Archive of Our Own ^beta

The wind bites as Catra traverses down the street. Her hands are tucked into the pockets of her new trench coat, her red scarf whipping around in the breeze as she burrows herself in, shoulders hunched, eyes scrunched.

It’s been six months since she moved to the city of Brightmoon, and six months of chasing after a woman she theorized she’d never see again. Still, she’s been trying.

There’s a jingle of a small bell to her right and she pauses to look up.

Razz’s Antiques , the sign says. The shop inside looks dark compared to the bright outdoors but something in the back of Catra’s mind is making her step in. Something is pushing the door open for her, something is walking her steps through the antique shop, glancing around and admiring the knick knacks from yesteryear.

As she walks through the shop, not really finding anything of value for her new apartment, her eyes land on a busted cardboard box sitting on the counter. The box says “ photos, 25 cents each ”. Manning the counter was a petite old woman with bottle-lensed glasses. Her head is tilting ever so slightly, a soft snore emitting from her lips.

Catra pulls open one of the flaps and finds an array of colorless photos, all full of people who have lived lives long before Catra was even thought of. She reaches in and grabs a handful, but she’s not entirely sure why. Something about keeping the memories of people forgotten seemed sentimental and she’s walking up to the counter before she can stop herself.

The woman is still snoozing as Catra glances around to find a way to wake her up. In the end, she clears her throat three times. The woman snaps awake, like she’s been hit with an electric shock.

“Oh, good morning, dearie,” she says with a raspy voice. Catra flings down the stack of photos in her hand and she half expects the woman to manually start counting them and giving her the exact amount. Instead, the woman smiles and says: “That’ll be two dollars.”

Catra stares down at the photos. There are at least twenty, maybe more. She wants to argue, to give these photos the true value but decides to just play along. Obviously, the photos were worthless to the woman if she was willing to give them away for buttons. Catra hands over the two dollars and the woman carefully slides each photograph into a clear plastic wallet. As she does, Catra counts. Twenty-five photos.

The woman hands them all over with a toothy grin. “You’re troubled.”

Catra stares at the woman, hand hovering. “Wh-”

“You’re looking for someone,” the woman continues. “She’s looking for you, too.” The cryptic message is enough to spook Catra into leaving. She takes the photos and storms out into the breezy city weather. She doesn’t stop to glance at herself in the shop window like she usually does when she walks past.

When she gets home she throws the stack onto her table and rummages through them, curious to see the history behind each film, when her eyes find a picture that she doesn’t expect. Shaky fingers pick it up and watery eyes look at the monochrome life.

There are two women sitting on a porch with the brightest smiles Catra’s ever seen. They sit, arms wrapped around each other with ringless hands clasped together. The shorter woman has a cropped bob and pale eyes that still glimmer with life. She’s wearing a white shirt and necktie and a dark pinstripe waistcoat overtop. Her blooming trousers are pulled tightly into riding boots. The woman next to her is an inch or two taller with wavy dark hair that cascades over one shoulder. Even in the black and white, Catra can tell her eyes are made of minerals. A jade or a sapphire, she’s not sure. She’s wearing a simple dress with a pale Peter Pan collar. In her other hand are a pair of gloves and on her feet are small, polished heels. 

As Catra stares at the photo, she has this sudden urge pop in her head. She reaches for her cellphone and dials the last number she remembers. She’s unsure if it still works but then the line clicks, and Catra’s heart stutters.

“Hello?” Comes a voice and it sparks everything Catra recalls about her life. It’s vibrant, it brings color, it brings love, and Catra can’t stop the tears that well in her eyes as she responds.

“Hey, Adora.”

1944

Catra strolls down the street, her heels clicking against the sidewalk as she holds her purse close. She hates these stupid dresses, the way they flow around and give little to no imagination around the bust and her hips. She especially hates the way men look at her when she wears them.

But, there’s no time to make a ripple in a timewave when she’s desperate to look for someone. Someone she hasn’t seen since high school, only a year ago. A woman who used to be a young girl covered in dirt and bandaids and a gapless grin because it took forever for her front teeth to grow in. A girl whose hair was stitched with sunlight and her blue eyes were made of the clearest sky.

When she reaches the harbor, the smell of something unclean hits her like a freight train. She presses her gloved hand to her nose as she whips around, checking, darting, to see her.

