Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Laila Dermott thought there was nothing worse than seeing Catalina Alvarez lying immobile in a hospital bed, hooked up to too many machines while the endless beep beep beep droned around her bruised body. Laila thought nothing would hurt more than the call she received from Jean Moreau telling her that Cat had crashed, Cat was unresponsive, the ambulance is coming but I don't know what to do I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry Laila. Laila thought nothing Cat could do would ever rip her chest open so wide she couldn't breathe, she couldn't speak, she couldn't. She just couldn't.

But this, this was something so cruel she wasn't sure she could ever recover from it.

Who are you? Who are you? Who?

She was no one and everyone. She felt nothing and everything. Eyes that always looked at her with such love and warmth, so full of confusion and wariness. Fear. Fear. Fear of her? She didn't know. She couldn't know. She couldn't speak or talk, but she wanted to scream. Scream and scream and scream until her lungs exploded.

Cat is alive. Cat is alive and safe and whole and... not hers. She's alive and safe and whole and healing, but looks at her with confusion and trepidation. It could take a few days, a few weeks, a few months, never. It'll come back or it won't. It'll be fine again soon, or it never will.

She just had to be patient. Patient and quiet and palatable. Patient and kind and caring and hide it. Hide it. Hide it. Hide it. Every part of her that ached and screamed and raged at what she lost so quickly. The parts of her life that she swore she never took for granted. Ripped from her hands like it was nothing. Taken and taken and never given back. It was gone. It didn't matter if memories came back eventually, they were gone and gone and as dead as the future she thought they had.

Cat had remembered Cody. They thought. A scrunch of her brow and a your hair is shorter and every part of Laila wanted to kick and punch and ruin them. She's mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. She was. She was supposed to be. Forever.

Cat was alive, she reminded herself. Cat was alive and she would get better and remember or they would start over. They would start over and Cat would live her life with only half of the story of them. And it hits her all over again. She's the only one. The only one who knows what they were, the moments they shared. She was alone with the thought of everything they had been, everything they could be. Everything that was now lost to the void but would live forever in her heart. Alone.

Laila was in their bed, in the sheets Cat had slept on. She was in the apartment they had decorated together, with a closet half full of her clothes. The side table that held her belongings still, the half of her bed that lay empty but for Laila's hand resting there. Her pillow felt damp with tears and her eyes were tender and irritated, barely opening beyond swollen slits.

The door cracked open and there they stood, two figures lurking in the door. And Laila started to cry again in earnest. Jeremy stepped inside with a cup of steaming tea and set it on her bedside before brushing a warm hand across her forehead, down her cheek. It was comforting, but not. Familiar but not the same.

“Oh, darling.” He cooed.

Laila turned and grabbed his hand, pulling him roughly down on the bed beside her. She just needed something, someone. Some warmth or company or anything. Anything familiar and right and true. Jeremy sank onto the mattress beside her and pulled her into his arms. They had given her time when they got home, knowing she didn't want to talk to anyone. Couldn't. She just had to think and process and think. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. Laila thought maybe it would never stop hurting.

Laila sniffled and propped herself up slightly as she turned once again towards the door. Jean still stood there, hovering with Jab at his heels. Like he wasn't welcome. I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry Laila. He had been there, he had seen it. There was nothing he could have done to stop it, but he had acted fast; he had saved her. He saved her. Saved. She was saved. She was.

Jean shrugged slightly at her searching gaze, “I didn't know if-”

“Get over here.” She sniffed, turning her head into Jeremy's chest. Jean slunk over to the opposite side of the bed and lay down gently on her other side. Laila felt him get back up and turned to see him reach down and plop Jab on the bed before he settled back down again.

Jab rushed over to greet her, all kisses and sniffing nose, before turning in a quick circle and settling in the space between her and Jean. She looked up and stared into Jean's weary, exhausted gaze. She had seen devastation play across his face many times in the past year, but this, this looked different.

“Thank you for being there with her, Jean.” She whispered, wishing it had been her. Knowing she couldn't have taken it. Glad, sad, mad, she hadn't been there.

He didn't respond, just nodding solemnly and resting a warm hand on the arm she had wrapped loosely around Jab. And there she lay, surrounded by her three guys. Feeling so terribly alone.

“It'll be okay,” Jeremy whispered

“No, it won't.” She protested.

