Chapter Text

Kiramman money has always been the lifeblood of Piltover’s institutions. 

Blood is always there. Thrumming under the skin. If you can’t see it, you still knew it was there. Carrying life along familiar paths, fueling the form around it. In many ways the goal is to not see it. If you see it, then something has gone terribly wrong.

The banners are a gash across the sky. 

Kiramman blood has always been here, Caitlyn does not know why seeing the crest seems strange. She also finds it does not matter. This is her mother’s city, her mother’s money. Caitlyn wants to peel back the skin and reveal everything. She wants the whole world to bleed in memory of her mother. Until they are also screaming for justice. Until the blue wave comes to her shore and puts Jinx in her hands. 

People work around her looking at what can be used. Blue and red they sort and inspect. Like the chambers of a heart they pump her mother’s blood and sort what is useful to turn the tide. What can be made into weapons? Caitlyn moves silently through the chaos. She makes her way up to Jayce and Viktor’s old lab, where their greatest chance of finding things are. 

The mess catches her off guard.

The lab has always been messy. Jayce’s chaos wars with Viktor’s precise organization in a constant struggle. When they work well together, there is a harmony. Now it is just chaos. Viktor’s order has been reduced to a single frame that now lies empty. Jayce’s fingerprints are all over his drawings. 

Ambessa has made the world bleed. She has not sat around and waited for the world to give her what she needs. She has gone out to take it. The grief in her eyes pales in comparison to the fire in them. Caitlyn wants that shift. She will have it. She knows the importance of a mentor. Especially when one trods on unfamiliar paths. 

But the mess—

“Be careful!” She barks, “these plans are paper. If they are found damaged it will be your head,” something crashes to the ground, “everyone out! I will look myself.” 

They hesitate a moment. As though her orders are insufficient. Caitlyn sees red. She is the one in power, she has command. Yet they hesitate, just long enough to be noticeable. Long enough to be annoying. She is not a child, she is in charge here.

“I command you to leave!”

They depart when she yells. 

Caitlyn hates the adrenaline that hits her. She hates the way the look at her. Caitlyn has always been aware of her family’s power. Always tried not to abuse it because it was never hers, she hadn’t earned it. It was her family’s power. She hoped that one day she would earn it with her own two hands. Now it has fallen into her hands. Not under her own power but y her mother’s death.

It was always going to happen one day.

Caitlyn just thought she would have earned her own power before then.

Now she doesn’t care. 

She stands in the mess and just thinks about how much her mother would hate the chaos. How she always wanted Jayce to clean up. Take his shoes off. Not trail soot everywhere. Jayce is—was—always a misfit in one way or another. He wore it with so much pride, like the soot under his fingernails was his most treasured possession. 

Would that have been how Vi acted?

Caitlyn shoves her thoughts away from that line of thinking. Vi never would have stayed longer than she had to. The second push came to shove, she was gone. Seven years in prison, getting stabbed—Caitlyn knows Vi can handle pain. The butt of her rifle was nothing in comparison. This was a choice. A choice to betray her when Caitlyn needed her. Betray her and insult her. Like Caitlyn’s grief made her stupid. The only stupid thing Caitlyn had done was believing Vi’s bullshit. 

She casts her gaze around. 

You always keep the most important things in arms reach.

The cot has been overturned, a hole gouged through the pallet. Too obvious anyway. Caitlyn crouches where she vaguely remembers the cot was and stretches out her arm. Within reach. Her eyes light on the old blackboard. The one that was in every lab and apartment he’s ever had. It’s been thrown across the room but she knows it was here. She runs her fingers over the edge and finds a hidden latch. She undoes it and sees blue. 

The victory makes her smile, as only solving a good puzzle can. 

She quickly unfurls them to see all three of them are there. 

The Claw.

 The Hammer.

The Gauntlets. 

Pain unexpectedly laces through her chest at the sight of them. The blue paper makes her think of the blue light that filtered down the last time she saw them. Laying limp next to Vi’s form as she choked out a sob of misery. Caitlyn felt a vicious pull of victory at each sound. Vi lied about so much. Now she could truly feel a sliver of the monstrous pain that cracked Caitlyn’s heart. 

Promise me you won’t change.

She was not the one who changed. Vi did. Vi stopped being honest with her. She lied and the betrayal stings. That is what they do down there. They don’t know anything of dignity or honor. It’s just what they can take. Vi took all of the trust Caitlyn put in her and fell apart with a blow Caitlyn knows she could handle. Caitlyn already healed that wound. Just like she did everything for her. If she wanted to betray her, that was fine. Caitlyn would leave her there. 

She still has them? Why?

The gauntlets hadn’t even been a thought.

Not until Ambessa asked the question. Her eyes flashed for her prize. It was only then Caitlyn realized she hadn’t given the matter any thought. They hadn’t even registered as something she should send people to retrieve. She hadn’t thought about them at all. She had only ever seen the gauntlets on Vi’s arms. She moved like they were an extension of her and Caitlyn stopped thinking of them as two separate entities. She had wanted Vi to hurt. To suffer. To get the hell away from her. She did not want to kill her. 

She still doesn’t. 

She just never wants to see her again.

She thinks about the plans. The weapons. It would be so much easier to get Jinx with them. Ambessa would have her prize. Something would be set right. But then she thinks about how Vi fights. How she will fight if soldiers appear to take her gauntlets. How she will fight if they appear with the gauntlets. The image of her laying twisted on the ground gasping for air as death sinks its claws into her makes Caitlyn’s chest ache again. She will fight either way. One has a much higher chance of killing her. 

Footsteps. 

Ambessa’s footsteps. 

Caitlyn freezes. Like she’s a child hearing her mother approach when she’s doing something she disapproves of. When she was a child she would have cried. Now she just remembers the feel of Vi under her shoulder. The fire that stirred in her heart. This was right, this was right and her parents could not take it from her. Take her from her. Her fingers dig into the plans. She deserves her revenge. This could be it. But it won’t be her precise shot that would miss Vi, it would be a wrecking ball that wouldn’t. 

In two quick motions Caitlyn shoves the plans down the back of her pants and pulls her hair over the edge. 

“Ah, Commander Kiramman, did you find them?”

Straight to it. 

Miners can work longer, without fatigue!

The plans burn down her spine. She becomes aware of how bent hers is. How long has it been that way? Now the plans burn a line down her spine. They draw it back into its proper, erect form. Like someone has dug through her and found the parts buried by grief. Caitlyn thought they were crushed. Gone. But the plans down her back say otherwise. 

“I found their hiding place, but he must have destroyed them,” she says, “or Viktor must have taken them.” 

Ambessa looks at the space. 

Looks at Caitlyn. 

All Caitlyn can do is hold herself steady under that gaze. For the first time she realizes something is terribly wrong here. Ambessa looks at her as though Caitlyn is little more than the mess that surrounds them. Another obstacle in her way. Ambessa looks at the board, the open compartment, then back to Caitlyn. There’s a whistle through the air.

The board cracks in half. 

That is what Ambessa does with obstacles. 

She looks through the sides and then straightens up. Behind her, Caitlyn hears Rictus move forward. Prepared to re-enforce her without question, without thought. He’s close enough for his breath to pass across Caitlyn’s face. Caitlyn waits for the blade to split her, but it doesn’t come. 

“They will need to be reverse engineered when we find the girl,” she says, “we will need to re-direct some of the search parties to—“

“No!” Caitlyn cuts in. Both of their eyes lock on her, “we are close to catching Jinx,” she steps forward and the plans brush against her back. Gird her spine, “we will extend marshal law and increase the curfew to find her sooner.”

The plan pleases neither of them, but after a moment Ambessa’s features shift. 

“Of course, Commander,” she says. Now Caitlyn can hear the way she says the title. The flattery behind it that suddenly feels so false, “as you command.”

Commanding Commander. 

She is a fucking joke to this woman.  

“If Viktor has the plans he will not listen to a curfew,” she continues, “he will be easier to find.”

Something in Ambessa’s face relaxes slightly. 

“It would be helpful to take these,” she says, motioning to the papers. Caitlyn this of all the things she has from this place. All the things Caitlyn has given her. She nods, “excellent. I shall dispatch your new orders.”

Caitlyn’s entire world narrows to the plans down her spine. It’s her only thought as they settle against the seat of her pants. Only their high waist keeps them against her skin as she makes her way home. Maddie is lingering by the door when she gets there. Caitlyn wants nothing more than to embrace her warmth and pretend this is not happening. But the gentleness on her face feels like a lie. Especially with the plans shoved down her back. 

“I’m tired tonight,” she says. Maddie moves forward anyway and she puts her back to the wall. Feels the plans creep up, “I saw Jayce’s lab,” she says, “I need to be alone.” 

“Of course,” she says, “tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” Caitlyn agrees because she is apparently lying to everyone now. 

How long has she been lying to herself?

She shoves the question away as she enters her room. She locks the door to be very clear with her wishes. She undoes the fastening at her throat and pulls off the cape. The plans feel like a bomb in her hands. Though she tries not to, she thinks of Jinx. How she must feel before every bomb goes off. There’s no precision nor aim. Just a terrible choice to make. 

Caitlyn throws the plans into the fire. 

It feels like the first choice that’s hers. 

Her heat is thumping in that same pleasing way it was when she found the plans. But more than that, this is a decision she knows is right. These plans should not fall into Ambessa’s hands. For reasons that have nothing—and everything—to do with Vi. This is the right choice. It feels so different from most of her decisions lately. 

The plans are ash when she sees the stain.

She had not thought to take any care about how she rolled up the plans. There hadn’t been time. The paper Jayce used is special, copiable. But it stains everything blue if one is not careful. She was not and now there is a bright blue stain where the cape hits her spine. It feels like she’s being tattled on. Caitlyn knows this will be impossible to get out but it’s fresh. There is a chance. She brings the cape into the bathroom, wets an old black shirt and scrubs. She cannot have more blue on any fabric. The stain goes darker with water. Caitlyn blots it with another piece of the fabric and inspects her work. 

Violet stares back up at her. 

She’s turned the stain violet. 

The old anger slams into her. She’s just saved Vi’s life again and all Vi can do is leave a stain on her. A stain that gets her into all kinds of trouble. How is Caitlyn supposed to save the world from one sister when the other keeps leaving stains on her? She must keep wearing the cape and now violet is going to be at her spine. 

Vi is going to be at her back.

She’s going to betray her again. 

Caitlyn throws the cape aside and strides to her wardrobe. She shoves aside the portion of clothes she does not want to see. The dresses for endless parties and cotillions. A life she is supposed to have but has always warred against. Behind all of them, she finds it. Her fingers snag the material and she rips it down, walking back over to the fireplace without looking. She is going to rid herself of all of this. She is not going to be made a fool of for one second longer. 

The red jacket hovers above the flames. 

All Caitlyn has to do is let go. 

She holds it there over the flames, willing her fingers to open. But they stay clenched tightly around the fabric. The warmth seeps into her hand and arm. Starts to build. Starts to turn painful. Her bicep throbs and her eyes burn as she stares at the flame with her arm outstretched. She waits for something to give. Maybe if her arm gives out, the jacket will just fall the impossible distance into the flames. All she has to do is let go. 

Her fingers tighten. 

Release.

Then she snatches the jacket back before it touches the flames. Panic surges through her as she looks for any sign of damage, but the only thing that greets her is the sight of dirty, warmed leather. Relief surges through her. Her knees turn jelly like and she drops onto the floor. It’s so familiar to sit here. Vi always sat near the fire, usually on the floor. Especially when it started to get cooler at night. Sometimes she’d convince Caitlyn to join her, like sitting on the floor was normal when there were so many chairs around. Caitlyn hesitates only a moment before she lifts the jacket and puts her nose into the neck. 

Of course Vi’s scent lingers there. 

The jacket is warm enough for Caitlyn to pretend it’s from her skin and not the fire. Warmth that wrapped around her when Vi caught her after her mother’s death. It smells like her. Like how she smelled when Caitlyn breathed her in as they kissed. She didn’t expect Vi to kiss so gently. So sweetly. So much like she could love her. 

There’s a burning in Caitlyn’s eyes she cannot blame on the fire. 

She wipes at her cheeks and finds them dry. It’s not safe to cry. If she starts to cry she will never stop. The only time she has cried was when Vi held her. When it felt safe. This is not safe. All the same Caitlyn draws the jacket over her shoulders. She wishes it took more to remember what Vi felt like. But the wound is new and fresh. It aches in a way her mother’s death does not. 

Caitlyn does not know how long she sits there in front of the fire with Vi’s jacket over her shoulders. Eventually she crawls into the bed they laid on together. Another place that Vi has stained. She had them change the drapes ahead of their usual seasonal rotation. It didn’t matter. She tried kissing someone else in this bed. Also, it did not matter. 

Now she allows herself the moment of weakness to lay there and hug the jacket close. To stroke her fingers down the leather like she touched Vi’s face. She was a fool to trust like she did. Now her foolishness has led them to this point. She’s always known Vi is ashamed of her, that’s why she’s stayed away. 

For the first time, she thinks her mother would be ashamed of her as well. 

Once the tears start Caitlyn does not know how to make them stop. She buries her face in the leather and just weeps. She’s never felt so small in her entire life. Usually when she cries someone is there to comfort her. Now she weeps alone in her bedroom and knows if Ambessa hears about it—and she will—Caitlyn will be reprimanded. It feels as though—

Who the hell are you?

A tiny, miserable noise pulls from her lips and she muffles it in the jacket. Ambessa will hear about it because she is always there. Because Caitlyn willingly walked into a cell. Her cell. She walked in and let Ambessa throw away the key. She is such a fool. Caitlyn pulls the jacket close, seeking comfort. How twisted is she that she longs for comfort from someone who betrayed her so easily? Who could have prevented all of this if she just trusted Caitlyn to make the shot? Vi didn’t believe in her, why should she want comfort from her? Why should she want to protect her?

Her heart knows the answer. 

Caitlyn refuses to listen. She tightens her grip in the jacket. Vi is a traitorous fool. And if she survived seven years in prison then Caitlyn can figure her way out of this mess. In a good and honorable way. She will find her way out of this mess. She keeps the jacket close when she drifts off and wakes with renewed determination. The jacket goes back in the closet. The cape with its violet stain goes back on he shoulders. Every time she thinks of it against her spine, she stands a bit straighter. When she sees Ambessa, she does not trust her anymore but that is irrelevant. 

She is going to win. 

And no-one will ever try making a fool out of her. 

Never again.

Chapter Text

The shackles are heavy in Caitlyn’s hands. 

How many nights has she dreamed about this? 

How may ways has she dreamed about this?

Vi being slapped with shackles and dragged back and held until she saw reason. Until the anger in her eyes shifted back to Jinx where it belonged. Because surely at some point it was directed there. It was just buried under the anguish. Surely Caitlyn did not read things that wrong, Vi only needed to see reason. 

Vi being shackled and hung and Caitlyn not knowing until it was too late. Until all that was left of Vi was her broken corpse, feet dangling from the bridge where she had saved her life. Ambessa’s hand falling heavy and triumphant on her shoulder as a scream starts but she can’t tell if it’s her own or Jinx’s or Vi’s ghost. It rings in her ears long after she shoots up in bed. 

There’s barely any pink left on the woman in front of her. 

“Let’s do this,” Vi says and holds out her wrists. 

Vi with her hands knotted above her head, looking up at her with trust as she is stretched along her bed. Her tattoos glisten and her hips rock as Caitlyn tastes every scar on her face. Ever scar lower on her body. Every shade of pink that makes up Vi’s kaleidoscope. 

