It’s been their routine for the past month. Entrapta works on improving Darla, mostly to support intergalactic travel, the princesses work on harnessing their new, stronger magic, and Catra bothers Adora over the communications channel. Constantly.
“Paging Princess Jock. Are you there, Princess Jock?"
Adora grunts, pushing aside a large tree branch. She’s making another (arbitrary) patrol of the whispering woods. It’s been weeks since she last found a clone or bot, but it’s not like she has anything better to do. Might as well make sure Etheria is still safe.
“Hello, is anybody there?”
“This is Adora, not 'Jock Princess,' over.” she says into her earpiece. Not a second goes by before Catra responds.
"I think you mean Princess Jock. And yes, that's you. It kind of describes you perfectly, y’know?"
"Get to the point, over."
“Hey, Adora. I have a very important question for you.”
“Just ask it, over.”
“Can you bring some of those flowers you picked last week? I really liked them, over. Also, can you please stop saying 'over?' It's lame.”
"It's also proper radio etiqu- woah!"
Adora yelps as a large vine smacks her in the face. There’s a warbling sound from one of the trees, and the vine retracts to let her continue perusing the forest. She steps over the deep blue roots with a grumble caught in her throat.
“Adora, are you ok?”
“I’m fine, just another magical tree who thinks it’s a practical joker,” she groans, rubbing at her forehead. “Oh, uh, over.”
“Ugh, I hate those guys. They think they’re so cool. You show ‘em who’s boss, princess.”
“No thanks,” Adora mutters. She gets an image in her mind of her - of She-Ra - beating up a tree. It's both funny and horrifying, remembering how desperately she had tried to protect the woods during the invasion.
She shakes her head, ridding herself of the memories as she scans another clearing. Once again, nothing. She’s not sure if she would prefer to be finding enemies in here after all. If she did, it would mean calling in the other princesses and doing another full sweep of the forest. But when she comes home empty handed, she feels useless. Like she’s wasting time while everyone else does something productive.
“Just bring me some pretty flowers,” Catra suggested once. “Then everyone will think you’re just a hopeless romantic. I mean, you are, but this would really sell it.”
(Even though she was probably joking, Adora started bringing her flowers after each patrol. Some she picks in the woods herself, others she buys in various towns on her way home. Catra seems to like them, at least.)
It’s tracking down one of these flowers that lands her in the ditch. She knows better than anyone how the trees seem to rearrange themselves however they please, but the ground generally stays the same. So she really wasn't expecting to see a deep cut in the ground appear between her and the flower patch, and she really, really wasn’t expecting to fall in.
She goes down with a choked scream, tumbling down the steep walls of soil and root. Her staff snaps in two when she tries sticking it in the wall to stop her fall, leaving her seconds away from hitting the ground with a sickening crack.
The world spins for a moment, and someone is yelling at her, someone she should listen to...
“-dora? Hey! Adora! What was that?!”
“I, uh, tripped,” she pants. “Over.”
There’s a long pause, and Adora considers that Catra is waiting for her to explain further (because that’s an awful cover story and she knows that) when-
“Alright, drama queen. Sorry, drama princess.”
Adora huffs, pulling out her earpiece and switching it off. God, her ankle hurts. She probably sprained it again. The last time she did that, she was still a Horde cadet. She didn’t remember it hurting this bad, but then again, she was constantly pumped up on adrenaline back then.
“Never a dull moment,” she says to herself. She braces a hand on the wall of the ditch and pushes herself to her feet, wincing as her ankle twinges in protest. “C’mon, Adora. Just gotta get back to Brightmoon, and it’ll all be fine.”
She glances between the two halves of her staff: one in her hand, and the other stuck in the wall twenty feet up. Her ankle is throbbing steadily now, a constant stream of pain that’s becoming harder and harder to tune out.
“Not climbing out of here,” she grumbles, dropping the broken staff and stretching out her hand. She takes a deep breath and pulls on that feeling in her chest, bringing the power of She-Ra through her veins to the tips of her fingers. Her sword appears with a flash of golden light, and with another, so does She-Ra.
She stretches her newly enhanced muscles, grinning despite herself. Adora has long since mastered She-Ra's power (well, mostly), and has come to enjoy rather than apprehend the strength and abilities it lends her. Speaking of:
“Healing! I can heal my... “ she wiggles her left foot, finding it pain free. “Huh. Cool.”
She grabs the earpiece and turns it back on before sticking it in her ear. "Sorry about that, I'm back now. Over."
