Graupel Canyon Care

after this

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She hated this. Hated how many tears she’d seen Cat spill over this. Not that they were unnecessary, not that she shouldn’t be allowed to grieve. But she hated that this loss had come for her, that something so unfair had happened to someone so good.

And hated how a night that was supposed to be fun had been made so horrible so quickly. She’d been keeping her eye out for Cat, aware that this was the city that her friend had been killed in. That the proximity to the ski lodge was too close for comfort. But she’d been doing good, as far as Heather could tell.

Until those creepy bitches had to open their mouths. It was easy to blame them, at least for now. But it was just as easy to blame the motherfucker that Catriona had found it necessary; urgent; to call. What had he said to send her spiraling like this?

Heather knew she wouldn’t get answers with Cat crying like this.

So she only moved her hands to take Cat by the wrists, tugging her down to the floor. Sometimes crying on a bathroom floor was just as good as therapy. Scooting so that her back was against the wall and the side of the tub, she made enough room for Cat to sit and decide if she wanted to lean in or curl on the tile or, really anything. She was here, ready to hug or pet her hair or simply be a presence so that Cat wasn’t alone.

Talking could come later.

Catriona was aware of her body moving from the toilet to the bathroom floor. She leaned into her friend as the tears fell, each sob sending her further into a downward spiral as she dwelled on it all. It was too much to bear all at once, as she sniffed and cried, her shoulders shaking from the violence of the panic attack.

Cat wasn’t how long it went on for before she felt herself growing exhausted. Her breaths slowing, her shoulders still, apart from the occasional movement that shook a sob out from her core. Eventually, she reached for the toilet paper that was nearest her and began to pull it downward, ripping off a piece to dab her eyes with as she sat back up. Makeup smearing.

"I’m sorry," She whispered, voice hoarse and eyes puffy and red from crying. She was so tired of feeling this way. Tired of the pain; the fear. A few more sobs left her, and she blew her nose. "I-I thought I was h-helping." Who she was trying to help; Catriona wasn’t sure anymore. Maybe it wasn’t about Cliff. Maybe it was about trying to make herself feel better.

Time didn’t matter. The party didn’t matter. It only mattered that she was holding Catriona and her shampoo smelled nice and there was definitely a wet spot growing on her shoulder.

But it was fine. She didn’t mind the wait. And as soon as Cat was ready, she was ready to listen.

Of course there was an apology, and she clicked her tongue in utter rejection of it. But she knew that wasn’t it, and she waited for the rest.

The rest, it turned out, wrenched her heart out through her nose.

“Who- um, who was it?” She asked gently.

Cat sniffed and wiped at her eyes some more before leaning back from Heather. The question was a good one and a little difficult to answer. She had a feeling Cliff wouldn’t want anyone to know she had spoken to him. But this was Heather. Catriona trusted Heather with her life.

"Someone who, um, knew Indra? I think he was a friend. I. I was just trying to help him speak to Indra one last time. But he didn’t like that idea."

She frowned and shook her head. "I feel stupid for reaching out to him about it."

Someone to Indra. Another friend. But obviously someone important enough that Catriona had met him, had gotten his number.

Close enough that Cat felt the need to extend this offer to him. And he’d rejected it so hard it’d made her cry.

Heather’s jaw clenched as she drummed her fingers on the floor beside her with one hand.

“Well fuck him for being shitty about it. You were doing more than you should have ever had to do.”

Cat nodded silently, still calming down. A few breaths hitched in her chest as she found her footing again. Trying to get through the wave of grief that had surprised her at the party. Yeah, calling Cliff was not her best idea. Oh well.

"I went to the police about it. The murder. I was basically told it was pointless. I just feel so… helpless."

There was nothing she could do to make things right. Nothing. Indra would still be dead and gone. Cliff probably hated her for it and Cat couldn’t blame him. Even if her anger on the phone had been palpable. Her frustration at the situation. All of it very real and very present no matter what distractions she threw in her path.

Catriona took a deep breath in and exhaled.

Honestly, Heather was surprised the police hadn’t come to her first. She was in the video during the attack. It wouldn’t have been unnecessary on their end to reach out. But maybe now they knew why; the police weren’t doing shit about it.

Heather huffed, unsurprised.

“They probably… want the Were-people to just figure it out between themselves.” She figured. Shitty, but maybe the truth.

That was definitely shitty to think about, but Cat also wondered if it was true. What were the intricacies of the Supernatural Task Force? What did they do for society?

Cat huffed and nodded, sniffing again and wondering if there was anything else she could say on the matter.

"Thank you for being here." She was sorry Heather had to be there for her. As much as Catriona knew she would do the same for Heather in a heartbeat, she still couldn’t help but feel like a burden.

“Always, babe.” She promised, certain she could keep that promise. It was easy to be there for someone like Cat, when she knew that Cat would always be there for her.

“You’re a good person. And don’t deserve this shit. But the fact that you’re still good after the fact,” Heather loosed a low whistle through her teeth, arms moving to drape like a lei around Catriona’s neck. “That means you’re fucking strong, too.”

Catriona all but melted in Heather's embrace, letting herself feel the overwhelming love she had for her dear friend as she leaned into her. It made her cry some more, but not in an unstoppable panicked fashion. It was a healthier cry. They were just such good friends, it hurt her dang heart.

"Come. Let's get back out there," She decided after a few minutes, wiping her eyes again and trying to be the strong, good person Heather saw her as.

"You can meet my boyfriend." Still felt weird to say it out loud, especially now. But like, Heather needed to know, right?

Maybe she'd like him. Cat hoped she would.

More tears, but without the panic, which was a good sign to Heather.

Soon enough Cat was pulling herself together; ready to get back out there. She wouldn’t have blamed her if she wanted to bail, but she doubted Cat would be easily persuaded to leave the party. It’d have to take more than that.

Strong.

And, apparently, she had a fucking boyfriend here. Eyebrows raising, Heather loosed a low hooting noise. She’d had inklings that Cat was talking to someone, but what was this?! A label?

“Here I thought I was your only love.” Said with playful jealousy, but full of acceptance. But there was a touch of truth in it; an unspoken acknowledgment that she was still the one here to pick of Cat’s broken pieces, not this dude.

Up she got, extending her palms for Cat to take. Once she got herself all dusted off and readjusted, Heather moved to brush a few stray hairs back into place.

“We’re taking a shot, first.”

Catriona laughed, unable to help it as she accepted the hand up Heather offered her. Cat dusted herself off, glanced in the mirror and very quickly dabbed at her smudged make-up with some toilet paper she ran under the sink. She glanced at her phone and saw a text from both Kidd and Grace, the latter she’d answer after they left the bathroom.

"Sounds like a plan to me." She could handle one shot without it messing with her, right? She offered a hand to her friend, giving it a gentle, grateful squeeze and readied herself to get back out there.