Everyone was worn from trick-or-treating. Kara had not, in fact, convinced Catra to let her join them on this particular venture. She had pouted about it for a while earlier in the week, but now that her own kids had been joined by a Lena-from-the-future, she was pretty preoccupied. Taking Esme out to join Catra and her family for trick-or-treating gave Kara and Lena needed time together, and there was no way Alex could deny her daughter’s enthusiasm for Halloween.
Finn had fallen asleep hours ago, when they’d first returned to Darla and stayed contentedly passed out in their bassinet. The rest of them had sat down in the living room for a proper dinner and a showing of Onward before Esme had been tucked in to sleep on the couch, too. That was when Alex had suggested going out and enjoying the night around the fire pit. With Adora’s encouragement and promise to keep an eye on the kids, she had managed to get Catra to agree, too.
“So,” Alex asked, turning to Catra beside her. They were sitting together, Alex’s arms draped across her shoulders. “What’s the verdict? Are you ready to be a twin mom?”
Catra almost stayed inside. The sight of everyone looking so comfortable was hard to step away from; all she wanted to do was join them and unwind for the rest of the night. But the suggestion had been a little insistent, and Adora had told her to go right ahead, so after she shed the night’s costume and once switched into something more comfortable, she was ready.
“Sure - in a few years,” she snorted, watching the fire crackle and embers spit around. The exact amount of years was vague and they were fine with that; like with Finn, whatever happened, happened. “When we’re a little more comfortable dealing with two babies after having handled the first one.”
“You’ll be great,” Alex said, no shred of doubt in her tone. “You already are. With Finn, and with the girls.” She had seen Catra handling twins that were nearly her age gracefully. It helped that Hope and Mara were good kids. Maybe handfuls, maybe excitable, maybe emotional – but such was the way of a couple of teenagers. Alex had been a messy teenager herself; some days, it didn’t feel so long ago.
“And you have a good support system,” she added. “I’m glad to see it. A lot of people here love you.” More than just her, more than just Kara. Catra and Adora would be okay, if something happened that took them away again. She knew her time left was scarce, but she knew Kara stuck around. She hoped that didn’t change, for Catra’s sake.
A lot of people here love you. There was no protesting that, but it did give her this weird feeling – this other kind of gooey that was just different. “I do,” she sighed, a heavy but content breath that came with closing her eyes briefly. She did have people. A support system. It was a solid foundation with only a few changes, so in that regard - she was lucky.
“Are you saying that just to give me fuzzy feelings,” she began after a moment, eyes opening into slits as they peeked at her. With her head tilted back, the angle gave them that gleam one could only really see when the shadows fell. “Or are you trying to reassure yourself of something?”
“Both,” Alex replied, unhesitating. There was no point in lying. They all knew what was going on here, and she didn’t want the last few days she had with Catra to be filled with pointless platitudes. Nothing about this situation was easy. She’d gotten attached again, despite telling herself she would inevitably leave, that she didn’t fit here. This little visit didn’t feel like enough.
“It’s nice to know you’re okay even without me here, that’s all,” she explained, brushing a hand gently over Catra’s loose curls. Knowing she’d had an impact, a good one, made the thought of leaving more bearable.
Catra tried not to think about it. Majority of the time, her family had her attention – Finn was at such a fun age but they could be needy when it came to nursing, or the twins were being outrageous with their antics (either being mischievous together, or squabbling against one another), she and Adora would tag-team the kitchen for meal-planning so everyone was fed and there were ample leftovers (while trying to steal some moments to themselves, which felt impossible at times). And in those rare few moments outside of all of them, reality would tease the edges of her mind and tell her: nothing ever stays the same.
People would be plucked out of this world, one by one. New ones would be brought in. Timelines would shift like they always did. In one timeline, she had Alex and Theo was hers. In this trajectory, it didn’t pan out that way. She had accepted that the first time Alex disappeared.
She’d have to accept it a second time, too.
“I know it’s been hinted at,” she swallowed and leaned forward, elbows digging into her knees, “but I need to hear it from you. You’re not projected to come back, are you?”
