Chapter Text
When Caitlyn held her gun, the world made sense.
What do you shoot for?
Not anymore.
The bridge has changed everything. The Firelights managed to get nearly everyone across, but the riot had spread farther into Piltover than most. The handful of deaths seemed to be little more than an excuse for perceived insults. Councilors and their families were far more concerned with the fact they could have been killed than those who actually were. Especially after they had been so generous with the Undercity. No amount of threats or diplomacy can change their mind now. The powder keg was lit before she was even aware. All she can do is turn her own personal Kiramman money to the Undercity and hope everyone holds on until they find the people responsible. That is an entirely different matter, despite Caitlyn trying to describe the machine gun wielding man on the bridge. No-one seems to be able to find him. She doubts it would make much of a difference. This is an old wound pulled apart.
The repetition—no, the cycle—is so maddening. Between the cycle and the violence and the powerless feeling, Caitlyn finally pulls out her rifle case.
The foldable weapon came back to her during one of the raids. She hadn’t thought about it since. It hadn’t been useful. The guns she carried had to be stronger, bigger, better. Hextech powered. She is not ready to feel the weight of those guns again. Not yet. The weapon seemed weak when she got it back. The weapon of a daughter, not of House Kiramman’s head. Now as she runs her fingers over the side, it feels like greeting a part of herself that has been sleeping. When she carried this rifle she knew what she believed in. It feels foreign against her fingertips, but Caitlyn wants very badly to believe that she can bring some of that person back. Face the past the way Vi is learning to face hers.
First it needs a good cleaning.
Like most families of her social circle, someone has always cleaned for Caitlyn. Unlike most, that cleaning has always excluded weapons. Her mother had her cleaning rifles well before she was allowed to shoot. Well before it became such an integral part of her. She can clean a rifle with her eyes closed. For the first time she doesn’t even think about her blind spot as she breaks down the rifle and begins to clean. She closes her eye and focuses on the smell and the feel of metal between her fingers as she brings the gun back to pristine condition. Her fingers move quickly as they fit everything back together, check the lock and then fold the rifle in half. She puts it on the towel and looks down as the rifle glows green.
Vi refuses to use the door.
Caitlyn isn’t sure if it is because of their conversation. Because she does not want to consider this home. Or some other reason, but when she visits she comes in the same sequence. She comes to her window, puts down her board and her Firelight gear. She blows out the candle and smiles. It is infuriating and absolutely wonderful in equal measure. As much as Caitlyn would like to drag Vi back to the bed, she resists. Vi is a presence in her life, one she can communicate with freely and sees regularly. But she does not give up her home in the Undercity. She does not give up her Firelight activities. She never stays the night and she rarely comes by after dark.
With the closing of the bridge an almost formality has settled over them. Initially when Vi came by she still looked like Vi. Now she appears wrapped in layers of tan and black. She hides her hair underneath a hood. The biggest change is the mask. Her goggles are usually around her neck or head. If she’s not on business she wears them. If she is, she dons the white mask they all wear. Some are vaguely animalistic in nature, some are just designed to look intimidating. Vi chooses the former. Without large ears it’s difficult to see at first but Caitlyn knows the mask is a bunny. Fitting for someone who flies as quickly as Vi does.
“Haven’t seen that in a while,” she says after blowing out the candle.
“Neither have I,” Caitlyn admits, “I just put it away when I got it back.”
Vi lowers herself to the floor and folds her legs. Neither of them talk about how Caitlyn has kept her collection of candles, knick knacks and endless throw blankets. All the comforts Vi pulled from the various corners of the house while Caitlyn recovered. The ways she turned this room into hers and Caitlyn shifted it into theirs. She has not been in the closet but Caitlyn has the small number of clothes folded on a shelf. They are washed regularly and put back, waiting like soldiers for an order. The fact this room is theirs, that there is a side of the bed waiting, none of it is spoken about. It’s odd to learn about someone and to know them so intimately. To get butterflies at the thought of them and to know what they sound like crying out your name. Caitlyn has always been attracted to Vi, but the regression back to just wanting her is sometimes difficult to reconcile. Except right now when Vi is looking at her in such a guarded way.
