Chapter Text
Glimmer has lived countless lives—she's used to the thrill of adjusting to an unfamiliar body, a new species and a planet that’s completely unknown. There's a reason she's known as Glimmer of Light—she's one of the longest traveled souls, visiting dozens upon dozens of planets, like light that refuses to be snuffed out.
When it comes to adapting to a new way of life, Glimmer is usually well versed in the typical challenges. She's lived so many lives it’s easy to draw from the knowledge of other experiences to make life in the new place easier and pleasant. At first, this human body of Etheria fits just as well as any host she's encountered on other planets. She still thinks the host in Krytis is her favorite, but she didn’t like it enough to stay there.
But her host doesn't fit well for long, both to Glimmer’s shame and horror. She feels her body almost fighting her at times, especially when she sleeps. When Glimmer looks in the mirror, the long blonde hair and blue eyes that stare back at her almost seem defiant. But that's impossible—there’s nothing that should be fighting her. Glimmer has taken over the host, there isn't anyone else left in this vessel.
Until that's not the case anymore. As time goes on, she can feel it—something else is here, and it's a feeling she's never had before. She's lived in all types of worlds, but never has she felt another presence within her own body.
What are you?
She feels silly, asking a question inside her head. Maybe it's a human thing? The orientation said that the humans are volatile and emotional—maybe the remnants of these traits linger behind in the bodies that felt them?
What do you mean, what am I? This is my body, you fucking parasite!
The voice is loud and angry and sudden—Glimmer shies away from it immediately. It sounds like the voice that she speaks with—the voice that belongs to her now, but she supposes that once it belonged to her host.
You don't need to be so aggressive.
YOU STOLE MY BODY. ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!?
You aren't supposed to be here!
Look, I don't give a fuck. I'm not going anywhere. I'm staying.
Glimmer can feel the resolve coming from the other presence—the human who lived in this body before, she realizes. A violent, aggressive, intense human. The kind she was warned are dangerous—there are not many left on Etheria anymore, but it’s a risk all the same.
This is something Glimmer of Light has never encountered before in any life. For the first time ever, she's afraid of her host.
I can't believe this is happening to me.
It’s been weeks of sharing with her host and she’s still there, bright as ever in the back of her head. Glimmer feels ashamed, like something within her is wrong because her host is defective. How could this happen to her when she's always managed so well? She's never struggled with control.
I'm not defective. I just didn't let you get off scot-free, body snatcher. And stop thinking about me as a host, that's just creepy.
She can tell her host is trying to hide her name, but it flashes up anyway in her thoughts. Adora.
Glimmer catches herself rolling her eyes. She isn't sure why, but she thinks it's from the irritating feeling she gets sometimes when Adora speaks to her. An errant human behavior.
I'm assuming this is a common insult on your planet?
You're so clueless. Whatever that orientation thing you had was, it didn't give any actual human advice. I'll tell you that much.
Panic grips Glimmer as she feels herself lose control of her host—not just the thoughts but her body. Glimmer is shoved backwards, into the back of her own head—almost to where her physical body lives, tucked away inside of her host’s neck.
She feels Adora let out a joyous laugh, her hands running over the body as if to check herself—movements Glimmer has absolutely no control over. "Yes." She whispers frantically. "I'm me again." She quickly takes a few steps but then her body stops Glimmer quickly rising to the surface again.
Glimmer hyperventilates as she situates herself back where she’s meant to be. "No way. I can't do this." Glimmer shakes her head. Those few seconds were terrible—smushed in the back of her own consciousness, everything out of her control. This vessel clearly isn't meant to be shared. "I'm going to tell the hospital that they gave me a defective host and I'm getting a new one."
She says it aloud to exert control over her body and harden her resolve. It'll be embarrassing to admit that she's unable to handle this host, but maybe a different body will be better. Less unruly.
No! They'll kill me!
The raw panic coming from Adora is hard to ignore, but Glimmer tries to shove it away.
They won't kill you.
Are you naive? What do you think they do to defective hosts? As a matter of fact, how do you think they conquered the planet to start?
Glimmer, admittedly, hasn't given it much thought. It feels different on other planets—she's never heard of a host fighting back this way. It makes her gut clench uncomfortably.
You can tell this is wrong, Glimmer. Please. I know you aren't evil.
"I don't want you to get hurt." Glimmer admits. The idea of anyone suffering because of her actions doesn't sit right with her, especially someone she feels she's grown to know. As much as she and Adora are at odds, Glimmer has warmed up to her to a degree—when she isn’t actively terrified of Adora, anyway.