And then, she does. Adora’s standing near the dock, hugging a young woman with cropped hair.

She’s wearing an olive green military skirt suit and a cap with the emblem of the country’s freedom stapled to it. Her blonde hair has been curled up into a bun that sits just under the brim of her cap but her eyes are still the same shade of wondrous blue.

Catra steps forward, legs shaky as she breaches the cobblestones. Her heart is aching, it’s sinking, it’s diving, as she walks towards Adora.

Adora sees her immediately, like she’s destined to see her, and she drops her knapsack on the floor like it’s weightless. She’s running, her low heels stomping against the cobblestone. She pulls Catra into her arms and twirls her around.

“You came,” Adora says, breathless.

“I wasn’t going to let you leave without a goodbye,” Catra says. She feels eyes fall onto her and Adora, something unspoken is gossiped around.

“I’ll write to you every day,” Adora says as she puts Catra back onto the ground. She’s unsteady on her heels but Adora’s there to catch her when she falls. She’s always there to catch her.

“You should,” Catra gripes. “You promised you’d marry me one day. So, you better keep that promise when this is all over.”

Adora grins and it’s so brilliant against the grim sky. The clouds seem to have found the perfect day to announce themselves.

“I will marry you,” Adora promises. “Even if I can’t, I will.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Catra teases but she feels the sadness, the loneliness, and the longing in her own voice. Adora isn’t fazed.

“All we need are rings and an eternal promise. Churchs be damned,” Adora says and Catra gasps, falsely scandalized. Adora’s eyes dip, a little darker than before, and her smile diminishes. “I love you, Catra.”

“I love you, Adora. Now, go save the world and come back to me in one piece, please,” Catra says, patting Adora’s arm. She looks around to see young couples, just like them, kissing and pleading and begging. She can’t do the first one, no matter how badly she wants to. So, instead she presses her gloved fingers to her lips, letting her lipstick stain the white fabric before pressing it onto Adora’s name stitched onto her olive jacket. The transfer is invisible but it leaves a mark on Adora’s heart.

Adora leaves on the boat an hour later, standing at the helm and waving at Catra and Glimmer and Bow, who watch her depart. Catra’s wordless when Glimmer and Bow ask her if she’ll be okay.

She won’t.

Adora’s first letter comes in a month later and it only says that she loves and misses Catra. It doesn’t matter, it reads like a fairytale as Catra sits in her bed, guided by lamplight as she implores over every word. She falls asleep dreaming that Adora returns and they share the same bed and she lets Adora worship her body and soul like she deserves.

A year passes and Adora’s letters never seem to decrease in number. They say the same thing, over and over. I love you. I miss you. I can’t wait to marry you. Sometimes they fill Catra in about what Adora’s up to. In one letter she’s stationed somewhere in France. She’s training the military dogs in another. Either way, Adora’s letters end the same way.

When I look at the stars, I imagine your face and then I remember the night we fell in love. The sky looked exactly the same. Do you remember?

Catra does remember because she thinks the same thing when she looks out the window to see the bright moon hanging in the sky. It’s enchanting, but it’s fleeting.

She holds Adora’s latest letter to her chest and she dances around to the wireless, her bare feet drifting across the wooden floor, her nightshirt twirling around her legs.

She falls back onto the bed and tilts her head back, imagining the letter is Adora and she’s back to claim Catra. Two months later, Adora returns and she keeps her promise.

Present Day

Adora sits in a coffee shop just down the street from Catra’s apartment. She looks incredible , Catra thinks as she walks in. Adora must sense her because she’s looking up immediately. Her blue eyes soften but still seem guarded when Catra walks up to her. 

“Hey,” Catra is the first to start, taking the chair opposite Adora. She’s sitting in the booth, her backpack propped up next to her.

“Hey,” Adora replies in repetition. Her mouth twitches into a smile because Catra knows Adora can’t help it. There’s a magnetic pull between them, an invisible string that keeps them tethered.

“Did you order?” Catra asks, looking over at the barista.

“Not yet,” Adora says, shaking her head. The I was waiting for you , is unspoken but implied. Catra smiles despite herself.

“What do you want? My treat.”