Alex’s arm fell across the back of the couch and the soft expression faded into something more regretful. She took a quiet breath and ran her hand through her hair. “No,” she answered. “No, I’m not projected to come back. When I saw the older version of you–” She balled her hand in the blanket draped across their laps and forced a small, tight-lipped smile. “She said it had been twenty years.”
“So that just means I get to see you in twenty years,” Catra smirked, glancing back over at her. The humor was a little weak – she knew it wasn’t guaranteed. Hell, she was almost sure it wasn’t. The constants in this place were few.
She looked back to the fire and sighed a second time. It was one of resignation. Then, quietly as she rubbed her palms together, she whispered, “You won’t remember me. You won’t remember any of this. Our friendship only exists in this one place – and it sucks.”
Catra felt her voice break at the end of her sentence. There wasn’t a point in hiding it.
“It sucks,” Alex agreed, her voice strained. Her arm returned to Catra’s shoulders and she shifted closer to her, needing the closeness. That was from Kara, who couldn’t stand an inch of personal space between them most of the time. Catra had been more receptive to that sort of thing since she’d returned, and she’d be willing to bet that was in part due to her sister, too.
“I’m sorry,” she sighed a moment later. “I almost wish I hadn’t come back if it wasn’t forever.” It didn’t matter that the idea of forever here had never really felt like a real possibility for her. If it was to make Catra happy, to see Finn, Hope, Mara, Lori, and Theo grow up? She would elect to stay here forever in a heartbeat. “But I’m glad I did. I’m glad I got to make more memories with you. And, who knows, right? Maybe it’ll be less than twenty years. Maybe I’ll be back for another visit next year.”
There were no constants here. Most losses in Vallo were definitive and final – a point proven again recently by Sara’s return home – but some weren’t. Some people came back. She had. Kara had. Lena had. Teela had. Adora’s mom had been here twice before settling into a sense of permanence, from what Alex knew. It wasn’t impossible.
“No matter how it goes, though – you know I love you,” she continued. She swallowed hard, and it was a battle to keep tears from welling in her eyes. “I may not know it back home, but the me that was here, I think she still exists somewhere in the back of my head. I think that’s what triggered when I got back here.”
Catra didn’t mind the closeness. Three years in Vallo made her overall less skittish around her friends when it came to physical touch; she actively sought to lean into people or hug them and she’d let them do the same. It was a ‘close friends and family’ sort of privilege; something she denied Alex the first time, and she was making up for it. So she leaned back and into her.
She purred a little too, but she didn’t know if Alex could tell whether or not they were happy ones - because they weren’t.
“Did the other me, like…” Catra licked her dry lips, sinking a fang into the bottom one for a second, “tell you when you’re supposed to go back?”
Alex shook her head. “I think she was trying to make sure we didn’t start dreading every hour until it happened,” she suggested. She hadn’t asked future Catra for a timeline. They kept it vague talking about how long she’d been gone – a couple decades, twenty years – but her reaction was enough to know it wouldn’t be long. “And I don’t want that. But–” A few tears fell free, and she let out a half-frustrated sigh. “I don’t want to coast along like it isn’t coming either. I wanted to make sure we got a real goodbye this time.”
Catra had nabbed this hoodie from Hope – who had nabbed it from Adora – to wear for the night, and she extended the long sleeves over her hand so she could wipe Alex’s cheeks. Kind of roughly, actually, but in a playful way. It helped keep her own eyes from fucking leaking. “I’m not good with goodbyes,” she huffed out a shaky laugh. “Or letting people go, so I’m really hating this, but I get it. Closure, right?”
That was what she was trying to tell herself. Having closure was a good thing, and she had enjoyed Alex’s time here – and she had the chance to be better for her here. Less shying away from her affection. More vulnerability. More honesty.
“I highly doubt I have some kind of mysterious long lost sibling out there,” Catra swallowed, looking at her. “But whoever they could be can’t hold a candle to you.”
Alex almost wanted to laugh, hearing Catra so casually predict something her future self had only revealed to her. She gave Catra another squeeze, hearing the way her voice wavered, and yeah, the tears she’d wiped away were replaced by more in no time. She pondered for a moment what she should say, if anything she did say would change things even a little bit, then decided to go for it.
“Don’t think that way,” she encouraged her. “I love you for thinking so highly of me, but I want you to let your heart be open to others.”
