Warning for vague mentions of past child abuse.

Catra was in the middle of running drills when she heard screaming. That on its own was bad enough, but this sounded like a kid screaming, and it also sounded like Adora screaming.

Pretty bad, overall.

Ears plastered to her head, Catra took off sprinting for the source of the noise. As she approached the room, she could hear a voice, at once extremely kid-like and Adora-ish, shout: "Get away, princess! I won't show mercy!"

Even that hadn't prepared her for the sheer absurdity of the situation awaiting inside.

On one side of the room, Glimmer and Perfuma, hands held up placatingly; on the other, wielding a rolled up piece of parchment like a club, a little blonde kid in a red jacket and tan pants, with Adora's hair poof, Adora's eyes, Adora's face, Adora's voice, Adora's fierce expression.

"What," Catra said, "the fuck."

The tiny little baby child turned to her, eyes widening comically.

"Catra? Nonono! Stay back!" Adora—this little thing that could not have possibly been any tinier or cuter or more fragile—placed herself firmly in front of Catra, feet planted and arms outstretched, a protective little sprout of a person. "Don't touch her!" she shouted at a dumbfounded and thoroughly harmless Perfuma.

Catra could burst into laughter or tears. Either way. "Oop. Oh-kay. Here we go." She crouched down, scooped the feisty literal baby in her arms, and made for the door. "Nope! Outta the way, Sparkles!" She dodged any and all concerned attempts at intervention and zoomed out of the room.

She didn't stop until she reached her—their—the bedroom. Quickly deposited Adora on the bed, turned around, stuck a hand into her hair, and made a valiant attempt at cramming a whole breathing exercise into one very heartfelt curse.

"Catra?" Adora had climbed onto her knees on the bed, looking at Catra with a heartbreakingly concerned expression.

Catra took a steadying breath. For real this time. "Hey, Adora," she said gently, walking over to kneel by the bed.

"What's going on?" Adora cupped Catra's face in her tiny little baby hands, looking her over as if for injury. "Catra? Are you hurt? Are we captured?"

So. Catra knew three things: This was definitely Adora. She didn't remember shit. And she was, like, two months old.

Catra could work with that. Maybe. "We aren't captured," she told Adora. "This is our room. We live here."

Adora was still touching her face. "Why are you big?" she asked. "Are you okay? Did you get old?"

Catra laughed helplessly. "Uh, yeah! I got old."

"Was it the princesses?" Adora asked, a little blonde ball of baby fat and righteous fury.

"It wasn't the princesses."

Adora sagged slightly, looking uneasy and a little… scared. Her hands dropped away. "Was it Shadow Weaver?" she asked, her voice small.

Catra sat next to her on the bed. "Adora," she said, and opened her arms. "C'mere."

Adora immediately climbed into her lap, arms wrapping around Catra's waist, face pressing into her torso, an unreserved show of trust and affection. Catra gathered her close, bundling her up in her arms. She was so tiny. She'd been so tiny, back then, and she'd always—always been like this. It was hard to remember, now, how Catra could've ever resented her clumsy, unwavering attempts at protection.

She squeezed Adora, holding her close, purring a little bit on purpose. Adora nuzzled into her, and Catra ran her fingers carefully through her hair. "Hey," Catra said. "It wasn't Shadow Weaver. Do you know, Shadow Weaver's not even here. We're safe here. I promise."

"I don't know what's going on," Adora mumbled, looking up at Catra. "Where're you hurt?"

"Hmm." Catra made an exaggerated face. "Well. I think... you got my nose."

"What! No I don't!"

"Mm I think you do. Right here." Catra stuck her thumb between two fingers, showing it to Adora.

"That-that's silly!" Adora protested, even as a laugh bubbled out of her. "That's your hand."

"No, no, I'm pretty sure it's yours. I'd really like my nose back, thanks."

Adora was giggling as she took Catra's hand, guiding it to her face to replace the stolen nose.

Catra let out a sigh. "Ahh. Much better. I can smell the cake now."

"What's that?"

"Oh, a cake? It's very fancy food. You eat it with a teaspoon, which is like a spoon but tiny and useless. We should have some."

"Oh," said Adora. "I-I don't think we should."

"Why not?"

Adora looked worried. Her hand wandered to tug on the sleeve of her shirt. "I don't think we're allowed."

Catra tensed. She didn't remember it like this. How come she didn't remember it like this? In her memory, Adora was always fearless, reckless and brash just like her, but somehow more… solid. Someone you'd lean on. In her memory, she was always bigger than Catra. And, in her memory, she'd rarely suffered the consequences.