Caitlyn thinks she might be sick.

“I can’t,” Caitlyn says. 

“What? Why not?” Vi looks almost indignant, “you’ve been arresting people for months.”

Caitlyn doesn’t know how to say ‘but not you’ without sounding like even more of a monster to Vi. All the Enforcers know Vi is to be isolated if she’s captured. Caitlyn makes up some reason about betrayal and Enforcers and agrees to whatever the next thing Ambessa says is so she can have this one. Of course Vi is never arrested and now she’s standing in front of Caitlyn with her arms outstretched. 

“Wait, before that you gotta hit me,” Vi says, “so it’s believable,” Caitlyn can only stare at her, “probably should be the face this time.”

“Excuse me,” she stammers out and shoves herself away.

Vi’s right about all of them. They’re as outdoors as they can be and their blindspot is small but Caitlyn gets right to the edge of it. The pain in her chest almost makes her hands shake. She’s played out seeing Vi again in a million different ways but this, this is something else. This is something she’s already done. Something she knows she’ll regret for the rest of her life. 

“Cupcake—Cait,” Vi’s voice is tight, “we don’t have time for this right now.”

“I know,” Caitlyn says. 

“Well—“

“Just give me a moment,” Caitlyn snaps. 

Vi glares back at her and shoves her hands into her pockets, muttering a curse under her breath. There’s less desperation in her now. Less need. In an odd way she’s steadier than the last time.  Her shoulders tense and she turns around. Caitlyn realizes she’s squaring up to make her hit her. And somehow that makes everything worse. 

Vi thinks she has to manipulate her. 

It’s like they’re back in Stillwater.

“Where?” Caitlyn grits out. Vi jams at her cheek, right under her tattoo, “that’s too close to your eye.”

“It has to be believable,” Vi says hotly, then gives a roguish smile, “besides, I block with my face.”

“Still?”  

Vi’s features twist which only makes her recently broken nose more apparent. Her eyes dart back towards her and if Caitlyn didn’t know better she’d say there was something like hope in her eyes. But the expression vanishes as quickly as it came and Vi squares her shoulders, turning to face her. 

“Just aim for the tattoo,” she mutters. 

Caitlyn can’t bear to do that. 

The sharp, surgical blow is still enough to whip Vi’s head to the side. It makes Caitlyn feel about ten inches tall when Vi’s gaze swings back to her. There’s no mistaking the anger. Though Caitlyn wishes she could. She can’t quite stop herself from stepping forward. The skin is bright and red against Vi’s pale skin. 

Caitlyn wishes the color didn’t look so much like the Vi who haunts her dreams. 

“You missed,” Vi says, rubbing near the spot.

“No.”

Vi’s hand pauses. Caitlyn turns back to the cuffs before she can speak. They feel just as heavy if not worse than they did a moment ago. 

Slapping the shackles on Vi herself in the temple and dragging her back. Not letting her go. Vi breathing hard in her ear as they made their way back Topside where Vi belonged now. Back to the Manor, back to home, back to where everything made sense. 

“Cait—“

“You’re right, we’re wasting time,” she says, “wrists.”

Vi thrusts them out. Vi’s hands have always been a mess. When they met it was by virtue of hitting concrete walls and faces with minimal protection. But she scrounged what she could. Her hands are still a mess but now there’s a carelessness to them. Half healed knuckles she’s continued to punch on, dirty wraps, its a miracle they are only swollen.

“When is the last time you broke out of these?” Vi shrugs, “we need to make sure you can.”

“I’ll be fine,” Vi says. Caitlyn holds her gaze, “fine! Here!” 

She slaps the cuffs on and gets out of them quickly. It’s a relief but Caitlyn can see the edge on her. Still she rallies and puts her hands behind her back, slapping them on again. Vi is always at her most brilliant when she’s protecting. Caitlyn wonders how she forgot that. 

“Last thing,” she says and she can’t help the apologetic tone though she knows it’ll just infuriate Vi. 

Vi sneers at the bag in her hands. Vi hates the dark. She has for as long as Caitlyn’s known her. Even in the pits of the Fissures, Vi went for the one place that had light. She hates being in the dark. Still. Her eyes flit from the bag to her before her features set in determination. 

“Do it.”

“I’m—“

“Don’t,” Vi cuts her off, “just do it.”

Caitlyn nods and approaches, guiding the bag over Vi’s face. Vi tenses when it gets near her nose. Caitlyn can’t imagine all the places on her that must hurt. She takes care not to touch her as she guides the bag down. Until all she can see of Vi is her bruised colored lips. 

“Just focus on your Dad,” Caitlyn says. 

“Wait,” Vi’s voice comes tight and strangled, “promise me you won’t hurt Powder.”

Caitlyn’s mouth goes dry at the collision of emotions. All of this—all of it can be worth it. She wants to take her in. She needs to kill her. She cannot believe Vi is even asking that she not make this all mean something. Anything. All that was lost has to be for something—

Vi makes a noise in the back of her throat. 

“Cait—“ Vi chokes out, “please—“

It’s like being doused in cold water. The consequences of her actions are standing in front of her. Caked in grease and pain and Gods knew what else. And somehow still fighting. Still trying to aim her punches even if she was blind. Ambessa’s words echo in her head. Caitlyn doesn’t know if she’s strong enough to forgive Jinx. She doesn’t want to. But if Vi is strong enough to let her darken the world, surely—surely she can try. 

“Alright,” she spits out.

Vi sucks in a breath and relaxes. 

She believes her. 

Caitlyn doesn’t deserve her faith. She doesn’t deserve her trust. She knows that and yet Vi gives it. She stares down the darkness and the fear and claws her way back. Enforcers talk about bravery, they aspire to it. Vi puts them all to shame. It’s so bright Caitlyn can barely stand to look. 

So she pulls the bag down over Vi’s lips and resolves not to give her any more ghosts. 

Chapter Text

“She’s alive?” 

The doctor looks surprised at her sharp, desperate inquiry. Caitlyn could care less about his opinions. For the money she’s throwing at him, he should have none. The doctor nods. 

“Yes. She’s stable,” he continues, “they are going to clean her up—“

“No,” Caitlyn cuts in, “I’ll do it,” the doctor hesitates, “my father is a doctor,” Caitlyn reminds him sternly, “I know what not to touch.”

The doctor hesitates for only a moment longer before he nods. Someone leads her down a long hallway. Caitlyn reminds herself over and over that Vi is alive. Right now, that is the only thing that matters. It still takes her a moment to push open the door and step inside. 

The room is silent except for the beeps of monitors and the hiss of oxygen. Caitlyn can categorize all the numbers. They are stable. Barely. But understandable for someone who has just come out of major surgery. She knows that but it doesn’t make it any easier to approach the bed where Vi is laying. 

She looks like a stranger. 

Tubes snake from under the blanket to carry away waste. One peeks out from her ribs and drains into a rust colored bag of fluids. Above her are more bags. Liquids, blood, antibiotics. They snake through the clear tubing and into her arm. All Caitlyn can think of is how much she would hate this. 

Someone has left a tray with water and sponges. Caitlyn picks one up and wrings it out. She isn’t sure where to start. Brown antiseptic washes Vi’s chest, neck and face. It coats around the white bandage that wraps her head. There’s flecks of it underneath the oxygen mask that covers her face. 

Part of Caitlyn screams that she has no right to do this. No right to touch her after she shoved her away. She’s spent as many nights cursing her as she has longing for her. What right does she have to touch her? But then Caitlyn thinks how much Vi would hate people seeing her like this. Vi trusted he enough to at least try to work together. Caitlyn focuses on that. Jinx is imprisoned, Vander is dead. She’s the closest thing Vi has to a friend. Even if she is a poor excuse for one. 

She starts with her neck. 

Underneath the black greasepaint is the pale, tattooed woman Caitlyn remembers—and it’s not. There are new muscles that coil under Vi’s skin. Vi has always been strong and spent most of her life existing on a diet of prison food. Now she is solid muscle. Caitlyn gently moves the hospital gown to wipe at her chest. She takes care not to disturb the tube that drains the damage from the Noxian spear. 

She feels tears cloud her eyes as she works. 

It feels like her fault that Vi is laying here. No, it is her fault. She went along with Ambessa. She wasn’t fast enough to outsmart her. The knot of anger that has been loosening in her chest unravels faster as she wipes Vi’s leg. The best she can tell Vi hasn’t been taking care of herself. Of course she hasn’t. Caitlyn wanted to hurt her when she dumped her there. Now she feels like a child learning her actions have consequences. 

Before she can get to Vi’s shoulders, she turns to her hands. 

They’ve cut off the bandages Vi always wears. It’s the first time Caitlyn’s seen Vi’s bare hands. She hasn’t been taking care of them either. Some of the marks on her knuckles are pink and bright, they are new. That cracks something new in Caitlyn’s chest. Vi’s entire life is in her hands. Literally and proverbially. And because of Caitlyn they are littered with half healed marks and patches of raw skin. 

“Gods,” Caitlyn can’t quite contain the words, “I’m so sorry.” 

She dabs at her knuckles. Anger has clouded her judgement for so long. All she has wanted is Jinx. But looking at Vi’s mangled hand, Caitlyn knows she would trade anything to undo this. 

She slides a hand under Vi’s neck enough to clean the grease and antiseptic from her shoulders. Then her face. Until the only thing left is her hair. Caitlyn only hesitates a moment before she wipes the sponge across it. Of course the paint comes off. Of course it’s paint. Vi is right there under this hard shell. Just waiting. 

She is such a fool. 

She tucks the gown around Vi’s prone form and unfolds the blanket on top of that. She hopes Vi will open her eyes but she doesn’t. The puff of her breath against the oxygen mask and the beeps of the monitors are the only things that let Caitlyn know she is alive. 

But she is alive. 

Caitlyn doesn’t know why but she reaches into the cabinet and opens out a roll of gauze. She cradles Vi’s arm in her lap and winds it around the skin. Her forearms are the only unblemished part of her. Because they were locked around her sister as she covered her with her body. But Caitlyn wraps them anyway. If Vi wakes up she wants her to know someone thought of her preference. Even if she know Vi will be furious if she finds out it was her. 

Caitlyn draws the blanket up and tucks it around one shoulder. Even though she can hear it on the monitors, she leans forward and places her ear against Vi’s chest. Her heart beats steady against Caitlyn’s cheek. Her chest rises and falls evenly. It’s a drugged sleep but Caitlyn closes her eyes and tries to match it. That way if Vi’s heart stops again, maybe hers will too. She hopes when she opens her eyes Vi will be looking at her. But she doesn’t. 

Caitlyn lets herself look for just a moment. With the black paint stripped away, it’s the Vi she remembers who lays there. The Vi whose haunted her dreams since she left her. Everything in Caitlyn aches to touch her cheek. But she’s overstepped in so many ways. She settles for a press of fingers to Vi’s wrist before she forces herself up. She tucks Vi’s arm underneath the blanket and makes sure it is pulled all the way up. 

There are a thousand things Caitlyn wants to say. 

But words are cheap and Vi won’t hear them. She pushes the cart of cleaning supplies to the side and washes her hands in the bathroom. The greasepaint is stubborn under her fingernails. Even when she tries to scrape at it halfheartedly. She hates the dirtiness but it’s also fitting. Vi doesn’t deserve the stain, she does. Caitlyn allows herself one last look at Vi’s prone form before she leaves the room. 

“Commander?”

“We’re going to the bunker to see the prisoner,” she says, “tell them to expect us.” 

Chapter Text

Caitlyn’s body moves without consent as she rides the elevator down. 

She has to do something to make this better. Something for Vi. She has been able to tell herself all kinds of lies with Vi’s absence. Probably with her time before. No, before she just listened to Vi’s bullshit. Because Vi wanted to make he happy. 

There is one thing Vi cares about. 

“I’ll take that,” she says, picking up the tray of food. 

Jinx looks small in the cell. 

Small in the same way Caitlyn saw when they first laid eyes on each other after the flare. She hasn’t since. Caitlyn is intimately familiar with the damage small objects can do. She tells herself she is not fooled by the small, curled up creature who is sobbing into her knees. The stupor that had her listlessly following them has eased. Caitlyn knows this part. Now the grief has dug in its claws. 

Your blood in her veins

Why do you sound like her?

“You sister survived surgery,” she says, unable to listen to the small sounds Jinx is making, “she’s resting.”

“Vi’s alive?” Jinx croaks. 

“Yes,” Caitlyn says. She could throw the food at the door and say nothing more. But she thinks of Vi just laying there and how furious she would be, “she isn’t out of the woods but the doctors don’t think she’s in any immediate danger.”

Jinx wipes at her face messily. Just that movement has Caitlyn jerking back, nearly spilling the water on the tray. She is better than this. Better than the memory of those ultraviolet eyes staring at her from her own bathroom mirror. 

“Did you see her?” Jinx questions. 

For a moment it’s Vi looking back at her from that cell. Where did you get these. Caitlyn tries to remember if they had the same eyes before the Shimmer painted JInx’s that color. But the memory of Vi is replaced by the image of her on the hospital bed and finally back to where Jinx is looking at her suspiciously. 

“Yes,” she says. Annoyance pricks at her, “I am not lying,” she snaps. 

Jinx just keeps staring at her and it is unbearable. Caitlyn drops the tray by the food slot and pushes it forward with her foot. She expects Jinx to grab her but she doesn’t. She just watches every move as Caitlyn nudges the tray forward and steps back. Caitlyn cannot take the gaze and walks over to the elevator. 

“Why did you tell me?” Jinx asks. 

“Vi would want you to know.” 

Vi crashes in the morning. 

It takes three doctors to stabilize her enough before they rush her to surgery again to cut her back open. Find the bleed. Find the swelling. Find what is making her die and relieve it before it can put her down for good. 

Caitlyn can only watch as they swarm over her. 

She’s powerless. 

“She had another surgery,” she tells Jinx. Jinx’s fingertips pause their listless drawing, “She’s alive.”

“She’s not getting better,” Jinx says. 

“That’s not what the doctors say,” Caitlyn shoots back. Jinx scoffs something that sounds suspiciously like Topsider and Caitlyn sees red, “what would you know?! You haven’t been around!”

Jinx lays her head on her knees and shifts enough to lock eyes with her. Caitlyn hates the appraising look in her eyes. She told everyone Jinx was dangerous. Vi always mentioned how smart she was. The bars of the cell are a cold comfort as Caitlyn gets the distinct impression Jinx is here only because she wants to be. 

“You talkin to me or yourself?” She asks. 

The desire to kill her rears up again and immediately gets overwhelmed by the guilt. Jinx is right. Worse, she knows she is right. Who is she to speak about Vi’s state in any sense but the medical one. It’s not just her new, urgent wounds. It’s her half healed ones too. Infected cuts, a fungal infection, vitamin deficiencies, concerning liver values—Vi has been doing everything but taking care of herself. And that, Caitlyn knows, is her fault. 

“I’m telling you what the doctors have said because Vi would want you to know,” Caitlyn says, trying to reach for the voice that puts obedience into people’s hearts, “That is the only reason I’m here. Not to talk to you.”

Jinx looks as though she is going to say something further. But then she looks back down at the floor. Her fingers resume their drawing. Caitlyn wants to remind her she can have her killed with a snap of her fingers. She has all of the power here. 

But then she thinks of Vi with the paddles pressed to her chest.

She has no power when it really counts. 

“You say you were out of your mind when we were walking back,” Jinx says, “were you when you kissed her?”

