Serve and Protect

Chapter 9

It was still dark out when Catra slipped out from beneath Adora's arm. In stealthy silence, she collected her boots and the bag full of supplies—the same one Adora had come home with the night before and danced around where she'd procured the things inside—and crept from the room. She pulled her boots on in the stairwell then shoved out the back door and into the striking cool of early morning.

She knew she should have been grateful for Adora's help. It had only been a handful of hours since Adora disinfected her wounds and wrapped her in fresh dressings, fed her medicine and soup and waited by her side until the fever broke. Adora had always taken care of her that way.

And, perhaps, that was the problem.

A strange mix of shame and resentment bubbled at Catra's core. Adora's doting, combined with the fact that Catra always seemed to need it, left Catra feeling useless and small. But Catra wasn't useless. She wasn't weak or incompetent. She was just tired of being treated like she was, no matter how noble the intentions behind it were.

It was a long walk back to the warehouse, and the sun was rising by the time Catra trudged up to the door. Some kid she barely spoke to let her in without asking where she'd been, and Catra appreciated not having to snap at them about it being none of their damn business. Rather than return to the dorms, she made her way up to the roof and nestled into the corner where she and Adora had spent so many hours together over the years. She perched on the edge and wondered what Adora would think when she woke up and realized Catra was already gone.

With nothing better to do, Catra rifled through the bag of medical supplies. However Adora had gotten the stuff, she'd certainly hit the motherload. Everything was brand name—none of that generic, store-brand bullshit—and there was enough of everything to last for quite a while. Catra was debating keeping this stuff for herself rather than adding it to the warehouse first aid kit when she noticed the small yellow bottle at the bottom of the bag. It was the one thing that didn't look like it had come off a shelf.

Catra turned it over in her hand, watching the four remaining capsules slide around. Her eyes scanned the label.

"Who the fuck is Glimmer Brightmoon, and how did Adora get her antibiotics?" Catra asked herself. The name sparked a note of recognition in her mind, but she couldn't quite place it.

The sound of a car door slamming stole her attention. Quietly, Catra crept to the other edge of the roof and peered over. Shadow Weaver had just arrived for one of her inspections. Catra sneered at her.

Just then, a second car pulled up behind the sleek black one that shuttled Shadow Weaver around the city: it was a cop car. Catra's eyes grew wide. She ducked low so she'd be harder to spot and watched with morbid curiosity as the police officer rose from the car and walked up to Shadow Weaver, almost as if he knew her. Catra could see Shadow Weaver's posture stiffen, and could tell from her body language that she was giving the cop shit for something, rather than the other way around. Their voices reached the rooftop, but their words were lost to the wind.