“We'll figure it out.”

That, she didn't have the energy to disagree with.

Chapter Text

Catalina Alvarez knew her name.

Catalina Alvarez knew her name and not much else.

She knew Exy though; she was sore and cranky and constantly felt like she was tiptoeing around landmines, but she knew Exy. And for now, that would just have to be enough.

She was already sick of the searching looks, the sympathetic gazes, the sadness that seeped onto people's faces every time they talked to her. This felt good, this felt safe.

Helmets and visors and mouth guards. Pads and layers and guards and jerseys, covering up every vulnerability that she felt broadcast to everyone who knew her. Everyone she forgot.

But on the court, muscle memory took over. The ease of it swept her up like a swirling tide and sent her spinning through a routine that was so known to her that her body took over where her mind blanked.

The USC Trojans. She had done it, had gotten recruited, and had played for 3 years. Four years she couldn't quite grasp. But they had happened, she could feel it in the twist of her limbs, the strength of her throws, the chill that prickled her skin with each play. Her body remembered who she was.

Coach Rhemann called her off the practice court at the next whistle, and when she exited the inner court, he waved her towards the far bench where he stood with arms crossed and permanently creased brow.

He was all gruff demeanor and barked orders, but Cat had very quickly seen through the facade. She had been staying with him and his partner for the past week, not the first time she had been told, but the first time for her now. It made her feel sick, being told all the things that she had forgotten, being reminded that she had forgotten anything at all. There were parts of her that wished to be far away from here, in a place where no one knew her. A fresh slate. Not this terrible feeling of chasing after some version of herself she couldn't quite touch. Thoughts that were there for a second fled the moment she tried to grab on to them.

Cat had told Adi all of this, and he felt safe, distant enough to confide in without feeling like she was watching herself rip someone's heart out of their body. He had looked at her with sad, tear-filled eyes but had just held her hand and comforted her. Told her he understood and that they would try harder not to make her feel like she was lacking. Reassuring her that she had all the time in the world to remember, and that they could build new memories if her old ones never returned. He had told her it would all be fine, so why did it feel like it was a lie?

“How are you feeling?” Coach Rhemann asked.

“I remember how to play, Coach.”

“That's not what I'm asking, and you know it,” He groaned, running a hand down his face in frustration. “Okay, Moreau 2.0, get out of my sight and go check on your landlord.”

Cat took off her helmet and was about to head to the locker room when she paused and glanced back at the bench. Jean Moreau sat there, straight-backed and staring intently at the court as the plays unfolded in front of him. His hand flew up in what she assumed was annoyed arrogance, but the racket of the echoey arena drowned out whatever colorful language he was spouting.

She wondered what Rhemann meant, Moreau 2.0. Cat figured it was some inside joke because Adi had told her that the four of them had been inseparable since the backliners arrival this past fall. Her, Jeremy, Jean, and Laila. Laila. Her gaze moved to the bouncing figure in the net, and she searched for something, anything. Some sort of memory or feeling or desire or anything. Your girlfriend Adi had said before Rhemann shot him a look. She didn't know what was worse, knowing or the not knowing. They had been dating, but more than that, friends, inseparable for years, he had said. Girlfriend, she thought. But maybe that wasn't true anymore. She wasn't sure. Too afraid to ask, not wanting to know the answer, or just trying to delay the hurt and confusion in the other woman's gaze. This is the future she had dreamed of, a team she loved, friends she adored, a lover who never left her side. But it wasn't hers. Not anymore. Cat wanted everything to just click into place, magically be right and better and whole again. But it had been a week and nothing.

Nothing. Well, not nothing, something. One memory, if she could even call it a memory, an observation. In that hospital room, the instant relief on Laila's face when she woke up, so quickly morphed into devastation. A stranger to her. And the feelings she had been searching for came in the worst way, a pain so deep and devastating she couldn't even think to touch it. It was too much, every single day, feeling grief for something she hadn't experienced.

Cat was different. Forever changed. She felt like she was chasing a ghost of who she could have been, who she had been, who she would never be again. She was sick of it after just a week. Frustrated with her circumstances, her brain, and her surroundings. Was it too much to want to just start over? To be a new her and tell them all to fuck the Cat Alvarez they knew. She would never be her. And wanting to be what she couldn't was going to drive her crazy.