But I can't—you don't trust me, and I don't trust you. I can't live like this.
I don't like this either. I want my body back.
Glimmer shakes her head at the longing she senses. It's an impossible impasse–one that they're never going to resolve, it feels like. She can feel the pessimism radiating from Adora too.
At least tell me what you're hiding?
It's been obvious from the start that Adora is fiercely protective of some information—Glimmer can't even begin to guess at what. Every time Adora's thoughts glance over whatever it is she treasures she quickly diverts, thinking about things Glimmer isn’t sure are real—she thinks it might be plots of TV shows but they sound entirely too violent to be syndicated. She can hear internal Adora’s scoff at that thought.
I can't. I can't take the chance that I'm wrong—that you might tell a seeker. You just said you'd turn me over.
Glimmer lets out a huffed breath—another thing she notices this body does when she’s frustrated.
That's fair. I guess we'll see what happens then, won't we?
I guess so.
Later that night, Glimmer tucks herself into bed, following her normal routine since she got to this planet. Once she falls asleep though, it's different. She dreams a new dream. A dream that's not a dream at all—a memory.
Three Years Ago, in a Cottage in Alwyn
Adora gazes upon Finn as she leans on the door frame. She could almost weep from the contentment of seeing them in a real bed for the first time since the world fell to shit. She had to be everything for Finn these last three years on the run. She doesn't know how she's done it. But now, everything feels better and she knows it’s all because of Catra.
She wasn't sure what was going to happen to her the first time she ran into the brunette—when she realized that there was at least one other human stuck in this hellscape. It was a relief at first, but also there was no guarantee Catra didn't fuck both her and Finn over—resources are limited now that Etheria's been taken by the body snatchers.
It didn't happen like that, obviously. Catra has only made their lives better, raiding smarter than Adora knew how to. Now for the first time ever, they have a safe place with actual furniture to live in for a while. Adora closes the door, leaving Finn to sleep in comfort and silence. She chuckles to herself as she thinks about how they're so sprawled out. She has no idea how she's going to climb into bed with them when she has to sleep, but that's a worry for later.
Adora walks into the living room and finds Catra sitting on the singular small couch in the cottage, legs spread as she leans back onto it. "Are they finally sleeping?" She asks with amusement, one eyebrow slightly raised. Catra and Finn are both taken with each other, which has only made banding together easier.
"Yeah. They started snoring the minute they laid in a real bed. Thanks for leaving us with it." She says softly although she supposed she doesn’t have to worry too much about volume control. Finn sleeps like the dead most times.
"There's two of you and one of me. Easy math." She jokes, her split eyes bright with humor. One of her favorite things about Catra is that she's always looking for a way forward. It lifts Adora's spirit even when survival in this new world feels impossible.
She eyes Catra on the short couch—she'll barely squeeze into the tiny thing. "I feel bad. Maybe you should sleep with Finn and I'll sleep out here." She offers. It’s the least she could do given everything Catra has done for them.
Catra rolls her eyes. "Adora, you're taller than me. Sleep with Finn tonight. It'll be fine." She assures, before her face breaks out into a smirk. "Next time I go out, I'll just snag a cot from somewhere."
The thought of Catra exposing herself again when they finally found a safe place makes her queasy. It also brings another thought to Adora's mind—how much longer will they be on the run together? So far, their interests have aligned but they've made no commitments beyond the day-to-day.
Well, out loud anyway. Adora looks at Catra's side profile, sitting next to her on that lousy couch. There's very little she wouldn't do to stay with this woman, to be with her. Her heart beats a little harder at just the thought.
Catra leans forward, looking at Adora more closely. "What's the frown about?"
"When are we leaving again?" She ties herself and Finn and wraps them up together with Catra, hoping she'll agree.
She bites her lip, brow furrowed as she thinks. "We have enough to stay here for a few months, at least. I can probably do a raid or two and we can extend it if we like it here." Catra glances over at her, almost shy. "I think it could be nice to stay put for a while."
Adora nods. "I'd like that." She takes a deep breath. "But if you go, I'll go too." It's a promise, even if Catra isn't looking for one.
Catra turns so she's facing Adora more fully, reaching her hand out tentatively. Adora holds her hand—it's small and callused by everything she's had to do to survive. Adora loves them like she loves Catra.
