Chapter Text
Caitlyn floats in twilight.
She so badly wants to wake up, but she cannot remember how to open her eyes. It’s such an odd thing to forget. But it has happened. Everything feels too heavy to move. Like that nightmare rose has opened up and those chains have grabbed her and pulled her to the ground. She can do nothing but lay there and try to remember how to open her eyes. Sometimes she feels things brush against her skin. But it all comes in sensations. Cool, hot, soft, sharp. They come and go and all the while she just floats.
“When?”
“There isn’t a timeframe.”
“Seriously?! What good is any of this?!”
Vi.
She can’t open her eyes, she can’t sleep. She can only fade in and out as hands touch her body. She would like them to stop. Especially when they touch her with fire. Fire in her stomach. Fire in her eye. Every time she tries to open hers, the pain turns sharp and sweet. Thorns from that nightmare rose press into her eye. Across the bottom, deep inside her skull, burns again as the thorns prick out of her skin. Prick by prick. But she still cannot open her eyes. Still cannot get the words out that she is fine. If everyone could just leave her and Vi alone, things would be fine.
“I’m not signing that!”
“Vi,” her father’s voice. Vi found him, “it just needs your name.”
“I can’t believe she did this.”
“It means she trusts you.”
She fades and comes back with Vi’s hands in her hair. It feels so nice. Caitlyn wishes she could tell her to never stop. But she cannot open her eyes. Cannot get her mouth to work. There is music somewhere but Caitlyn cannot place it. She doesn’t know the tune. Vi’s fingers gather her hair and begin to work through it. All the while the music continues softly. Her hair is gathered away from her face. Something cool wipes across her skin.
You are so loved.
I love you.
Caitlyn remembers how to open her eyes.
One of them anyway.
The other tries to follow suit and the burning pain makes her remember how to move her hand. She tries to press to the eye but her hand collides with a smooth round dome. It separates her fingers from the throbbing, aching injury. Caitlyn expects the hospital room to greet her but her eye takes in her own bed. The curtains have been pulled back since she was a teenager but now they are open. Two are fully drawn shut. The one by her side is slitted open. Just enough to let in a feeble amount of light. It’s night. Caitlyn has no idea how she got back here but if they were able to get her to the hospital and back so quickly, then things must not have been so bad. Perhaps they could even save her eye.
She goes to push herself up and her gut screams in agony, coalescing to a sharp burning that makes her breath catch around a noise of pain.
Caitlyn forces herself to breathe and feels the curtain being pushed back. Hands on her shoulders. They are going to push her back and make her sleep again. She doesn’t want to sleep she wants to make sure Vi is alright. She tries to push them off her though she knows she doesn’t have the strength. But she promised Vi she would fight to come back to their room. She would be there if Vi was there. She’s here but Vi isn’t. So Caitlyn has to go and find her. The hands that push her back are not helping. Even if they are calloused and familiar.
“Cait—Cait,” One hand on her shoulder, one grasps her chin and gently brings her face over. Vi comes into her line of sight. Relief paints across her features. So different from the crying mess Caitlyn remembers. Her lips tremble before they crack into a smile, “hey there, Cupcake.”
“You’re alive,” Caitlyn says and the words come out breathless. Not at all what she planned, “Vi.”
“I promised I’d choose to live if you did,” Vi says as though she’s reminding Caitlyn of something perfectly ordinary. Like any of this has been ordinary. She turns away and Caitlyn wants to cry with disappointment. Then she turns back, “your dad is going to examine you.”
“Stay?” Caitlyn says, unable to shake the feeling that something is terribly wrong.
Vi nods. The hand that is on her shoulder slips down Caitlyn’s arm, maintaining contact as Vi gets to her feet and places herself in a chair next to Caitlyn’s bed. The curtains pull back a bit farther and reveal more of the room. It’s her room, but it looks different. Caitlyn realizes the source of light comes from a lone candle by her bedside. A book is laying next to it. Caitlyn wonders if there is a power outage. Before she can ask, her father appears in front of her. His hair is clean and his beard is trimmed. He looks more like himself than Caitlyn has seen since her mother’s funeral.