“I’ll just have a coffee,” Adora says, twiddling her thumbs. Her eyes don’t meet Catra as much as they used to, and Catra misses the warm gaze. She gets up and orders Adora’s coffee and her own but in decaf.

When she brings them back over to Adora, she’s pounced on like an injured wildebeest.

“What’s the deal?” Adora asks, stroking the side of her mug. “First, you break up with me, and now, you’re just desperate to see me?”

Catra grimaces. “I made a mistake.”

“Sure,” Adora scoffs. “You made several by the sounds of it. Was I just the big one or was I one of the smaller ones that built up?”

“You were the biggest one,” Catra says. “I mean, breaking up with you was the biggest mistake I ever made.”

“You had time to fix it,” Adora says, shrugging her shoulders. She sips the coffee with absent thought. “Six months.”

“I came here looking for you,” Catra pleads. “Please, Adora, look at me.”

Adora does. Catra pulls out the photograph that started this whole charade and slides it across to Adora. She watches as her ex fumbles around with the cup, trying to pick the picture up with difficulty and instead resigns to leaning in closer.

“Wow,” Adora says. “It’s rare to see two women in this kind of photo.” Adora looks up at Catra, this time her eyes are shining with something Catra knows isn’t love for her, but it’s the beginning of something. 

“Do you know who they are?” Adora then asks after a few more silent minutes of inspection.

“No, there aren’t any names on the back,” Catra says with a disappointed smile. “But, the point is. These two women made it in a time where it couldn’t be done.”

Adora slips the photo back across the table to Catra and takes a sip of coffee. She’s processing the words Catra’s saying, she knows it.

“I’m here swallowing all the pride I have left to tell you I’m sorry,” Catra continues, her fingers curling around her own cup of coffee. Her shoulders shake but she won’t cry. Not this time. “I miss you, I love you. I want you back.”

“You didn’t stop to think I moved on?” Adora challenges.

“Have you?” Catra whispers, it’s broken, like a baby bird falling from their nest and Adora’s gaze averts whilst her cheeks burn.

“No,” Adora admits. “Move on from you? There’s an impossible task.”

Catra smiles, it’s bitten back by sharp teeth, but it’s there.

“This could be us,” Catra then says, jabbing a finger at the picture. “One day. I want that. Do you?”

“I do,” Adora replies and it’s soft and gentle and Catra’s missed it so much.

“Will you give me one more chance to make everything right again?”

“I will,” Adora says, leaning across and taking Catra’s hand in her own. She rubs her thumb over Catra’s skin and it feels like home again in Catra’s palm. “But, please don’t break my heart again.”

“I won’t,” Catra promises because breaking Adora’s means shattering her own.

Adora walks her home a few hours later and Catra lets herself be pulled in by her showmanship. Adora’s the one who takes her hand and holds it tightly as they walk down the street in sync and Adora’s the one who kisses her on the cheek goodbye at Catra’s front door. 

Catra’s the one who stays outside watching Adora leave.

When she enters the apartment, her heart full of something that might just be hope, she flicks the picture back onto the table and is about to make supper when she stops. She walks back slowly and reaches down. 

Another photo of a pair of young women, clutching each other like they belong together. The photo is sepia toned, burnt amber and brown. The couple are in the driveway in front of an out-dated Ford. One of them, with blunt bangs and long curly hair that reaches down to her waist, is wearing a poofy, strapless dress with a heart shaped neckline. There’s a jeweled choker around her neck. Her eyes are closed shut but the smile is beaming. The other girl, next to her, is wearing a shorter dress that is lined with tulle that sweeps up into her straps, creating a soft v-neck. Her hair is unruly, clipped up into a bun with strands that break free to frame her face. Her smile is soft but her eyes are laser focused on the girl next to her.

Catra, without much thought, turns the picture over.

1958 , the date reads, but there are no names. It doesn’t matter, Catra doesn’t need the names because she sees Adora and herself in their beaming faces. She knows she’s the one watching Adora smile, because it’s her favorite thing in the world.

2017

Maybe school sucks so much because Ms Weaver can’t leave me alone, did you ever think about that? Catra argues in her head as she walks down the street. She kicks a can into the road, hearing the metallic clang as it breaches the cliff of the sidewalk. 