Catra's smiling now, her eyebrows slightly raised in disbelief. "I'm—I'm really glad to hear it. I want you to come with me." The charismatic woman looks out at the door to the room where Finn’s sleeping and then back at Adora. "Would it be dramatic if I said I'd rather die than be without you?" She says it like it's a joke, but it only makes Adora's heart clench.
She shakes her head slowly. "No. I'd say, I know exactly what you mean."
Catra must feel the same as Adora, doesn't she? She has to feel the heat between them, how every point of connection is like burning, like they're going to combust at any moment. Adora suddenly realizes they're alone for the first time since the night they met. There's a door between them and Finn, who probably won't wake up until the morning. It’s more privacy than Adora ever imagined enjoying again.
"I don't think you have to go searching for a cot." Adora says slowly, her thumb tracing over the back of Catra's hand.
The brunette's shoulder loosens some and she nods to herself. "Yeah. I think it'll be best to stay until the food is close to running out anyway.” She’s almost mumbling to herself, clearly thinking through future possibilities. “I've slept on worse things than a couch."
Adora feels herself go red at her overture being missed. She thinks about abandoning the suggestion all together, Catra clearly not understanding her implication. But instead, she squeezes her hand, making Catra look up at her. "That's not what I meant."
She gives Adora a tired look, testy almost. "I'm not taking the bed from you, Adora. You're taller than me—it makes no sense."
“I didn't mean that either.” She bites down on her bottom lip. “Finn is smaller than both of us—at least for now. Maybe Finn can take the couch tomorrow and you can sleep … with me.”
Her eyes dart over the plastic-looking pleather, to the points where it’s fraying and cracking. Much like Adora cracking at the feeling of Catra's stare that she's adamantly avoiding.
"Adora..." She's suddenly meeting Catra's split eyes, her delicate yet rough fingers firm on Adora's chin. She tries to twist away but she doesn't manage it. "You don't have to do this."
Her eyes grow wide in disbelief as the silence grows between them. Is this what Catra thought of as letting her down gently? There's no way this attraction is all in her head. More than that—Adora knows it's love. She's never felt this way about another human being in her life—it's not just that Catra might be the only person on this planet alive she isn't related to.
"What makes you think I feel obligated to you, Catra?" She shoots out jerkily, her embarrassment boiling over into defensiveness.
The brunette shakes her head helplessly. "Well, you know what I am." She points down to herself. "I haven't been shy about my sexuality with you."
Almost one of the first things out of Catra's mouth had been that she was a lesbian. Adora was jarred by the relief she felt at the declaration, even that early on in their friendship. Adora was raised in the church. She never let herself think too hard about why she never found any of the boys attractive and always took a long drink of water after watching the girls’ rugby team practice. That is, until she was stranded in an alien invasion with only her little sibling and her thoughts.
Her cheeks burn in embarrassment. "I'm not—I—" She can feel tears of frustration welling up in her. Why is it so hard to admit this to Catra? "Forget I said anything."
She still has a firm grip on Adora's chin. "Not likely." Catra seems to search Adora's gaze. For what, she has no clue. "Just because I like women, and we’re here and you're grateful … that doesn't mean you have to do something you don't want to do." She looks very serious. "I'd cut off my hand before I touched you in a way that upset you. And I'd do anything to keep you and Finn safe—no conditions required."
The declaration, something that Adora dreamed of hearing even a few moments ago, gets lost in the offense she takes to Catra’s implication. "It's not like that." She defends. She’s not just throwing herself at Catra for survival.
"Then tell me what it's like." Catra demands. Adora finally wrenches her chin free, glaring down at the couch again. Catra leans closer and Adora can almost feel her breath whispering in her ear. "Please, Adora? Talk to me."
She leans into the indignant anger, letting it puff up her chest and give her the brazenness to speak her next words. "Catra." She says firmly, eyes flying up to the other woman’s face. "I wouldn't choose anyone in the world to be stuck with after an alien invasion other than you." She takes a shaky breath. "If the world were normal, I'd still wish for us to meet. No matter the circumstances …" She reaches out, this time running a careful hand over Catra's cheek. "I want this."
Catra is stunned, like she's not expecting this from Adora. She doesn’t understand. How could Catra not expect it? The feelings between them have taken a life of their own, taking root in everything Adora holds dear. Is it not the same for the other woman?
Adora doesn't move her hand, but she keeps her touch light enough that Catra can pull away if she wants to. "If you don't feel the same, it'll be alright. But I need you to know." Adora will put on a brave face, even if the thought of not having Catra makes her want to die.