It’s sometimes the bitterest pill to swallow. She can say she was not in her right mind. Dismiss her actions as those of a woman mad with grief. But she wanted to kiss Vi. She wanted to kiss her for so long. To feel the cut in Vi’s lips against her own, to feel what it felt like to have Vi’s arms around her. Not out of pity but out of desire. And they were, they were around her and then Caitlyn had to go and ruin everything. 

“Do you love her?” 

The words make her freeze. 

Jinx waits until she is crouched in front of the cell with the tray to ask. Vi is alive, healing. Caitlyn tells herself it’s security that drives her down here to deliver the tray. It’s been a hard day so she lets herself have the excuse. 

“Why would I answer that?” Caitlyn demands, “why would I talk about my feelings with you?”

Jinx considers her. 

“You keep coming down here,” she points out, “you didn’t even say if Vi had surgery today.” 

Caitlyn strongly dislikes being called out. But Jinx is not wrong. She does keep coming down here. She doesn’t even tell herself it’s because she’s concerned about someone poisoning Jinx. She barely touches the food except when she’s threatened with force feedings. 

“I want to know if there’s a person in you,” she says. 

“No,” Jinx replies. 

“No?” 

“She chose me,” Jinx says, “you’re trying to figure out why because you hate me.” 

Anger surges through her.

“You destroyed the Undercity and killed my mother! Of course I hate you!” Caitlyn shouts. 

The anger is blinding, but it’s unsatisfied. It doesn’t feel good to shout at this broken creature. She can cling to things like the law and intent all she wants. The fact is if Jinx was from a respectable family in Piltover a judge would call her insane and send her for treatment. 

“I kidnapped you.”

“What?” She looks at her.

“If we’re listing my crimes. I kidnapped you,” she draws on the ground, “I blew up my dad—“ her face tightens, “there are others,” she looks at Caitlyn, “Vi still chose me.” 

She’s back in that temple screaming at Vi. Hitting her. Leaving her. Like everyone leaves her. 

“Yes, alright. I hate that she chose you,” Caitlyn says before she can properly think. Jinx looks at her. Caitlyn doesn’t want to be here confessing things. But Vi is slowly dying up there. And Caitlyn cannot confess to her, “you’ve caused so much pain.”

“But she loves me,” Jinx says, “I was happy when she chose me but then I saw how unhappy she was without you,” Caitlyn feels sick, “she didn’t choose me completely. She chose you too. It just wasn’t enough for you. But she does love you.” 

Caitlyn presses her back against the wall. Somewhere she surely knew what Jinx is saying. Which means she’s right. It wasn’t enough. Vi never chooses anything in half measures and the fact she chose this to try it out—it stings. It feels like a betrayal. It isn’t and Caitlyn hates that she knows that and her heart doesn’t care. 

“Everything she did, she did it for you,” Jinx continues, “that’s what Vi does. She’ll go to the ends of the earth for the people she loves,” her eyes peer at Caitlyn’s through a mess of blue hair, “it’s hard to be loved like that.”

Caitlyn feels her throat go tight but she shoves the feeling back. 

They both know Jinx is right. 

“It’s an eating day,” Caitlyn announces as she pushes the tray through the slot. Jinx gives her an annoyed look, “it’s been two days. You know what will happen.”

Jinx sighs and picks up the sandwich. On days when she eats her energy perks back. She’s more talkative, more alert. Caitlyn likes those days because it is much easier to hate her on them. She looks down at the water Jinx has used to paint things. Much to her shock, she recognizes something.

“Is that Jayce’s old studio?”

“No,” Jinx says, “that’s just some guy we robbed,” her brows knit together, “when everything went wrong.”

“When you blew it up!” Caitlyn says. Jinx pauses and for the first time looks intrigued, “I was there!”

“You were?”

“Yes! The door was jammed. We couldn’t open it,” her mind is spinning, “you—Vi was there?” Jinx nods slowly. Caitlyn tries to think back to that hallway. She remembers the sounds of people scrambling and the muttered voices, “I dropped something.”

“So did I,” Jinx laments, “after we heard you.”

“You heard me,” Caitlyn repeats. 

Jinx gives her a halfhearted annoyed look. Caitlyn knows she’s repeating things but she cannot help it. Vi was on the other side of that door. She presses her fingertips to her lips. Tries to imagine what Vi may have looked like at that age. Her stomach twists when she realizes the rocket Jinx fired at her mother was not the only time she tried to blow up someone Caitlyn loved. The familiar anger is acidic in her mouth but it’s more vinegar than bile. 

Because Vi was there too. 

And slowly Caitlyn is realizing that may matter more. 

The day Vi starts to wake up is the worst day of Caitlyn’s life. 

She knows it does not happen all at once. It’s a gradual process. But it’s hell. She cannot kick the doctors out. She does not know what to do. She can only watch as they remove tubes and try to cajole a response from Vi. Vi struggles and makes the most horrible sounds that cut through Caitlyn’s defenses. It hurts so much to see she practically flees down to Jinx’s cell. 

“What happened?” Jinx is instantly at the bars.

“She’s waking up,” Caitlyn chokes out. 

“Okay? Why do you look like that?” Jinx questions, “Is she okay?” 

“She’s fine, she’s in pain,” she says. Jinx rolls her eyes like Caitlyn has just said the stupidest thing she’s ever heard. Maybe it is. Vi is always in some kind of pain, “I don’t like seeing her in pain.” 

“Me neither but you look wrecked,” Jinx observes. 

“I—“ Caitlyn stops. Collects herself. Jinx sighs and shakes her head. 

“You’re not going to do anything about it.”

“That’s not true!”

“You think when she wakes up its gonna be sunshine and roses?” She shakes her head, “Vi’s going to yell at you and scare you off. Just don’t hit her this time she’s still healing.” 

“How dare you!” Caitlyn glares. 

“I’m not the one who hit her,” she says. 

Caitlyn can scarcely believe her ears. Jinx has done so much worse. Nearly killed her more times than she can count. Caitlyn knows she has made terrible mistakes but this is different. Surely it is different. They are not comparable. 

You sound like her

 Only one of them flooded the Undercity with drugs. 

You sound like her

Hurt Vi

You sound like her

It’s her blood in your veins!

Caitlyn’s back hits the wall. 

“You sound like her,” the words slip out of her mouth, “that’s why I’m here. You sound like her.”

Jinx moves over and places herself in the corner closest to Caitlyn. It’s only a wall that separates them. In another world perhaps it is her in the cell and Jinx is the one who prevents all of this. Maybe then Vi gets to be happy. 

“You love her, don’t you?”

Caitlyn nods, though she knows Jinx cannot see her. She cannot say those words to her first. No matter how human she has become as they both wait for Vi to wake up. 

“What if she chooses me again?” Jinx asks. 

“I don’t know,” Caitlyn says.

“Will you still love her?”

Caitlyn wishes this was not a real question. Then she feels like a fool for realizing it will always be a facet of whatever it is between them. It is Jinx’s blood flowing through her veins. And Caitlyn has reflected her actions in every scream of grief. They have both brought Vi to this place. 

“Yes,” Caitlyn whispers. 

“What if you mess it up again?” Jinx asks. 

“I’m a Kiramman,” Caitlyn snaps, “we don’t fail.” 

Something sets in Jinx’s eyes. She considers Caitlyn for a long moment and then gets to her feet. 

“I’m not going to talk to you anymore,” Jinx says and walks to the far corner. “Next time you come down here it should be to kill me,” she says. 

Vi wakes up properly. 

And everything changes. 

Chapter Text

“I’m sorry,” the doctor who has indulged her so much says, “if it were any other circumstances—“

“No,” Caitlyn stops him.

What is a bribe if there is nowhere to spend it?

Ambessa’s ships have been arriving consistently. They loom in the harbor, a threat and a promise. No merchant ship would dare to enter their waters and risk her wrath. And hers means so much more than Cailtyns. No merchants means no supplies. No supplies means that whatever patients can be cared for by loved ones need to be moved. Taken home. 

“She is stable and waking up,” he says, “it will continue to be a process. Your father—‘

“We will manage,” Caitlyn says, “when do I need to move her?”

“Today?”

She is not ready for that.

She is not ready to have this still creature who was once Vi come back to her home. Come back painted in all of Caitlyn’s sins and just be there until she’s strong enough to tell Caitlyn what a monster she is. For all the longing for Vi’s voice drove her to feed Jinx, she does not know how she is going to handle hearing it from her. 

“Alright,” she says instead, “let me dress her.”

Vi exists in some kind of twilight state. She sleeps most of the day. All of the day actually. Occasionally her grey eyes will slit open. Caitlyn does not know what she sees but she tries to stay out of view. She makes more noises though. Groans and pained whimpers that cut through Caitlyns core. All the time she spent wishing Vi would let her in and she cannot bear to see this pain. 

She really is a coward. 

There is a bag she has ready to go for Vi. It has money, clothes, some provisions. Enough to get her around the Undercity. Caitlyn has her sizes from her putting on the blue gear. She’s gotten things that are comfortable but not prison clothes. Though Caitlyn knows it would be easier to put her back in those loose striped pants. 

Or it would be if Caitlyn hadn’t burned them. 

Instead she picks up the black pants Vi has been living in. She has no idea what she paid for them but what it cost to get them clean made even her housekeeper gasp. Caitlyn doesn’t care. They are one of the only two garments Vi owns. She can do nothing but she can clean her stupid snug pants. 

Caitlyn works underwear up Vi’s legs and the pants on top of that. All practical, comfortable garments that mirror what Vi was wearing as best she can. She’s paid people to continue moving Vi’s limbs while she’s unconscious. The loss of muscle mass has been minimal. It keeps Vi looking like herself. 

It also makes pulling the pants up her legs hard. Not just because VI’s lets are all muscle but because Vi is all bulk.

Caitlyn manages anyway, working the pants up as high as she can. Then she has to slide her hand under the small of Vi’s back and get them the rest of the way up. Caitlyn sometimes feels as though she knows Vi’s body better than her own now. 

She hates that most of all. 

This is not how she wanted to learn it. Not with Vi laying here carrying the weight of all her sins. She wanted to be let in. To build that gentle trust between them until Vi never said anything like ‘oil and water’ ever again. Instead she managed to destroy it. Even before Vi left. 

It’s hard being loved like that

Jinx’s voice echoes in her ears. She hates the truth in her words. Vi loves with her entire soul. Carelessly, recklessly, blindly. Caitlyn has no idea where she gets the bravery from. It’s hard and it hurts an in the end it comes down to the choice of hiding from it or stepping into it. Trying to reciprocate it. Not being afraid of failing to reciprocate it.

What do you shoot for Kiramman?

Flat grey eyes are open.

They look at her and Caitlyn has no idea if they can see her. Given Vi has not bolted up from the bed and started telling her what a monster she is, she has a feeling they cannot. It doesn’t make it any easier to be caught in their orbit though. Do you hide from love or do you try to love the sun?

“Your pants are tight,” she says. Because Vi does not do small talk, “they are your pants, by the way.”

The grey eyes flutter closed and rationally Caitlyn knows its because of her injuries. Irrationally she finds it annoying. 

“If you’re trying to avoid having to wear a shirt, I’m sorry to say you’re out of luck,” she continues. 

The top is designed cleverly with a few snaps that can lay it flat open. However, the design flaw is apparent in that Caitlyn has to lean over Vi to pull it under her shoulders. This time though when her hands brush Vi’s side, she feels her muscles tense in response. It’s the first time she’s felt anything like actual life from her in so long. She can’t quite stop the sharp inhale as she looks down at the pained look on Vi’s face.

“Shhh,” Caitlyn has not soothed anyone since the grade school girls bathroom when boys broke their hearts, “you’re safe.”

“W—“ Vi tries to get the word out through dry lips. 

“Jinx is safe, she’s with us,” she knows Vi will not remember this. She just has to pray it goes through whatever fear is trying to wake her up, “I’m going to take you home.” 

None of that seems to make Vi feel better enough to relax. Caitlyn can see the heart rate monitor start to pick up. Distress. It’s normal as she wakes, but Caitlyn knows in her bones she’s the cause of this particular time. More than all the others. Before her mind can say why this is not a good idea, Caitlyn does the only thing she can think of. 

She strokes the back of her knuckles down Vi’s cheek. 

The effect is so instant Caitlyn half thinks she made up the previous moment. Vi lets out a shuddering breath and turns her face towards the side Caitlyn stroked. Caitlyn hesitates only a moment before repeating the gesture, trying to do it as gently as possible but also making sure Vi can feel it in her fog. A soft sound spills from her lips as she again tries to follow. So Caitlyn flattens her palm against her cheek entirely. 

“Ca-it,” Vi sighs her name. 

Like she’s been dreaming of this. 

Caitlyn saw the way Vi looked when she worked up the courage to touch her. It made her want to never stop. She wanted to touch Vi gently until the surprised, longing look in her eyes went away. Until those touches were so normal they barely registered. 

Of course Vi would be dreaming about that.

She loves you.

What if she chooses me again?

“I love you,” she blurts out, “Jinx loves you—you are so loved,” she tells the sleeping woman, “right now you need to sleep so I can take you home. Just sleep.” 

Vi’s breath hitches but she relaxes as Caitlyn strokes the skin under her eye. Caitlyn keeps her hand there as she pulls the folds of Vi’s top gently over her torso and tries to fit the snaps together. They are sturdy though. She trails her fingers along Vi’s skin. Vi lets out a deep breath as sleep takes her back away. Caitlyn fits the snaps together and sits back. 

Carefully she reaches out and pulls Vi’s plait free. The unshaved side of her hair has gotten so long. Caitlyn thinks to cut it but stops herself every time. Most of the time she knew Vi, her hair was not her choice. When she came back it was clear it hadn’t been cut. Without the stiffness of the greasepaint thee was enough to pull back. Then to plait into a braid. The first time Caitlyn had seen it her heart lurched at the familiarity. But now it suits her. 

For safety they transport her with medical support. 

It’s hard to see her limp again, mask over her mouth and nose, monitors beeping. The bandages she’s kept on her forearms now snake higher, making sure the tubes stay in place. Only the sight of the street clothes Vi wears keep Caitlyn grounded. She is home and they will deal with whatever comes next. 

“Where are we taking her?” 

“My room,” Caitlyn orders.

If they have any thoughts on the matter they say nothing. Caitlyn follows them into her room. What she is not expecting is to see her father standing on her bed. He’s been a shell of who he was. It’s a pain that Caitlyn cannot deal with at the moment. Has not been able to deal with. He flits in and out of rooms and her vision, opening his mouth but never fully getting out what he wants to say. 

“What are you doing?” Caitlyn asks. 

“They told me you were bringing her home,” he says, “you need somewhere to hang the fluids.”

“Yes,” she says, “but—“ 

What is she still doing here?!

What will you do if she chooses me?

“Ma’m—“ one of the medics interrupts her fumbling mind. 

“Put her here,” her father says, motioning them in. 

She watches as they move forward with more confidence than she has seen. Confidence because a doctor is motioning them forward. Her father directs them like it’s a second nature. Like he has not been listless this whole time. His practiced hands follow the tubing and inspect the ports. He treats her like any other patient and it is both infuriating and heartwarming. When he is satisfied he turns to Caitlyn. 

“Why?” Caitlyn asks finally, “you said she doesn’t belong here.” 

Shame crosses her father’s face. Her father is not a Kiramman by blood, he’s one by marriage. Respectable family but not one of equal stature. Caitlyn had never noticed how people looked at him until she was older. She had never planned on falling in love anyway so it was never something she cared to think about. Now she stands in front of her bed with the pair of them and wonders how her mother must have felt all those years ago. 