“Alvarez,” Coach grunted from behind her, sending her spinning around in surprise as she was pulled from her riotous thoughts.

He stared at her for a moment.“Be kind to yourself” was all he said.

“Coach, can Cody drive me? Please. I-”

“WINTER!” His voice boomed, and Cat tried to stifle the smile that formed on her lips at the thought of how Adi would chastise him in that moment. It was comforting in a way, knowing something about the two of them, being familiar with something. Someone. So much that she could conjure their reaction even when they weren't there. She could learn. She could do this.

Cody jogged off the court, pulling their helmet off and spitting their mouthguard into their hand before sending her an inquisitive look. Cat felt herself cringe at the line of spit that strung from their mouth at this action, and Cody laughed heartily at her reaction.

“Don't be such a wimp,” they said, pushing her shoulder lightly.

Cat felt eyes on them and knew some of the Trojans were staring at them, but she tried not to pay attention. Cody was here, Cody was normal with her. Not treating her like she was made of porcelain. Or like she had betrayed them.

Because Cat realizes they're the only one she didn't. She didn't remember meeting them or their time together, but she remembered them. In that crowded hospital room, she met eyes with them and something felt off; their hair it was different. It had been longer, she thought. She knew. It was the only thing she had been sure of. They had told her later it had been years since they first buzzed it. So, it wasn't a recent memory, and it wasn't much, but it was something in a time when she would take anything.

Cat met Cody outside the locker rooms in the lounge once they both had cleaned up. Coach had insisted on her having a modified practice schedule, not wanting to push her and her minor injuries too much. She didn't really care about them, though, all her physical hurts felt like nothing in the face of, well, everything else.

“What's up, you okay?” Cody asked as they both exited the court and got into Cody's beat-up little car.

“Yeah, it's just.... a lot.”

Cody just hummed at that. Ever patient and kind.

“Tell me about Laila,” Cat said.

Cody looked over at her before starting the car, pausing for a moment and narrowing their eyes as if in search of some clue.

“Why?”

“Adi said we dated.”

Cody nodded, their eyes squeezing shut for the briefest moment, grabbing the wheel and maneuvering out of the crowded parking lot. “Yeah, your two-year is.... was approaching.”

“Oh.”

It shouldn't have, but the correction hurt. It dug into her chest like a sharp knife. Was. It echoed in her head like a constant reminder of everything wrong with her.

“Have you talked to her at all?” They asked.

“I don't know how to even talk to her, and I feel like she doesn't know either. But I see her watching me, I feel her eyes on me, and when I look over, she just looks so miserably sad, it makes me want to never look at her again.”

“Cat,” they sighed, “I'm not trying to make you feel bad because I know this isn't your fault and I know you're trying, but you have to see how incredibly hard this is for her.”

She wanted to rage and scream and cry that this is hard for me too, and do you think I want this? But they were right. It hurt so bad not knowing, but she thought the knowing must be worse. Knowing what they had and still losing it. Seeing the person you love are dating look at you like a stranger. It was too much, and she pushed the hurt down deep; she couldn't do this over and over and over again.

They fell into comfortable silence the rest of the way to Rhemann's place, and Adi quickly opened the door with unabashed glee when they rang the doorbell. He had a pen behind his ear and a fistful of papers in his hand as he ushered them both in, insisting they stop acting like guests here and let themselves in the back garden door that was left unlocked when someone was home.

Cat and Cody sat at the counter, snacking on some grapes and some overly sour slices of green apple.

They talked about nothing and everything, discussing pop culture references she didn't get, but Cat was mollified by Adijan's ignorance of the same stuff she was. It was easier talking about things she forgot if they didn't feel so crucial to know. Trivial and fun and exciting knowledge that didn't carry the weight of broken promises.

But Cat couldn't seem to help it; her mind kept wandering to Laila. Her swift and sure movements in the goal, the tender line of her spine that Cat had glimpsed in the locker room earlier that week, her smile. Her smile. Something she hadn't thought she had seen this week, but whose image stood out so clearly in her mind. It didn't feel real. Like a mirage, like a wish her brain was making. It wasn't a memory, not really. Not in the way that mattered.