"Hm, didn't even realize you'd left."
"Liar."
Adora shakes her head, but can't hide the smile on her face. She's missed this for so long, the banter between the two of them Not angry, spiteful back and forth they had when they fought on opposite sides, but the harmless, playful joking around. It's really nice to have that back, even if it's different now.
"You got me. I wasn’t worried though, I know you’re tough enough to handle yourself.”
“Thanks,” she says. She grabs a tree root sticking out of the wall, pulling herself up the incline. “I’m on my way back, so don’t be too worried.”
“Oh, that reminds me: Bow wanted me to tell you that you're going to be late for dinner if you stay out there much longer. He’s cooking, if that's any sort of incentive."
"He does make a mean casserole," Adora admits. "I’ll try and hurry it up. I'll see you soon, Catra. Over."
She turns off the earpiece again, focusing on climbing up the wall of the ditch. It's not a perfect right angle, but it's very steep, and even as She-Ra she's struggling to find good hand and foot holds in the crumbling soil. It takes much longer than she’d like to admit to get herself to the top, especially since she’s currently an eight foot tall legendary warrior princess.
"At least this outfit doesn't get dirty," she sighs, pulling herself onto solid ground. Just to her left sits the flower patch she’d been searching for, a growth of white and gold flowers that almost glow in the sun’s light. She chases away the three-eyed rabbits already feasting on her find, and picks a small bouquet.
(She wraps it in large leaves, and uses her magic to replenish the plant stems left from which she’s picked. She has a duty to protect all life on Etheria, even the flowers she gives to her girlfriend.)
After that, it’s a quick walk home to Brightmoon castle, which she takes as She-Ra. As much as Catra denies it, Adora can tell she likes the princess get-up. She gets all flustered and defensive whenever Adora explicitly brings it up, so she doesn’t talk about it anymore. She just shows up as She-Ra whenever she likes, and enjoys the look in Catra’s eyes without saying a word.
Like usual, Catra is waiting for her at the front gates. She’s pulling clumps of grass from the ground with a very neutral expression on her face. Catra is too busy with the grass to notice her approach, but Melog has already perked up at her presence. They tilt their head, and Adora winks, pointing a finger to Catra. Melog nods, and Adora watches her hands shimmer with illusion magic.
She walks right up to Catra and sits down, holding out the flowers. She gives Melog another nod, and Catra screams.
“Adora!” she yelps, skittering backwards. Her tail is puffed and upright, and her claws are extended into the dirt.
“Sorry, I wasn’t trying to scare you!” she stands, and lets herself turn back into Adora.
Wait.
“Well, you did,” Catra mutters, crossing her arms. “I guess those flowers can make up for it, though.”
I thought…?
“Uh, yeah!” Adora shoves the flowers towards her girlfriend, who is now eyeing her with clear suspicion. “Well, I don’t want to be late to dinner, and I need to change, so, I’ll see you in a bit! Bye, Catra!”
She runs into the castle as fast as she can manage, hoping it looks like a casual jogging pace from an outside perspective. She hears Catra and Melog just before the gates close behind her:
“What is up with her?”
“Purr.”
It’s a race through the castle to her room, made all the more frantic by her inability to put weight on her left foot. She tries to keep a smile on her face, but her teeth are grinding together and she can feel sweat collecting on her brow. If anyone saw her right now, it would be pretty hard to explain what was going on without revealing her injury, and she will not be doing that, no thank you.w
(She knows it’s different here, but injuries weren’t exactly taken well in the Horde. She can’t be benched, not right now, not for a stupid sprained ankle.)
We’ll need to be leaving the planet soon, she thinks, almost says aloud if it weren’t for the guards lining each hallway. I can’t let something like this slow us all down.
“I’ll ice it,” she says when she finally gets to her room. For once, she misses the ultra soft bed and pillows she had when she first arrived. It would be nice to rest her leg on something that plush, just this once. “I’ll ice it, and it’ll be better by the end of the week. I’ll just take it easy on patrols, or use She-Ra, since apparently her ankle is fine.”
And yeah, that one stings. She can turn into a magical princess with healing powers, but they don’t work on herself. If anyone else sprained their ankle, She-Ra would fix it up in five minutes. She almost wants to comment that it isn’t fair - which, it isn’t - but she restrains herself. She’s only just gotten She-Ra back, and doesn’t want to think about what things might have been like if she sprained her ankle before that happened.
At least she has that. She can keep fighting, if they need her, and not have to worry anyone. It’s better this way: she thinks she’s worried her friends enough recently.
