Catra continued to take care of Adora throughout her recovery. Each day she would fill her quota at the factory, head straight to Loo-Kee to buy them both dinner, and return to the drug den to spend the rest of the night by Adora's side, tending her wounds and keeping her company.
Each night, she would find herself mulling over the idea of going out to hunt down the bastard who'd caused this, but at the same time, she knew that without Stonefist she and Adora would not have come back together. She wouldn't have been forgiven, and there was no guarantee that she would have made it through another week. So even though part of her burned for revenge, a larger part was beginning to give fate a grain of credit. As much as she hated Stonefist, for now, she would worry about Adora and Adora alone.
Catra spent her extra money on medicine and bandages instead of má, now, and even though she had a constant headache and an even more constant nagging for it at the forefront of her mind, it was better this way. It was time she started setting her priorities straight. She had to repay Adora somehow, after all. And in a way, Adora was providing for her, too. She was a source of comfort more meaningful and lasting than má could ever be. And…
And Catra liked this. She liked caring for Adora. She liked being able to heal rather than hurt, for once. And she liked the way they would curl up on the couch side by side each night, no longer just companions but…partners, almost. She liked having someone trust and depend on her and being able to trust back. Under her care, Adora healed steadily but slowly. Her wound closed and scabbed and her range of motion gradually broadened. She was able to get around on her own. She returned to some semblance of the girl who had been Shira.
Her progress was met with less enthusiasm than it should have been, though. The looming threat of a chi blocker raid hung over their heads even more strongly than Catra's withdrawal from má.
Despite the warmth they shared each night, their emotions seemed muted in the face of that possibility, the only exceptions being anxiety and fear.
That and the other one; the one that Catra still couldn't bring herself to name.
…
When they came, they came at night.
The chi blockers crashed through the grimy opaque window and the crooked door and one even seemed to drop down from the ceiling like she'd been there the whole time. She could have been, for all it mattered.
Catra fought viciously, of course. Adora did too, as much as she could, but even together they were sorely outnumbered by the team from Amon.
Adora screamed the whole time the chi blockers were dragging Catra's thrashing form from what used to be her safe haven. They loaded her into a truck and slammed the doors on her when her last glimpse of Adora was still her desperate, tear-streaked face half-illuminated by a streetlight.
The last echo of her scream sounded a little like, "I love you."
Catra figured it was just her withdrawal playing tricks on her mind.
…
The truck ride to who-knows-where passed like a nightmare. All Catra could see through her swollen eyes and hazy mind were the bars of light flashing through the window onto the shapes of her captors as they drove. That and the glowing green eye sockets of the chi blockers' masks. Everything else swam in smudged darkness; the shadows deep enough that they could have held anything. She wasn't sure which was worse: seeing them or not.
Her head lolled limply on her neck as the pain in her body threatened to drag her into unconsciousness. The chi blockers had given her a good beating in exchange for the burns three of them now sported. She tried to keep her eyes open past the bruises on her face, afraid to let herself slip away, because she wasn't sure what she would wake up to. Or whether she would wake at all.
Her hands were cuffed uncomfortably tight between her knees. She willed a flame to pool in her palm, low enough that maybe it would be hidden from view while she gathered her strength, but nothing happened. It felt like a wall had risen between her and her chi. She had no idea how those monsters had done it; a few hits to a few certain points on her body and her bending was blocked. The sensation stirred panic in her chest, and she wondered how much worse it would be when that wall became permanent. That's what was about to happen, after all.
A sudden surge of indignant rage possessed her, ramming past her half-conscious inhibitions. "Fuck Amon," she blurted aloud through puffy lips.
Fuck him! she repeated internally. How dare he do this to people? How dare he uproot their lives and rip away a vital part of their being just because he thought it was bad? How dare he force people into the mold he'd decided they should fit without a thought for their perspective? How dare he hurt them in the name of the 'greater good'—a concept he'd invented? How dare he hurt her? And the nightmare-faced chi blockers who'd done his bidding were just as guilty. "Fuck all of you!"
She strained against her bonds, physical and metaphysical, as one of the chi blockers hopped to his feet to punish her for that. She dug deep into the well of energy at her core, desperate for some trickle of chi to defend herself with, but it still ran dry. Instead she just snarled curses at the wiry enemy until he stalked up right before her and slammed her back into the metal wall by her throat.
"Shut up!" he hissed gruffly; obviously young and hotheaded; obviously very fired up by her insults.