Of all the people in the room, the only one who truly belongs in the house is her. 

She will fight him if he tries to say otherwise. 

“Yes,” he says, “I was cruel.”

The fight slides out of her. She was cruel. They have both been cruel. Careless. She walks over to him and puts a hand on his shoulder. Her father lets out a breath and wipes at his face. Only then does Caitlyn realize he’s trimmed his beard. 

“I’m going to keep the medics visiting when they can,” she says, “but when they can’t—“

“Whatever you need,” he agrees. Caitlyn nods her thanks, “did you—talk?”

“No,” Caitlyn says. Her father gives her a look, “No! She’s been unconscious.” 

He waits a moment. Caitlyn thinks he’s not going to speak. 

“She would be furious you had a girl in your room.” 

The wound of her mother pulls. But it doesn’t reopen with the same agony. For the first time Caitlyn almost feels like smiling at the thought. Of course she’s snuck girls into her room before. And her mother has been livid because you’ll get a reputation, Caitlyn. It’s always been her father who caves more easily. Caved more easily. Tobias! It is not funny! It’s her house now, she can bring in whoever she wants.  

“She would be just as upset you let me do it,” she says glancing up at the hook. 

Her father waves his hand. 

“I’ll go make tea.” 

Caitlyn approaches the bed. The drapes have changed, they do with the seasons, but it’s easy to remember Vi sprawled out on her covers. Complimenting her work. The bed is huge, big enough for many people. But Vi’s presence is the only thing that matters in it. Caitlyn sits on the edge and contents herself with watching for a long moment. 

What if she chooses me?

“I don’t care,” she says aloud. 

“About what?”

Shit, the tea. 

Caitlyn tries to smile at her father like she hasn’t been talking to the ghost of her mother’s murderer. Vi bears all of Caitlyn’s sins and Caitlyn feels the weight of that. But somewhere under thee is still a knot of anger. Of hurt. One that lays dormant but Caitlyn knows is not gone. She thinks of Mel and wonders if she also had her mother burning somewhere in her. But those women are not in this room. 

“I’ve been visiting Jinx,” she says, looking down at the tea, “it was the right thing to do,” she says firmly, cutting off any protest he might give. Then she continues softer, “She asked me what I would do if Vi chose her again.”

She does not expect a response from him. She doesn’t know why she’s telling him this. Maybe she’s using him to test out the conversation. He’s safe. If he slips away Caitlyn knows she can keep him alive. Here. She immediately tastes acid n her mouth at the realization and quickly sips the tea. It’s so hot it burns but that gives her something to focus on. 

“I’ve been going over family finances to keep busy,” he says. Caitlyn feels her ears burn, even though it’s her money. She can do whatever she wants. But numbers have always comforted her father. She doesn’t need to justify her actions, “you built an entire prison in a month.”

Words like bureaucracy and tradition had been thrown around when Caitlyn was presented with the blueprints of Stillwater. So she did the only thing she could think and built a new prison. Nearby. Still a prison, still hell, but one that had things conductive to human life. One where people were locked up but did not rot as nameless, faceless numbers in the bowls. 

“The infrastructure was already there,” she dismisses. 

“What I’m trying to say is I don’t think her choice matters.”

Caitlyn sees red and shifts, blocking Vi from her father. 

“Of course her choice matters,” she says, trying to keep her voice down, “how could you say something so—so—“ she fumbles for how horrible the words sound, “cruel.”

Her father watches her calmly. His calmness cuts through her. He watches her like he knows her. Like she’s still Caitlyn somewhere under the authority and pain. It makes her feel small. It doesn’t matter. She will not let him say such cruel things about Vi. Even if he is her father and she loves him dearly. She will protect her. The corners of his lips quirk up and confuse her further. 

“Your mother would kill me,” he says.

“Why?” Caitlyn dares. 

“She always said if you brought a girl you loved home you had to stay in separate rooms until you were properly engaged.”

Do you love her?

I love you

Everything in Caitlyn’s chest seizes and unravels. Refits itself around the new truth that burns there. Yes she hates Jinx, yes she wants Vi to choose her. Yes Vi wears all of her sins and the guilt chokes at her when she looks at her sometimes. It hurts to be loved like Vi loves. 

What will you do if she chooses me?

I don’t think the choice matters. 

Caitlyn knows she will spend the rest of her days trying to be worthy of that blinding love. 

No matter what Vi chooses. 

Her father picks up the tea cup and touches her shoulder. But all Caitlyn can do is stare at Vi. With her lone braid an infuriatingly tight pants and heart that is bigger than anything Caitlyn has experienced. Even the memory of her love makes Caitlyn want to try. Need to try. Just try. 

“Let’s not tell her when we visit,” he suggests. 

In Noxus we don’t talk to the dead. 

“No,” she agrees, “not yet.”  

Chapter Text

Vi, rightfully, is furious. 

She wakes spitting venom and lashing out. Caitlyn has tried very, very hard not to think about the moment Vi is fully cognizant. She is certain Vi is going to yell at her, probably about Jinx. She’s just not sure which part of it she’s going to yell about. But Vi zeros in and spits about the arrest. And even though Caitlyn has sworn she is not going to rise to the bait, the arrest is the one thing she did not do. Caitlyn has enough of her own sins Vi can yell about. Caitlyn snaps and Vi snarls and then she just—just leaves. Leaving Caitlyn with an ache in her chest and a low in her gut that screams for something more. 

Caitlyn ignores the urge firmly. 

Until she needs something from her room. 

Part of her prays Vi is going to be gone when she gets there. It’s only a matter of time before she flees. Caitlyn knew she would look at her with hatred when she woke up. She knew but it’s like anticipating a stab. The anticipation makes it hurt all the more. She needs to relax into the pain. Breathe into it. She’s had a long time to drink in Vi. To memorize her scars an features, to think on her actions. Vi has been unconscious the entire time. They are on different levels . Again. At one point that was her worst fear when it came to Vi. Now the image of her body washed in antiseptic with machines breathing for her is permanently brand by behind her eyes. It still aches when she opens the door and the room is predictably empty. The only sign anyone was here is the dangling tube Vi ripped out of her arm. 

“Shit—“

But not the bathroom. 

“Shit. Shit--“ the swearing continues, low and angry. Caitlyn hears the toilet paper spin through the door, “fuck.”

“Vi,” she raps on the door, “may I come in?”

“No!” the answer is snarled though the door. 

“No?” Caitlyn repeats, “Vi, the bleeding is not going to stop,” the toilet paper roll stops spinning, “it’s me or my father. Which do you want?”

What is she still doing here?

“Fine!” 

Caitlyn opens the door easily. Vi is standing in front of the toilet closet, ball of toilet paper in her hand. There’s red spotted paper everywhere. Red across Vi’s stomach. Caitlyn has sworn things will go slow, she will give Vi everything she needs. But her heart clenches at the splatter and before she can stop herself she’s in front of Vi, shoving her shirt up to check the bandage. Vi jumps back at the touch like Caitlyn has burned her. All the fears Caitlyn had about being the one to touch her come roaring back as Vi puts several steps between them. Her face is twisted, lip curled. She looks like a snarl made human. 

“Sorry,” Caitlyn says quickly, “I thought—“

“I didn’t tear those!” Vi snarls, “I’m not that useless.”

“I never said that!” Caitlyn shoots back. 

“Your face did!” Her tone pitches in volume, “I guess you were too busy arresting my sister!”

“She surrendered!” Caitlyn screams right back. 

“I bet you just loved that!” Vi continues, ignoring Caitlyn’s very fair point, “how many wet dreams have you had about her surrendering?!” Caitlyn reels with the accusation and something cruel sparks in Vi’s eyes, “So you got your satisfaction because Caitlyn Kiramman always gets what she wants in the end and us Undercity scum are just left following in your wake!” 

Caitlyn screams. 

She can’t help it. t’s like she’s been holding her breath this entire time. Maybe since her mother died. Certainly she’s been holding it while Vi lays and dies, while she brings endless trays to Jinx and tries to sort out the entire mess she’s gotten them into. She’s reshaped the world with her grief, brought them to the brink of war. And somehow that is easier to reconcile than the helplessness of watching Vi lay there. Of hearing the truths from Jinx’s lips. It rips from her chest in one brutal noise that echoes around the bathroom. 

She hasn’t screamed in here since Jinx clawed her fingers around her mouth and cut the sound off. 

This one just echoes around the vast space. Over the blood soaked tissues and the woman in front of her who Caitlyn loves but doesn’t love her back. Who thinks she is horrible and doesn’t know that Caitlyn has been fighting her way back this entire time. That the mere memory of Vi’s love is enough to carry her through. But she cannot say that. She cannot force the apology from her lips so she just howls. 

She grips the lip of the sink afterwards, panting like she’s run for miles. Like they are back on that battlefield and she is dragging Vi away. She is vaguely aware of Vi standing there staring at her. She drags her eyes up to the mirror. Vi’s remain locked on her. Confusion has wiped across the rage. Whatever response she was expecting from Caitlyn, apparently her screaming was not it. Caitlyn tries to collect herself as Vi watches her in confusion. Unsure of what to do. Of course she is unsure, it’s the first time she’s been upright for any stretch of time. Caitlyn does not know how she is standing. The blood loss is not helping matters. 

“I apologize,” she says, collecting herself, “you’re right. May I see your arm?”

Vi thrusts it out wordlessly. Probably to get out of the bathroom as quickly as she possibly can. Caitlyn doesn’t blame her. Vi has angrily ripped out the catheter. Caitlyn’s actions have once again torn at her. Caitlyn guides her elbow over to the sink and opens the medicine cabinet to pull out the hemostatic gauze. Things go almost automatic. She places it on the crook of Vi’s elbow and curls her arm around it. It’s like moving automatically as she undoes the wrist brace with one hand and puts it aside to wipe clean. She wets regular paper and wipes the blood from Vi’s wrist, careful not to get anything else wet. 

Then she remembers Vi is watching her. 

“Sorry—“

“Stop apologizing,” Vi cuts her off, “you—seem better at this,” her eyes narrow, “Ambessa give you time to have hobbies?”

“My father is a doctor,” she reminds Vi. 

“Bullshit, I’ve seen your patch jobs, Cupcake,” she says, “this is new.”

Caitlyn checks the pad, pleased with the progress before she returns he hand to Vi’s elbow to keep it up.  Instead of the smooth, familiar skin of Vi’s elbow, her hand meets Vi’s own. That snaps her back into the present. Vi is awake. She can hold up her own elbow. Caitlyn has just gone on automatic given how many times she has cleaned Vi up. Vi is considering something. Her eyes drag around the bathroom and she peers over Caitlyn’s shoulder. The entire time her elbow remains around the gauze, arm lifted above her heart. Her eyes lock onto Caitlyns.

“You’ve been taking care of me?” 

“Yes,” Caitlyn says, “I’m sorry I know this was an overstep. I wanted to make you as comfortable as possible. You’ve been under the care of doctors. Not my father.” 

“And this?” She says, jerking her head to the bandage. 

“I thought you wouldn’t like a stranger touching you. Or you would like that less than if I did,” Caitlyn says, “we worked together,” she tries to justify, “so I thought I was the better option.” 

Vi looks away. Caitlyn hates that she cannot look at her. All this time she only wanted Vi’s eyes to be open. Now she wishes desperately they could look at her. What right does she have to want anything from Vi? She turns to the wrist brace and focuses on wiping it clean. She can do this at least. While Vi gathers her strength to yell at her like Caitlyn deserves. She dries the brace with one of the cloths by the sink and offers it to Vi. She can ask someone else for help. Then she can come back and yell some more. Caitlyn can at least let her have that. 

Vi offers her wrist instead. 

“Yeah, you’re right,” she says quietly, “I would have hated that.” 

Caitlyn focuses only on Vi’s wrist as she tries to do the brace up without touching her. Vi’s arm wiggles and she immediately flattens her hand along the join, supporting it. Like when Vi was limp. She looks up to see something satisfied on Vi’s face at the contact. Caitlyn feels her own face get hot as she tuns back to the wrist in her hand, easing the brace on it and doing it up. Vi straightens her arm fully and lets Caitlyn wind the gauze the rest of the way around the injury. 

“Why?” Vi blurts out abruptly, catching Caitlyn off guard, “I was unconscious, why did what I want matter?” 

She’ll go to the ends of the earth for the people she loves. 

“What you want always matters,” she says, “I know I haven’t been the best at showing you that lately. For that I am sorry.” 

Vi stares at her in total confusion. Suddenly everything between them seems to fall away. It’s like they are back in the bedroom, Vi in her red jack and her in her purple dress. Vi is staring at her like she has reached into a place she did not even know existed. It sends a warm feeling through Caitlyn’s chest. Surprising someone as brave as Vi, someone who tries to plan for the worst case in every scenario. But still tries anyway. Caitlyn’s never impressed anyone like that, not in a way that means something. Vi doesn’t leave the bathroom when Caitlyn finishes. Instead she joins her next to the sink. They both lean against it silently, but close enough to feel Vi’s warmth. 

“So that scream—

“I don’t know what that was,” Caitlyn starts.

“How long you been holding that in?” Vi asks. 

Caitlyn sighs. 

“Probably since my mother’s funeral,” she admits. 

Vi nods. 

The feel of her thigh next to hers catches Caitlyn off guard. Vi doesn’t look at her, doesn’t acknowledge that she’s moved closer. But something warm curls through her belly. She has spent so long touching Vi in a practical way. A chaste way. Now Vi is not limp, not choiceness. And she chooses to press her thigh to Caitlyns. To stand next to her in the bathroom. Instead of doing what she wants to do and run off to see her sister. Some part of her wants to be here with Caitlyn. 

What will you do if she chooses me?

It’s hard to be loved like that.

“That’s a long time,” Vi says finally. 

Caitlyn nods. Vi opens her mouth and then closes it, blowing out a breath. The question hovering. 

“She’s as fine as I’ve seen her,” Caitlyn says, “I got her to eat every third day at minimum. We talked.”

Vi’s eyes go wide and hungry. 

“You talked?” She says, “with words?”

“Yes,” Caitlyn says. 

Vi looks like she cannot comprehend what is being said. 

“Bullshit,” she says but there’s no anger there, “what did you talk about?”

She loves you.

Do you love her?

Will you still love her?

“How your sister almost blew me up when I ruined your job in Jayce’s lab,” she says instead. 

“Wait, what?!”

Caitlyn inclines her head. Vi’s disbelief mirrors her own. It helps given how annoyed Jinx looked. Apparently she is not the only one who cannot wrap her head around the idea. Surely the pair of them have to be right and Jinx is just—too smart for her own good. Vi turns fully towards her, breaking the contact and staring at her in disbelief. But she knows exactly what she is talking about. Caitlyn can practically see her flipping though her memories, trying to pinpoint the moment. 

“I dropped something from a box.”

A surprised laugh leaves Vi’s lips. A sound Caitlyn wasn’t sure if she would ever hear again. Especially with her speaking. She can see the recognition plain on Vi’s face. Recognition and warmth and something more. Something Caitlyn can’t quite put her finger on. But something she wants to see more of in those alert grey eyes.

“That was you?” She nods, “you scared the crap out of me, Cupcake,” Vi says. 