“Alright, boot-” she groans, tugging at the stubborn shoe. “C’mon! Oh, ow, ow, ow!”
It flies off her foot with an audible pop, bouncing across the floor. Her ankle is throbbing again, and appears swollen already. Adora gently prods at it, hissing at the ensuing pain.
“Fine. I’ll take painkillers,” she decides. “I probably should’ve gotten those before I-”
“Adora!” Glimmer is pounding on her door, sounding whinier than Adora has ever heard her. “Adora, we’re waiting for you. Dinner’s ready!”
“I, uh, I have a headache!” she yells. “I, um, I’ll be out later.”
She barely has time to pull her blanket over her legs before Glimmer has teleported into the room, eyeing her with concern.
“Do you actually have a headache, or do you need to be alone? Because I used to tell that to my mom all the time, so-”
“Yeah, no, it’s a headache,” Adora says solemnly, nodding her head. “I think I need some painkillers, y’know?”
“Oh! Don’t worry about that, I’ve got you covered.”
“You’re bringing me-?”
“Nope!” Glimmer grins, and Adora’s face twists with confusion. “I have a spell for that. Dad taught me this spell he invented to cure headaches and ear-ringing, and I’ve been dying to try it out!”
“You, uh, you’ve never tried it before?” Adora pales, scooting back on the bed. “Untested magic can be pretty dangerous, Glimmer.”
“Well, I’ve used it on Dad, but he didn’t have a headache! You do, so I can use you to see if it actually works!” Glimmer is already drawing runes in the air, preparing the spell that Adora already knows won’t work. “I mean, I know it works, because Dad’s used it, but the real question is whether or not I can use it!”
“S-sounds great,” she whines, clenching her fist into the blanket. She almost wants to ask if there’s a spell to fix sprained ankles, but that would really give it away, and she’s not risking that right now.
Glimmer thrusts the rune forward through the air, and as it passes Adora, she feels the force of it lift her ponytail through the air. She blinks, and turns to Glimmer, who watches her expectantly.
“So? Anything?”
“Yeah, uh, all… all better now!” she says, voice higher than she knows is natural. Glimmer doesn’t seem to notice, too ecstatic at the pretense of her successful spell.
“Yes! That’s awesome! Thanks, Adora,” she tackles her with a hug, and Adora has to stifle a screech as her ankle is jostled under the sheets. She chuckles as naturally as she can, and pushes Glimmer away slowly.
“You’re welcome,” she says genuinely, ignoring the pang of guilt in her chest. She has no doubt that Glimmer’s spell would have worked perfectly if she really did have a headache, but it feels awful to lie to her.
It’s for the best, she reminds herself.
“Anyway, I’ll be at dinner soon! But, uh, I need to get into some clean clothes first…?” she looks down and doesn’t see a single speck of dirt on her ensemble, but Glimmer buys it anyway.
“Oh, tell me about it! Patrols really work up a sweat, right? Well, I’ll leave you to it. We’ll wait for you!”
“Thanks,” she says, though that’s much less than reassuring. Everyone will have their eyes on her when she comes into the room, meaning she will have to be very convincing with her act. It wouldn’t help anyone to have not one, but two of her best friends realize she’d lied to them.
Glimmer teleports away, leaving Adora alone with her guilt.
“This is fine,” she says. Her ankle disagrees.
It takes her nearly fifteen minutes to get her ankle wrapped up in a way that isn’t super conspicuous. She ends up wearing that long dress Catra got her, because even if it’s a bit itchy, it mostly covers her feet when she’s walking, which will help to hide the wrapping on her foot.
When she gets to the dining hall, she’s surprised to find everyone is still waiting for her, laughing and talking with food yet to grace their plates. She takes her seat next to Catra, whose eyes light up at the sight of the dress.
“You wore it,” she croons, and Adora fights to keep a smile on her face as Catra plays one-sided footsies with her. Usually she doesn’t mind, but tonight, for obvious reasons... “I didn’t think you liked it.”
“I do,” she says, “and I know you do too.”
Catra begins to purr quietly, scooting her chair closer to Adora’s. Gratefully she moves her foot away, and Adora relaxes. With the ice and (stolen) painkillers, her foot is only dully throbbing right now. She thinks that’s a good sign, but either way, she would very much like to let it go and enjoy dinner with her best friends.
The painkillers have worn off by the time desert is served, and she knows she can’t take more for at least another hour or two, but her ankle is screaming with that constant shooting pain. She stares at her plate, hands shaking, and hopes the conversation doesn’t call on her because she hasn’t been listening for awhile now.