Curly hair stuck to her forehead with sweat, face tinged red, and cheeks bright, and a wide smile after a long game. It felt so real that she had to believe that it wasn't just a figment of her imagination. But it didn't make her feel better, to feel like she was getting a glimpse of something she wouldn't be able to see again. It all felt unsalvageable, like there was no way forward for the two of them.

Cody nudged her out of her thoughts, and she pasted a smile on her face as they looked at her with an expression that said are you okay? and where did you go? and did you remember something? Cat just shook her head and fought to swallow the lump in her throat. A quick squeeze of her shoulder, and Cody made their excuses to leave, not before Adi had forced a container packet with homemade food into their hands.

“Text me if you need anything,” Cody said, forcing Cat to meet their eyes, “even just to chat. Promise?”

“Promise,” replied Cat, knowing they wouldn't leave without it if she didn't. Cat loved Cody, felt safe with them, and was happy that they didn't use kid gloves on her. At least most of the time. So she humored them during the times when they were maybe a bit too overbearing for her taste. That was what it meant to have friends, right? Give and take. Doing things you didn't really care to because it was in their best interest.

Cat didn't reach out, instead reveling in the newness of being alone. That was something she remembered from her life before USC. A house with too many kids and too much noise, never a second to herself.

So she pored over her class notes, grateful for her professor's understanding of her situation but aware that the grace she was being afforded was ticking down to nothing. They were a month into the spring semester, and Cat needed to get with the program if she wanted any chance at acing her midterms. Her grades needed to be maintained to keep her scholarship, and if Exy was going to be all she had, well, she needed to do everything in her power to keep that one good thing in her life.

The sun set outside her window, and the room slowly seeped into darkness. Rhemann and Adi didn't bother her as long as she made sure to eat 3 square meals, so she hid in her room until she had to get up and get ready for bed. She went through the motions, teeth brushed, hair combed and braided, her eyes looking empty even to herself as she stared through herself in the mirror.

Cat squeezed a few more minutes of homework into her night before bed and ignored the pounding in her head as she squinted at the words that started to swim in front of her eyes.

Her limbs felt heavy as the room descended into darkness, and she couldn't be bothered to get up and put her school books and assignments away, so she left them on her bed, enough space next to her for them to stay undisturbed even if she tossed and turned. Cat hated it, being in this big bed alone, wishing she was confined to a twin bed so the wide empty expanse next to her wasn't so noticeable.

It was a foreign feeling, missing something she couldn't quite remember. But she did. A solid body, a tangle of limbs, a brush of someone else's hair. She felt them now like a ghost, unsure if she was feeling loss for something real or creating a memory based on the wishes of her younger self. The night she had lain in her childhood bedroom, wishing someone beautiful and kind was beside her, wishing for a fairy tale that seemed too good to be true.

And that night she lay in bed and thought about it. Two years. 730 days. Give or take. Plus weeks, months, years of knowing each other before taking that step. All lost. For what? A wild ride down the highway on a motorcycle. To feel free for a moment and then be trapped for a lifetime. And in all the grief and fear and devastation, she had a memory, one so small and painful she almost wished it hadn't come at all. Laila hated the bikes, hated that she rode, hated saying goodbye to her each time. It was there, but the memory was so thin and weak she could barely graze it with her finger. And as Cat lay there in that empty bed with nothing and no one, not even herself, she cried and cried.

And for the first time in her limited memory, Catalina Alvarez cried herself to sleep, dreamless and restless. Her brain is unwilling to use even dreams to help her. Not even sleep could take her away from this nightmare.

Chapter Text

Laila Dermott was getting through. By the skin of her teeth. She was trying. Trying. So hard. She was doing everything she could to breathe. Breathe breathe breathe. Think. Make it through. Be normal. Guard the goal. Guard the goal. Guard her heart. Everyone was treating her like she was delicate and breakable, and maybe she was. Maybe she was seconds from crumbling. She didn't know. Laila didn't know anything anymore. Her life had been flipped on its head, and time kept passing. Days kept ticking by, cruel and empty and desolate. And the sun just kept rising and setting, unaware of how her entire being had tilted on its axis.

Her heart ached and ached and ached with no end in sight. The pain was so stark she was surprised to look down and find her chest whole. She clutched at her breaking heart every once in a while, shocked to find it dry and free of blood. How she wished that her hidden hurts were visible. It would be so much easier if she had a gaping wound; maybe it would free some of the feeling from where it was trapped inside. Maybe.