Catra couldn't speak with her throat clutched in his hand, so she settled for spitting directly into his glowing green eye-holes.
He crashed his fist into her jaw and her tenuous hold on consciousness dissolved.
…
When Catra regained awareness, she wasn't sure if she'd actually awakened or just surfaced in another nightmare.
She was strung between two chi blockers, her arms prickling with pins and needles from being held up so long. Before her stretched a shuffling line of men and women in blindfolds, their backs bowed and their hands tied like hers. She wondered momentarily why she was not blinded like them, but then realized that she had been; her own blindfold had just slipped down around her throat. When she craned her neck to peer behind her, the line of people trailed all the way down the path behind her as well. She knew where she was instantly from her view of the Republic City skyline across the bay: Air Temple Island.
When she looked back up the incline before her she could see where the path leveled off at a courtyard where the crowd of chi blockers was thicker. The line ended there.
A pitch-black tendril of dread snaked through her from top to toe. This was it. This was where it would happen. She was waiting her turn to have her bending torn from her being forever; marching to her fate like a hog to the slaughter.
She couldn't let that happen. She wouldn't go so quietly.
Her heart in her throat, pounding in her ears, aching in her chest, Catra surreptitiously gathered her feet beneath her. A quick glance to either side told her that her captors had their attention fixed on the crowded courtyard that was their destination. Their grip on her arms was firm but not overly tight. Breakable.
If she acted quickly enough, she should be able to tear free. Then it was a matter of evading the rest of the chi blockers attending the line, making it down to the shore, and…
And then what?
Catra shook her head slightly, brushing away that thought. That was a problem for future Catra. Right now she had to worry about getting free of the two holding her.
She held her breath and decided on a count of three. She couldn't afford to wait any longer; the chi blockers were dragging her ever nearer the courtyard where she knew Amon stood.
One.
She grit her teeth and sent a probing finger of energy into her sea of chi, trying to determine if her bending had returned yet. She couldn't quite tell, but it felt normal enough. She would just have to hope.
Two.
She let her eyes flick to and fro between her captors, planning out exactly how she would twist to free herself and then lash out to make sure they didn't follow right away. She tensed her muscles, preparing to spring.
T—
"Catra!"
A scream from further down the line startled her out of her focus. Her captors whipped around with her in between and Catra jerked her head up to peer over the heads of the poor souls behind her and there, racing up the hillside toward her, golden ponytail flashing—
"Adora!" she choked out before she could stop herself, and now her two chi blockers definitely knew she was conscious, and she had no more time to prepare herself before she had to act.
She bucked violently, tearing her right arm free of the enemy's hold and bringing her elbow into the other chi blocker's gut to release her left. As soon as she was out of their hold she lunged back down the path toward the girl running to her aid. "Adora," she called again, hardly believing her eyes.
What are you doing? she wanted to call. Why are you here? He'll hurt you too!
I'm not worth it!
But she was using all her breath to pump her unsteady legs out of the grasp of the chi blockers, now recovered and chasing after her.
She was close enough to see the pale of Adora's face. She could make out the two red lines on her jaw and she'd never seen a more welcome sight. She was almost there. If she just—
A hand caught her by the hood and yanked her to a screeching halt. She felt her head whip back and her feet shoot out in front of her and the world spun for an instant before her back hit the dirt and they were on her.
She started growling, flailing her bound arms in search of any purchase for her no-longer-ragged nails, but there were more chi blockers than she had arms and they pinned her by sheer numbers as she squirmed and struggled.
She could hear Adora yell for her again, still closer, and the sound gave her a surge of energy. She channeled it from her stomach into her chest, up her throat and out in a roar of furious orange flame. The Equalists on top of her scattered like roaches in the searing blast. The light caught on the eye holes of their haunting masks and Catra saw demons staring down at her; angry, unforgiving.
She scrambled up, skinning elbows and knees, and shoved through the pack of reeling chi blockers who had converged on her, tearing past grasping hands and flying fists because she was almost to Adora, and—
Chi blockers had surrounded Adora. One had hold of her arm, and more were trying to pin her other limbs but she was whirling in a deadly dance, her free fist jabbing and hooking into faces and stomachs and groins, sending enemies stumbling away with every strike. Even as danger smothered them and disaster hovered just within reach, Catra felt a rush of pure pride at the sight.
That's my girl.
She reached the throng and swung her bound hands out in a powerful arc, bringing a stream of fire with it. It parted the sea around Adora for just long enough for Catra to leap forward and catch Adora's reaching hand in both of hers, to feel their fingers brush, to see the glare of her own flame reflected in those earnest eyes.