The nickname cuts through Caitlyn’s core Cupcake. She likes it so much when Vi calls her Cupcake now. She really is turning into such a sap. Caitlyn knows it has nothing to do with the nickname. It has to do with the way Vi’s eyes light when she says it, the way her mouth twists like she’s proud of thinking of it. 

“Then I guess we’re even,” she says. Vi goes silent. Considers her with those sharp grey eyes of hers, “About that an—“

Vi touches her knee. 

“Yeah,” Vi cuts in, “think we’re even.”

She will never, ever be worthy of this love. 

But she will spend the rest of her life trying to be. 

“I need to go take care of some things,” she says getting to her feet. 

Vi watches her with some confusion. Caitlyn hates to break the contact. But she knows her time is running out. Vi trails her out of the bathroom and watches as she goes into the closet and puts a fresh shirt in front of her. Vi is already in her boots. Caitlyn goes to the door. Everything in her wants to stay in that room with Vi gently touching her knee. But this is not about what she wants. She has taken enough. Vi would willingly give her the world without a second thought. Caitlyn refuses to let that happen. 

“I know it may be too soon to speak about the upcoming battle,” she says, “but if you need to find me I will be at the Hexgate with all the guards.”

Vi inhales sharply. 

“When will you be back?” She asks, voice tight. 

“I don’t know,” Caitlyn says. 

She reaches into the bedside drawer and produces a small bottle of white tablets, placing them on the table next to Vi. 

“These should help with the pain if you are moving around too much,” she says.

She walks to the door.

Vi’s eyes are hot on her neck. There is so much Caitlyn wants to say. So much she wants to repeat. She wants to tell Vi everything, make her understand the answer to Jinx's question has always been 'I will love you anyway'. But this is not about her. And Vi has given enough. So Caitlyn gathers up the part of her that wants to beg Vi to please not go far. Or to please come back. Or to please stay, since she just got here. Since Caitlyn loves her more than she knew she could. But right now that is not what Vi needs. She needs what some part of her has always needed. She needs to go get her sister. 

"Don't pull or lift anything heavy," she says instead, "nothing more than opening a door."

Then she opens her own and walks away. 

Chapter Text

Looking at Vi alone in the cell, it occurs to Caitlyn that she never gave any thought why Jinx was talking to her. 

Only Jinx had asked. 

Caitlyn has pushed past a lot but pleasantries with Jinx is something she doubts she would ever engage in. But the fact that it never even occurred to to ask makes her feel incredibly foolish. It’s something so basic any proper detective would have asked it. Caitlyn knows she has climbed the ranks unfairly. To the point where she is now in charge of an entire police force. Any of the men and women she commands would ask. Or consider it. But Caitlyn never had. 

She was studying her. 

Not as a target, for all Jinx has tried to kill her Caitlyn knows it was circumstantial. Not intentional. She is the one who hunted Jinx down, not the other way around. She has studied Jinx. Now Jinx has studied her. Caitlyn knew she was divulging too much, but they were just her feelings. Nothing that seemed actually useful at the time. Now as she looks at Vi with her head against the wall and fresh bruises on her knuckles, the truth hits her like a thunderclap. 

Jinx was studying her to see if she was worthy of Vi. 

Suitors would kill to marry into Hose Kiramman. People have been dropping hints to her parents about what a great match their children would be since before Caitlyn was born. Her interest in law enforcement, her shooting, all of those were mere blemishes in the face of the name Kiramman. Now she has the riches. Caitlyn could ask for anything she wanted in return for her hand in marriage. Anything. Jinx and Vi have nothing more than the clothes on their backs and a handful of weapons. And yet Jinx studied her. Judged her. Determined in her own twisted way if she was going to treat her sister right. 

“I choose wrong every time,” Vi chokes out miserably, her fingers thumping against the wall. 

How many times did she and Jinx sit here and talk about Vi’s choice?

“And because of it, I’ve lost everyone.”

She chose us. 

What will you do if she chooses me?

Her choice does not matter.

I love you.

I love you.

You are so loved.

Vi grips the back of her neck. Her muscles tremble and Caitlyn’s own fingers ache at the sight of her raw knuckles. She’s miserable and trembling and so, so wrong. Caitlyn cannot blame her. She can only slip the key into the lock and enter the cell. So much has changed, the thing Vi wishes would not happen. Caitlyn knows a few months ago she would have probably said what Vi accuses her of wanting to say. But now she glances over and sees the half sandwich and cup of water Jinx left separate from the other food. They have been placed by her cot. So Vi would not get hungry while she waited for Caitlyn. 

A snack. 

Because she knew Caitlyn would not make her wait long. 

Caitlyn leans against the wall next to her. Mirroring their positions back in the bathroom. She swears this time she will not scream no matter if Vi tries to pick a fight. She can see the tension written across Vi’s shoulders. Even as the misery drags her down. Misery and, Caitlyn imagines, a measure of pain. Even though she left her the good painkillers, the ones her father advised her to use sparingly and only if Vi woke up in agony. At least there is no blood on her shirt. 

“You really think I needed all the guards at the hexgates?” Caitlyn inquires. Vi stiffens and tuns with a surprised look. A rush of affection goes through Caitlyn, settling low in her belly when Vi blows out a surprised breath, “sorry to say,” Caitlyn teases, “you’ve grown a bit predictable.”

Vi stares at her uncomprehending for a moment and Caitlyn wonders which of them is the bigger fool. 

Then Vi wraps a hand around her neck and Caitlyn doesn’t wonder anything at all. 

Vi’s mouth is hot and rough against her own. She kisses like a drowning woman sucking in a lungful of air, like Caitlyn is the only real thing in the world. It is everything Caitlyn has dreamed of. Vi caresses her through her clothes and tells her she doesn’t fucking care when Caitlyn names another of her mistakes. She just wants her. With the same intensity that burns though Caitlyn every time Vi looks at her. How did she ever walk away from this? Vi kisses the underside of her jaw, pushing up on her toes to even the heigh difference. Caitlyn knows they will have to leave this cell eventually but she prays Vi will never stop. 

Then Vi pushes the jacket off her shoulders. 

Caitlyn’s head spins between hot presses of Vi’s lips. She was ready for Vi to panic being down here in a cell. Jinx was too from the looks of the snack she left. If there is any panic Vi does not show it as she pulls Caitlyn closer. Kisses her harder. Presses fingers Caitlyn has dreamed one day touching her against far too much fabric. 

Then Vi’s fingers brush under the hem of her shirt. 

Suddenly nothing matters more than taking her top off and leveling things. Vi’s fingers reach after her as she steps back and tugs the sweater off. Her grey eyes widen as she drinks her in. Color rises across her cheeks as her throat woks. Caitlyn stands under her gaze, letting her eyes roam and reminding herself that even though it was under different circumstances, she has seen so much more of Vi’s body than Vi has seen of hers. 

She steps forward and reaches for the snaps of Vi’s top. Vi’s breath catches and something unsure flickers in her eyes, but she holds still as Caitlyn undoes the snaps. She lets Caitlyn guide the shirt from her shoulders, moving them with her as she eases the top down. The fabric falls to the ground and Caitlyn just looks. She drinks in all the facets of Vi’s appearance. It’s like seeing her naked for the first time. Because now Caitlyn can want her. The attraction she’s pushed aside comes roaring back as she traces the planes of Vi’s body with her eyes and reaches to do the same with her fingers. They hesitate on the wound that almost took her. 

VI catches her wrist instead and pulls them back together. 

I love you

Pushes her against the wall. 

You are so loved

Fumbles with her pants. Caitlyn cannot remember who invented pants but they are a terrible, terrible person.

Then Vi’s pushing her up and opening her pants and touching her bare hip with her calloused hands. Tracing her way to where Caitlyn aches while Caitlyn clutches at her shoulders to stay still. Caitlyn sees stars as her fingers bury themselves where she aches the most. 

All Caitlyn can do is dig her nails into Vi’s tattoo and feel her muscles work as she shoves down what remains of Caitlyn’s clothes. Work as they curl inside her. It’s the hottest fucking thing. She almost cries when Vi’s shoulders slip from her fingers as starts to go lower. Then she realizes where Vi is going. Looking up at her with those hazy grey eyes. There is something, something Caitlyn knows she is supposed to remember. Something important. But she cannot remember. All she can remember is that she swore she was not going to scream. 

Vi makes her a liar with the first press of her tongue. 

The ledge is the only thing keeping her upright as Vi’s tongue does wicked, wonderful things that make Caitlyn cry out into the recess of the cell. Vi ducks her shoulders under her knees and Caitlyn forgets everything. The war, Jinx, her own name. Everything except the way Vi’s calloused hands stroke her thighs and her mouth finds the spot that makes Caitlyn moan her name. Vi brings her to her peak and works he through it as Caitlyn goes taut and then boneless against the wall, cushioned only against Vi.

No heavy lifting

“Vi,” she pants as Vi kisses the crease of her thigh. Vi hums against her skin, “Vi,” she tries again but it is so hard to think with Vi’s mouth so close, “you’re hurt.”

“You gave me the good pain pills,” Vi breathes into her skin. Caitlyn huffs and bends her knees, removing Vi’s access to the skin she’s kissing. That at least gets her to look up, “Cupcake I’m fine.”

“Upstairs,” Caitlyn says. 

Vi sighs against her knee. She gets up slowly and Caitlyn immediately longs for he warmth. Especially as she slides on her pants. They dress quietly, quickly. Vi keeps glancing at her out of the corner of her eye but Caitlyn tries to focus on getting them out of the cell. They make their way over to the elevator and both of them are almost, almost breathing normally. Caitlyn thumbs the button and they wait together. Like she was planning. Vi brushes her hand against the back of Caitlyn’s. The first time she thinks it’s accidental, the next time it’s not. Caitlyn grabs her fingers and slots their hands together firmly but she does not look at Vi as the elevator makes its impossibly long decent. The doors open and Vi hesitates before stepping in after her. The elevator is small, it’s not something designed for regular use. 

“Cait—“

Caitlyn has her against the wall in a way that will not jostle her stitches. Vi lets out a surprised, happy noise before her arms are back around Caitlyn’s waist. Caitlyn tastes herself on Vi’s mouth. She has to remind herself Vi is not in any shape to be fucked against the wall. Prison or otherwise. But Gods is that hard to remember when Vi’s had cups the back of her skull and her fingers skate down the side of her waist to the small of her back. Vi pulls her closer and wedges her knee between Caitlyn’s legs. 

“Bed,” she says as Vi kisses the undercuts of her jaw. 

“I’m good here,” Vi mumbles. 

“Vi,” she says but the exasperation she is aiming for comes out as a breathy moan. 

Thankfully the doors open before Vi has a chance to snap what is left of her self control. She staggers back out of the elevator with Vi trying to follow. Caitlyn does not remember much about getting to her bedroom. But they make it there with clothes on. Somehow. The moment they are through the doors Vi is shoving her jacket off her shoulders and easing off her turtleneck. Caitlyn catches the hem and takes it off. Vi gives her a questioning look and Caitlyn kisses away any doubts in her eyes. 

“Stitches,” she says against Vi’s lips. 

“I said I’m—” Vi starts but Caitlyn guides her hand to her bare chest and Vi stops talking after that. There will be plenty of time for Vi to take her top off when she can stretch up without risking tearing her stitches. Caitlyn does not want to stop for anything, especially that. “fuck,” Vi breathes as Caitlyn nudges her back to sit on the bed. Vi sits and Caitlyn puts herself between her legs, “Cait—“

“Cupcake,” Caitlyn says, if only to see the pride in Vi’s hazy eyes.

Instead Vi pulls her down and crushes their mouths together again. Vi tries to roll them but Caitlyn counters, keeping Vi underneath her. She pulls back and looks down at Vi. Vi who loves with her whole heart when the world has been so cruel. Vi who is beautiful and brave and wants her in the same way. Who lets Caitlyn drink her in and hover over her. Who sees past the monster Caitlyn became, even though Caitlyn has yet to properly explain. Vi just knows somehow. Caitlyn brushes her finger down the side of Vi’s cheek and her eyes slam shut, hips rocking against Caitlyn’s thigh. Caitlyn brings her knee up higher, firmer against Vi’s center. 

“Tell me where I can touch you,” she whispers against her lips. 

“Just—“ Vi sucks in a breath, “give me a sec—“

Her eyes open and stare up at Caitlyn. Fucking her in the cell was one thing. This is different. Caitlyn meets her gaze and lets Vi guide her hand to her cheek, her neck, down the front of her body. She rests Caitlyn’s hand against the edge of her pants and her eyes follow, as though she needs to confirm who is touching her. She looks back up at Caitlyn and nods. Caitlyn kisses her, tying to show her how much she loves her. She nips lightly at the scar that cups through Vi’s lip and Vi’s hips cant up again. Caitlyn finds the clasp of Vi’s pants and places her hand over her center. Vi’s fingers undo her hair and tangle in it. Caitlyn kisses each sound she makes until Vi is a trembling mess beneath her. 

“Fuck, Cait,” she says. Caitlyn hums lightly and lays on Vi’s good side. She brushes her fingers down her ribs towards the bandages and Vi laughs. A laugh Caitlyn can feel against her cheek, “Cait you gotta stop worrying, I’m fine—“ she cuts herself off with a hiss. 

Instantly Caitlyn is pushing herself up but Vi’s arm bands around her shoulder and pulls her back. 

“I’m just sore,” she says, “I can be sore.” 

“You don’t have to be,” Caitlyn starts. 

“Cupcake,” Vi cuts in, “let me be sore. It helps.” 

Caitlyn sighs but nods and settles back against Vi’s chest. It’s the first time since she brought her home that Vi has gotten a chance to be sore. Caitlyn can see it means something to her. She can respect her need for soreness. Vi catches her hand and laces their fingers together, bringing it to her chest. 

“I can feel you pouting,” she says. 

“I am not pouting,” Caitlyn protests trying to fix her expression. Vi chuckles and it echoes through Caitlyn’s cheek, “I don’t like it when you’re hurt.”

“But you’re so good at patching me up,” Vi says. Her hand skates across the back of Caitlyn’s neck, “did she—say anything to you about leaving?”

It’s not the kind of bedroom talk Caitlyn is used to. But this is Vi. Vi is unlike anyone she has had in her bedroom before. She shakes her head and meets Vi’s gaze. 

“Not directly,” she says. Vi gives her a questioning look, “she wanted to know what I would do if you chose her again.”

“What would you do?” Vi asks quietly. 

“Vi!” Caitlyn admonishes. Color splashes across Vi’s face but the unsure look doesn’t leave her eyes. Caitlyn knows she put it there. Caitlyn props her head up on her arm so she can look at Vi properly, “she asked if I meant it when I kissed you back then,” she says, “I’ve asked myself the same thing every time I tried to dismiss my actions as me not being in my right mind.”

Vi’s hand hesitates for a moment before it covers hers. A kindness Caitlyn knows she does not deserve. But she focuses on the feel of Vi’s calluses on the back of her palm as she tries to find the right words. 

“I wanted to kiss you,” she says. Vi’s breath catches, “I chose you and I was so angry when you chose her,” shame curls though her but Vi doesn’t remove her hand, “I wanted so badly for you to choose me.”

“And now?” Vi asks. 

“I want you to be happy,” Caitlyn says, “I think that means not making a choice between us.”

Vi’s eyes close and her breath catches. She turns her face into the mattress. Of all the things she’s expecting, it’s not for Vi to slide her fingers around Caitlyn’s hand. Caitlyn tries to keep her heart normal as she turns her palm so theirs are pressed together. Vi slots her fingers through each of Caitlyn’s digits and brings the hand under her chin. Vi is not one for softness. Not one for big declarations that do not come with pain. She walls herself off for protection. Caitlyn knows that. But nestled in those walls are their joined hands. Close enough for her to feel Vi’s artificially measured breaths as she packs her pain away. All Caitlyn can do is hold herself there and hope Vi can feel her sincerety through their palms. 