But Laila was sick of maybes. Maybe things would improve. Maybe she would remember. Maybe it wouldn't hurt so much. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.

They had been inseparable for so long, spending every free moment in each other's company, in each other's embrace. Her bed was too empty. The kitchen was too empty. Their fridge was too empty.

Laila missed her smell, her taste, the simple sight of her in their shared space. She missed the brief kisses hello, the long kisses goodbye. She missed the feel of Cat's hand in hers, the way she whined after a long, hard practice. She missed fucking meal prepping with Cat. There wasn't a single thing in Laila's life that felt familiar. It was all devoid of meaning, devoid of company now that Cat wasn't in it.

She was miserable. Miserable and alone and miserable and aching. It seemed like there was no end in sight for her ongoing pain.

Laila tried to hide it. She tried so hard. She tried and tried and tried. She knew she was failing. A failure. Forgettable failure.

But that wasn't fair. She was being cruel, not just to herself but to Cat. She knew it, but knowing had never stopped the thoughts before, and it wouldn't stop them now.

There was so much that she wanted to say, but the words clogged in her throat. She tried to depend on Jeremy and Jean, but everything between the two of them was so fresh, so new, so pure. It hurt terribly to see them together, but it was unfair of her to want anything less. Laila wasn't going to let herself become that kind of person, someone who wanted everyone else to join her in her misery. She didn't like seeing people tamp down on their own happiness just because she was around. It was cruel to infect everyone around her with her own misery. But she couldn't stop. She couldn't seem to hold it all in. It leeched and leeched and leeched and turned all the color surrounding her into an inky dull grey.

But Laila Dermott was getting through. Or more aptly, Laila was letting too many goals get through. Her head wasn't in this practice, and she knew it. The coaches knew it, her teammates knew it. But no one said anything. And in a way, that made it worse. Another ball hit her square in the chest guard, and the air was knocked out of her for a second. A grunt, a ragged inhale of breath. A clearing of her throat, a tightening of her gloved hands on her goalie racket. She adjusted her stance, tuned in. Helmets hid pitying looks from her, but she knew they were there.

Laila had nothing. Laila was nothing. All she had was her proficiency in the goal. And if she didn't have that. It was unthinkable. She had to get her head in the game. This was what it was all about, her time here at USC. She was here to play Exy. She had let her goals shift, had let her lens of focus move to something else. Laila wouldn't regret it, though. Never. There would never be a moment that would convince her that it had been a mistake to lean so wholly into love. If only she had known how brief it would be, how she would be grasping so desperately at the crumbling stones of their shared fortress. She would have soaked it in more, appreciated her more. But that wasn't right, there wasn't a part of her that hadn't reveled in the love that they shared. There had never been a part of her that didn't appreciate Catalina. It was foolish to stand here now and think that anything she had with Cat had taken a single thing away from who she was as an Exy player. Laila was going in circles in her mind. She was being foolish. She was distracted.

Her muscles ached, and her skin pebbled at the thrill of the scrimmage. Laila tuned into her surroundings, following the ball as it ricocheted across the court like it was the only thing that mattered in her world. When she focused, she was unstoppable. And Laila needed to focus; she needed to be unstoppable. If not for her, then for her teammates. So Laila didn't let a single goal past her for the rest of practice.

Coach Jimenez stopped her on her way off the court, and Laila stepped aside to let all the other players file out before her as she started taking off her helmet and pads. She knew what this was about, knew that her time was up. They had had enough of her moping. The clock had been ticking down, and now it was at zero. Time was up.

“What's up, Coach?”

Jimenez just leveled her with a knowing look. The offensive line coach knew all it took was an arched eyebrow and narrowed gaze to get Laila to crumble.

“I'm fine.”

“Allowing seven goals in a row is fine?”

“I was in my head,” Laila argued. She hated this. Making mistakes. Being vulnerable. The entire team realized she couldn't be dependable when that was all she could ever be.

“Well, get out of your head.” Jimenez shot back, “Or I'm pulling you from tomorrow's game.”

“Coach!”

But he was already walking away, the court door slamming shut and echoing resoundingly behind her. Laila couldn't blame him, not really. She knew already that she was letting everyone down, but it all just felt so bleak and terrible.