“You trimmed your beard,” she says. He looks over where Vi is sitting and then refocuses on her with a smile. A doctor’s smile, “what is it?” Caitlyn questions.
“Nothing, sweetheart,” her father says.
“No,” Caitlyn can feel her voice getting stronger, “I know that smile. What is going on?” He hesitates, “Vi!” She huffs in annoyance, “I can’t see you with this stupid—“
Vi is back in her field of vision, replacing her father and perching on the bed. Her fingers catch Caitlyn’s hand before it can reach for the patch again. It takes so much more effort to keep her head straight, like she’s blind not like one eye has been covered. There’s an exchange of glances between her father and Vi that she would love to see under any other circumstances. Now they just make her heart quicken. Both of their heads go up to something Caitlyn cannot see. Apparently she has been asleep and the entire world has gone crazy.
“How long do I have to wear this thing?” She asks, directing the question at Vi.
“Cupcake,” Vi says, but there is a new weight to the way she says it. Something that sends more concern flaring through Caitlyn, “it’s not going to matter.”
“What—“
The rose.
The blade.
The promise.
“Hey—easy, easy,” Vi eases her back. From this angle Caitlyn can see the bag of fluids hanging in the corner. She locks her gaze with Vi’s, “easy,” Vi repeats.
“How long?”
“Almost two months.”
“What?!” Caitlyn has to get out of bed this instant but Vi pushes her back, “I don’t understand, I—“ Caitlyn grips Vi’s forearms, “I don’t understand,” she hates to admit it, “we fought and—“ she tries to get her brain to remember more than just flashes, “I don’t understand.”
“It’s alright,” Vi says, “right now just—“
I need you to stay
They fell
You love her, don’t you
“Jinx!” She gasps. Vi’s eyes widen in surprise. Her entire remaining family is dead. How is she still here? Vi’s eyes slam shut and she takes a deep breath. They are wet when they open, but set with determination. If she could figure out how to, Caitlyn is sure she would cry. “Oh Vi—“
“Hey, not right now,” Vi says, Caitlyn opens her mouth, “right now you need to rest.”
“I’ve been asleep for two months,” Caitlyn protests.
“Caitlyn,” her father scolds and Caitlyn realizes he’s been changing the dressing on her wounds. He appears over Vi’s shoulder, “Violet’s right, you need to sleep.”
“No,” Caitlyn protests again. She sees her father leaning forward for her IV, “I said no!” She says, her voice finally sounding familiar, “I can be sore!”
Vi’s features twist and she turns her head away. But she nods at her father. He touches her shoulder with familiarity that makes Caitlyn’s head spin and sets the syringe over to the side. Where Vi can use it, her mind supplies. Caitlyn breathes a little easier knowing they are not about to drug her. Vi reaches forward and shifts something and Caitlyn finds it easier to be comfortable. Two months. She remembers Vi’s tearful face and broken voice. How could she have slept for two months when Vi has lost everything.
I need you to stay
Promise
“I’m so sorry,” she says.
“Hey don’t apologize,” Vi says, her voice still tight, “you’re here,” she says, her thumb running along Caitlyn’s knuckles, “you put up a good fight, Cait.”
“Are you injured?” Caitlyn questions, fighting for something that Vi will talk about so she doesn’t sit here and look close to tears, “why is there a candle?” She reaches for the curtains but Vi catches her hand, “Vi you have to tell me something,” she pleads.
“What?” Vi asks, that tight, unreadable look in her grey eyes.
“Anything! What is going on?” Caitlyn feels tears break down the side of her face. But only one. The other eye throbs, “physically,” she finds the thing Vi understands, “what happened to you?”