When she opens her eyes, the pain in them steals Caitlyn’s breath away. 

Without thinking she closes the space between them and slides her arm under Vi’s neck, pulling her down to her chest. Vi turns into her embrace, banding her free arm around Caitlyn’s shoulders. She just holds Vi with their joined hands trapped between their bodies. Vi doesn’t say a word but Caitlyn can feel her pain with every gesture. It’s a brutal embrace, but Caitlyn can hear the plea in it. Show me you’re here, show me you’re not going to leave me again when I need you. 

Caitlyn digs her fingers into the faded scars on Vi’s bicep and vows to hold her like this until she believes. 

Chapter Text

“They’ll be here tomorrow,” Caitlyn says quietly. 

Vi nods but does not look up from the bed. 

She hates the plan. Caitlyn hates it too, but she knows it is the right one. Possibly the only one. Ambessa wants her. Wants Mel. Vi intrigues her but they both know why. She would kill Vi to hurt Caitlyn. So she and Vi cannot be together on the battlefield. She thinks of all the times she fought Ambessa. Ambessa won every single one. Perhaps with Mel at her side it will be enough. Mel thinks so. But Caitlyn knows in her bones that this might be her last night on earth. There is only one place that she wants to be. Only one person she wants to be with. 

And that person cannot even look at her. 

“I’m going to go shower,” Caitlyn says uselessly. 

She wonders if this will be her last one. The hot water slides down her skin. There are many things to think about but all she can focus on is Vi. Vi does not want them to be separate. They both know it is not a choice. Vi cannot protect her from this, no matter how many times she swears she can. Ambessa would gladly, gladly kill her just to make Caitlyn suffer. Caitlyn has reached that lofty tier of enemies for her. Perhaps she would have been honored when Vi was not here. When she did not have someone so precious to lose. Caitlyn thinks about the first time she was in this position. When her leg scar was a fresh cut and she spent so long in the shower thinking about Vi and letting the water run down her back. She didn’t even hear the door open. 

Now she does. 

She can see Vi in the steam. Vi finally, finally looks at her and the anguish in her eyes makes Caitlyn feel like the worst person in the world. They collide before Caitlyn even has a conscious thought about it. She’s wet and naked but Vi pulls her flush against her. Bands her arms around her and kisses her until Caitlyn only can think of her. Vi backs them up, back into the shower. One hand leaves Caitlyn’s body to rip the snaps of her top. Caitlyn shoves the fabric off her as Vi presses her back into the shower wall. She’s healed more now, enough to wield the Gauntlets again. Enough so Caitlyn cannot even try to keep her from being on the field tomorrow. 

They just have to endure the separation. 

Caitlyn kisses Vi harder. Maybe if she does this can be the thing that carries her through the fight. The memory of this. The promise of coming back to it. She gets Vi’s pants down and Vi manages to shove them off and kick them away. Right as she starts to trail kisses down Caitlyn’s collarbone. Caitlyn makes a noise of protest and turns them, pushing Vi’s back against the wall. The steam and spray obscure everything. It’s hard to see Vi when Caitlyn pushes her hips back against the wall. Vi’s hot breath fans against her face and Caitlyn does not think before kissing her as deeply as she can. Until Vi is pushing up on her toes to get closer. Caitlyn touches the jut of Vi’s hipbone and Vi shudders. 

“I want to do this for you,” Caitlyn says, “I want to see this before—“ she does not want to think about that. 

Vi doesn’t either. 

She kisses her again and nods. The most acknowledgement Caitlyn will get about her impending doom. Vi sucks in a breath as Caitlyn traces her torso with her mouth, Kissing every mark and every ridge of muscle. Vi watches her hazily as Caitlyn makes her way to the apex of her thighs. Slides into her with a finger that has Vi’s breath catching. Then presses her lips to Vi’s center. Vi’s entire body arches at the unfamiliar touch. Soon she’s gasping Caitlyn’s name. Caitlyn’s name, the name of some Undercity Goddess Caitlyn vaguely recognizes, until she’s just making wordless sounds of pleasure.

Caitlyn kisses her way back up the expanse of Vi’s chest as she drags in unsteady breath after unsteady breath. She is so beautiful. In any state, now as she leans into Caitlyn’s shoulder and trusts her enough to let her do that, Caitlyn doesn’t think she will ever see beauty like that again. No matter where she may wind up tomorrow. 

“Cait,” Vi pants against her shoulder, “don’t fucking die.”

“I don’t want to,” Caitlyn says. 

“No,” Vi looks up at her, “swear you’re not going to.” 

Promise me you won’t change. 

Caitlyn looks at her and shakes her head. 

She cannot lie. 

“I promise I will fight as hard as I can to come back here,” she says, “I promise no matter what happens, I will be trying to get back to you.” 

Vi gives her a long look and then surges forward, pressing her back to the opposite wall. The spray slicks them both as Vi fits every part of them together. Her head is cushioned on Vi’s forearm as Vi kisses her so hard Caitlyn thinks if she dies, it will be with an imprint of Vi’s lip scar on her own. Vi trails her lips to Caitlyn’s pulse point and draws the skin into her mouth. Caitlyn is desperately, selfishly glad of it. She wants to be marked by Vi. No matter what happens tomorrow she wants to know this was real. They were real. Vi was real. 

Caitlyn cups her cheeks. Tries to memorize every facet of her. Imprint in her very atoms so if she is flung to impossible corners, each will know something of the woman in her arm. The water makes it easier to pretend the wetness that skates down her hands does not come from Vi’s eyes. Vi ducks her head into the warmth of Caitlyn’s palm. A gesture Caitlyn has seen calm her down even past reason. She can feel the rapid tempo of Vi’s heart where their bodies are pressed together. Caitlyn hopes that Vi can feel she means the words though every touch. If she does go, she wants her to know it was never her plan. 

They are still dripping wet when they fall into bed together, wrapped in the big fluffy towels from the warmer Caitlyn keeps in the bathroom. Wetness Vi drags the sheets over them and and Caitlyn snuggles into the warmth of her embrace. 

“Please don’t shut me out,” she says as she tucks into Vi’s chest. 

“I can’t lose you,” Vi says. 

“I wish I could tell you that you won’t. I wish I had never put us in this position—“ she squeezes her eyes shut. She does not want to fall to pieces tonight, “I was such a fool to push you away.”

“Yeah,” Vi agrees, “you were. So don’t die tomorrow and make it up to me.”

Caitlyn laughs into Vi’s collarbone. If only she hadn’t been such a fool. They could have had so much more time together. And yet it still would not be enough. Vi’s arms tighten around her, as though if she holds Caitlyn tight enough she can prevent whatever will happen tomorrow. Caitlyn knows she is not the only one in danger. Vi is in Ambessa’s sights. Given what Mel has said abut her mother and Viktor, Vi might be a target to more than just her. Caitlyn thinks of the past months and Vi’s horribly still form. The heart that beats under her cheek is easier to focus on than those memories, but they linger all the same. 

“Promise me if you have the choice you will choose to live,” she says. 

Vi is silent and Caitlyn knows she’s contemplating what she’s asking. Vi goes into every fight with her whole heart. She fights like a cornered animal, like everything will be taken from her if she does not strike back. Caitlyn cannot ask her not to fight. Cannot ask her to fight for herself. Vi loves with her whole heart. She loves everyone but herself. Caitlyn knows that is not something that will change overnight. But she thinks about the recklessness that followed their separation. The desperation Vi showed as she fought to get back to Jinx. Caitlyn knows there is a chance Jinx will show up. That Vi will lose even more. Perhaps death would be a mercy but the idea of a world without Vi in it makes Caitlyn want to vomit. She shifts so their heads are level and their eyes lock. 

“I’ll promise it if you do,” she says quietly. 

“Deal,” Caitlyn agrees, knowing it is likely the choice will be taken from both of them. The thought of never seeing Vi’s eyes again makes her throat tighten, “what are you thinking about?” She asks to try and stop her thoughts. 

“Ghosts,” Vi says simply. Caitlyn nods. Vi turns thoughtful for a moment, “you’ve kinda met most of mine.” 

“Huh?” That catches Caitlyn off guard. 

“Yeah,” Vi says, “that job—it wasn’t just me and Powder. My brothers were there too. You probably heard them through the door,” Vi continues, “and you met my dad.” 

Her voice softens on the new wound. Caitlyn covers her cheek with her palm and Vi turns her face into the warmth. She covers Caitlyn’s hand with her own and looks at her. 

“You saved my life. Before I even knew you,” she whispers, something almost reverent in her voice. 

There’s something achingly sweet when Vi presses their mouths together. Vi does not talk, she moves. Especially when it is something she cannot or does not want to say. But Caitlyn can feel it through the way she touches. She offers the softness she thinks she’s incapable of the only way she knows. Caitlyn realizes that there is very little she would not give to wind up back here when all of this is over. 

What do you shoot for?

In the early morning they dress silently, full of lingering touches. Armor and weapons wait for them in different places. Different spots. Caitlyn tries to keep the Vi from last night in her head, not the one who looks so miserable at the notion of this separation. Caitlyn has dragged them into this misery. Now Vi must bear the weight. When the last buckle is done, Caitlyn hesitates. Tries to find the words that can make this better. That can make it so even if she falls—as she probably deserves to—it’s not another wound on Vi’s heart. She’s made arrangements. Vi will want for nothing. She’s not a Kiramman, Caitlyn doubts she will ever get the chance to ask her to be one. But the Key will be in good hands. Her father knows her wishes. 

“I—“

Vi surges forward and pulls her tightly to her. It’s dizzying and wonderful and Caitlyn prays that if her life flashes before her eyes, it’s this moment she thinks of last. This moment she lives in for eternity. Vi presses their foreheads together and breathes harshly. Caitlyn feels her hair come undone from it’s bun but she just presses her forehead closer to Vi’s. 

“Promise me,” Vi starts. 

“Anything.”

“This is the last fucking time we don’t fight together.” 

Caitlyn can’t help the wet, watery laugh that spills from lips. She has no idea what the future holds. But she is reasonably confident she will not trust a dictator who would go for Vi to destroy Caitlyn. Especially if she and Vi are fighting on the same side again. 

“Yes,” she says, “I promise.”

Vi lets out a ragged breath. Everything in Caitlyn howls and wonders how she could have ever walked away from this. But it’s too late for regrets. Too late for what ifs. There is only here, only now. Only the press of Vi’s forehead to hers as they stand there sharing the same breath. 

“I love you,” Caitlyn breathes. Vi shudders, “don’t say it back,” she absolves, “Jinx loves you,” Vi presses harder, “just know you are so loved.”

Vi holds them there for a long moment, like she needs the contact to hear the words. Maybe she does. Caitlyn does. She steps back abruptly and unwinds the wrap from her arm. It’s still a habit of hers, even if the wrap now rarely extends to her knuckles. Caitlyn can only watch her do it. She grabs Caitlyn’s hand and presses the skin-warm fabric into it. Tears prick at Caitlyn’s eyes as she stares at Vi, sensing the weight of the gesture. What it says without any words. I’ll be with you somehow. Caitlyn shakes her head and pulls up her sleeve, wordlessly offering Vi her forearm. 

Vi wraps her arm loosely. There will be layers of armor over both of them and she needs mobility for what is to come. But Caitlyn only cares about the fabric Vi wraps over her skin. She tucks in the corners and pulls Caitlyn’s sleeve down over it. Their fingers linger together for another moment before something determined sets in Vi’s eyes. 

“I’ll see you on the other side, yeah?” 

Then she is out the door. 

Caitlyn listens to her footsteps break into a jog. Looks around the room they have shared. She is not religious, she is practical. But if there is a higher power listening, she hopes they will give her the strength to come back here. 

Then she sets her shoulders and turns to face the consequences of her actions. 

Chapter Text

When you are impaled you do not remove the object unless it is absolutely necessary for the patient’s survival. 

It’s a tenant of first aide. One impressed upon Caitlyn not only by her father but every gun safety class she has been forced to sit though. You do not remove the bullet. You leave it to professionals. You pack around the object. Caitlyn remembers it past the sting in her gut. Though she itches to pull out the blade she refuses to surrender to the desire. Who knows what the blade is embedded in? She does not have the luxury of remaining still, but if the blade acts like a plug she can keep from bleeding out. 

What is absolutely necessary for survival?

Ambessa bears down on her. She is solid muscle, every inch a trained warrior. She knows how to relax into a fight, to make her weight unbearable. Caitlyn has been crushed by it before. Even when she’s had the advantage, even when she has not had a blade in her gut. Now the weight bears down with the aide of gravity. All of her weight shoves onto Caitlyn’s forearm and wrist. Mel’s shield is a buffer that flickers against the runes. The impossible weight changes as it flickers, but each shift from gold shield to Ambessa’s bulk accomplishes the same thing. 

It presses Vi’s wrap against her skin. 

Caitlyn remembers their promise. She has to see Vi at the end of this. She shoves into the wrap, prays that some of Vi’s brute strength will flow through it and keep her arms straight long enough for this to work. Long enough for Ambessa to get closer. She has the blade now. The blade which dances nauseatingly close to her eye. They are deadlocked but she can hear Mel behind her. The green runes are flickering against the shield. She needs Ambessa closer. The magic wars on her arms as Caitlyn tries to see a different way forward. Feels the grit of Vi’s wrap against her skin. She has to make it through this. The shield flickers. She prays Vi won’t think too poorly of her when her arm gives out. She needs a blade. Not any of the ones strapped to her body, one she can get now. 

The last fucking time we don’t fight together. 

She needs—

Sacrifice.

The blade in her gut throbs. She has a blade. She’s always had a backup blade this entire fight. Lodged in her gut. 

Do not remove unless absolutely necessary for survival.

The blade near her eye is so close. Ambessa is so close. 

Absolutely necessary.

Choose to live. 

I’ll promise if you do. 

She rips the blade from her gut and pulls Ambessa forward as the shield gives out. She twists to slice the runes free. The wrap parts easily around her blade in the same instant the other slides just as easily through her eye. She grabs the edge of the wrap to pull the runes to her side out of Ambessa’s reach. Ambessa staggers off balance as Mel pants behind her and the spear slides free and clatters to the ground. Caitlyn can hear it. Hear a dripping sound when her head tips forward. She doesn’t dare look up. Ambessa has not figured it out. For one wonderful moment, the success steals her breath away. She’s disarmed her. She did her part of the plan. Defeated her greatest enemy. Now Mel can finish this. 

“You fought well, child.”

A sharp inhale. 

“Now!”

“A wolf has no mercy.” 

The signal. 

Caitlyn grabs the runes, shoves herself back and throws her arm over her eyes as the ground falls away to the petals of a nightmarish rose. There is no time to wrap the runes over her arm, she can only clutch the string to her chest. Even with their protection the world becomes a roaring nightmare. Chains clink and wind blows past her. She keeps her eyes squeezed shut and covered by her arm. Mel said not to look. Not to make a sound. Caitlyn forces herself to breathe air that does not seem to arrive in her lungs as she exists in the void. She digs her forearm into her chest, forcing herself to think only of that. She has to hold on. The world turns hot and bright. Mel. Mel is here. Then she is back sitting on the sun warmed stones. The dripping is back. She lowers her arm from her face. The blue sky above her tilts. 