"Adora!" she gasped at the wave of feeling that hit her at the contact. Stronger together. Stronger together began resonating through her mind in time with the thumping of her heart, and she tightened her grip on her companion and lashed out a wild kick behind her, buying them half a second longer with another jet of flame, and Adora's fist shot over her shoulder to ward off an approaching enemy. Their eyes met, just for a moment.
Then a chi blocker's fist caught Catra in the side and she doubled over, losing contact with her other half, and the rest of them rushed in and swarmed them with a flurry of strikes, blocking Catra's bending once again and cutting off all hope of escape.
"Catra!" Adora screamed a final time as Catra fell and the sea of chi blockers wrenched her away from any chance of lending her aid. Catra was breathing raggedly under the weight of a chi blocker's body, taken with rage and sorrow but most of all regret that her face was pressed to the dirt so she was deprived of one last glimpse of the girl she—
"What is the meaning of this?"
An angry voice cracked like a whip over the din, and though Catra had never heard it before she knew exactly who it belonged to.
The chi blockers around her stilled, and all went deadly quiet except the sounds of Adora still struggling against her enemies. Catra twisted her neck awkwardly to peer up the way the voice had come.
Amon himself stood at the edge of the courtyard. Though his mask concealed his expression, Catra could feel his glare radiating anger from where she lay.
One of the chi blockers atop her cleared his throat. "A girl," he provided. His voice sounded normal. Innocent. His knee grinding into her spine was not. "She tried to escape."
"It's under control now," a second Equalist assured, hauling Catra painfully up by her shoulders to demonstrate.
"And who is this?" asked Amon, deadly soft yet still somehow audible, stretching out his hand almost lazily to Adora. "A friend? A lover, perhaps?"
The chi blockers who held Adora began to drag her forward, toward the steps, and she never stopped fighting against their grip.
"Keep your hands off her!" Catra spat so loud it tore at her bruised throat. She struggled against her own restraints and received a kick to the back of the knees in response, which sent her to the cobbles again. She so wished that she had her bending right now. She would scar the shit out of the other half of Amon's face.
"She's not a bender, sir," said the chi blocker who had spoken first.
Adora was at the stairs. Amon had descended the first few steps to intercept her and reached out toward her, but now his hand froze halfway on its way to her face. "No?" he said as if pleasantly surprised. "Then she must be one of us."
Adora raged against her captors' grip. "I am not! I am her friend! Benders are not evil; they're people just like the rest of us! You can't—"
Amon backhanded her across the face and Catra saw two tiny drops of blood spray from her mouth to the dirt. Her own blood boiled.
"Until benders and nonbenders can exist in a world together where one does not oppress the other, they cannot be friends," Amon declared, his own fury tightly restrained beneath his voice. Then he looked up sharply and waved to the men holding Catra. "Bring her." Then to the ones behind Adora: "Have her watch."
"No!" Adora's shriek split the air, but cut off abruptly when Amon's fist rammed into her diaphragm.
Catra took her own turn to yell in outrage, tears coming to her eyes as her efforts to throw off her enemies proved infuriatingly futile. All she could do was watch her best and only friend cough and wheeze and dangle helplessly between two Equalists as they dragged her off to the side where she would have a perfect view of what was about to occur.
Catra herself was brought forcibly back up the hillside to the front of the line, sparing the poor bender who had knelt to meet his fate next for just a few moments.
In the center of the courtyard, she was forced to her knees. She hated being on her knees. She hated having to crane her neck to keep a bead on her enemy. She hated being powerless, because it happened all too often. She raised her chin and tried to look resolute even as a chi blocker wrenched her head back by her hair to make her posture straight.
Fuck you. Fuck all of you. She wanted to curse them, but her jaw was locked tight with fear.
Adora recovered her voice, however. As soon as she was able, she began shouting again, hoarser this time. She pleaded and threatened and bargained for Catra's safety, but it all fell on deaf ears. Her screams and protests faded into the background of Catra's awareness as Amon approached her, his looming presence and the chill of his eyes now visible behind the mask blotting out all else.
"Let this be an example to all of you who believe you can resist us," he raised his voice to project to the line of cowering benders before him. He grasped Catra by the shoulder so that his thumb pressed into her sternum. His other hand lowered agonizingly slow toward Catra's forehead, hovering menacingly closer and closer until it was the only thing she could comprehend.