Instead, she’s been trying to focus on ignoring the pain in her foot. Contradictory as it may seem, it’s almost working. As far as she knows, she isn’t grimacing or crying, although she knows she’s being uncharacteristically quiet.
Well, there’s no getting around that. It’s either silent or sobbing right now. Not much of a choice.
It feels like hours before Catra has her hand on her shoulder, then under her chin, pulling Adora’s face towards hers. She’s saying something, and with enough conscious effort, Adora can just barely focus….
“-alright? Adora?” Catra pauses, brow furrowing as she looks into Adora’s eyes. “You don’t have brain damage, do you?”
Adora chuckles dryly, and Catra’s features relax. “Do you always jump straight to brain damage?”
“Only when I think you have brain damage.”
Adora shakes her head, and lets Catra pull her into a hug. She tries to stay as still as possible, not wanting to move her leg. It’s almost enough, and she’s at least able to keep a straight face.
“What’s going on?” she whispers, and Adora shrugs. “You know I’m not mad at you, right? For scaring me earlier.”
“I know that,” Adora says. She stays quiet, and Catra lets her go after a moment. It takes an immense amount of willpower not to burst into tears and fall right back into her arms.
“Let me know if I can do anything for you,” she mutters.
“I will,” Adora lies.
She doesn’t make it to morning without waking up several times in a cold sweat. Her ankle seems to hurt more each time, and she can’t do anything but just wait it out. She wishes they had better painkillers, but she won’t complain, she refuses. After all, something is better than nothing.
At some point, she remembers hobbling to the kitchen to grab some ice, and laying on the floor with her foot raised on the kitchen counter.
(“It’s a new form of yoga!” she says when Catra walks in for a snack. “Perfuma was teaching me.” Catra looks skeptical, but shrugs and moves on.)
By the time she gets back to her room, the ice has started to melt, but it’s still cold, and that’s enough. She props her foot up on a pile constructed of every pillow she has within reach, and lays the ice on top of her ankle.
It helps, she tells herself. It’ll be enough until the wound heals on its own, which won’t be long now anyway. She’ll tough it out, she has to.
This drags on for several days. Each night, she sneaks to the kitchen for more ice, and each night she debates whether the medic will notice if she nabs just a few more painkillers. She runs into Catra most nights, and has a hell of a time playing off her strange behavior.
She also has a hell of a time sleeping. She’s roused each hour or so by the slightest movement in her leg, and doesn’t always find the strength to limp to the kitchen for more ice.
At this point, Adora would kill to have Glimmer’s teleporting abilities. She considers using She-Ra to walk to the kitchen, but not only does she lack the energy to transform, she’s found that walking around as She-Ra doesn’t do shit to heal the wounds she collects as Adora. It’s like time passing in one body doesn’t really count in the other.
(She wishes she had learned this before she sprained her ankle, but, better late than never.)
Instead, she spends several nights for nearly a week just laying in bed exhausted, ankle screeching with constant pain. She’s decided to take the weekend off from magic stuff, maybe even try to organize a sleepover so she can sleep and feel safe.
(So far, nobody has noticed - or at least, nobody has commented on - the growing bags under her eyes, but it’s only a matter of time.)
Finally, finally she makes it to Friday.
When Friday morning does arrive, it takes her almost an hour to build up the will necessary to get out of bed. She doesn’t think it’s just the ankle: she feels, to put it simply, like shit. It’s just an off day, probably. That’s okay, it’s the day before the weekend.
It’s also a training day, she realizes with a quick glance at her calendar. And one she promised to participate in. She lets out a long whine, falling back onto her bed and erasing all the progress she’d made to sit up.
“Why can’t I just relax?” she moans. “I saved the planet! I think that deserves a day off…”
“You would think, wouldn’t you?” Glimmer appears with a flash of light and a quiet jingle, sitting with her legs crossed on Adora’s bed. “Unfortunately, princesses don’t exactly get to sleep in around here. Especially you, miss She-Ra.”
Adora grumbles incoherently, pulling the blanket over her head. Glimmer shakes her head and pulls it back down.
“You can take a break if you really need one, though,” she says carefully. She sounds like her mother for a moment, and even looks like her: so worried, and so caring. Adora misses Angella, even if they didn’t always get along.
“It’s not that bad,” she sighs. “I can do the training, and, and all the other princess stuff. But…”
“But we’ll make sure you take it easy,” Glimmer assures her. “Nobody wants you to overwork yourself, alright?”
