefaced, robotic woman you'd ever meet." Those blue-gray eyes turned a little distant, and Catra wondered if it was due to old memories or the effects of her drink. "She was a good mentor, though," she repeated. "Taught me everything I know."
"About fighting?" Catra clarified.
"Yeah!" Mara blurted, jumping a little in her seat as if caught off guard. "About fighting. Just fighting. I know about other things too. That she didn't teach me." Her cheeks were going pink and it had to be the alcohol. Her tolerance was apparently way lower than Catra's if she was getting tipsy after a drink and a half.
Catra rested her chin on her palm and watched her flounder adorably. She debated pressing that topic, but instead took mercy on the other girl and asked, "Why did you have to learn how to fight?"
"Oh." Mara's expression went somber again. She took a long drink, reaching the bottom of her second bottle. "In case my father came back. Of course." She was looking at the shining tabletop, avoiding Catra's eyes, and the brunette decided again not to press, even though that story seemed just the least bit unrealistic.
"So," she redirected, flagging down the nearest waiter (this place was so rich it had waiters) for another round of drinks. She only felt slightly bad about neglecting to ask Mara first, but she was bent on drowning her thoughts of má (and maybe encouraging the other girl to keep talking as well). "Why Republic City?"
Mara took the third drink the waiter set down and sipped from it without even noticing that it was new. Catra grimaced and felt a little worse. "I thought there would be a lot of opportunity here," the sun-haired girl explained. "To get a job. And to blend in." She finally looked up and met Catra's eyes and hers were a little cloudy; very intense. "And maybe meet someone."
Catra looked away quickly, flushing completely independently of the alcohol. Maybe ordering Mara that third drink hadn't been such a good idea. She was getting a little too honest, now. But at the same time…
Catra cleared her throat. "Um. Well. Looks like you haven't had any trouble with that."
"I don't know. I've had my fair share of…resistance." Mara took a swig of her drink as if to punctuate her words. Then another.
Catra felt herself color even darker and was grateful for the blue-tinted lights of the bar. There was no way Mara hadn't meant something very pointed with that comment, and Catra wasn't ready to face her implication. She wasn't ready to face her own feelings in response to it.
So instead she picked up her own drink and tipped her head back to take a long, deep draft. Smothering her emotions with alcohol was something she was much more comfortable with.
But when she came back down, the tension hadn't dissipated. Now instead, Mara was simply staring at her, her chin in her hand and her eyes heavy lidded.
Spirits. The way the blue light was catching on her sky-colored irises was nothing short of stunning. For a split second, Catra's eyes flitted down to her lips and her alcohol-addled brain wondered what if?
Then she regained a hold of herself and dropped her gaze to her own bottle of booze. She decided to distract herself from uncomfortable feelings with an arguably equally uncomfortable topic, because she figured now was as good a time as any to answer the question that had been worrying at the back of her mind.
"Mara," she started, more to gather her own wits than anything. She kept her eyes down but she could feel Mara's on her. "Are you, um…" Shit. Now that she'd started, she didn't want to finish, but she couldn't just leave the other girl hanging. She grimaced at her drink. "Are you an Equalist?"
"Hmm?" Mara gave a confused little hum and blinked out of her reverie. She shook her head, but Catra wasn't mollified until she went on: "No. Of course not. Why would I be?"
Catra shrugged. "Well, I mean, the Underground seems like it's pretty sympathetic to their cause," she said carefully, thinking of the comment Mara had made at the pro-bending arena. Maybe it really had just been an offhand thing. The thought brought her some relief.
"A lot of Equalists watch the fights," Mara admitted, resting her chin on the rim of her bottle and rocking it side to side absently, "but I'm not one. My mentor is a bender. I had friends who were benders." Her eyes brightened. "You're a bender. See, I don't hate benders."
Catra bit her lip against a smile. Mara was sort of cute like this. Concerning, but cute. "So if there was…trouble with me and the Equalists, ever," she continued tentatively, "would you, you know, take my side?"
"Yeah," Mara burst out a little too loud. She basically lunged across the table to grasp Catra's hand and fix her with earnest eyes. "Yeah, I like you better than Equalists."
"Shh," cautioned Catra, patting Mara's overenthused hand with her free one. "You never know who's listening."
"Oh, right," Mara dropped her voice to a whisper. Then she leaned in further and said again, quietly this time, "I like you better than them."
This time Catra, inhibitions relieved by alcohol and Mara's words, couldn't hold back her smile. As soon as Mara saw it, she started to smile, too, and then giggle. The sound was so contagious that Catra had to laugh too, which made Mara laugh harder and the two devolved into fits of mirth for no reason at all until their ribs ached.