“Have you shot anything?”
“Not since the battle,” Caitlyn admits, “on the bridge I only had a knife. When that thing was firing I realized that cannot continue.”
Vi nods but is unusually silent.
Caitlyn cannot exactly blame her.
She doesn’t know if she has any right to pick up a weapon again. The fight with Ambessa was calculated, but it also felt like penance when the gun was out of her hands. The healing had been a good reason, but it has been over a week since she was cleared for strenuous activity. The doctors had been concerned about her eye, though Caitlyn felt fine. Only the thought of more surgeries and delays kept her from ignoring their orders to wait. It had been yeas since the kickback from a gun bothered Caitlyn, but that kickback would jostle her eye implant. Now she has no excuse. She never considered not picking up the rifle in some way. But she does not know what that way is. Target practice just feels like the logical first step.
“I just—want to see if I can still shoot,” she says, feeling heat creep up her cheeks at how foolish it must sound.
“Okay,” Vi says and pushes herself to her feet. She reaches down and picks up Caitlyn’s gun like it’s the most natural thing in the world, shoulders it and then sticks out her hand to Caitlyn. Caitlyn takes it and lets Vi pull her up, “let’s go shoot.”
It does not feel the same.
Instantly, Caitlyn is livid.
She has learned to live in a world with one eye. She has taken ownership of so much. The way her empty socket feels when the kickback goes up her armpit makes her see red. It feels like a betrayal. Like one betrayal too far. Caitlyn had some kind of hope that perhaps this would feel the same. The differences—which she swore she would pay attention to—would be in her head. In that part of her head that always went quiet when she lined up a shot. But she would still pay attention, truly she would. But no, the difference was in a part of her head that she could not push away. Some part of her screams in denial. She is a Kiramman. She is supposed to get what she wants. The universe just laughs and Vi just stands near her watching.
“Cait—“
“No!” Caitlyn holds out her hand, “just give me a moment.”
Everything feels so grating. Like the ball in her head that she thought was feeling normal finally. Nothing feels normal. It all just feels wrong. She knows if she thinks about it, she will come to the same conclusion. This is the least of what she deserves. Her mind knows it but the ugly thing in her screams that it’s not fair. When she became the head of House Kiramman, when she got Vi back, things were supposed to get better. But she’s the head without a council seat, she has Vi but in none of the ways she wants and now when she shoots it just feels wrong. She shoves the thoughts deep down and keeps her mouth shut. Her mother always said she was mature for her age and Caitlyn wore it like a badge of honor. Now she feels like a child.
“Cait,” Vi moves forward.
What if you missed?
Caitlyn smacks her hand onto the gun and presses it against the ledge. It feels the same, she knows every divot in the metal. But if she looks at it, her vision has changed. If she shoots it, how that feels has also changed. She doesn’t understand why she cannot have one thing that does not feel like she’s a different person. One thing that would let her pretend to be the woman she used to be. Why can’t she just have one? She’s put in so much work. Tried so hard. Hard work is always rewarded, that’s what she’s been taught. But she’s worked hard and nothing has shifted the way she wants.
“Why is this so difficult?!” slips out of her clenched teeth.
“Cait it takes—“
“Don’t you dare say practice! I have been shooting my entire life!” Caitlyn snarls, turning around before Vi’s hand can touch her shoulder, “there is a ball in my head where my eye used to be! No amount of practice is going to change that!”
Vi’s eyes widen and horror joins the anger.
She’s just yelled at the one person she doesn’t want to yell at. The one person she’s shoved all the anger away from. The person who is just coming back into her life. She presses her knuckles to the back of her mouth. Vi of all people knows she chose to lose the eye. That she probably deserved to lose a hell of a lot more. If she tried to think otherwise, Caitlyn’s just yelled at her and reminded her why she left in the first place. Why she had to stay away when she needed to heal. When she told Vi the truth it had been out of love, not out of anger. But the anger has been getting worse.