There was a breathless pause, like time had gone still, but all Catra could do was suffocate.
"There is no resisting justice."
Amon's hand descended.
When it met her skin it burned like ice.
Catra's back arched as agony hit her like the weight of the world.
She could feel it most in her stomach. It was like having her insides frozen, turned wrong-way-out, stretched into bands, and torn from her body through the points where Amon's cold thumbs pressed into her skin. She could feel her chi leaving her, and she was powerless to stop it.
She knew she was trembling violently, but her muscles were locked. Her mouth was stuck open and she wished she could speak; yell; curse this bastard and everything he stood for as she plummeted to the lowest point in her life, but her voice wouldn't work. All she could do was stare helplessly into the black, polluted sky and experience the pure suffering of having her soul peeled in two and ripped out of her.
The worst part was that Adora had to see it happen.
Catra had no idea how long it lasted. She was only aware of a point that her pain turned into slightly less pain, and the sky spun out of her vision to be replaced by cold black earth. Something shoved her in the side, and her face pressed into that blackness.
A wave of nausea overtook her as she was lifted, dragged an indeterminate distance. Then it was replaced by pain again as she slumped back onto her face.
A softer touch replaced any that she had felt tonight. These hands were warm, strong, steadying. They ran over her back and cradled her head and pulled her up against something even warmer and stronger, rocking her back and forth. In the desolate emptiness of what was now her reality, those hands were her only solace.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Catra," she heard in her ear, and she had no answer.
That's the last thing Catra knew before darkness overwhelmed her.
…
"Adora!" Catra gasped out upon waking again, shooting upright and then immediately regretting it. Her entire body felt battered and there was a hollow feeling somewhere deeper than was completely corporeal. She cast around to determine where she was, wrapping her arms around herself in an instinctual protective gesture.
Her surroundings were still dark, but wherever she was now was quiet. The surface below her was soft. Everything smelled like má. And—
"Adora," Catra said again, in relief this time as her eyes adjusted enough to reveal the pale face sitting across from her. Adora seemed to be just rousing from sleep as well, if the silhouette of her flyaway hairs and the flash of her half-open eyes in the dark were anything to judge by. But she reached instantly for Catra, and Catra reached back and they clasped hands across what she now realized was her own couch.
"Catra," Adora responded in a much more broken tone as she sat up to regard her. Her fingers were tight around her companion's. "Are you—?" she couldn't seem to finish. Only now did Catra realize that her face looked haggard; her eyes sunken and dead gray.
The events of earlier tonight crashed down on her like a boulder. Amon, she remembered. A glimpse of a cold, pale hand flashed behind her eyes. Her forehead and collarbone went icy, and she pressed a hand to her chest, suddenly struggling to breathe. She stared wide-eyed at nothing and remembered. My bending.
The hole in her chest yawned wider. She sent a tentative tendril down into the place where her chi lived, and—
A hoarse cry tore from her throat.
She'd known this was coming. She'd known this would happen. She'd expected it, and yet—
And yet—
She was clawing, clutching at her chest now, as if she could find her lost well of energy if she just dug deep enough. Her breathing was ragged and she wasn't getting enough air and her vision was going spotty again but the prospect of passing out one more time tonight and maybe forgetting this all over again scared her almost as much as her bending being gone, and—
"Catra." Adora's hands were around her own, pulling them away from leaving trenches in her chest, enveloping them in grounding warmth instead of the freezing memory of Amon and what he'd done. "Catra, please, stop." The desperation in Adora's voice jarred Catra out of her stupor and she focused in on her companion's face instead, remembering what had happened to her.
"Did he hurt you?" she choked out through a constricted throat, pulling her hands free to bring them to Adora's face, searching for signs of injury.
Adora's brow furrowed and her mouth dropped open. "No. No, I—me? What about you?" She grabbed Catra's wrists and leaned close. Her gray irises looked shattered and it wasn't just the darkness. "He hurt you, Catra, and I couldn't do anything. I couldn't—couldn't—" Something like a sob choked off her words. "How are we supposed to fix this?"
"I don't think there is any fixing this," Catra whispered, full of pain, not just for her lost bending but for Adora, too, because those words made her look so defeated. Catra let her eyes flicker over the other girl's face, searching for some hint as to how to console her, and found none.
"There has to be." Adora's voice fell to a tiny croak. "There has to be a way."