Catra tried to catch her breath and failed as she stared into Mara's shining eyes and it occurred to her that maybe she should have held off on that third drink, too.
This girl was going to be the death of her.
She took another gulp of alcohol and welcomed her fate.
…
They had just stepped outside when Mara turned to her and blurted, "Come back with me."
"To your place?" Catra questioned, aghast. At the other girl's nod, she retreated, palms raised. She wasn't willing to go that far tonight. "Mara—I don't think—"
"We've talked about this. Where else will you go?" Mara cut her off, leaning too far into her space.
"I—" Catra wanted to be angry, because what they'd talked about was only if Mara won the tournament, and even then they would be living somewhere else, not her current place, which felt much too intimate, and she'd just touched a tender topic, but Mara was drunk, and—
And she was too close, and her eyes too heavy, and her lips too red, and—
And Catra wanted to join her.
When did that happen?
All the indignance deflated out of her as she realized she wasn't going to be able to beat temptation this time. Not with three drinks in her system. "Fine," she sighed.
The grin she earned was blinding. Catra wished Mara would use it more when she was sober. It looked good on her.
"—but I'm taking the floor."
Mara didn't answer, which sounded like she didn't really agree and that certainly didn't do anything to calm Catra's racing heart. Definitely should have passed on the third drink.
Mara leaned on Catra's shoulder to remain walking in a straight line on the way back. She wasn't blackout drunk, but she'd obviously had enough to knock her off balance. Catra wasn't sure if she felt irritated that she was having to guide her back home or oddly honored. She was soaking up the warmth of the other girl's body against her in the cool air, of course, but her shoulder was getting tired. She wondered how on earth the Mara humming a faint, nonsensical tune in her ear was the same one who'd effortlessly sent a grown woman to her knees earlier tonight.
They reached the restaurant without much fuss.
Thankfully Loo-Kee's dining room was dark and free of any patrons, after hours as it was. Catra was not too keen on hauling a drunk Mara past a bunch of gawking restaurant-goers.
Instead she bore her past a crowd of empty tables and down the short hall to the staircase up to her room. The steps proved a hassle with Mara as unwieldy as she was and Catra's own vision none too clear, but they managed. As soon as they pushed through the curtain into Mara's living space, Catra tried to guide her toward the bed, but the other girl mumbled out a sloppy, "Wait a sec."
Catra froze, suddenly anxious that Mara was going to do something brash as she shrugged her off and turned in her arms, but to her relief (her disappointment?) that was not the case.
Instead, Mara crossed unsteadily to her wardrobe and pulled out the bottom drawer. Inside she pushed aside a stack of stained and frayed athletic shirts and jimmied loose a false wooden bottom, beneath which lay a dark box about the size of a shoebox. She pulled a stack of yuan from her pocket—she's been carrying that around this whole time? Catra wondered—and placed it in the box on top of a healthy existing pile of money.
Catra tried not to watch her out of the corner of her eye, but old habits died hard. The image of Shady Shin across the Underground amphitheater returned to her mind. Now the image of Mara's savings box floated alongside it.
Before Catra could stew too long, Mara closed the door on temptation, moved to the drawer just above it, and withdrew a folded wool blanket and a rolled sleeping pallet. She crossed back to hand them to Catra, but when the brunette tried to take them, she didn't release her grip. Catra looked up in confusion.
"Are you sure you want to sleep on the floor?" Mara asked plaintively, and her eyes were unguarded under the effects of the alcohol and the look in them was so soft, so wanting, and Catra didn't trust her voice enough to answer aloud so she just nodded her head.
She told herself that the look on drunk-Mara's face was not disappointment. It was better that way.
"Okay," the girl affirmed reluctantly, "but you'll tell me if you change your mind."
It was stated as a fact instead of a question, but Catra nodded anyway as if she had a choice in the matter (she did, she told herself. She was not going to get in bed with Mara tonight, no matter what).
The golden-haired girl finally let Catra claim the supplies and turned toward her own bed with a yawn. "G'night, Catra," she mumbled as she crawled onto the straw-filled old mattress. "Thanks for tonight."
And—Catra tried not to let her face heat up, but she supposed it didn't really matter in the dark. She decided against saying anything in response. It worked out okay, since Mara dropped off snoring about the second her head hit the pillow, but Catra's throat still felt like she'd tried to swallow sawdust. Mara wants me in her bed.
That and—tonight isn't over yet, pointed out the part of her mind that she hated.
…
Catra cracked one eye open. When it was met with nothing but darkness, she opened the other, staring at the space above her until they adjusted.
She could not sleep. It had been hours, and still Catra was restless.