“I think you should leave,” Caitlyn says, forcing her hand down, “I appreciate the support but—“ Vi turns around. Caitlyn doesn’t love that she’s done that but it’s better than the alternative. Except instead of leaving Vi picks up one of the stools, puts it down and sits, “Vi—“
“I think you’re wrong,” Vi shoots back, “you just don’t want to be a bad shot.”
Something fraying in Caitlyn goes impossibly taut.
“I am not a bad shot!”
Vi rests her chin on top of her fist and looks at her so calmly. Like this is her house, her shooting range. Both of her arms are fine. Or they are at the moment. They will stay that way if she has any sense. Vi lifts her hand and points. Caitlyn knows what she is about to see when she turns. The untouched paper target dangles on its clip.
“You missed.”
The fraying thing in Caitlyn’s soul snaps at the taunt.
She suddenly doesn’t care that her eye feels different. She is going to break everything in this room with her bare hands. The target cannot be untouched if there is no target.
She whips around to start with that stupid, offensive chair Vi dragged over and instead meets Vi’s impossible bulk.
She’s so close Caitlyn has no problem striking out except Vi grabs her fist. Vi is a brawler, she’s the striker, but when she shifts her weight, Vi carries her momentum and Caitlyn finds her front pressed to the ledge. Vi’s arms are banded around her holding hers crossed against her chest. The anger is impossibly hot. On touch alone she fists Vi’s shirt and drops. It breaks her grip and lets Caitlyn duck under her arm. Now she’s the one who presses Vi to the counter. Except Vi hooks her foot around her ankle. The world tilts in a different way and Caitlyn slams her eyes shut. Vi is so close she doesn’t need her eyes to grab her shoulder. Vi pins her back against the ledge and holds down both of her arms on either side of her.
“Let me go,” Caitlyn hisses.
“Make me,” Vi challenges back, “you’re the one with all the fancy new training,” Caitlyn snarls wordlessly, “or did she not teach you how to fight someone bigger?” Caitlyn grits her teeth, “come on you fought her with a knife in your gut.”
Caitlyn flexes her wrists and breaks Vi’s grip. But then Vi’s hands are there again. Caitlyn moves faster even as the skin of her torso pulls oddly. In the end though, Vi’s bulk has her pressed against the ledge. Her arms are on either side of her body. But for the life of her Caitlyn cannot create the space to get her to move. Even when she pushes on Vi’s shoulders. Her eyes try to fly open but only one follows the command. Before she can think one of her fists smacks into the skin below Vi’s collarbone. There’s not enough space to actually hurt but the strike feels good enough to make her pause. Then the realization it felt good to strike someone sinks in and she tries to shove herself back.
“Hey it’s okay—“
“It’s not!” Caitlyn says, “let me go!”
Vi scans her face to see if she’s serious and the anger surges up again.
“I am not an invalid let me go!”
“Then make me,” Vi challenges again.
“You know you have the advantage,” Caitlyn snaps.
“And I bet that just pisses you off,” Vi says. The anger is back, “has anyone told you no, lately? Besides me?”
Caitlyn is moving her head forward before she even thinks it through. Surprise flashes in Vi’s eyes before she gets her head out of the way and shoves herself up on her toes. Instead of smacking her forehead into Vi’s face Caitlyn’s forehead collides with the place next to her neck. Vi manages to soften the blow but she almost sacrifices her advantage. Caitlyn moves but Vi shoves forward and once again she finds herself pinned. Vi presses against her head and seems to sink so Caitlyn cannot move.
Her empty eyelid is pressed to Vi’s neck. It’s the first contact she’s had that hasn’t been clean and medical. The pressure and the warmth of Vi’s skin push past the hollowness. It feels strange to her but Vi doesn’t seem to care as she keeps her pinned.
“What are you doing?” Caitlyn demands, her voice muffled against Vi’s shirt.