Laila had to snap out of it, but she couldn't. Afraid of what would come next. Afraid of letting go and losing this forever. But that was futile. It was already lost. She just needed to accept it.

So Laila gathered her gear and headed off towards the locker rooms.

The scalding water of the shower cascaded over her body, and Laila stood diligently under the spray, letting it wash away all of her pain and trepidation, and fear. She would survive this, she would. Harping on how miserable she was wouldn't help anyone. She had to keep moving forward. She had to.

Cat's tinkling laughter echoed through the tiled room from where she stood talking to Ananya by the lockers. Laila squeezed her eyes shut and breathed deeply. It wasn't fair of her to be upset that Cat was happy. It was incredibly unfair. She didn't want her love to be miserable. Not at all. It just cut that she wasn't the one who was out there, making her laugh. Laila missed Cat so terribly. Talking to her, knowing her, seeing her. She was right there, but a million miles out of her grip.

Laila was trying to give her space, trying not to overwhelm her or crowd her or impose herself and her devastation onto Cat. But she was done. She was sick of it. Sick of watching her grow closer to everyone but herself. That was her Catalina. Hers.

They had started as friends, so why couldn't they do that again? She just had to swallow her misery, stop casting her doubt and torment into every gaze. She could do this. She could.

Cat had been the one to pursue her originally, slowly tearing down the walls she had taken her whole life to painstakingly erect. But now, now it was her turn. She needed to flay her heart open. Give and give and give and give. She needed to try. They could be friends. She could do that. She needed that. She needed something, anything. And even if they never found each other again, Laila had to try.

Laila twisted her long curly hair up in a towel and slipped the other one around her middle before heading over to where her locker stood on the far side of the room. Cat cast her a weary look when she rounded the corner, and Laila tested the waters with a small, shy smile in response. No better time than now, no better way than to just jump right in. The shocked, guarded look on Cat's face at that little concession cut deeply. Laila knew she had been messing this all up, but to see the reaction that a single smile had gotten her made her throat clog up. It hurt. To know her actions were so colored in hurt and pain and desperation that she hadn't taken a second to extend the smallest kindness to her. She had thought she was being considerate by giving her space and not overwhelming her with everything, but maybe she had been mistaken. Maybe it had all been a mistake. The distance, the avoidance.

Laila had to smile more, had to give more. It was time she gave herself over to all of this. Accept it for what it was, buck up, and be the strong person she always swore she was. Her grief wasn't getting her anywhere. Her contagious misery was just tearing her and everyone else around her down.

Laila had always felt so alone, like an island in a choppy sea. Always looking from the outside in while everyone else was surrounded by loved ones. She had thought all that changed when she met Cat, but life was unpredictable and fickle. Hadn't she sworn she would do anything to retain the love she had collected for her own? She needed to face this head-on, be the person she always said she was.

“Good practice, Laila.” Ananya cheered, the bright lilt of her voice getting another weary smile out of her.

“Yeah, right.” Laila scoffed, humor tinging her voice. “Does Patrick know he's dating a liar?”

“Wow! This is the thanks I get for trying to compliment you?”

“Jimenez is going to bench me tomorrow if I don't shape up.”

“Oh, hell no!” cried Min, “your worst day is still leagues better than Shane on his best day.”

Laila waved that off, she didn't need them sticking up for her. “He's right. I need to get my head in the game. I don't want to let you guys down.”

“You won't.”

The confident tone of Cat's voice rocked Laila, and the fact that she was the one to speak it with such conviction in her voice. So truly. She had been watching the back and forth with keen interest, and Laila hadn't expected her to interject, but she had. Their eyes met briefly, and Laila's stomach flipped at how sure Cat seemed about Laila's ability to pull things together for their game tomorrow. Like some part of her deep down knew that Laila had it in her. Maybe it was a memory. It was a desperate wish, but she had to be realistic. They had been playing together the last few weeks; that had to be it. Anything more was just a dream.

So Laila just looked at her, searching her gaze for something. Anything. Cat had always been her rock, her confidence when she was feeling low. Cat met her gaze head-on, not shying away from the vulnerability there. Laila didn't know what to say, didn't know if she could say anything, so she just nodded. Accepted the confidence for what it was. Cat's determined nod in return was all she needed to trust it wholly. She would be alright.