And the agony roars up as she falls. 

Noxians have the finest blades. Blades fit to cut a God. Caitlyn knows she has been running on adrenaline. She’s not surprised it has worn out. But the pain catches her in its endless maw. Hitting the ground only makes it worse. All she can do is curl around the pain and clutch her arm to her chest. She feels hands on her shoulder. But Caitlyn cannot move from her curled position. All her promises are lost to the endless pain. She would do anything to make it stop. Anything in the world just to make it go away. 

The world goes away instead. 

She does not know where she is. She does not exist in her body. She is something else, something floating above her form. She feels nothing. She is nothing. Nothing matters. Nothing. 

Nothing. 

There is a weight on her chest. 

It makes it difficult to breathe as she lays flat on her back. She does not remember how she got into this position. There is a fire sparking in her gut, like someone trying to start a fire. Caitlyn wants to move out of the way before it becomes a blaze. She shifts her hips but it has the exact opposite effect. The fire roars to life. Claws it’s way into her belly like a living, breathing thing. Every breath seems to give it new life. She has to see it. Has to get it off of her. She forces her eyes open and it roars up her throat and rakes across her face. It’s going to claw out her eye. Caitlyn does not know where it is coming from, where to try and push it off first. He hands fly to her eye. Something cold and wet and flat touches her fingers. 

It takes her mind a moment to catch up. 

To comprehend the reason she cannot see. 

Sacrifice.

Choose to live. 

I’ll promise if you do. 

I promise. 

Caitlyn shoves against the monstrous pain. Yells back in its face like she screamed in the bathroom. It claws back but the world does as well. Blue sky. Hot stones. Her promise. The wound in her gut. Caitlyn rips her hands from her face and fumbles towards her belly. Her shirt is soaked in blood, the gash is wide and bleeding freely. It’s a miracle she has no bled out already. Mel’s hands join hers in their exploration but Caitlyn cannot see her face. She doesn’t need to. Ambessa has told her of this wound. How to make an enemy suffer. They suffer if the blade stays in. She ripped hers out already. How long ago? She cannot remember. Mel bats her hands away and flattens her palm over the cut, trying to push the fabric of Caitlyn’s shirt down. It tugs along her skin and Vi’s wraps chafe with it. Her wraps chafe. There’s grit on them. 

Hope surges through Caitlyn. 

Vi’s been wrapping her arm from the medicine cabinet. 

She rips the clasp at her wrist open with her teeth and tears off her glove. She shoves up her sleeve. Vi does not tie knots in her wraps, she just tucks in the edges. Caitlyn pulls one and a sob escapes her lips at the sight of the blue line. Vi’s been wrapping her arm with the same gauze Caitlyn used that day in the bathroom. The hemostatic gauze. She unfurls the wrap and folds the gauze into a pad. She hears the frustrated sound Mel makes as she watches her and tries to put more pressure on the wound. Caitlyn tilts her head down but the breastplate prevents her from seeing. She cannot do this blind. She holds the pad out in Mel’s general direction. 

“It’s hemostatic gauze,” she gets out. 

“Thank the gods,” Mel whispers, “hold her.”

Hands clamp onto her shoulders and legs from Ambessa’s guards. No, from Mel’s guards. The blood spreads hotter as Mel takes the pressure off. It stings when she presses her fingers to the wound. Before Caitlyn can tell her to just do it, she pulls the sides of the wound apart and shoves the gauze as deep as it will go. 

Caitlyn feels her scream before she hears it. 

The hands on her don’t let her run from the pain. The hands on her stomach don’t let her twist from it. Everything holds her to it like she is being branded by a hot iron. The gauze burns as the clotting agent does its work. The monster is back. Clawing at her. Burning her from the inside out. But the burning may be the thing that saves her life. The burning is only possible because Vi has been wrapping her arm like Caitlyn did. 

You saved my life. Before I even knew you. 

She has to get back to Vi. 

“Caitlyn, listen to me, you’re going to be alright,” Mel’s voice says. 

She still cannot move. But she becomes aware that the hands have been replaced with straps. She’s been strapped to a board. There’s a mask over her face and she realizes they’ve put something on either side of her head. The only thing she can do is stare at the sky with one eye and feel blood snake past the tape on her cheek. The weight on her chest is so heavy but she fights it. Fights to draw in each breath through the mask over her mouth and nose. 

“Mel,” she says. She can hear her. There’s a bit of a commotion and Mel’s gold plated face appears in her scope of vision. She looks stricken, “where is Vi?”

“I will find her,” Mel says, “the medics are going to take you—“

“No,” Caitlyn says, trying to put force behind the word but it presses the weight harder down, “I’m not leaving her. I promised.”

“Caitlyn,” Mel grips the hand that is strapped to her, “I will find her, you have my word. But you are going to go with these nice medics so you don’t leave her permanently.” 

She has to focus on breathing before she mounts her next protest. She tastes copper in her mouth and coughs. The chaos that swims in and out of her vision swells with the cough. Caitlyn doesn’t know why a cough would be such a big deal. Mel is saying something but it’s hard to see or hear. She can just focus on breathing and pray she hears Vi’s voice. She balls her hands into fists and draws air into her lungs. She wants so badly for the ground to open up and take her away again, but she refuses to give into the desire. She just has to breathe. 

Cupcake. 

Cait.

Ca-it.

“Cait!” Vi’s voice is so hoarse doesn’t recognize it at first, “wha—what the hell happened?!” 

“Vi, Vi we need to get her to the hospital,” Mel’s voice sounds panicked, “we aren’t equipped for this here.”

“What?!” Vi’s hands clamp on top of hers. Caitlyn fights to get her eyes open. Only one manages. Vi is suddenly on her other side, face swimming into view, “Cait—“

Things lurch and she’s looking at a ceiling. Sliding into a box. Maybe this is a coffin, like her mother’s coffin. Is this how she felt being dead? Is being still and paralyzed but aware how death is? Caitlyn hates it. She’d like it to stop. But her mother had her eyes closed when Caitlyn watched her coffin slide up. Caitlyn is sure at least one of her eyes is open. The other tries against the tape on her face, but every attempt she makes sends a dull ache of fire deep in her skull. If she feels the dull pain she most certainly is not dead. 

“I’m coming with you!” Vi bellows from somewhere near her feet, her voice cracking.

“Are you family?”

“I’m whatever the fuck you need me to be, let me on!” 

Vi scrambles into her vision. She looks horrible. Like someone has dug into her and scooped everything out. Red lines her grey eyes. She’s been crying. Vi never cries. Caitlyn wants to ask what the hell is going on, but everything in her is going towards drawing air into her lungs. Vi just stares at her in horror. She looks more broken than Caitlyn has ever seen. Worry churns through her. Worry and something else that makes her cough again. Something wet flecks her cheek under the dome of the mask. Vi is suddenly much closer, her hand gripping Caitlyns tightly. Caitlyn can only make her fingers curl lightly against her hand. 

“Come on, Cupcake,” she says, “we promised to choose to live, remember?” Caitlyn manages to nod, “you and me—“ There’s an odd beeping sound that is getting louder. It’s so annoying Caitlyn can feel her heart picking up. The beeping seems to match it, “Cait!” Vi’s voice turns desperate, broken, “Cait please!”

Caitlyn doesn’t know what she is begging for. She would give it to her though. Whatever it was. Anything she wants. Maybe after she closes her eyes for a moment Vi will tell her. She just needs a moment to rest her eyes. 

“Please,” Vi sobs. Vi never sobs in front of her. When tears leak out of her eyes she always scrubs them away. Hides her face. Caitlyn fights to open her eye, “they brought back my dad. He grabbed Jinx. They fell, they—“ Vi’s fingers tighten on her hand, “please I need you, I need you to stay,” she sobs again, “I love you.”

She swore she would give Vi the world. 

“Vi.”

She forces the word out. Vi’s head shoots up, her face suddenly peering at her. Tears drip onto Caitlyn’s face. She’s still crying. She stares at Caitlyn like the last real thing in the world. Maybe in this moment that is what Caitlyn is. She shoves aside how twisted that sounds and clings instead to the most important part. Vi needs her. Vi loves her. Vi needs her and Caitlyn cannot let this be left to chance. She has to keep fighting. She cannot sleep. Even as spots dance across her vision, she has to fight it. This is what she wants. Vi was right, she’s Caitlyn Kiramman. She always gets what she wants. 

What if you mess it up again?

I’m a Kiramman, we don’t fail!

What do you shoot for?

“Find my father.” 

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.” 

Chapter Text

The candles, it turns out, have a purpose beyond Vi’s comfort. 

They are for her comfort too. 

Comfort Caitlyn wishes that she had as the doctor shines a light into her good eye that makes her want to scream. It’s not the light that hurts. It’s the strangeness of the situation. The knowledge that even though her muscles can follow the light, there’s nothing in the socket that would allow her to see it. It’s little more than a ball at this point. 

“Very good,” the doctor says like she’s done anything of value. The annoyance makes her wish the blade was still in her gut so she could stab his eye out. She doesn’t want the compliments, “this is healing well.”

“When can I start moving?” She demands. He hesitates and glances over, “I’m awake now, thank you!’ Caitlyn snaps. 

Vi’s hand falls onto her shoulder, steadying her against the rage that claws at her. Caitlyn has spent her entire life refusing to sit still. All of her oaths about support and patience and calm have started to fray as time drags on. The confinement is maddening. Her entire life flits from doctors appointment to bed to doctors appointment to chair in the living room back to doctor’s appointment. She feels as though she is going crazy. None of the stupid doctors will let her start to exercise and figure out how to move her altered body. They just give her platitudes about how well she is healing. How much stronger she seems. She feels so frayed she cannot even summon politeness at this point. 

She turns her head to see Vi and the doctor staring at each other. The doctor breaks finally and pushes back to look at both of them. 

“Light exercise,” he says finally, “you need to watch her,” he adds focusing on Vi, “we don’t want to risk further damage.”

“Always, Doc,” Vi says squeezing her shoulder. 

Everything is frustrating. Caitlyn loathes the black glasses that stick out from her face. How the world has shifted just enough so she can find nothing outside her own home. She can walk, which is something. But sometimes the world tilts off balance when she reaches for something she knows is there and finds it isn’t. Her shins and knees are littered with bruises. Like she is a child again, caught in a growth spurt again learning how to flounder about on foreign limbs. It was annoying when she was a girl. Now it’s annoying and embarrassing. Everything is some shade of frustrating, annoying, embarrassing. 

Except their room. 

For all Caitlyn wants to leave it, she also never ever does. The candles make it easier to see. She can get everything easily without looking because Vi spreads everything out. Most of it is a few steps away from wherever she is in the room. And, of course, Vi is there. But Vi is always there. She’s like a shadow, the one constant that does not fray at Caitlyn’s nerves. She’s quieter now, grief still rakes over her constantly. But she gathers herself up every morning and faces the strange new world. The world is new to Caitlyn, but there is familiarity in it. There is no familiarity for Vi. Not yet. Not in any meaningful way. 

“I think we should walk,” Caitlyn blurts out when they get to the car. Vi gives her a questioning look, “I’ve been cleared for light exercise,” Caitlyn reminds her, “lets walk.” 

“Okay,” Vi says, “hold onto me.”

Vi places herself on Caitlyn’s bad—blind—side. Caitlyn hates not being able to see her. But she can feel her. For right now that’s enough. 

“This way,” Caitlyn says. Vi sighs and mutters a swear but goes with her, unwilling to let Caitlyn fall. 

“Where are we going?” Vi asks. 

Caitlyn isn’t exactly sure. 

She just keeps picking where the sidewalk has the most cracks. Where it starts to slope a bit unevenly. Where it goes down instead of up. Vi is hyper focused on making sure she doesn’t fall. Caitlyn doesn’t want to either, but she also doesn’t care nearly as much. It’s good though that Vi is focused on that. It buys her more time as she tries to get her bearings. It feels like a lifetime since she was anywhere near this place. She used to be able to navigate it quite well. Back when she was screaming her grief into everywhere. Caitlyn refuses to linger on the thought or to think about the potential danger. She is always in danger. She’s just going to have to trust Vi to handle that as well. The smell of fish hits her nose and she knows they must be closer. 

“Cait,” Vi says, “we shouldn’t—“

“Why not?” Caitlyn asks, “we’ve both been stuck in the house.”

“Yeah, but—you might—“

“I fall everywhere,” Caitlyn counters, “except when I’m with you. I’m with you now,” she says, “so I’m fine.” 

Vi walks with her. She seems to relax as the ground cracks and slopes. This is where her feet know. They move through the Undercity together as Caitlyn trips the normal amount. She tells herself that it’s actually for the best. It will help them not be recognizable. When she sees them in the dirty glass, their hazy reflection is just two people walking. Nothing more, nothing less. No blue uniforms, no horrible decisions, no false perfection. Just two people, making their way down. She slips her fingers lower on Vi’s forearm until their fingers are tangled together. Vi squeezes her hand. 

“I’m hungry,” Caitlyn says. 

“Yeah?” There’s an almost hopeful note in  Vi’s voice, “you want to—“

“What are you doing here?” A voice Caitlyn vaguely recognizes asks. 

Vi stops dead. Caitlyn has to turn her head but then immediately recognizes Ekko. He stands in front of a newer looking building. He’s not dressed like Caitlyn remembers. The browns are still there, but they’ve been painted with highlighter colors. Jinx’s colors. He and Vi just stare at each other silently. Caitlyn loosens her hold on Vi’s hand but she keeps their fingers together as she moves towards him. Ekko takes a step back. Caitlyn can see the tension snap across Vi’s shoulders. 

“You’re supposed to be up there with her. Where you belong now.”

Vi’s breath catches in her throat and Caitlyn cannot bear it a second longer.

“This was my idea!” Caitlyn cuts in, “I brought her here.” Surprise makes bth of them whip towards her. Ekko’s gaze lingers across her face, locks onto the side Caitlyn cannot see out of. She feels Vi’s fingers tighten on hers, “it’s my fault she’s been up there.”

“Cait—“

“So I wanted to give her a change of scenery.” 

Ekko listens quietly for a moment. What she’s said is not complicated. But it seems complicated. Caitlyn knows the young man is no fool. Something else is going on, some calculation that makes the hair stand up on the back of her neck. His eyes scan over the two of them, go thoughtful again and then he seems to settle on some kind of decision. 

“You’re just visiting?” 

“Yeah,” Vi agrees. 

“Can you drink?” 

He leads them into the bar where there is nothing stronger than a beer.  No-one seems to mind terribly. No-one even looks up when he leads them in. There’s no question who is in charge here. His look is enough to stop anyone who might recognize them. They sit at the bar across from him as Vi looks around at the place with surprise all over her face. The inside is warm and welcoming. Caught between the green Undercity and Piltover. It is somehow decidedly both. 

“This place looks incredible,” Vi says. 

“Yeah, your donations helped,” he says wiping the counter. He glances between them, “whichever of you sent them.”

Vi goes pink at the ears. 

“Vi,” Caitlyn says. 

“You trust her with your money?” Ekko challenges. 

“Hey!”

“Heard you were drinking yourself into unconsciousness every night,” he says, “at the pits.”

“That was a while ago,” Vi says, waving her hand like it’s not a big deal. Ekko scoffs, “enough about me, what are you doing with this place?”

“Running it,” he says. 

“Okay what the hell is going on,” Vi erupts finally. A few heads turn towards them but Ekko shakes his head and glares back at Vi, “you saved my life! Why are you acting like this?” His eyes flick towards Caitlyn, “Don’t look at her, this is about us!”