Adora frowns. She knows that going too hard can be bad for you, but their work is more important. Entrapta had estimated only another week of repairs were needed until Darla was ready to go, and Adora - along with all of the other princesses, really - still needs to work on harnessing her more intense magic.
She doesn’t have time to take it easy.
“Okay,” she says, swallowing the lump in her throat. It doesn’t leave, but Glimmer does, seeming proud of her for letting herself be weak.
(She’ll show them how they did things in the Horde one of these days. No time for sick leave, unless you were Hordak himself. She wonders if Bow and Glimmer will be astonished at Adora and Catra’s strength, or if they just won’t get it. Born-and-raised rebels have never seemed to understand what it was like in the Horde.)
“Uh, why are you She-Ra?” Catra is almost pouting, arms crossed over her chest and tail flicking around wildly behind her. “It’s not fair.”
“You’ve fought me before,” Adora laughs.
“You were less intimidating before! This new She-Ra is taller, and, and...”
“And what?” Adora raises an eyebrow. Catra glares at her and extends her claws.
“And easier to defeat, I’d guess,” she recovers quickly, though the blush hasn’t quite left her cheeks. Adora wants to laugh, but even in this form, her ankle is starting to hurt.
Go figure.
“Then why don't you-!”
Catra comes at her before she can ready her stance, knocking her to the ground despite her given advantages. The two roll around in the dirt, each trying to get a hit in on the other. Catra is using her smaller form to her advantage - just like Glimmer taught her! Adora thinks triumphantly - and she almost catches Adora with a scratch across the face.
And then Catra freezes, climbs off her, pulls her ears tense as she turns toward the forest.
“What is it?”
“Bow’s here,” she says just before he stumbles through the treeline, waving his bow around wildly.
“Adora!” he yells, voice breaking. “We need you!”
“What’s wrong?” she raises the sword, running after him when he turns around. She sees Catra following out of the corner of her eye, looking angry, or maybe determined. Adora faces forward - something big is happening, and she can’t get distracted.
“It’s Frosta,” Bow pants. “She and Mermista were sparring, and Mermista lost control of her magic, and we think Frosta broke her leg.”
“That sounds pretty serious,” Catra’s tone is grim, and Adora wonders how much of that is because she’s given them all similar injuries in the past. “Can She-Ra fix something like that?”
“I think so,” Adora says, face burning with guilt; she sees the parallels. If only She-Ra could heal Adora. That would make all of this easier.
“She practically brought you back from the dead,” Bow says, probably trying to sound lighthearted. Catra lets out a sort of pity chuckle at the memory, and Adora just grimaces.
“-just leave me alone!” Frosta’s voice is loud and angry, as per usual, but she sounds scared now, too. Adora’s only heard her sound like that a few times, and never at something small. She doesn’t scare easily, that’s for sure.
“We can’t just wait for Bow! She-Ra is too far away! We need to bring you to them,” Perfuma argues. She sounds scared too, but in a more frantic way.
“Everyone back up,” she commands, jogging into the clearing where Perfuma and Frosta are having a shouting match. Mermista is the only one of the three who hears her at first, stepping back from the two squabblers.
“You never listen to me!”
“I listen!” Perfuma exclaims, now looking very disturbed. “I’m just trying to help you!”
“Guys!” Adora shouts, and their heads snap towards her. Perfuma takes a deep breath and stands up, walking over to join Mermista. Both of them are examining the ground thoughtfully while Frosta holds back tears from her spot in the dirt.
“I’m sorry for yelling,” Perfuma says quietly. “You’re in a lot of pain, I was worried.”
Frosta doesn’t say anything, instead turning to Adora. She starts to stand, wobbling as she tries to lift herself up with one leg. Adora gently guides her back to the ground and takes a look at her injury.
“We think it’s broken,” Frosta sniffles. “Can you fix it?”
Adora answers by calling on that familiar healing energy within her, pulling it towards her fingertips. She presses her hand on Frosta’s knee, right above the break. Frosta hisses, but as the glow comes and goes, the damage rights itself, and the youngest princess stands on both legs with no pain.
“It’s good as new,” she says cheerfully, though still wiping tears from her eyes. She spins around on it, face falling as she turns to Mermista and Perfuma. “Uh, hey guys.”
Perfuma offers her a watery smile, but Mermista doesn’t move.