And Laila thought she actually believed, for the first time, things might just be okay.

Chapter Text

The guilt cuts through Cat at every glance, every missed moment. They orbited around each other like twin magnets, both positive forces so strong they repelled the other. Until something changed. Until one of them tried to breach the space and defy physics.

Laila was beautiful, captivating, really, and Catalina could understand why she had originally been drawn to her. She was kind and giving and caring and intelligent. Laila was everything she would have wanted in a partner, but that wasn't the issue. She knew she was rebelling like a petulant teenager. Like everything she could ever want was right in front of her, but her riotous brain rejected it because it felt as if her choice had been taken away. As if her past self had made decisions that she was refusing to accept just because they didn't feel like hers.

Things felt so fragile that she didn't know where to step, how to move, who to be. But that moment that they had shared in the locker room the previous day had changed something. Something in Laila's gaze had shifted from unfiltered hurt to strong determination. Cat hadn't known what had come over her, hadn't planned on interjecting as her teammates tried to lift Laila up. But there had been something deep within her that called for her to voice her own vote of confidence in the struggling goalkeeper. Like a dormant part of her knew that it would help, that a single uttered phrase from her would be worth more than anything anyone else said. It was silly to think so highly of herself, but she couldn't shake the guilt that plagued her mind. It was her fault that Laila was going through this; it was her dumb mistakes that led them to this point.

It would be easier if Laila just blamed her, but she knew she didn't. She suspected the other woman felt a weight of responsibility of her own in the entire situation. She was giving Cat time and space, in a way that she knew cut through them both like a knife. But it was too difficult, knowing she should feel something. Feeling it in a way, but the crux of it is so muddled by lost memories. She didn't know if she could do it, if she was able to move forward with her. And she was sick of feeling like everyone was just waiting for things to snap right back into place. What if they never did? Cat needed to make it clear that it was an unrealistic expectation. She had to tell Laila to let that dream go. But something in her hesitated, a part of her was afraid that she would do exactly that.

It was ridiculous, fearing something that her mind told her she wanted so desperately. It was confusing, all of it. Cat hated this. Hated feeling like she didn't know her own mind, her own desires and wants.

Cat was lugging her bag of gear out to the waiting, idling bus when she noticed that Laila was the only other player outside. The beautiful, radiant girl looked her way at the sound of the court door slamming shut behind her and graced Cat with a small, tender smile. It made an undefinable feeling bubble up in her that she couldn't quite place, but part of her knew she liked it. This tentative truce. And Cat hoped that she wasn't about to ruin it all over again.

“Do you think we can talk before we head onto the bus to the game?” Cat asks, noticing that Laila hesitated for a second at her request, “Or after?”

Laila laughed at that, shaking her head and smiling ruefully, “Before is probably better. I can kind of live in my head, if that wasn't obvious, and I'll just be a nervous wreck waiting to know what's going through your mind.”

Cat could understand that and wanted to joke that she knew Laila was an overthinker. But did she? Had she gathered that from watching her observe in careful silence these past weeks, or was it something she already knew deep down? A memory just beyond her grasp that had lingered within her like a stubborn root. It was infuriating. Knowing but not knowing.

“Now?”

“Okay.”

Laila put her gear bag into the storage compartment under the bus and held out a hand for the slightly smaller duffel that hung around Cat's shoulder. Catalina felt herself blush at the gesture and passed Laila her bag so she could stow it in the bus beside her own. It wasn't much, but the simple deed warmed her in ways she didn't expect. Cat thanked her, but Laila just waved it off as they made their way over to the benches that lined the sidewalk surrounding the parking lot.

“How are you feeling?” Laila asked when she took too long to sit down.

“I'm good, a bit sore, but I'm fine.”

Laila just looked at her like she was weighing the honesty of the statement, “You're okay to play tonight?”

“Yes, Coach,” Cat said, humor and annoyance tingeing her voice.

Laila blushed at that, her cheeks going a lovely red as she gave Cat a chagrined smile in apology. Cat couldn't blame her, but wasn't ready to admit that the careful consideration warmed her right through rather than upsetting her. It would be so easy to just throw the wall up, lean into the attitude that she wore like armor, and shut Laila out. But she wouldn't. Still, she needed to be clear, needed to rip the bandaid off for both of them so their minds wouldn't run with wild wishing and dreams. 