“I dislocated my shoulder,” she says, “they got it back in easily.”
“And then you’ve just been taking care of me?”
Something sparks in Vi’s eyes. Something sharp and angry that Caitlyn remembers from before. Remembers when she woke up. Caitlyn feels miserable but she would rather have the angry Vi who shouts and snarls than the scooped out one who looks at her with flat grey eyes. The angry one is still Vi. Her Vi. The one she promised she would come back to. That woman is still in there, under layers of the grief is keeping her hidden away. Jinx and her father, Caitlyn cannot comprehend what she must be feeling. She digs her nails in as Vi tries to pull away and the anger flares.
“No, I’ve been doing paperwork,” she says, the measured tone taking on a tight edge, “because you gave me the Key.”
Oh.
“Vi—“
“The Key? Me?” Her voice is tight and pained, “you promised you would choose to live.”
“I did!”
“Then—why?!”
“Because I love you!” Caitlyn says, emphasizing the words. They make Vi look so much more pained, “I meant what I said when I promised this was the last battle we would fight alone. If I wasn’t there—physically. You could still use my name, my money, the Key to set things right,” Vi looks like she wants to be sick, “you have a good heart—“
“Stop!” Vi cries, her voice desperate and wounded.
Vi rips her hands away and throws herself from the bed. Caitlyn feels disgustingly weak. Two months. Two months of floating in her own head. Recovering, her mind corrects but Caitlyn does not want to listen to it. She’s let Vi down. Instead of helping her, she’s put more burdens on her. She knew that would be the case, no matter how many contingencies she tried to plan for. Caitlyn wants so badly to get out of bed and wrap her arms around Vi. To hold together all the broken pieces she can see. Jinx and her father are dead.
After all of that.
There is some small, vicious, horrible part of Caitlyn that still wanted Vi to choose her. They all know it. Jinx certainly did. It does no compare to the rest of her. The parts of her that want Vi to be happy. That know she will love Vi with every fibre of her being no matter what her choice is. It’s a small blemish, one that shrinks every time Vi kisses her. But it sits there like a knot in the thread of her heart. Sometimes making it tug in a way that fills Caitlyn with shame. Now as she listens to Vi choke on emotion, it unravels. Vi can’t choose Jinx anymore. She is dead. And in that moment Caitlyn knows she would give every cent she has to bring the blue haired murderer back to life. If only to give Vi the choice back.
Caitlyn gets her hands under her seat. She has to move gently to avoid the monstrous pain that lurks behind every shift. But she gets up far enough to reach the edge of the curtain and ease it back. Enough so she can lean forward and bring more of her room into her view. The differences register in rapid succession. The room is dark except for candles. They are all different melting points. Some are practical but some are tea lights, some are the thick jar ones her mother kept around. Caitlyn gets the distinct impression this is a choice. Blankets are everywhere as well. She recognizes them from multiple rooms. There are papers and knick knacks and books on every surface she can see. There’s an order to them but everything is also easily reachable. Like it needs to be seen or it might be stolen. Caitlyn’s stomach clenches in a way that has nothing to do with her wound.
This isn’t her room anymore, it’s Vi’s room.
Vi is standing between the windows, her head on the wall. Fingers dig into the back of her neck. She looks like she is back in the bunker. Maybe she is. Maybe she is trying to will herself to that moment. When the choice was still there. When her sister was alive and they thought her father was at peace. She’s in the same clothes. The torn black pants, the wrapped top. She’s even re-wrapped her arms. Caitlyn watches her shoulders tremble as she fights for control. How many nights has she done this? Put herself through this hell over and over again. This is an entirely different prison than the one Caitlyn is used to letting her out of. She has no key for this. No escape plan.
Caitlyn doubts she could physically make it over to Vi.
She doesn’t think it would matter.
“You promised,” she hears Vi force out in the most tight, miserable whisper Caitlyn has ever heard, “you promised.”
Oh Vi.