Catra's holding her, one arm wrapped tightly around her waist. She moves forward until her cheek is pressed to Adora's. "I—fuck." She curses, her voice charged. "Adora, you're my miracle. I can't believe that I found you against all odds. And to be honest, if I had the chance to save the whole world from these stupid worm aliens but I'd have to give you up—" She sighs. "I wouldn't do it."
Adora's heart thunders in her chest at the declaration. "That's wrong." She points out, but she's smiling as she does it.
Catra smiles back, eyes warm. "Super fucked up, but no less true."
Adora leans forward, intent on kissing the lips that have haunted her from the moment they met, but Catra pulls away. "What?" Adora demands, looking up at her.
Catra is biting her lip, a clear conflict there. "Adora … you've never been with a woman." She says carefully.
Her cheeks hurt from how warm they are. If the worms don’t kill her, this conversation just might. "Yeah. So?"
"Are you sure this is what you want?" She asks. She holds her hand up as if in surrender when she sees Adora's displeased glare. "I'm only asking because things can be confusing. We're the only two human adults as far as we know. If you're just lonely or feeling deep friendship, I want you to sort that out before we take this further."
Adora pushes her back until Catra is pressed into the arm of the couch, looking up at Adora with wide eyes. Her anger gives her the courage to be rash. "I'm not confused. I'm in love with you." She says slowly. Exacting. "And I'm going to show you exactly how much I want you."
Catra's eyes soften, and she reaches up to cup her cheek. "I love you too, Adora." She says softly. "There's no rush though.” Catra offers her a crooked smile. “You know, we've only known each other for twenty-nine days?"
The number throws Adora for a loop. "Twenty-nine?" She mutters under her breath. "That can't be."
Catra nods. "I've counted every one of them." She runs her hand through Adora's hair pulling her close. "We have time to see where this goes." She promises.
It feels like an empty one. "You can't know that. We could have hours together for all we know." As safe as everything feels right now, Adora knows it's a farce. Any sense of safety is contrived. Only the here and now is guaranteed.
"I know it." She says surely, placing a soft kiss on Adora's brow. "Miracles don't happen just to be taken away. I'm never going to part from you."
Adora shakes her head smiling. Who knew Catra was such a romantic. It’s not something she allowed herself to imagine. "Miracle or not, I don't want to waste time. I have nothing left to be uncertain about. Do you?"
Catra loves her—Adora doesn't need anything else to know that she wants everything with her, right this second.
She looks like she's thinking about it before a slow smile takes over her face. "Who am I to refuse such a needy princess?" She teases lightly.
Adora leans forward and she kisses Catra. For the rest of their stay in the small cottage, Adora can't look at that ugly green couch without blushing.
Glimmer gasps as her eyes fly open. It feels so real—the images, the emotions, they are all just below the surface waiting for her to reach them.
Meanwhile, Adora is terrified and spiraling in a corner of her mind.
You can't rat them out. Please, Glimmer. I'm begging you. You can't turn in Catra and Finn.
Finn.
The name brings an explosion of memories and feelings now—an almost maternal, instinctual feeling to protect the child settles where her heart is. Glimmer realizes she loves Finn—she's never met this child but she's also never felt this way about another being in existence. It’s like Adora's love isn't just hers—like it's rooted in the very bones that Glimmer is using to get by on this planet. She can't separate it and she honestly doesn't even want to try.
Catra is more complex. She doesn't understand the torrent of passion that Adora seems to have in spades in her memories of the woman. It feels alien—she can feel Adora snort at the characterization. Glimmer has never felt this before either.
"Why do you—how do you feel like this?" Glimmer gasps out, placing her hand over her racing heart.
It's called being human. I love them and I'd do anything to protect them.
She can feel the intensity behind Adora's words, how steadfast she is in her devotion. It's brash and loud like all violence is, but it doesn't make Glimmer want to shy away. No, it makes her want to lean closer because it's soft and warm too underneath it all—different from all the emotions Glimmer has ever come across in the many lives she’s lived.
I won't say anything. For now.
Glimmer knows this is dangerous—this is exactly the kind of manipulation they've always been warned against with hosts like these. But she doesn't think Adora is being disingenuous or manipulative—she wants to protect someone. Two someones. Glimmer can hardly blame her for that.
Not turning them in is just inaction—no one will be hurt by it, not really. Either way she still has to think about what to do with Adora. Her host is defective and that presents a more immediate problem for her.
She can feel Adora's fear mixed with gratefulness. It makes Glimmer's heart twinge. What a curious thing, these hearts.