“I’m so sorry for yelling at you, Perfuma. I was scared, and you were right, it hurt. A lot.” she pauses, walking slowly towards the two. “And Mermista… I’m not mad at you, you know? We, um, we all just got a power boost, and it’s not your fault you had trouble controlling that strength.”
“I still hurt you,” Mermista says, voice wavering and quiet. Frosta glances at She-Ra, and then runs over and wraps Mermista in a hug.
“It’s ok. I trust you anyway.”
Adora puts an arm around Catra’s shoulder, pulling her in for a half-hug. Catra huffs, but leans in, purring quietly into Adora’s chest. Mermista and Frosta pull away, and while Mermista still has tears in her eyes, they both look happier than before (which, to be fair, isn’t saying much… but sometimes it’s enough).
“Well, Catra and I should get back to training,” she says after a moment. “Let us know if we’re needed again.”
“‘We,’” Catra scoffs. “You did all the heavy lifting, I was only here for a hug.”
“Moral support,” Adora corrects. Catra gives her a little shove and Adora laughs, letting herself topple to the ground. She accidentally lets go of She-Ra, the power slipping away before she can even think to grab it, and Catra pounces at her, snuggling up to her. She realizes the mistake a moment too late, just as Catra lands on her.
Adora winces, the pain in her ankle beginning to crescendo. It’s been getting worse all week, and she doesn’t think she can bear it right now without painkillers.
(She really doesn’t want to wait to find out.)
She takes several deep breaths, pushing Catra off of her with all her strength. She holds her hand out in the air, fingers burning, stretching, pulling at the sword. She grits her teeth and it appears in her hands.
Even with her fingers pressed white around the hilt, it nearly slips out of her grasp. Her hands are clammy, and before she can yell about the honor of Grayskull, Catra is in front of her, pressing the sword to the ground.
“Are you okay? You look sick…” she presses the back of her hand to Adora’s forehead, and her expression hardens. “You are so sick. Wait, is this why you’ve been acting weird all week?”
“I wasn’t acting weird-”
“Nobody does yoga on the kitchen counter!” she hisses, standing with her hand on her hips. Her eyes fall on Adora’s ankle, which bulges slightly through her boot.
“Um, I,” Adora stutters, struggling for an explanation, but Catra’s eyes soften.
“Is this from when I knocked you over earlier?”
“I, I was She-Ra?” Adora pants. “I, um, I can’t get hurt-”
“We both know that isn’t true,” Catra mutters. She looks down at her own claws, which have more than once dripped with She-Ra’s - no, Adora’s - blood. Adora doesn’t respond, just pushes herself to her feet with her remaining strength.
“It’s barely a sprain,” she says. “And it isn’t from you. Just… don’t worry about it.”
Catra is staring at her, narrowing her eyes and pulling her ears back. She glances between Adora’s ankle and her downcast face, like she’s trying to think of something to comment on. After a moment, her gaze flits over to Bow, then back to Adora. She crouches down and waits until Adora looks up at her.
“You should see the medic,” she says. Bow comes up behind Adora and puts a hand on her shoulder. “You’ve been struggling all week, and I thought you were just under the weather, but…”
Adora shakes her head, and Bow tightens his grip on her shoulder. She turns to look at him, and sees a warm smile on his face.
“You don’t have to hide things from us,” he says. “If you’re hurt, we want to know.”
She shakes her head again, harder. Hair falls into her face, and tears begin to form in her eyes. Fuck, it all hurts. Her ankle, her chest, the hands on her shoulders and arms that are meant to comfort her but only remind her of what a liar she is…
“I don’t need the medic,” she chokes out. She pushes the hands away, scrambles to her feet, ignores the protesting of her ankle. She’s gotten good at that this last week.
Catra scoops her off her feet before she can even find her balance, and a small part of her is grateful. The rest of her is enraged.
“Put me down!” she shouts, swinging her arms around wildly. “I’m fine, Catra, I-”
“I’m not going to let you hurt yourself like this!” Catra hisses, fingers digging into Adora’s arms. Her claws remain retracted, and her hands shake against Adora’s skin. “I’m tired of seeing you hurt. For once, just let me take care of you.”
Adora slumps, and Catra buckles under the shift of weight. She grunts, tossing Adora into a fireman’s carry over her back. Adora just lets it happen, and it almost feels nice. Like she doesn’t have to worry, because Catra is there, will take care of her.
(She doesn’t need to be taken care of, though.)
(...right?)