She can already hear the grievances she’s going to get from her mom. Casta was cool when you didn’t cross her but the prank Catra had just pulled at Horde Academy left little for Casta to believe in. In all fairness, she wasn’t meant to get caught.

Stupid Kyle! Catra bites out, he’s the one who messed the whole thing up and now the whole school thinks I’m a weirdo who listens to stupid jazz instead of 80s rock .

As she stomps down the street, heading off to God knows where really as long as it’s just not home, she hears a chorus of giggles and laughs that makes her freeze.

She follows the sound, trepidatiously, and finds that a trio is heading into a book shop. She follows in after them, being pulled by the sound of one specific laugh. When she’s inside, time stops as she looks at the sound pulling her in.

She’s tall with blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail. Around her neck is a vibrant red, woolen scarf. Her blue eyes are skimming over the back of a Jane Austen novel and Catra’s heart is beating so loudly, she swears it fills this entire bookshop. The girl’s pink lips are twisted into a pout as she mulls over the blurb and only when Catra’s vision returns, does she notice the pale blue of her skirt, the cream of her cardigan and the school emblem on her breast.

Bright Moon Prep School students. Catra dives into one of the aisles of the shop when the other two of the group emerge from the corner to where the girl of Catra’s dreams is standing.

“Adora, what have you found?” A boy asks.

Adora, Catra feels her name being tattooed on her heart, a cryptic mark of something that should be but might never be.

“Oh, it’s just Persuasion ,” the girl, Adora, replies. “It’s the only one I haven’t read,” she continues.

“You should,” Catra then finds herself saying and there’s an echoing silence in the aisle adjacent to her where the girl and her friends stand.

“Um, thanks?” Adora says into the silence. Catra takes a deep breath, her heart hammering her soul as she walks around the corner. “Oh, you’re from Horde Academy,” the girl susses when she sees the black and red uniform.

“Yeah,” Catra says.

“How did it feel getting your ass stomped into the dirt last year?” A girl with pink hair asks, she’s hanging off the boy like a leech. 

“It wasn't great,” Catra grinds out. Especially since she was captain of the basketball team, but whatever.

Adora glowers at her friends before looking back at Catra. “What about the book?”

“It’s great,” Catra enthuses. “It’s about Anne, the main character, meeting Captain Wentworth after a long time. They were previously engaged but her family made her cut it off, and well, he’s kinda rich and kinda still handsome, in her eyes. And the whole story is… Wentworth falling back in love with Anne. The love letter rivals Mr Darcy’s, if you ask me.”

Adora is listening with full intent and her friends have long disappeared the moment it was obvious Catra was going to ramble. Her blue eyes are glistening with a kind of interest that Catra wants to see again.

“So it’s like a second chance kind of story?” Adora asks, looking back down at the book. A strand of hair falls in front of her face and she tucks it behind her ear slowly. Catra holds her breath when Adora looks back at her, fingers curling around her ear. “I’ll give it a go. Thanks for the recommendation…”

“Catra.”

“I’m Adora. It’s nice to meet you, Catra,” Adora says with a brilliant smile and Catra’s whole face blows up, red, warm, unbearable. 

“Y-yeah…” Catra stumbles out before turning on her heel and leaving the shop because what on Earth had dragged her in there in the first place. As she leaves, she hears the group bicker.

“You need to ask for her number,” the other girl whispered loudly. “She’s cute!”

“I know she’s cute but I don’t know if I’m her type!” Adora hushes back.

“Who cares! You’re cute. She’s cute. Just go ask her!” The boy says. “I’ll buy the book, just go after her before she’s gone forever!”

Adora scoffs. “Well, not forever, I know where she goes to sch-”

“GO!” The boy and girl shout together, pointing to the door. 

Catra’s turning the corner, her head swinging low and she realizes she’s just lost her moment to finally click with someone. She picks her head up and makes a move to turn when a hard body slams into her.

“Owww,” Adora groans out, rubbing her shoulder whilst Catra is rubbing her throbbing chin. “Catra, hey,” Adora then says, breathless, smile never fading.

“Oh, hey, Adora. Did you forget something?” Catra asks, wondering what exactly of hers she could be looking for.

“Um, yeah, actually,” Adora replies and her whole face is a shining beacon of what Catra can only hope is infatuation. “I forgot to ask for your number.”

