The Bad Guy

Chapter 8

Scorpia worked by lamplight, sifting through stacks of files as quietly as possible. Typically Catra took care of the paperwork–albeit reluctantly and with no small amount of tantrums–but Scorpia didn't want them to fall behind. Besides, it would be one less thing for Catra to worry about while her body was healing.

It was important work, even if it wasn't the most glamorous job in the world. In fact, Scorpia rather liked the quiet time she got to spend reading and learning about the operations and logistics that kept teams like theirs running. She didn't always understand what she was reading–like the year-over-year outputs spreadsheet she was currently poring over–but that didn't bother her.

"What are you doing?"

Scorpia yelped in surprise, jumping enough to knock her knees on the underside of her desk and send a couple files skittering to the floor. On the other side of the room, Catra blinked groggily back at her from the bed.

"Did I wake you?" Scorpia asked as she stooped to collect the scattered paperwork, skewering a couple pages with the tip of her claws in the process.

Catra replied with a grunt. She was staring at the ceiling, her face a tense mask that hinted at the pain she was trying to conceal.

"I hate this."

"Are you bored? Hungry? I sneaked some rations from the mess hall for you if you think you're up to eating."

"You took food from the mess hall?" Catra was all at once stunned and impressed. The Horde took food rationing very seriously, and things like helping oneself to more than the standard allotment, or taking food from the drab and fluorescent-bathed hall designated for dining, was strictly forbidden. Catra knew this all too well – she had been punished for both offenses on more than one occasion.

Scorpia laughed. "Well I wasn't about to let my bestie starve! Your body needs nourishment to heal. Hang on." She turned back to her desk and rummaged through one of her drawers to produce a small, napkin-wrapped bundle. With a shy smile, she handed it to Catra, who accepted it meekly.

"You could have gotten into a lot of trouble over this," Catra said. She peered between the folds at the pilfered food and felt a twinge of what might have been guilt.

"Yeah, I suppose." Scorpia shrugged, a blush creeping across her face. "But it was worth it."

Something about this made Catra flush as well, though it was thankfully harder to tell thanks to the soft fuzz on her skin. She was almost flattered–endeared, even–but she couldn't seem to quiet the small voice in her head that whispered for her to be careful. Falling for charm and sweet words clearly hadn't served her well thus far. She could still hear Adora's voice–feel her warm breath against her ear–whispering about missing her as she slid a hand up Catra's shirt.

And look where that got me, Catra thought, trying to squeeze out the memory and the heat blooming between her legs. The aches and throbs of her body as she tried to sit up did the trick nicely.

"Hey, let me help you," Scorpia said, reaching out to her.

Despite the terrible pain the effort was causing, Catra growled. "I'm fine. I can do this on my own."

"I know you can. But you shouldn't."

The arm on which Catra was leaning trembled with the effort and her ribs felt like they were on fire. She gritted her teeth against the strain but she couldn't pretend she wasn't in agony.

"Fine," she gasped.

Her arm gave out just as Scorpia eased her claw behind her back. With a touch far more delicate than one would expect from a woman of such evident, raw strength, Scorpia helped Catra sit up, even tucking the pillow against the wall so she could lean back in relative comfort. Catra stayed quiet the entire time, letting Scorpia maneuver her aching body around like some kind of doll, watching her work with a wary gaze.

"There, how's that?" Scorpia asked, sitting back to survey the set-up. She tapped a claw thoughtfully to her chin as she did so.

Catra peered up at her. "Why are you doing all this?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why are you helping me? Why are you always so nice?"

"Why wouldn't I?" Scorpia looked genuinely confused. "This is what you do for people you care about."

"Sure, except I totally don't deserve it."

"Who the heck told you that?"

Catra scoffed and looked away, focusing intently on her bandaged wrists that were in desperate need of re-dressing. "Come on, Scorpia. Let's be real: I'm a bitch."

"Don't say that!"

"Why not? It's true. I'm a bad person who does bad things on the regular. I don't deserve–"

Scorpia shook her head and cut Catra off with a flippant wave of her claw. "Sorry, but I don't accept that."

Catra blinked. "You don't accept... That's not how this works."

"Sure it is. You're important to me. I don't care if you think you deserve good things or bad things – I take care of the people who matter to me." Scorpia stood, leaving Catra to peer up at her with a wide and baffled stare. "Now eat your rations. I've got some paperwork to finish. Maybe when we're done, we can break out the cards!"

Nothing Catra could think of seemed like the right response. Her mouth opened and closed a few times, but eventually she just accepted that Scorpia had managed to get the last word. The next time she opened her mouth, she stuffed it with food and ate in stunned silence instead.

Scorpia was still working by the time Catra finished eating. It was an incredible relief to have food in her stomach again – she felt stronger already.

Stronger, and perhaps a bit restless.

Catra eyed Scorpia, wondering what it would take to get a moment alone, when a tickle at the back of her parched throat presented the opportunity for her. She let out a few dry coughs–the stale rations hadn't helped matters much–and winced.

"You okay?" Scorpia asked, looking her over with concern.

"Just thirsty," Catra replied. "Any chance I could get some water?"

Scorpia was on her feet before Catra finished her question. "You got it, Wildcat. Sit tight."

No thanks, Catra thought, watching Scorpia dash from the room.

She wasted no time; as soon as the door sealed shut, Catra started the slow and painful process of shuffling off the bed. By the time she reached the edge and was able to slide her feet to the floor, she had an idea that she had made a big mistake. Her muscles were heavy and useless, and her cracked ribs resonated sharp flares with every laboured beat of her heart. But Catra was nothing if not stubborn. She dug her claws into the table and heaved herself onto her feet, pushing through every spasm and sting.

Pulling herself up straight, Catra took a few deep breaths.

Mind over matter. You've done this before, you can do it again.

Except no other punishment Catra ever endured had been quite this bad. As she took one tentative step and then another, she felt the world tip and slide. She staggered, smashing her hip hard into the desk. Darkness crept into the corners of her vision. Her body trembled with an agony she could no longer ignore. The pain manifested into a wail that managed to escape just as Scorpia stepped back into the room.

"Catra!" she cried. "What are you doing?"

"I thought I could–" Catra's knees buckled.

Somewhere on the edge of her fading consciousness, she heard a glass shatter against the floor, and then nothing.