“Preventing you from hurting yourself,” she says. Caitlyn jerks her hips, “or me,” Caitlyn grinds her teeth together, “I get you’e mad—“
“Don’t patronize me because you’re better!” Caitlyn spits. She feels Vi go tense and the monster inside her smells blood. But Vi sinks her weight, “you—“
“Get me off,” she says.
“Why? So you can light a candle about it?!” She digs her nails into the wraps but she has to keep them short because of her stupid, fucking eye, “I have been waiting every night for you! I’m a Kiramman! And you’ve made me into this pathetic fool!” Vi’s grip turns harder and Caitlyn’s soul yells for blood, “you made me a monster!”
“You’re the one who broke me out of that cell!” Vi says and the control in her voice starts slipping.
“I should have left you there!”
“Sometimes I wish you had!” Vi shoots back, “but you’re stupid when you’re angry so it never occurred to you—“
“Don’t call me stupid!”
“You could’ve thrown me back in there any time, Cupcake!”
Vi gets sloppy and Caitlyn shoves herself free and pins Vi in her place. Whatever Vi was hoping to accomplish has fallen away as they both glare at each other. Color is creeping up Vi’s face. Her anger has always burned hot and visible. Though Caitlyn can’t remember the last time she saw it. Now she hopes she chokes on it. Vi tries to pull her hands free but Caitlyn leverages her height and training to hold them there.
“You don’t get to call me stupid,” she says, pleased her voice sounds like she’s got some semblance of control.
“Why? Because you’re a ‘Kiramman?’” Vi says and her tone drips with what Caitlyn thinks might be her accent.
“Because you are the dumbest person I have ever met,” Caitlyn hisses back, “I thought you were required to be educated in prison.”
“Yeah, because the prison education system is the one place your Enforcers corruption didn’t touch.”
“Our Enforcers,” Caitlyn says and Vi’s eyes go wild.
“You know I did that for you,” Vi snarls, “I was going to kill my sister for you!”
“You were never going to kill her and you know it!” Caitlyn shouts right back, “the one thing I asked—“
“I followed you into hell!” Vi yells, “This isn’t about my sister this is about you being told no for once in your pampered, entitled life!”
“Your sister almost blew me up twice before I even knew who you were!” Caitlyn yells back, “she kidnapped me from my bathroom for speaking to you! And I am still folding your endless collection of throw blankets and dreaming of you every night!”
Vi bares her teeth and Caitlyn is only too happy to snarl in return. Vi tries to shove herself up but Caitlyn shoves her leg in between and uses her hip to prevent the motion. It only makes Vi shove up harder. Everything about this room is supposed to be elegant. Brutal, but elegant. Her mother used to look at her with disapproval when she had sweat on her forehead here. Now she’s sweating and snarling and Vi is shoved up against her doing the same. Caitlyn is savagely, brutally glad for it. Let the violence be real. Let the world bleed because she demands it. She releases one of Vi’s wrists to grab her chin but Vi knocks her hand aside and grabs the back of her neck, leveraging herself up. There are so many broken pieces between them and all Caitlyn can think is she is ready to break some more.
The kiss hurts.
Vi shoves herself up as Caitlyn goes forward. She’s not sure if she means to kiss her, she just wants her close enough to rip the snarl off her face. Instead she tastes it on her lips as Vi crushes their mouths together. Teeth rake over smooth skin as Vi drags her closer and Caitlyn shoves their hips to the ledge. Vi’s hand gropes behind her and Caitlyn hears the click of the gun’s safety mechanism. Then Vi’s hand grabs her hips and hauls her even closer as they fight to control the kiss. Vi draws the new scar that edges her bottom lip into her mouth and Caitlyn shudders at the odd sensation. It only causes Vi to tighten her grip on her skull and repeat the gesture. The cut is incomparable to the line that bisects Vi’s lips but Vi seems to know exactly where it is.