“So, what did you want to talk about?” Laila finally asked, the cheeriness in her voice sounding fake even to Cat.

“Us.”

Laila huffed out a breath, and Cat could see her tense slightly out of the corner of her eyes, “I figured.”

She sounded so defeated that Cat wanted to evaporate on the spot. She knew this would be bad; she knew this would hurt. She feared how quickly this would crumble the tentative truce they had established in the past day.

“I just,” Cat pauses, steeling herself, “I don't know if we can be anything.”

Laila doesn't answer for a second, and Cat doesn't dare turn to look at her. It would be too much to once again see the hurt in her gaze. It was what she had been dreading this entire time, seeing her rejection tear Laila apart in front of her eyes. Instead, Laila answered with a strength and sureness Cat didn't expect, “We can be friends.”

Cat looks over to see her soft gaze, her deep brown eyes, and her tentative smile. It took her aback, for a second, to get a totally different response than she expected. It was unnerving to be met with such kindness and understanding when she had expected anger and upset. She thought Laila would storm off and ignore her, but that was wrong. It was a disservice to Laila to expect the worst from her, and Cat should have known that. She didn't know much, but she should have known that.

“Friends.” Cat agrees, but something about it doesn't feel right as it leaves her mouth. The single word sticks in her throat and sends an unknown pang through her chest, but Cat decides she has to ignore it. It's enough, it'll have to be. For now.

Their teammates slowly wander out of the building and towards the bus, and Laila gives her a tight-lipped smile and walks off to claim a seat. Something stirs in her chest at how brief a moment that had been. Laila hadn't lingered to talk, hadn't said much really. She knew it was tender, tentative. Cat had no place to be upset with how that went; she had gotten everything she asked for and more. She knew that. But that time she had lost, the parts of them that she had been told about; they ached like a phantom in her soul. She still didn't know if they were her own, but she still felt them.

Cat wondered if they had had a habit of sitting together on the way to games. She thought they probably did. She got the impression that they never got sick of each other, never spending more time apart than necessary. And it ached anew, the part of her that wished for something that the other half of her couldn't help but reject.

Cat had to remind herself over and over again that this was what she wanted. This was what she asked for. Laila was giving it to her, but it felt wrong. It felt like less than she needed, like it wasn't enough. It was frustrating and confusing and infuriating to have this part of her that didn't feel like her. To have desires that overlapped and wove into each other in the most confusing way.

Friends. She could do that. It wasn't an ending, so why did it feel like it?

Cat stayed quiet most of the bus ride, sitting with Cody, but spending most of the three-hour ride just staring out the window at the passing cars and clouds as they moved through the sky. She thought something would feel different after that talk; she thought the sense of dread that muddied her thoughts would disappear. But it hadn't. There was no sense of relief or weight lifted from her shoulders. She felt exactly the same, maybe even worse.

Cody struck up a conversation a few different times, but her one-word answers seemed to be enough for them to turn around in their seat and start talking to Xavier and Tanner, who sat in the row behind them. Cody squeezed Cat's shoulder, and she conjured up a reassuring smile for them before resuming her post at the window. The glass was cool on her forehead, and the endless drone of the wheels on pavement lulled her into a sort of trance. She had so much to think about, so many things to turn over in her head, it was overwhelming. She just wanted it to stop, the doubts and the overwhelming urge to cry. Cat wanted it all back, the memories she lost and the life that seemed just out of her grasp.

She just wanted things to feel normal again, whatever that was. But Cat was starting to realize that maybe that was too much to ask for. It would always be different, forever. Nothing would ever be the same, and she had to be as willing as she was expecting other people to be to let go of all the things she had lost. She expected Laila to grant her wish of moving on, beginning anew, so why was it so difficult now that that had been accepted so freely? It was like there was a part of her that had acknowledged Laila clinging onto them and reveled in it, and now that she had agreed to let go, Cat suddenly felt adrift. It was ridiculous, she was ridiculous, she was being ridiculous.

The long drive flew by, but dragged at the same time; her mind grasped onto the threads of conversation as they swirled through the bus around her. She needed to absorb it all, the little hints of who these people were, grasping onto them like they were a lifeline. And when she concentrated, when she tried really hard to pick out Laila's voice in the melee, she couldn't. And that realization hurt more than anything else.