The way Adora grins when she gets the final word out, the way her eyebrows raise and her eyes dip makes Catra think she believes she’s being smooth. Catra is far too delighted to rain on her parade.

“Sure,” Catra teases. “I can give it to you. Or.”

“Or?” Adora deflates.

“You take me out for ice-cream right now and I’ll give it to you at the end of the night,” Catra offers. Adora throws a hesitant glance over her shoulder before shrugging.

“I doubt Glimmer and Bow will miss me too much. Let’s go,” Adora agrees, taking Catra’s hand and wow, they slot perfectly. Adora must notice this because she’s looking at Catra like she’s the only girl in the whole world that fits in her perfect plan.

God, Catra hopes she fits in her perfect plan.

Somewhere in the 1500s

“Oh, where is my knight in shining armor?” Catra cries as she leans against her open window, her hand draping over her forehead like an imitation of a damsel in distress. There’s a creak of metal and Adora’s pulling off her helmet, shaking her hair loose from its restraints.

“You’re so dramatic,” Adora gripes as she places the helmet to the side.

“You’re here!” Catra coos as she falls into Adora’s embrace.

“Can you act normal for five seconds, please,” Adora begs as her hold on Catra weakens when the princess leaves all of her weight onto Adora’s arms.

“Fine,” Catra mumbles, pulling herself up and fixing her bodice and skirt. She wraps a hand around Adora’s neck, fingers curling in Adora’s soft waves, before pulling her in for a deep kiss.

Adora’s hands fumble with Catra’s waistline, pressing her in close to her armor. She hoists Catra up slightly, the princess squeaking into the intimate kiss as her feet leave the floor for a second.

When they part, Catra’s woozy and turned on and Adora’s stood there grinning like a hero.

“You’re such,” Catra starts and Adora’s mouth is on her’s again.

“But I’m yours,” Adora retorts, as if knowing exactly what Catra was going to say and the princess is left humbled and incredibly turned on.

“How quickly can you shed this armor?” She asks, toying with the straps on the breastplate.

“Give me five minutes,” Adora says, immediately pulling her leather gloves off, along with her arm plates. Catra smirks and watches as Adora does her best to strip herself off the guards of war. In her place, Catra begins to unravel the ties of her bodice, and begins to pull the fabric of her sleeves down.

When Adora’s stood, armor free but still in her under garments, Catra is naked for the world to see and it takes Adora a millisecond to scoop her up and throw her onto the bed, making her scream and plead and beg and moan for the whole kingdom to hear.

When they are finished and the evening grows darker, Catra runs her fingers over Adora’s abs, letting her nails dip into the hills and valleys of her training. She looks up to see Adora watching her with a beautiful, soppy smile and soft eyes. Something like dread sinks in her stomach like a stone. A memory, something horrid, creeps in to marr what is left of Catra’s future.

“I should probably tell you something,” Catra then says, sitting up. She reaches for the bedsheets to make herself modest, ignoring the fact that Adora is just as exposed as she is. 

“You’re getting married,” Adora fills in for Catra and the princess stops and stares with a gaping mouth.

“I overheard your father and the captain talking,” she continues and Catra bows her head.

“It’s not what I want,” she says, not letting her voice shake, not letting her resolution break.

“I know,” Adora says, pulling Catra’s wild curls back to kiss a line from the curve of her neck to the middle of her spine. “If I could, I’d marry you now.”

“You could,” Catra says, her voice small in the darkness. No handmaidens had come in to set the candles alight. They knew that whenever Adora returned from war, or training, Catra was to be left alone. It’s likely the whole castle knew considering Catra was far from being quiet.

“I can’t,” Adora whispers against Catra’s skin. “It’s not allowed.”

“Who says?” Catra scoffs. “The Archdeacon? Screw that guy.”

Adora chuckles, it ripples against Catra’s skin, vibrates her heart into a head start of acceleration. Adora’s always doing that - making her heart race.

“Regardless, I’ll be off to war soon. The Horde is fighting with Bright Moon again.”

“Again,” Catra spits. “Can’t my father just be normal for once?”

“King Hordak, normal?” Adora jests and Catra laughs. They sit together, silent, and Adora leans forward, wrapping her arms around Catra’s whole body and pulls her in for an embrace. Catra lets Adora consume her whole again and on the last stroke that brings her to completion, an idea pops into her head.