Her hands leave Caitlyn’s hip and skull to cup her cheeks. She pushes into Caitlyn harder and this time Caitlyn doesn’t try to fight it as she shoves her back against the ledge. She hitches her hip up and pulls Vi with her until she’s half on it, Vi between her legs. Caitlyn rips her lips away to brush them against the new scar on Vi’s chest. She tastes the salt on Vi’s skin as Vi’s hot breath his her neck. One of Vi’s hands grips her wrist and places her fingers on Caitlyn’s pulse point. Like she needs to remember Caitlyn is here. Alive. Caitlyn rips her hand free and digs her fingers into the muscles hidden by Vi’s shirt. Her fingers find the small of Vi’s back and the familiar waistband.
“Those stupid, fucking—“ her fingers find the soft skin it hides, “I’m going to burn these.”
“You just wish they were off,” Vi pants against her lips.
Caitlyn hisses and kisses her again. She rakes her teeth on Vi’s lip scar. Vi shoves herself even closer if possible. Like she’s been dreaming about it half as much as Caitlyn has. Caitlyn reaches behind her to move her rifle and feels the disorienting slide when her eye can see something but she cannot feel it with her fingers. Frustration pulls a sounds from her lips as she cuts off the world. They are fighting. She is dizzy because this is the first time she’s moved like this in a while, not because she’s weak. Not because she’s crippled. Not—
Vi cuts her off by kissing that spot underneath her ear.
Everything in Caitlyn pushes into the touch. One of Vi’s hands wraps around her thigh and shoves her closer. Though the ridges of fabric she can tell she is right above those stupid pants. When she goes to shove her heel against them with her free leg, Vi grabs that one and pulls it over until Caitlyn’s legs are both around her hips.
“What—“
“Just hold on,” Vi growls into her skin and suddenly Caitlyn is not sitting on the ledge anymore.
No-one has lifted her up since she was very young. But Vi wraps an arm under her seat and lifts her up. Caitlyn reaches for her old offense but Vi only grins and kisses lower on her neck. The feeling of being properly carried almost makes her dizzy and Caitlyn is not going to lose. That is the reason she drops her shoulders and leans forward. It has nothing to do with letting Vi get back to that spot on her neck.
“Wait,” she says, “gun. Get my—“
Vi finds the folding mechanism one handed and picks up the gun. Her gun. She’s got Caitlyn in one arm and her gun in the other and it does something to Caitlyn she can’t quite explain. Even though all logic says she should detest the sight. But Vi has always been very good at shredding logic so Caitlyn instead focuses on finding all the ways Vi’s skin has changed. Vi is seamless as she retraces their steps. As Caitlyn finds patches of windburn and new scars shallow enough to stay but not shallow enough to dent. Vi carries her up and back to the bedroom, She rests her gun by the door and carries Caitlyn over to the bed. Her free arm slides up Caitlyn’s back and cushions her head as she lays her down.
“Better?” Caitlyn tries to nod, “liar,” Vi says and reaches forward.
“I’m fine, I can—“ Vi makes a sound, “did you just shush me?!”
“You gotta stop looking,” Vi says and brings her arm back with Caitlyn’s sleeping mask around her finger, “I know it’s my fault,” she says before Caitlyn can open her mouth, “but your eye needs a break.”
“We’re fighting, stop taking care of me,” Caitlyn says.
Caitlyn thinks of their past fights and the complete separation. She wants to pin Vi to the bed and she’s honestly a little surprised she’s still here. She opens her legs to see if Vi is going to leave but Vi presses her hips closer and an almost laugh escapes her lips.
“Sorry, Cupcake, that’s now how it works.”
“It has,” Caitlyn points out. Even though Vi grinding down is something she wants to continue. But she will not be shushed, “the last time—“
“Cait,” Vi cuts in, the anger almost gone from her voice, “I don’t want to leave when we fight anymore. I want to fight it out with you,” Caitlyn stares up at her, “that’s when you—me—that’s when everyone gets into trouble. It’s not the fighting.”
“But—“ Caitlyn’s fingers touch the spot on Vi’s stomach.