Catra could see the shimmer of tears in her dulled eyes and her heart wrenched. She pushed forward and rested her forehead against Adora's, thumbs stroking at her cheeks in a futile attempt at comfort. "It isn't your fault, you know," she said softly.
Adora let out a long, miserable sigh, and her breath breezed steadily against Catra's lips. "I said I would protect you."
"None of this is your fault."
"I should have been more careful at the tournament. If I—"
"It isn't your fault."
"Your bending is gone, Catra!" Adora's tears finally spilled over as she cried out in the darkness. "And if I could have done anything different to prevent that, then it is my fault!"
Catra had nothing to say to that. If Adora would not listen to her, there was nothing she could do to change her mind. All she could do instead was wrap her arms around the taller girl, pull her close to her chest and let their shared warmth soothe what was left of their hearts.
Adora let her. She threw her own arms around Catra's neck and buried her head in her shoulder to soak the collar of her tunic with her tears. Catra felt her own eyes sting and pressure build in her chest and for once she didn't hold them back, instead letting herself join her companion in her sorrow. Once the dam was broken, she could not stop the sobs that wracked her hollowed chest as if she could make up for her lost bending with tears.
She did not regret her decision. She had taken a risk for Adora, and if she had a chance to go back and do it again, she would not have changed a thing. Adora was worth everything she had to give.
She cried because it still hurt like hell.
As Catra passed the next several minutes letting herself melt into Adora's touch, stroking that golden hair and breathing that familiar scent until their tears slowed, her own moist eyes roamed around the dim corners of the room. She noted the damage to the doorframe where the chi blockers had forced entry; the burn marks on the walls where she had put up a fight, and realized she was going to have to find a place to stay that didn't bring back such traumatic memories.
Then she lowered her eyes, and her gaze fell on the table before her.
"Hey," she murmured gently into Adora's neck. At the small noise of inquiry Adora made, she went on, "I know what might make both of us feel better."
Adora pulled back from her embrace just enough to pin her with questioning red-rimmed eyes.
Catra reached for the tabletop, where her last rolled joint lay among the ruins of her spent supply of má. She'd left it here even during her withdrawal, too afraid to touch it for fear of what had happened last time. Too afraid to lose Adora again. But now…
Adora followed her gesture, and this time she didn't berate her or try to stop her. In fact, she grabbed the cigarette for her and looked around for a lighter, anxious to be able to do anything to help at this point.
"Under the edge of the couch," Catra murmured. Once Adora had bent down and uncovered it, the brunette took it and flicked it to life. Having to do it this way instead of with her fingers made the hole in her chest ache, and she lit the joint almost frantically, desperate to smother her despair in a cloud of leaf and quit feeling so much.
The joint caught. Once it was smoldering, Catra dropped the lighter—the manifestation of her loss—and fell back onto the couch cushions with a small sense of relief. As soon as her back hit the moldy surface, Adora virtually climbed on top of her to bring their faces close, covering Catra's cheeks and forehead with apologetic kisses still wet with tears.
Catra closed her eyes and tried not to cry again herself, instead tangling her fingers in Adora's hair and pressing their brows together so she would stop. It's not your fault, she tried to insist again, but that didn't make the tears quit spilling down both of their cheeks. She wished uselessly that their first kisses didn't have to be like this, but why would anything ever go right for them?
They lay like that, miserable but together, until Adora reached down and ran her fingers over the knuckles of Catra's hand, reminding her of the joint clutched in her grip.
That was the first time Catra had completely forgotten má for Adora's sake, and she wished it meant more to her now.
She lifted it and took a draw. Adora pulled back just enough to let her lips hover over Catra's, so that when the brunette exhaled she could inhale slowly and draw the smoke into her own lungs. Catra felt the rest of the air rush out of her at the gesture. She'd never thought Adora would—
Spirits, she was so intoxicating. Even as she let the shared smoke go, Adora stayed dangerously close, her lips just parted, so red, and the only thing Catra could comprehend. Catra watched them; wanted them; wondered what would happen if she closed the distance between them. Her heart pounded and her mind reeled as she took another pull and the air between them billowed gray and hot with more than just the fumes of má on their sluggish breaths.
"You can just ask," Catra croaked, mind coming apart piece by piece under the influence of the drug and Adora's closeness; the way her swollen eyelids drooped over sultry blue-gray eyes and her body pinned Catra to the couch and her mouth stayed so close—
In response, Adora held out her hand for the cigarette. When Catra passed it to her, she settled back on her lap, unaware of the waves she was sending through Catra's body, and lifted it to take her own drag. Catra watched the way her sculpted lips closed around the joint and pulled, and even as Adora let the smoke go, Catra couldn't stop staring. Adora had to notice, but she apparently didn't care that much—Catra dared to consider maybe because she was thinking the same thing.