“Let's run away,” she says, sitting up. Adora looks up from between Catra’s legs, eyes wide with confusion. She sinks back on her haunches, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Run away?” Adora echoes.

“To Bright Moon.”

Adora seems to think the plan over. “Right now?” She then asks, and Catra can see from the way her eyes are filled with mirth, the smile playing on her glistening lips, that she’s warming to the idea.

“Yes, right now,” Catra says. She throws her leg over Adora’s head to climb out of bed, getting dressed in a simple dress and cloak. “What do you say?”

“I get to be with you forever?” Adora asks, following her. She puts her strong hands on Catra’s waist, brings their foreheads together and their breaths mingle. Salty, sweet, decadent. 

“Yes,” Catra says.

“Then, I say, I’ll go with you wherever.”

Adora pulls her in for a delicate kiss that Catra urges to deepen, she wants her lips dyed with the memory of Adora, forever and ever.

Late in the night, on the back of Adora’s trusty steed, Swift Wind, the two lovers set off towards Bright Moon. In a small leather bag around Catra’s waist holds the letters Adora had written for her whilst at battle. They hold the I love yous, I miss yous , that Catra spent every night reading and kissing and crying over.

The final words are something special to Catra, something she’ll keep forever.

When the moon isn’t here, I imagine she’s with you, watching over you. I pretend that you have her whilst I look at the dark sky. I know one day we’ll share that moon again, but right now, keep her safe. Keep her loved. Like I love you.

Somewhere in Another Universe

There’s a bright light that hangs above Catra. The aches, the burning, the stretching of her nerves are long gone. Horde Prime’s voice isn’t echoing around in her thoughts anymore. Her hand reaches out to take hold of the light when something stops her.

A shadow of a girl Catra had hoped would’ve been a mirage. Adora really was so stupid to come to Horde Prime to try and rescue her and now she was dying. 

“Catra,” the vision of Adora says. “You’re not done. Not yet.”

Just let me die , Catra wants to yell at Adora but the ghost is moving closer, stepping forward with silent steps. Hands come up to cradle Catra’s head and Catra swears she feels the touch against her spirit.

“You’re not done,” Adora says again and she presses her forehead against Catra’s. 

Her heart had long stopped, the jolt of Horde Prime’s power had been enough to cease the beating, but when Adora reaches down to her chest, presses her palm against her cage, suddenly it’s all she can hear. Her own heart, beating for Adora once more.

A full heart is so burdensome , Catra thinks as she is brought back to the world, gasping and choking and coughing.

“Hey Adora,” Catra chokes out when she looks up to see that same vision smiling down at her. Adora’s eyes well with tears and she holds her close. Catra’s whole world, everything she once knew, ceases to exist and she tugs at Adora’s red jacket, begs to hold her close because she has Adora again and she can’t let her go. Because Adora’s the only one who could bring her back to life.

Catra makes a solemn vow. I can’t hurt her again , she thinks as she rests in the medic pod. She hears Adora enter her room over and over but she sleeps most of the time but whilst she’s off in her dreams, she’s remembering Adora.

Adora kneeling with that blue sword in the smoke of destruction caused by Catra’s hands. No. Shadow Weaver’s hands.

Adora in that red dress, twirling around and fitting against Catra like she belongs there.

Adora in that stupid She-Ra transformation, running around playing the hero.

Adora, who found her in Horde Prime’s palm, risked her life to bring her back because that’s what people in love do.

That’s what people in love do, Catra tells herself when she’s in the heart of Etheria, holding onto a dying Adora.

That’s what people in love do, Catra tells herself when she brings Adora back from the brink of her own self-destruction by telling her. Begging her. Pleading her to stay. I love you, she says. Please, stay with me.

That’s what people in love do, Catra tells herself when she presses a firm kiss to Adora’s lips like she’s dreamt about every day since she discovered what love really meant. When her love is the one who brings She-Ra back and Adora saves the universe. Because Catra loves her.

It’s what people in love do, Catra knows when Etheria and elsewhere are free of Horde Prime and there’s Adora and she’s so perfect and beautiful and Catra thinks that everything’s going to be okay again. She’s going to work hard, for Adora, for herself, for them and everything they have now.