Idiot, Catra thought, looking at this tiny child in her lap rubbing anxiously at her sleeve, reflexively convinced she wouldn't be allowed something simply because it was nice.

"Then how about this," Catra said: "We won't get caught."

Adora's hand tightened around her sleeve, but her face broke out in an enormous, gap-toothed grin. "Let's go!"

.

They darted around corners, Adora playing scout and Catra herding her in the direction of the least trafficked hallways, keeping an ear out.

At one point a guard spotted Catra and started raising her hand for a friendly wave; Catra made furious axing motions until she turned around and walked back the way she'd come. Adora, absorbed in taking in the enormous paintings lining the halls, fortunately hadn't noticed.

"I'm living a farce," Catra muttered.

"What's a farce?" Adora asked.

"Something very stupid."

They thankfully reached the kitchen without further incident. Catra closed the door behind them, stuck a chair under the handle for good measure.

"It's so colorful here," Adora observed, looking around at the various fruits, vegetables and spices.

"This big bowl of potpourri is called Bright Moon," Catra said, gesturing around. "We live here now. I'm sorry you don't remember, because—we're really happy here."

"Was it Shadow Weaver? Did she—you know?" Adora scowled and wiggled her fingers. "And that's why I don't remember?"

Catra took a deep breath. Had it really started that young? She didn't want to think about this. "Shadow Weaver isn't here, remember?"

Adora nodded, visibly relieved. "Okay."

"So," said Catra, "wanna have some forbidden cake?"

.

Watching Adora take her first bite was… ridiculous. Cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk, feet not even reaching the floor, almost palpable stars in her eyes; she swallowed her bite, looked up at Catra, tried unsuccessfully to speak like three times.

"This-this-this is cake?" she asked.

"Seems so."

"It's…" Adora scrunched up her face, probably racking her rather limited vocabulary, and finally settled on, "magic."

Catra leaned her face on her palm, watching her demolish her magic cake. At least that word hadn't lost all positive connotation to her yet. Catra silently slid her a second piece.

When she was done, Adora licked the plate and her fingers for good measure. There was that little rascal Catra knew and loved.

"So, what do we do now?" Adora asked.

"Adora, do you trust me?"

"Yeah!" Adora said immediately.

Catra cleared her throat. This kind of confidence, zero hesitation—Adora wholeheartedly believed in her, always had. It had been hard to believe, for a very long time, but Catra felt now, as she had so often as a kid, the fierce desire to earn that trust.

"Then, I want you to meet our friends. And I need you to not kick their butts, okay?"

"Why? Are they weaklings?"

Catra snickered, delighted. "Nope! They're princesses."

Adora gasped so loud and so long she might've swallowed a bug. "You're not friends with princesses!"

Catra was enjoying this, a little bit. Who didn't like a little irony. "Yep. We are." She hopped off the kitchen chair and marched toward the war room, where Glimmer, the drama queen, was most likely to be found on an 'Adora was turned into a terrified but very determined baby' sort of occasion.

Adora had to run-jog to keep up with her. This was just getting better and better. "No way!" she said, vehement. Catra grinned down at her. "I said, no way!"

"I heard you."

"But—No way!"

"Mm hm." Catra held out her hand and Adora promptly took it. Catra slowed down a little to accommodate those tiny little legs. "You'll see."

"I don't have evil friends!" Adora persisted.

"That's debatable."

"It's not dateable!"

Catra laughed. "It might be that, too." They reached the war room, and Catra crouched down in front of a still outraged Adora. "Remember what you promised?"

"No kicking their butts," Adora muttered grumpily.

Catra rose to her feet, laughing, and opened the doors. "This is gonna be interesting." She kept a hold on Adora's hand. Just in case.

As soon as Adora saw Glimmer, the bug-swallowing gasp made its dramatic return. "You!"

"Adora!" Glimmer scrambled off her chair. "Are you okay? Is she okay?" Her eyes darted between Catra and Adora, who'd once again put herself in front of Catra in an attempt to make herself into a baby human shield.

Catra placed her hand on Adora's shoulder. "Golden," she told Glimmer. "We had cake."

"And we're not sharing with you!" Adora added helpfully.

"That's okay," Bow said, walking around the table and crouching down so he was eye level with Adora. "I'm glad you had some cake, Adora."

Adora looked taken aback. That wasn't something an adult was supposed to say, not in their world. Let alone a princess. Catra smiled to herself. "Uh—thank you," Adora stammered.

Catra had to clap a hand over her mouth. She was just—she was just too cute. Where had those manners even come from?

"Did you like it?" Bow asked. He seemed so genuine about everything he did. Adora was visibly charmed.