That spot that almost killed her, the spot where Caitlyn aimed for. Because it was a spot she knew Vi would know. Because Vi said she might miss and Caitlyn’s ugly, angry heart screamed that she would show her a miss. Vi grabs her wrist and flattens her hand over the spot. Moves it so Caitlyn’s palm is flat on the center.
“Yeah, you fucked up,” she says, “and I still spent every night dreaming about you.”
“That is not a good thing,” Caitlyn protests pressing her fingers to Vi’s lips before she can distract her, “Vi—“
“I’ve dreamed of you almost every night since you took me out of that prison,” Vi says, “no matter what fucked up shit you do. You in that stupid dress.”
“That is an Enforcer uniform,” Caitlyn corrects but doesn’t stop as Vi dips her head to her neck, “there is history—“
“You know how incredible you have to be for me to dream about you instead of having nightmares about the other Enforcers?” She asks into the space behind Caitlyn’s ear.
Her breath is hot and her lips are close but they are not where Caitlyn wants them. Where she needs them. There are endless things to say to something like that. All shades of I’m sorry, I love you, I don’t deserve this. But Vi’s hot breath makes it so hard to get her mouth to work. And the threat of the world shifting off balance lurks so close. Caitlyn waivers until Vi’s lips brush a light kiss against the spot and another frayed thing in Caitlyn begins to give.
“I haven’t done this since—“ she says, “it might be different. I might be—“ she trails off.
Appearance is an important part of life. Caitlyn’s face has been photographed and painted at all phases of her life. Her mother always insisted on accurate, life like portrayals. Every spot, every cut, all of it was captured in the first round. She would listen to her mother point out every flaw even though she did it where she thought Caitlyn couldn’t hear. Enforcers and her lovers have always remarked on her appearance without care for what she can hear. Caitlyn knows what her most beautiful features are. Her Kiramman eyes, her midnight hair, her height, her shape.
“Cait,” Vi says, “the first time we did this I had a gut wound and you hadn’t slept in a week,” she touches the skin underneath her eye, “we’re going to be fine.”
She tugs the sleep mask over her eyes and tries not to feel nervous as Vi shifts so she’s straddling her thigh. Caitlyn wraps her legs around Vi’s knee and focuses on the feel of her between her legs as Vi looks at her. Even though Caitlyn cannot see her. She’s glad for the mask, she knows she would look otherwise. Try to see if any of the new marks are affecting how Vi sees her. She feels Vi’s fingers on her face, brushing over the new scars on her forehead and nose. They trail the unbroken skin of her cheek. When they touch her empty eye socket Vi presses her knee forward and Caitlyn’s back arches at the contact.
Vi kisses her and grips the edge of her shirt. She remembers the annoyance she had at not being able to lift it the first time they did this. Now Vi pushes it up and exposes the skin of her middle. The eye is always the thing people see. It’s odd but it’s something she’s being forced to get used to. She doesn’t think she will ever get used to the web of lines that covers her stomach. It feels so bizarre to have them exposed. The blade Ambessa used was short and wide. But there was so much damage. Vi edges the scars with her thumb but focuses on the unbroken skin as she kisses down Caitlyn’s body. Reminds Caitlyn of when she watched Vi do it in that cell.
This time she is quick with the pants and Caitlyn lifts her hips in anticipation. Even though the loss of the pressure from Vi’s leg makes her want to whine. Vi drags her pants down and pauses. Caitlyn desperately tries to remember what she put on when she was getting dressed. Not something she was expecting to have Vi peel off her. Vi chuckles and she almost reaches for her eye mask to see.
“What?” She demands.
“Cupcake I think this is the first time you’ve worn underwear when we’ve had sex.”
Caitlyn thinks back and groans as Vi’s chuckle turns into an actual laugh. They’ve had sex twice, once in the bunker and once in the shower. She was in the shower first when Vi came in, her clothes already discarded. And in the bunker, she had other things on her mind.