“I mean, I have Kara,” Catra rolled her eyes, that statement Alex shot at her full of something that was so very old sister wisdom. There were also the boys (Lance, Keith, Atreus) that slipped into sibling roles for her too - but there was something different about a sisterhood.
There was a glisten on her cheek, a stray tear that fell. It was wiped away as quickly as it appeared.
“I’ll keep an eye on her for you, like I know you’ll be watching her back home. Making sure she doesn’t trust all the wrong people,” she said, clapping a hand over Alex’s knee. “I’ll be okay.”
“I know you will be,” was Alex’s reply, completely confident that was the case. She’d seen proof of it for herself, and even if things shifted, she knew Catra would still be okay. She was an unbelievably resilient kid. Alex wished more than anything she could be there to lend her a shoulder, but she knew Kara would take care of her for both of them.
Taking a deep breath to stave off any more tears, she leaned forward and finally wrapped both arms around her littlest sister fully. The hug wasn’t inescapably tight, but it was another clinger – like Catra had done to her when she’d come back, like she’d done to the future version of Catra when she’d met her in Darla’s kitchen. It was needed just as much now as it had been then.
“Don’t, like, get a big fat fucking head about this,” Catra sniffed, hooking her chin over Alex’s shoulder, relieved that she couldn’t see her face because, yeah, that was another tear that had the audacity to escape. “But I love you.”
Had she said that to Alex before? It hadn’t felt that way. She was saying it now, though, and she hoped, hoped that the words would carry on with her when she left them. She hoped Alex would remember. She hoped she wouldn’t be forgotten.
She hoped it wouldn’t be another twenty years; hoped it was all a fluke, and time shifted again so it’d all work in their favor. Hope made losing her hurt just a little less.
Alex let out a small, choked sigh and squeezed Catra tighter. She knew. Of course she knew. She was freer with the words, but she knew Catra felt it. Any doubts she may have had her first go here had been solidly put to rest when she’d first come to see Catra again, sitting out front and entertaining Finn.
That didn’t mean hearing it wasn’t a great feeling.
“I love you too,” she murmured, squeezing again. “Don’t you ever forget that, alright?”
“I won’t,” Catra promised, eyes forced shut to keep whatever else that may come out of her eyes back. “I have your corny letter – the one you left me.” The one she couldn’t bring herself to read the day she picked it up. It took her a few days before she could muster up the courage for it. “And if I need a good laugh, I’ll just watch the scenes of us in Serendipity. Best adopted sister to get me through three whole fake years of a fake break up.”
The memory made her own arms tighten around her. She’d let Alex go in a minute or two. If this was their last hug, if she was gone tomorrow or in the next few days - she wanted this to be so seared into her memory in a way that wouldn’t change in the next two decades.
“I’ll leave you another letter,” Alex murmured. She wanted Catra to have that memento of her, even if it might be sort of selfish – her words, her thoughts, her memories. It was important, especially if she wouldn’t see her again for twenty years. She wanted Catra to have everything she needed to know that their relationship was real, that it meant something, that even if Alex would go back to not remembering, there was no doubt that this had been real for her here.
When she pulled back, the reluctance was felt. She stayed close, looping her arm through Catra’s and smiling at her, taking another slow breath to ease the emotion. She thought fondly of Serendipity Hills, even now. Getting sucked into a Hallmark movie hadn’t been on her bingo card that year, but what about Vallo had been? It had strengthened a bond that wavered between her and Catra, and she would always be thankful to it for that much.
“You still have Mermista to remind you of that time, too,” she pointed out. Sure, she lived at the penthouse with Kara and Lena, but she knew Catra was and would be a frequent visitor.
“She’s a spoiled asshole though,” Catra quipped, wiping that last remnant of wetness from her cheek before settling back - and feeling exhausted. These past few weeks have been a fucking whirlwind of highs and lows. Most of them were highs. The lows were mostly all in her head, full of worries and anxieties of what was to come and what might not ever come.
She couldn’t control any of that worth shit. But she could control how she focused in the present, for the most part.
“I think we should go inside soon,” she sighed, dropping her head onto Alex’s shoulder. “But I think staying out here for a few more minutes won’t hurt.”