"Yeah," she muttered uncertainly.

Glimmer had creeped up to Bow and now crouched beside him, leaning into his side. Adora stiffened slightly, but didn't shift into fighting stance, so that was a win.

"What else do you like to eat?" Bow asked.

"B-brown is my favorite," Adora said, and glanced over her shoulder at Catra. "But Catra likes gray. Sometimes we save them so we can switch later."

Bow nodded seriously, like this was riveting conversation material. "You know, I like pickles, but Glimmer doesn't, so sometimes she gives me hers."

Adora glanced at Glimmer, who nodded earnestly.

"I would give you my pickles," Adora, who most certainly did not know what a pickle was, told Bow.

Bow clutched at his chest. "You would do that for me?" he said, not a shred of irony in his voice. "Thank you, Adora. You're such a good friend."

Adora looked down, mumbling something unintelligible. She was downright flustered.

Catra got it. There hadn't been Bows in the Horde. At most, there'd been Kyles, and those were rare too. Well. And there had been Adora.

What would it have been like, to meet someone like Bow at that age? Catra knew what it'd been like to meet Adora: it had meant the singular, gut-level certainty that if she wanted to have anything good in her life, she had to hold on and never let go.

Catra sat down on the floor, suddenly exhausted. The other adults followed suit.

"Hey, do you wanna play a game?" Glimmer asked.

"No," Adora replied automatically.

"What about you, Catra?" Glimmer said, raising a cheeky purple eyebrow at her.

"Absolutely."

Adora shot her a disapproving look. Catra shrugged, grinning back.

Glimmer traced a finger on the floor and a rune appeared; she reached into it to pull out a cardboard box. "This game is called 'Candyworld Domination'."

Adora had no chance from the get go. By the time Glimmer was done explaining the intricate, highly detailed, strategy-oriented, supremely boring rules, Adora had sat down between her and Catra, expression hyper-focused, already entirely absorbed.

Some things were exactly as Catra remembered them.

It took five whole games for Adora to win. The best friend squad was a competitive bunch, and no one honored Bow's silent pleading to just let her have this. That was okay. Adora had never been a sore loser; she'd just gotten more and more excited as the games went on. By the time game number 7 rolled around, between the competition and the mysterious migration to Bow's lap and the snacks Glimmer had summoned and placed strategically within Adora's reach, Adora seemed ready to burst with sheer delight. The sight of her face, stretched wide with a genuine smile, eyes bright and intent—it filled Catra's heart so completely it almost hurt.

She wanted to give this tiny, bright and eager and open and raw version of Adora the whole ass world.

Somewhere around the time Bow got out his violin and Glimmer got them all hot chocolate, Adora started to sag. Her head dropped repeatedly onto Catra's knee, and then she'd blink awake for a couple of minutes and the cycle began anew. She was fading so fast, she didn't even notice when Bow and Glimmer dragged an enormous couch into the war room and made a graceful exit.

Carefully, Catra picked Adora up and placed her on the sofa. When she tried to give her a goodnight hug, Adora pushed her away, grumbling indistinctly, and Catra had to bite the inside of her cheek to suppress a laugh.

She quickly popped into their room to retrieve Adora's favorite blanket, and by the time she returned Adora's breaths came deep and even.

Slowly, so as not to scare her—Adora had crazy reflexes while asleep—Catra draped the blanket over her.

Adora shifted, eyes cracking open, but she didn't seem spooked. She seemed… happy. "Old you is really nice, Catra," she mumbled, and closed her eyes again.

Throat tight, Catra bent down and pressed a gentle kiss to Adora's forehead. "Old you… is my favorite person in the universe," she murmured.

She'd settled in an armchair with a book and her reading glasses when Scorpia burst into the room.

"I have the antidote!" she announced, loud and exuberant, and gave Catra an entirely confused look when she waved her arms at her, tail poofing up. Scorpia looked around, finally spotting Adora snoring softly on the couch. "Oh, right, yeah. I guess this can wait."

She handed Catra a small, lightly shimmering glass bottle, peering over at Adora.

"Aww, look at her! She's Adorable, hey? Yeah?" Scorpia wiggled her eyebrows at Catra, and finally seemed to register her expression. "Okay. Got it. Getting out of your fur. Bye now."

Catra reached out a hand to stop her. "Thank you," she whispered, earnest.

Scorpia shot her a bright smile on the way out.

Catra rolled the small bottle in her fingers. Tomorrow, she can give it to Adora, and have her wife back. But today, they gave this brave, bold, affection hungry, quietly hurting kid some gentler memories, and maybe… maybe she'll even get to keep them.