“I want to walk in there on my own,” she argues. Catra doesn’t say anything in response, so she starts punching her leg, grunting and yelling for her to stop walking. “At least let me do that, Catra, you can’t stop me-”
“Yes, I can,” she snaps, but she sets Adora down gently. Adora winces as she puts weight on her ankle for the first time in an hour, and doesn’t protest when Catra pulls Adora’s arm around her shoulder, taking her weight.
“Thank you,” Adora mutters, and they traverse the ten feet to the medic’s tent with considerable difficulty. If it were all flat ground, Adora wouldn’t need any help, but she can’t brace herself as well on the forest floor.
(This is what she tells herself, and Catra, but they both know the truth.)
The medic looks unsurprised to see them, which Adora finds very unfair, seeing as it’s been weeks since she last needed help patching up a scratch or treating a nasty bruise. She sits down silently, letting the healer check on her temperature before moving down to examine her ankle.
“When did you sprain it?” he asks after Catra explains why they’re here. Adora shrugs.
“Like, last week,” Catra fills in. “She’s been hiding it for days now.”
The medic hums, gingerly tugging at Adora’s boot. She bites her lip as he pops it off, letting out only a small whine. His face pales as he rolls down the sock.
“What?” Catra is at Adora’s side in seconds, peering down at the offending ankle. “What’s wrong?”
“It isn’t exactly a sprain,” the medic says after a moment. He pulls his glasses on, and prods gently at the swollen flesh. “It appears broken, possibly shattered. You’ll need surgery if you want to walk on it again.”
“But, but she was walking on it all week! It’s not that bad, right?”
“It’s deteriorating quickly. We can save it, but only if we act fast.”
And suddenly, Adora can’t breathe, she can barely see, all she can hear is Catra yelling, at her, or the medic, or maybe herself, she doesn’t know. It all swirls together, a mix of sound, and color, Catra’s two-tone eyes meeting her own, a hand on her face…
Air finally enters her lungs with a sob, and she’s pulling at her hair, it falls across her face and covers her eyes. She can’t hold back the tears this time, like she’s been doing for a week now. She just lets them come, lets Catra hold her.
“It’ll be okay,” she hears her whisper. Her soft, fuzzy hands are petting Adora’s cheek. “It’ll be okay.”
((BR))
They operate on her ankle the next day. She wakes up to see it wrapped in bandages, with strict instructions transcribed in a pamphlet on her (new) bedside table. Catra is asleep on the floor, head resting on just her arms.
Sun filters through the curtains around her bed, which have been tied together, presumably to give her some privacy. Beyond them, she sees the faint outline of two sleeping bags, rising and falling slowly.
One begins to move, and from the ensuingnyawn she can tell it’s Glimmer who’s awoken. She almost says something, but instead just waves, wondering if she’ll see it through the curtain.
Glimmer turns back over without a word, but Catra is hopping up on the bed, careful to give Adora’s legs a wide berth.
(Like she’s fragile.)
(Like she’s weak.)
“Hey, Adora,” she whispers.
“Hey, Catra,” she whispers back. They share a smile, and then a kiss, awkward and tired but sweet all the same.
Catra opens her mouth as if to speak, then closes it, curling up on herself. Adora begins to sit up and Catra gently pushes her back down.
“Why did you hide it?”
And there it is, the million dollar question. Why did she hide it?
Because I didn’t want to worry you, she almost says.
Because I should’ve been able to handle it, she almost says.
I don’t know anymore, she almost says.
“We don’t have time for it.”
“For what?” and fuck, Adora hasn’t seen Catra this angry in awhile. “What don’t you have time for, Adora? You don’t have time to trust us? You don’t have time to take care of yourself? You don’t have time to-”
“It’s not like you take care of yourself! I know you can’t sleep on your own,” Adora is yelling, turning away from Catra as best she can. “You don’t exactly make it subtle how much you hate being here.”
Adora knows Catra’s response when she feels her weight leaving the bed, her warmth leaving Adora’s back. She rolls over to catch Catra ducking under the curtain. Silently, she watches her silhouette disappear onto the balcony.
“I don’t hate it here,” Catra says. Adora isn’t sure if she’s meant to hear or not, but she listens. “I just don’t get it. Everything is so different, and, and I don’t understand what people want from me now.”
She almost laughs, because she felt the exact same way when she first got here. Maybe she and Catra are even more similar than they thought.
“Nobody wants anything from you,” Adora says, hoping it’s loud enough to hear. “You don’t need to, you don’t need to make everyone happy.”
Catra scoffs.
“So what do you want from me?”