Adora passed the cigarette back and their fingers brushed and stayed there, both clutching the thin paper and each other like it was their lifeline. It was, at this point. Adora was leaning in further, further, without ever realizing, gaze caught on Catra's, and this time Catra was the one to chase the vapor trailing from her lips, greedy for anything to soothe her empty soul.
Except she moved a little too abruptly and their mouths met instead.
Adora threw herself into the unexpected yet long-awaited kiss with immediate abandon, letting the joint fall from her fingers to the table so she could bury them in Catra's hair instead. Catra's hands came up and caught her biceps to pull her fully onto her lap, too buzzed to fear the heat that burned her wherever they touched. Their lips were sloppy and tasted like leaf and tears as they pressed together, but Catra was too intent on getting hooked on Adora to care, because maybe this was an addiction that wouldn't destroy her.
"Adora," she groaned into their first true kiss, and the fact that she was one of only a few in the world who knew that name made it mean that much more, and Adora shuddered hard against her and whimpered into her mouth and—
"I need you." It slipped out against Adora's lips before Catra could think, and at first she was gripped by panic, but when Adora let her hands slide down to her shoulders and began kneading the tension away, carefully but firmly, she let her fear dissipate for once. She let out a sigh of relief and wrapped her arms tight around her partner's waist in a gesture of gratitude, because she couldn't find the words to; all she could think was I need you, I need you— "I need you, Adora," she said again, her voice rough in her throat and coming out desperate, and Adora seemed to understand. She shifted her hands again to caress the sides of Catra's neck, and where normally Catra would have bristled at that, Adora's touch made her feel nothing but safe.
The girl sat up straighter on her lap so she could reach Catra's forehead with her lips, planting a slow, deliberate kiss right on the spot Amon had touched her with his icy, horrible hands, replacing the feeling with familiar warmth. She let her lips drag away slowly, lingering on the gesture, and then bent her head to press another kiss to Catra's collarbone where his other hand had lain, and Catra could barely contain the sob that worked its way up her own throat.
"Adora," she choked out, so touched by the gesture and so completely consumed with—with feeling for this girl that she could come up with nothing else.
As if in answer, Adora tilted her head and kissed her right below the ear where the skin was sensitive, and Catra's fingers tightened on the back of her tunic, desperate to be closer.
She was caught off guard when Adora reached around to her hand and pulled it away, settling it instead on the front of her shirt where the clasps held it fast. They broke apart just enough for Adora to give her a long, steady, heated look with those clouded sky eyes, reaching up to brush Catra's cheek tenderly with her thumb, before both of their gazes fell to each other's lips and they came back together again.
Catra took the hint and fumbled with the clasps of Adora's tunic until it fell open in the front, baring the hard-earned muscles of her abdomen. She couldn't resist glancing down to take in the sight. She'd seen it before; touched it when Adora's wounds needed tending, but she hadn't ever gotten to admire it like this. Her chest tightened as she realized that right now it was hers and hers alone to experience—that Adora was trusting her entirely in a way she'd never done before. Catra was caught up in that knowledge and the fog of má over her mind and her hands slid greedily of their own accord beneath the fabric to caress that chiseled waist—
—only for Adora to flinch at her touch.
Before Catra had time to panic, Adora broke off and whispered through swollen lips, "Your hands—"
Are cold. Catra didn't need her to finish. "I know," she rasped, letting them fall from around Adora so she needn't be subject to her now-icy touch, but—the other girl caught them in her own and pressed them back to her skin, this time still jolting slightly but leaning into her palms.
Fresh tears were welling up in those peerless eyes. "I'm sorry," she breathed. "I'm sorry. I—"
Catra stopped her with a desperate kiss.
"It's not your fault," she mumbled into her lips, and she met every further apology with the same phrase, the two repeating the useless condolences to each other like a mantra.
Until Adora's changed, and suddenly she wasn't groaning "I'm sorry," into Catra's kisses, but "I love you."
Catra couldn't say it back; the words choked her, as much as she wanted to lay them at Adora's feet. As the push and pull of their lips continued to escalate in heat and intensity, she could think of nothing to do except push Adora down on the couch, climb on top of her and let her actions speak for her.
…