Present Day

Finn is twenty when their moms die. Adora was first to go, latching onto the world to say goodbye to Catra one more time. One last kiss on her lips before succumbing to an unnamed illness. Catra followed her two months later, weakened without Adora’s love. She’d been left as a shell of her former self, sitting on a rocking chair looking at the photo of her and Adora on their wedding day. 

Adora in her long white dress and her long blonde hair down with her blue eyes that glow magically from behind glass. Catra’s wearing a simple red dress shirt and a white cape that hangs over her right shoulder. She’s watching Adora, because she’s her favorite person in the whole world.

In Finn’s hands is a box full of photos that Adora and Catra took over their lives together. Some of the photos are in color, others are sepia toned, and the rest are in monochrome. Finn’s never looked at them completely, they just know that they belonged to their moms.

Their steps come to a stop in front of a shop that feels like it’s appeared out of nowhere. In the middle of the high tech city, the shop looks like it belongs in a photograph from the 1800s. The sign reads Razz’s Antiques , so Finn guesses they’re in the right place.

It’s the place written in both Catra and Adora’s wills after all.

Finn walks in, the bell above them jingle and the old woman who is sitting behind the counter looks up at them through bottle lenses. Her pursed lips spread into a wrinkled grin and she’s clapping her hands delightedly.

“Ah, I’ve been waiting for you, Mara,” she says cryptically. Finn wrinkles their nose at the mention of their grandmother.

“I’m not Mara,” Finn replies. “Though, I've been told I look like her.” Multiple times actually, must be the tanned skin they got from Catra and the blond hair from Adora.

The woman taps her fingers against her lips. Finn shifts on their feet awkwardly. “Then, you are Adora?”

“That’s my mom,” Finn answers. They shake their head. “This is her and my other mom’s photos. They wanted you to have them and sell them.”

Finn lugs the box over to the counter and dumps it on the surface. The woman makes a humming sound and then rips open the flaps like a starving dog. She glances inside and pulls out a photo. She blinks at it through her magnifying lenses and then looks at Finn. 

She gives them a sweet smile before turning it around for Finn to get a look at it.

“Is this them?” She asks with a crooked grin. Finn inspects the photos closely.

“Oh, no, I don’t… Um…” Finn scratches their head as they look at the photo. It’s a photo of a wedding, sure, but it’s not the one of Adora and Catra.

The photo is of two women standing in front of an array of flowers, a cast of colorful characters adorn the photo but the main focus is on them. The shorter of the pair has strong muscles and a squared jawline, she’s wearing a strapless wedding dress and is smiling so brightly, it colors the picture. Next to her is a woman with long, flowing hair pulled into a low ponytail. Her bangs are a little too long that it covers her eyes, but Finn imagines they’re just as full of love and jubilation as her wife’s. The woman with the long hair is wearing a well-tailored suit, topped off with shiny heeled shoes.

“How did that get there,” Finn wonders aloud. They reach for the photo but the woman snatches it back and flips it back into the box.

“These brought your mothers together,” the woman says with a cryptic smirk. “I’ll take them. They’re timeless antiques, after all. All photos tell a story. I can’t wait to read your mothers’.”

Finn grins when the woman takes the box and puts it down behind the counter. “I kept some to show my own kids one day,” they say and the woman nods, wisely.

“Good, pictures are the best memory keepers. Thank you for the photos, Finn.”

Finn says goodbye with a wave and they leave the shop. Without the box in their hands, they feel a million times lighter, or maybe it’s the idea that someone, someday, will come across the photos of Catra and Adora in love with each other and realize that they want that for themselves too. The sky is bright above Finn, the clouds breaking to let the sun pour down. 

Just as they turn the street to head back to their car, they stop. They never told the woman their name. How did she even…

They glance back in the direction of the shop but for some reason, they struggle to see the sign. How bizarre, they think before shrugging their shoulders and continuing down the street, passing by a young couple of two girls, hands clasped together and whispering sweet nothings.

The brunette, the shorter of the two, stops in front of the shop window and gasps.

“Let’s go in!” She says excitedly, pulling on the hand of the one with lavender stained hair.

As Finn drives away, the young couple leave the shop with a photo of Adora and Catra, embraced in a deep kiss, in their hands.