Adora turns around again. Glimmer and Bow are sitting up in their sleeping bags, probably watching Adora through the curtains. She looks at her foot, wrapped in bandages and a thick cast. She looks at her hands, calloused and dirty.
She looks at Catra’s silhouette, which is definitely watching her through the curtains, tail curled around her leg.
“I want you to stay,” she says, barely above a whisper. “All of you, please. Just, just stay.”
And they do.
Bow and Glimmer have to get back to work by noon, with Glimmer taking over Adora’s patrols and Bow lending a hand with Darla’s repairs.
“Don’t fall and break your ankle!” Adora shouts as Glimmer’s leaving, to which she gets an almost pitiful look from the queen of Brightmoon. “What? I thought it was funny.”
“She’s worried about you, dumbass,” Catra explains.
“Oh. That happens a lot.”
“The worrying thing, or the breaking your ankle thing?”
“Take a guess.”
Catra does that cute little laugh she knows Adora can’t resist and gives her a short peck on the cheek. Adora smacks her with a pillow until she hops off the bed, eyes gleaming mischievously.
“What?” Adora asks. That look cannot be good, not when Adora isn’t in on the scheme. Catra shrugs.
“You’ve got like, a month and a half off,” Catra says. “We can cause so much trouble, just like the good old days.”
Pranks were discouraged in the Horde, but inevitable, at least among the junior cadets. Catra was one of the worst when it came to pranks, but Adora wasn’t too far behind.
(“If you ever got caught, you’d have a much worse reputation than me,” Catra told her sourly. “But even when Shadow Weaver knows it’s you, she lets you go.”
“Not always,” Adora argued. But they both knew it.)
Adora shakes her head. “The medic said I need to rest. I should probably take some sleeping pills and-”
“You can’t just take sleeping pills for the next month!”
“But I can’t walk on it-”
“The crutches, Adora, the-”
“-heard him, I’m going to hurt myself-”
“-can’t get worse than it already-”
“-and what would Glimmer say if we wrecked the castle-”
“Augh, fine!” Catra shrieks the way she used to when she was throwing a temper tantrum, or having a breakdown. She takes a deep breath, and calmly says, “We’ll stay here, and you can rest. But don’t just down sleeping pills until you wake up with a healed foot.”
Adora considers it, then: “That plan kinda sucks, doesn’t it?”
Catra laughs again. “Yeah, just a bit. And, um, I’m sorry for yelling.”
“It’s okay, I was yelling too.”
“It’s not okay,” she mutters, her ears drooping. “I should’ve kept calm.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Adora concedes. “But it’s alright. I know you’re working on it.”
From there, they spend almost an hour brainstorming fun things to do that don’t require Adora to get up, or, worse, turn into She-Ra.
(“My ankle won’t hurt as She-Ra!”
“But you also can’t heal yourself. It’s a temporary solution and you know it.”)
“Chess?” Adora suggests.
“Never learned how to play.”
“Um, painting?”
“Knowing you, you’re going to get paint all over your blanket.”
Fair point, Adora thinks back to all the times they snuck food into the bunkroom in the Horde. That was hard to explain to Shadow Weaver. They had to sleep with that stained blanket for a month before she let them wash it.
“Oh, I got it!” Adora slams her fist into her open hand. “There’s this sort of, like, role-playing game we played once when we were, um, trying to figure out how to… attack you…”
“You used a roleplaying game to figure out a battleplan?” Catra looks absolutely smug, arms crossed and fingers tapping on her bicep. “That explains a lot about the rebellion.”
“It was fun! Please?” Adora sticks out her bottom lip and widens her eyes, giving Catra the saddest puppy-dog face she can manage. Catra groans, flopping down on the bed.
“Yeah, okay. What do you need me to get?”
“Well, the pieces should be in Bow’s room, and, uh, I don’t think he has a piece for you yet? You might have to use the perfume bottle,” her laughter trails off quickly.
“And that’s it?”
“I think so.”
“Alright, gonna go break into Bow’s room. I’ll be back.”
“Catra, wait!” Adora grabs her hand, and Catra turns, glancing at her ankle.
“Are you okay?”
“I, um, I wanted to say thank you.”
Catra smiles. “For what, dork?”
Adora opens her mouth, hesitates, then powers forward. “For staying with me, and doing what I want, and, and just listening.”
Her features soften right before she leans in to deliver a kiss. Catra holds her hand, only pulling away after Adora does.
“Of course, you idiot.”
“I love you.”
“I know.”