She couldn't get a notion out of her mind. Well—more than one, but one in particular was eating her up like a bad case of termites.
The image of Shin sitting across from her at the arena was burned on the backs of her eyelids.
That and the image of Mara's savings box tucked temptingly away just within her reach.
Catra reached up and massaged her sore eyeballs, groaning quietly into the dark.
Damn Mara and her money.
Catra always felt bad to have the other girl pay for her. She would always hate the way it was necessary for her to depend on other people. She would always hate the sympathetic looks they gave her; the waves of pity virtually rolling off of them; the filthy coins they sometimes tossed to her as they passed. She hated having nothing, yet at the same time she hated having something she hadn't earned.
So she would fight tooth and nail against Mara's altruism at every chance she possibly could, because she didn't want that.
But somehow, the tug of that savings box in the bottom drawer was different. That was not altruism. That was not just a product of other people's pity. That was a stack of money sitting unguarded within the reach of a scrappy street urchin and Catra could not stop imagining herself sliding open that drawer and stuffing aside those shirts and laying her hands on that box and—
Nothing would be a worse way to thank Mara for the kindness that she'd shown Catra so far. Nothing would be so far from the appropriate way to treat an acquaintance; a friend; a companion. Nothing would be a grosser butchering of the trust the other girl had placed in her just by inviting her into her home; her life.
And yet—
Catra could not get the thought of it out of her head.
She kept imagining the possibilities of having just a few more yuan on hand each week to take to Shady Shin and buy a backup supply of má.
She imagined collecting enough that she could eat something besides plain boiled noodles, ever, or maybe buy a new set of clothes. She imagined a life where she didn't have to cut her soles on every uneven patch of pavement because she couldn't afford to cover them. She imagined having.
Mara didn't have to know, did she? What she didn't know wouldn't hurt her.
Catra doubted that she needed every single bill crammed into that little box. Especially once she won the Quántóu Underground pot, she would have little need for a backup stash, right? She'd have enough for whatever she wanted.
She wouldn't need it.
Catra needed it.
Carefully she lifted the blanket off of her legs and slid herself off of her borrowed pallet into a crouch. Then, catlike, silent in the darkness, she slunk across the floor to Mara's wardrobe. The bottom drawer protested as she slid it open, but she eased past the rough spot slowly to minimize the noise. A glance over her shoulder and the snores coming from the bed told her that Mara had not heard.
Catra pushed aside the stack of Mara's athletic shirts, levered up the drawer's false bottom, and laid eyes on the darker silhouette of the fateful little savings box. Her heart was pounding fast and hard in her ears and she was shocked that the other girl didn't hear it.
She reached out with a trembling hand, fumbling with the box in the dark, and tipped the lid back to reveal the stack of lighter shapes within. She licked her dry lips and swallowed on a scratchy throat. This is it.
She slipped her hand into the box and touched the stack. They're right there.
Before she could hesitate long enough to change her mind, she sucked in her breath, held it, and nicked a few bills off the top.
You're a fucking fool. She's going to find out. She's going to hate you. She's going to leave you.
Catra looked down at the money in her hand, feeling the dry paper scrape her dry skin like it was trying to protest in tandem with her thoughts.
This will get me through another night. This will keep me going.
She glanced back at Mara's sleeping form, her chest rising and falling peacefully; blissfully unaware. So trusting of the villain she'd let into her room beside her.
This isn't worth it.
Her hand tightened on the paper notes and the crumpling sound stung her ears.
She wouldn't like the real me. The sober me.
Catra didn't even know who she was without the power of leaf to clear her vision. She needed it to be stable, to be bearable, and she needed to be stable to keep Mara.
This is worth it.
So this was for Mara, in a way.
This is worth it.
She slid the bills into her pocket.
This would buy her an extra week's stock, at least. Just in case. Just as a contingency to a worst-case scenario.
She wasn't addicted. She could go for as long as she wanted without a hit. It was just a matter of not wanting to.
Má had long been the only thing standing between her and passing her nights in a pool of tears or, sometimes, blood, praying to whoever would listen to end her life now instead of forcing her to continue this agonizing rat race of an existence.
She wasn't addicted.
She just needed it.
Catra replaced the false bottom and the clothes exactly as they had been before. Then she stealthily returned to her pallet on the floor and curled up under the blanket Mara had given her, shivering against a chill that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room.
She wasn't addicted.
She was just a horrible fucking person.
The money felt like lead in her pocket, but at the same time it was a balloon of possibility buoying her up.
She hated herself.
It took her a very long time to fall back to sleep when every one of Mara's sleeping breaths sent an arrow of guilt shooting through her system.
…