“It wasn’t intentional,” Caitlyn says, “I had a lot on my mind!”
Now Vi hooks her fingers into her underwear. Behind her Caitlyn toes off her shoes and lets Vi drag all of her garments down.
“Wait,” she says, “my top—“
She moves with Vi as she drags her top off, holding the mask in place and smoothing Caitlyn’s hair down. Her touch is almost gentle as she drags down the straps of Caitlyn’s bra. Caitlyn’s shoulders move with her. She undoes the clasp of Caitlyn’s bra and pulls the garment off. It’s the first time Caitlyn has lingered being naked. The first time she’s felt the air on her dry, bare skin. But she doesn’t focus on the air, she focuses on Vi’s warm touch. Vi kisses her breasts and the valley between them. Her fingers skim the undersides and begin to trail down. The feeling makes Caitlyn brave enough to push her hand onto the scars. Immediately Vi’s fingers dig in and draw downwards along the lines. The sensation is firm and warm and Caitlyn pushes into it.
Vi replaces her fingers with her mouth. Her tongue drags from deadened skin to skin where the nerves feel like they are on fire. Caitlyn buries her fingers in Vi’s hair as she reminds Caitlyn that they are both still here. Caitlyn draws her leg up and Vi catches it, pulling it over her shoulder. She trails lower but not where Caitlyn wants her. Not where she needs her. Caitlyn tries to close the distance with her hips, dragging her other leg across Vi’s back. She gets her foot underneath the cotton of her shirt. She can feel the muscles of Vi’s back and the cut of her spine. She digs her foot into the tower, just above the tops of the lowest puffs of flare smoke.
“Vi,” she groans out her name, “Vi please.”
Vi doesn’t make her beg, her mouth drags to the spot Caitlyn aches. Caitlyn’s entire body goes taut at the touch. Only the need to keep one hand on Vi’s scalp keeps her from pulling away entirely. Vi ducks her other shoulder and drags Caitlyn’s leg up. She catches both in her powerful arms and flattens her palms against Caitlyn’s stomach. Her fingers play with the different sensations, going from healthy skin to scarred. Deadened nerves to livelier ones. All of it drags down to the heat building in Caitlyn’s core. Her body being different doesn’t matter suddenly because she doesn’t feel human anymore. She feels like a wave caught in an impossible tide. Vi pulls one of her legs and settles her foot against her shoulder. The sensation changes and deepens. Continues to build. With her free hand Vi slips her fingers inside her body and shifts her mouth higher. Caitlyn dissolves into a mess of sensations until the wave crashes over her and pulls her out to sea.
She exists only as sensations and is only just coming back into her body when she feels Vi’s fingers on he cheeks. Warm, firm, calloused touches that let Caitlyn sink back into her body. They trail down her neck and settle on her collarbone. Vi’s thumb brushes the hollow at the base of her throat. Again and again until it’s clear there’s something else. Caitlyn holds her hand to the spot and her fingers curl against it.
“She was going to shoot you through the neck.”
The thought should upset her more than it does. The only thing that upsets her is the quiet, measured way Vi says the words.
“She didn’t,” she says to Vi and pulls her hand up. She pries two of Vi’s fingers free and settles them against her pulse. The skin feels tender and she knows she’s going to have a mark there, “I’m still here.”
Vi’s forearm relaxes onto her skin as she sinks down next to her. She rests her forehead in the crook of Caitlyns neck. Her fingers remain pressed to her pulse on the other side. Caitlyn tries to steady her breathing and she feels Vi pick up the rhythm as her heart begins to slow from its jackhammer tempo. She manages to find Vi’s other hand beneath her body. Vi shifts her weight onto her shoulder and catches their fingers together. Her head doesn’t move from Caitlyn’s neck, her fingers don’t move from her pulse. Caitlyn cannot see if Vi has gone soft and quiet. But she cannot bring herself to pull off the blindfold.
“I’m still here,” she repeats, “are you?”
Vi’s breath catches against her skin.
“Yeah,” she says, “I’m here.”