What if you fail?
“Does it irritate your skin?” Caitlyn blurts out the first normal thing she can think of.
Vi’s arms tighten around her head, like Caitlyn’s voice pains her. Caitlyn waits. Like she’s outside the cell back in Stillwater. Before she stepped over the line, before something in Vi made her comfortable enough to be annoyed. If she was a romantic, Caitlyn would think maybe something in her recognized her voice from those hushed whispers outside Jayce’s place. But then she remembers the bomb that went off. If she had known that was Vi she would not have been so brave. No, it was something about Vi in that first meeting. Something that dug past all the walls she erected and challenged her. Everything in her pleads for Vi to do something. Challenge her again. Scream at her. Anything but this.
“Does what, Cupcake?” Vi asks.
The nickname still has that heaviness, but now there’s a flatness to it. It’s another barrier. If she keeps saying it like that, Caitlyn knows she’s going to hate it as much as she did in the beginning. But Vi answers. It’s the look over her shoulder in the bunker. Except not a look. Caitlyn still cannot see her. Vi cannot look at her. But she speaks. She doesn’t throw the line back.
It’s hard to be loved like that.
“The gauze,” Caitlyn says, “it always irritates my skin after a while.”
Vi tightens her fingers again. Her forehead presses more firmly into the wall. The lifeline is drifting away.
“Sorry,” she mumbles, “I didn’t know.”
“It’s the coating,” Caitlyn continues to the drowning woman, surprised at the emotion that coats her voice, “it’s a clotting agent so you won’t bleed out.”
Vi freezes.
Over her shoulder her eyes slowly, slowly meet Caitlyn’s. Caitlyn doesn’t care it will hurt, she does not even try to stop the sob that wraps her throat.
“You saved my life.”
Vi turns back to the wall. Her hands drop to her shoulders and dig into the muscles. Caitlyn expects her to punch the wall. She braces for it, refuses to be surprised by it. She is not going to do anything to irritate her wound. Vi has been putting everything aside to take care of her. Caitlyn won’t let that happen in this moment. Vi’s hand goes to the wall but only to flatten there. She holds herself there. Like she is caught between two worlds. How long has she spent there? The dead and the living both want her. Caitlyn knows Vi wants her family more than anything. She knows what she must yearn for. But she fights against it. How long has she been fighting it alone?
They fell.
“Vi,” Caitlyn puts as much force as she can into the word. Nothing, she has to try something else.
What do you shoot for?
Her stomach throbs and she doesn’t care. Please look, please Gods. Please.
Caitlyn Kiramman always gets what she wants.
What if you fail?
“Violet!” Caitlyn puts as much force into the name as she can. Vi’s head whips around in surprise, their eyes locking across an impossible distance. It’s hard to see out of her eye but Caitlyn forces herself to look, “you saved me.”
Something in Vi snaps and she crosses the room in several quick steps. She’s there suddenly, invading all of Caitlyn’s field of vision. Angry, broken, but there all the same. For the first time since Caitlyn woke up, she’s there. She hesitates only long enough for Caitlyn to reach for her before she’s sitting on the bed, one leg pressed against Caitlyns thigh. Caitlyn still manages to grab her hand and pull her closer. Close enough for Caitlyn to cup her cheek. Vi jerks and then melts into the touch, flattening her hand over Caitlyn’s and turning her face into her palm. The tears she’s been holding back break free, though Caitlyn knows the sob is still caught in her chest. This is something. This is everything.
“He was there,” she chokes out, “I had them both. Cait I had them,” an almost sob escapes her lips but she fights it back, “I wasn’t strong enough.”
“Vi,” Caitlyn says. Pain rolls across Vi’s features, “Violet,” she tries instead, the full name odd on he tongue. She doesn’t care. She’ll call Vi whatever will ease her pain, “they fell. How?”
“Jinx—she broke“ her voice cracks, “the crystal just fell out,” another half swallowed sob escapes her lips, “I couldn’t hold them. And they—they—“
Caitlyn thinks back to the massive, hulking creature that was Vi’s dad. Jayce’s promise of the gauntlets echoes in her ears. Work faster without fatigue. Vi’s hurt shoulder. She thinks of Vi above an endless chasm, desperately holding onto the most important thing in her world. Relying on the strength that only seems to fail her when it truly matters. Praying that it will be different this time. That she won’t be left alone. Like Caitlyn left her. The gauntlets were never designed for what Vi has used them for. But they have risen to the occasion. Endlessly shouldering burdens they were not intended for, simply because it was what was asked of them. Vi made machine form.
Caitlyn didn’t even think about taking them when she left her.
“They fell,” Caitlyn finishes.
Vi sobs.
Caitlyn pulls her forward onto her shoulder, though most of Vi’s weight goes onto the pillow propping her up. Caitlyn wishes she could do this for her. Bear her weight. But this is not about what she wants. Vi weeps against her shoulder, soaking the shoulder of her robe. Caitlyn presses the side of her head to the edge of Vi’s ear and listens to her weep. She covers Vi’s balled fist with her hand. Vi doesn’t take her fingers, she clenches the sheets tightly and Caitlyn just covers the top of her fist. Lets he know she’s still there. Vi isn’t alone anymore. No matter what has happened to her strength. Great, gasping sobs wrack Vi’s frame and it’s agony to just sit there and not be able to hold her. This close Caitlyn can hear the words in every gasp.
“I promised.”
“I tried.”
“I failed.”
It’s a lifetime of pain. A life Caitlyn cannot begin to fathom. There is something in her soul that understands Vi, but on top of that there is a lifetime of experiences she doesn’t. Caitlyn has lived with the regret of loosing Vi for months. She has thought of a million different ways to do things in that dark hole. Now, though, all she can think of is that sunlit hallway. The box in her hand. Why did she never think about who was in that room? Why did she never try to find that version of Vi. The one who had her sister, her father—everything that has slipped away. The regret chokes Caitlyn as she listens to Vi weep for those she has lost. All the ghosts Caitlyn’s life has somehow managed to intersect without even knowing.
Caitlyn’s missing eye is throbbing by the time Vi’s fist eases. Just enough for Caitlyn to slip the edges of he fingers through. The sobs have eased to heavy breaths. Ones Caitlyn can feel blowing across the wet fabric on her shoulder. She keeps her head pressed to the outside of Vi’s ear as she hears her even out her breathing. Pull herself a little back together. Caitlyn just stays as close as she can. Lets Vi scrape together the pride she knows is deeply, deeply broken. It’s a surprise when Vi moves. Caitlyn wants to pull her back but she forces herself to shift her head as Vi straightens up. Her wet grey eyes cast about the room as though an explanation rests there. Caitlyn pushes her fingers further into the confines of Vi’s fist. Vi looks at her and dismay crosses her face.
“I got you all wet,” she mumbles.
“I don’t care,” Caitlyn breathes, matching her soft tone. Vi looks embarrassed all the same. So Caitlyn pushes her leg out, just enough to press their thighs close together. Vi’s eyes flicker from that back to her face, “how long have you been holding that in?”
Vi’s face cracks at the memory, but she doesn’t fall apart. Her eyes close like she is trying to will herself back to that moment. It’s a good moment, Caitlyn knows. A bridge across a wide divide. It’s a start. A hope. Vi needs hope more than she might need air in that moment. Her lips tremble, flatten and then relax as her eyes open. Focus on Caitlyn’s eye. Her fingers finally open and their hands press together. Something eases between them. A lifeline thrown, a lifeline grabbed. She’s not on shore, not yet. But she’s holding on. Something softens in the corner of her mouth and almost reaches her eyes. But not quite, not yet. Caitlyn doesn’t expect an answer but Vi gives it.
“My whole life.”