“I’m going to the bathroom,” Caitlyn says abruptly. Vi whips her head towards her and Caitlyn gives her hand a squeeze, “I’ll be fine. Where is it?”

It’s not easy navigating a strange place. Caitlyn finds she has to keep one hand in front of her the entire time. Her fingertips find what her eye cannot. She forces herself to rely on memory, on familiarity. It’s a bathroom. She is in them multiple times a day. When she was younger she would hide in them all the time when she was dragged out to bars and the conversation got too boring. When she comes out and washes her hands, another woman is there. Her eyes flick across Caitlyn’s face and Caitlyn braces for her to yell about what a monster she is. But the woman just inclines her head. 

“You’ll learn,” she says. 

“Pardon?”

“My husband lost his eye, he looked like you touching everything. You’ll get steadier.” 

“T-thank you,” Caitlyn says, “if your husband needs care you should bring him to one of the medical centers,” the woman hesitates, “I came from there,” she lies, “they’re taking any patient, no charge no questions.”

“Let me see,” the woman challenges. 

Caitlyn’s throat closes. She has not shown anyone what is underneath the black patch. Not outside of her doctors offices. But she might be able to help this woman. Or her husband. Or both of them. The woman’s red eyes speak of her own sins. So Caitlyn slips her thumb under the patch and shows her. The woman looks at her thoughtfully and then nods. 

“Looks better than my husbands did. I’ll bring him in.”

The moment she departs Caitlyn turns to the mirror. Her own face is strange. She’s only caught glimpses of it in the mirror, she refuses to fully examine the picture. Her fingers touch the black dome. She tries to summon the courage but her stomach rolls. The door handle jiggles. She cannot do this here in front of anyone else. She drops her hand and turns as the door opens and Ekko comes inside. 

He is in front of her suddenly, so quickly Caitlyn thinks he must have stopped time to do it. Her body braces for a blow he does not give. There’s something wild and determined in his eyes. He shoves something into her hand on her blind side, something pitted and dented. Metallic. It’s heavy and completely solid. Only the hand that grips hers keeps her from thinking it’s a bomb. Ekko is angry but he is not intent on killing both of them.

“Don’t show her,” he says, his voice low and urgent, “not now, not—“ he hesitates, “this is her chance at a better life. You’re her chance. That’s the only thing that matters. You understand? You open that door only if you have no other choice.”

Absolutely necessary for survival. 

His eyes dart up towards the bathroom, then lock back onto her. 

“Caitlyn this is about Vi. She’s the only thing that matters here,” he looks at her, “do you understand?” 

“I-I do.”

“Then put that in your pocket.”

The heavy puck drops into her good side as the door opens and Vi comes in. She looks calmer than she did when Caitlyn slipped out. Which is a sharp contrast to the panic Caitlyn feels spiraling through her veins. Vi is none the wiser. Her brows daw together as she looks between them. Ekko doesn’t move from her space, he tracks Vi with his eyes. Caitlyn can only stare at him and feel the impossible weight he has put in her pocket. 

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m making sure your girlfriend is treating you right,” he says, “isn’t that right Piltie?”

“Yes,” Caitlyn says, tearing her gaze back to Vi, “he’s making sure you’re not miserable with me.”

“Leave her alone Ekko,” Vi says, pushing past him and closing her hand over Caitlyn’s burning fingertips, “this is the girl’s bathroom. We make-out in here.”

Something passes between them, pain in Vi’s eyes and Ekko wrinkles his nose. They both stare at each other like they have seen a ghost. Perhaps they have. Ekko gives the barest smile.

“Gross,” he says.

Vi’s face breaks into a dazzlingly bright grin. 

“One of you come back with me, you’re not doing that in here.”

She is lost in the weight in her pocket until Vi puts an arm around her shoulders. There’s something different about the slope of hers as they head up. Even though it feels like Caitlyn has a bomb in her pocket, she lets herself rest her head against Vi’s shoulder. The relaxation stays along her as the ground smoothes out. As green fades to white. Caitlyn is surprised at how easily she navigates the streets. 

“You’ve gotten good at finding your way around here,” she says.

“Cupcake,” Vi drags the syllabus of her nickname, “your house is just really big.”

Caitlyn doesn’t need to turn her head to know Vi is right. She can see them more clearly in the reflection but she turns her face away. Suddenly she does not want to see it. Not with the weight in her pocket. Vi must pick something up. She pauses and turns, touching Caitlyn’s shoulders and peering at her face. Caitlyn wonders if she can see what a horrible person she is. But the softness in Vi’s eyes doesn’t leave. 

“You okay?”

“Fine,” she lies and touches her eye, “just sore.”

“Shit, we overdid it,” Vi sighs, “sorry I—“

“Let me be sore,” Caitlyn says. That draws a low chuckle from Vi as she wraps her arm around Caitlyn’s shoulders again and they make their way up, “what was Ekko’s bar called?” She asks. 

“The Last Watch,” Vi says, “whatever that means.” 

Vi passes out in a way Caitlyn has never seen without booze or drugs or sex. 

Caitlyn comes out of the bathroom to find her sprawled on her stomach, still fully clothed. She barely managed to kick off her shoes. A rush of affection runs through Caitlyn at the sight as her stomach twists into knots. Vi is still caught between two worlds. Caitlyn does not know where she belongs in all of this. She wants to believe it is here with her. She knows what they feel for each other is real. But her room looks more like the bar they just left than the house outside. Caitlyn thought that the choice that was forced upon Vi was between her and Jinx. Now she thinks it’s so much harder. The last home Vi knew burned away. The people in it fell away. She has carved out a place here but as she snores softly, Caitlyn doesn’t know if she thinks of this as home. Or if she is just willing herself away from her ghosts. 

She slips out of her room and to the one with the Key. It is secure, possibly the most secure room in the entire house. She never locks the door now. Her father never comes to this area because of his own ghosts and she does not care what Vi sees. Usually. Vi does not come down here either. She has not touched it since she woke up. She refuses to touch it. Caitlyn locks the door and uses the Key to bathe the room in a bright glow. It hurts her good eye. She is wasting time. Reaching into her pocket she pulls out the object. 

She’s the only thing that matters.

What if you fail?

The chunk of metal has a face. Round eyes, ears—it’s an animal of some kind. Caitlyn remembers all the bombs that have exploded around her. All the ones painted with neon. Who wink and snap before they detonate. The only thing different about this one is the lack of neon but Caitlyn knows that’s because this one has already exploded. 

Only remove if absolutely necessary for survival.

This is her chance at a better life.

What if you fail?

I’m not going to talk to you anymore. 

They fell. 

I failed.

The heavy puck drops from her numb fingers and rolls out of sight. 

Vi never had a choice at all. 

Chapter Text

Vi is silent the morning after the Undercity.

As Caitlyn has healed further, it’s felt like Vi has drifted. 

She’s there and she’s not. She fades into a quiet sort of depression that pulls words from her mouth and light from her eyes. She spends longer in bed. She stops wearing her shoes around the house. Caitlyn would like to think that she is doing it because she feels more comfortable. Because she knows that it’s safe to walk around here without shoes on. But she knows that’s not it. Some days it’s almost as though putting on her shoes is too exhausting for her. 

On those days Caitlyn stays in bed as much as she can. 

She wraps her ams around Vi’s back and nuzzles into the space between her shoulder blades. She memorizes every line that darkens Vi’s skin. Touches every line. Traces them with her fingertips and wonders how Vi managed to get this thing onto her skin. The tattoos that Caitlyn usually sees on prisoners are small, shaky things. Vi’s ink is all bold black lines and intricate shapes. Most impressive is the faint blue that decorates the swirls. 

“You’re the only prisoner I’ve ever seen with color in their ink,” Caitlyn says one day without meaning to. 

“They had to be blue,” Vi mumbles.

Caitlyn drops her hand and presses her forehead to Vi’s shoulderblade. Caitlyn knows Vi is exhausted. Vi’s been holding on her entire life and everything has fallen away. But she does not know what this stillness is. Grief, her father calls it. Caitlyn does not recognize it, but her own scope is so bizarre. Vi’s grief comes in waves that crash against her and force her into the depths of the ocean. This morning it is heavy, so heavy Vi cannot rally above it. Caitlyn knows It’s the hardest fight, but it feels like all of the fight has gone out of Vi. 

In another room, a bomb ticks merrily away. 

Vi has no new scars on her back and Caitlyn is irrationally glad. More than anything Vi’s tattoo represents choice. Possibly the only choice that has been consistent in her life. Each press of the needle was bartered for, fought for, by someone who had less than nothing. She remembers what she was like at that age, how the world seemed so unfamiliar and bruised her at every turn. Even then she slowly became aware of the safety net spread around her. One woven by her parents money and love and generations of Kiramman women. She cannot imagine what it would be like to have that net cut and be thrown away with literally nothing. But Vi painted this on her skin. Took this choice and made it happen. 

You’re her chance at a better life.

This is about Vi.

What if you fail?

I failed.

Kiramman’s don’t fail.

“I’ll be in the library,” she says into the skin of Vi’s shoulder. 

She dresses quickly. Trades the thick black dome for the smaller blue square. The injury throbs but she ignores it. She became accustom to being sore over the months of Ambessa’s training. This one has less protection. The doctors don’t love it while she learns to navigate the world. Especially if Vi is not there. Caitlyn pulls it on anyway. Dares one of the doctors to object. She leaves her hair down so it conceals it from a quick glance. Just on the chance that Vi opens her eyes. Caitlyn comes out of the bathroom and ignores the urge to just stare at Vi. She makes her way through the house, using her fingertips where she selfishly wishes Vi was. 

She is stronger than this. 

Her mother raised her to be stronger. 

“Is it a bad morning?”

Caitlyn looks over at her father. Grief is also a wave for him. He and Vi mirror each other in that way. The waves rise and crash, the dead reach for them as they fight back up to the surface. Sometimes they are not the same person who was dragged under, sometimes they are spitting and vicious. Sometimes they are quiet. Always they are haunted. Caitlyn wonders what it is like to be that strong, to fight that way when a piece of your heart is down somewhere else. 

“I think so,” she says, “she’s still in bed.”

“I’ll have tea sent up,” he says, “your eye?”

“Sore but alright,” Caitlyn assures him.

He nods, familiar weight in his gaze. 

Tea.

Bed. 

Quiet.

I will lead a strike team with three objectives.

“I’ll be in the library,” she says uselessly and tears from the kitchen. 

Her grief is an ugly, ugly thing. It claws a wound through the world that Caitlyn does not know if she can heal. Every time she tries to think about it she just thinks of the red moon and the blue rocket trail that split the sky in half. In her worst moments, when the cloak laid heaviest against her shoulders, Caitlyn told herself it was because they did not understand power. They were voiceless, nameless, weak. Of course their grief looked like that. Now Vi has so much power and her grief is unchanged. 

Vi built in her grief. 

Caitlyn destroyed. 

When she picks up the bomb top, she realizes it has nothing to do with access power, it is something twisted in her. It makes her nauseous to think that is probably the reason Jinx gave this to her. It’s not just that Caitlyn loves her sister, not just that Caitlyn would do anything for her. It’s that twisted, horrible grief that has told Jinx Caitlyn will gas an entire city for the hope of satisfaction. She turned Vi into an Enforcer to make herself feel better. Of course Jinx would think Caitlyn could turn Vi into someone who didn’t need their sister. In a twisted, sick way it’s almost compliment. 

There are no happy endings.

I didn’t know.

It wouldn’t have made a difference.

Caitlyn’s eye throbs viciously when she smacks the puck into the table. Even if she grants Jinx the grace of belief that she did not know her mother was there. That her mother, her brave mother who commanded people with a flash of her eyes, was somehow reduced to a casualty of circumstance. Even if she grants her that, this is different. Intentional. She has put her death on Vi’s hands. Put it on her in a way that is so profoundly cruel it almost makes Caitlyn glad her mother was in the wrong place at the wrong time. If this is Jinx’s kindness she does not want to imagine what she would do to someone she actually wanted dead. 

Caitlyn puts in the Key.

The Gauntlets stare back at her. 

The nails on the puck dig into her palm as she looks at the plans. Plans she has not seen in months. These are the only ones that exist anymore. Only three pairs of eyes have seen them. Those beautiful blue sketches in Jayce’s careful hands don’t exist anymore.

Child, these weapons could be used for such good. 

At the time she did not know what possessed her to do it. The power was new, her resolve was strong. And those gauntlets were so effective. So effective—

And they were Vi’s.

The plans left a blue stain on the cape. She had no time to think about which way she was going to roll them or put them in a tube. She only had time to shove them down the back of her pants. If she had been shorter, if she had been in her usual clothes, if her hair had been up, none of it would have worked. It was uncomfortable but it was the first time Caitlyn realized this was not about her mother at all. 

He must have destroyed them.

The blue stain never came out of the cape’s lining. Even now it stretches from her waist to the curve of the collar. She had spent the night staring at it stain as the plans for the gauntlets made the smoke in her fireplace sting. She had been so angry at the stain, at the reminder of her own wrongness.

Somehow that was Vi’s fault as well. 

Her anger had driven her to find that stupid red jacket, fully intending to throw it in the fire as well. 

That was the first night she spent with it in her arms. 

Even lifetimes apart Vi had painted her spine back. Reminded her of the woman she was raised to be. The one who knew right from wrong, no matter what the world said. Her moves against Ambessa truly started after that. Surgical, precise, subtle. Then Vi crashed back into her life and suddenly she wasn’t stuffing plans down the back of her pants she was grabbing weapons from Ambessa’s hands. 

Caitlyn picks up the puck and shifts the images. The gauntlets were an extension of Vi. Now she does not know if Vi will ever put them on. Not now. It’s not just a mechanical failure to her. It’s not that the gauntlets have failed her, it’s that she has failed them. One and the same, twisting together. Something Caitlyn could not separate even when she was prepared to separate Vi from her sister. Bile stings up her throat as she flips through to the hex gates. She refocuses on the task at hand. 

They fell.

I had them.

They fell.

The bottom then. 

Caitlyn rubs her thumb across the face as she follows the structure. The way out is so simple it takes no time at all to discover. Exhaust ports line the structure, air ducts designed to help keep it cool. Caitlyn spares a moment of annoyance for the fact that her life has suddenly become ruled by vents and ducts. She never gave much thought to them except when they needed to be cleaned by hired men. Now, suddenly, they are a crucial part of her life. She rolls the head in her palm. Her life and Jinx’s apparently. Another thread that strings them together.

The humming catches her off guard. 

Not because it’s humming but because it’s familiar. Familiar in a way she cannot place. No-one hums around here. She doesn’t remember ever hearing it from Vi. But there are two months of time missing for her. She remembers when she spoke to Vi’s limp form. She glances over at her. Of course Vi is still wearing the stupid snug pants. Of course Vi would hum to her while Caitlyn insulted. 

This is about Vi.

You are so loved.

All of these people have come together to try and push Vi to something better. Across time, across space, across madness. They have tried to shove her to safety. They have determined that safety is Caitlyn. Caitlyn wishes with ever fibre of her being she could go back in time. That this determination would be made when she was a better person. When Vi was leading them. When Vi leads she finds people. When Caitlyn leads the world gets set on fire. It goes on fire and Vi is still there. They find each other over and over again. If that was her only selfishness, Caitlyn would accept it. She knows it’s not. She knows some part of her wants to accept this beautiful gift. Take all the sad mornings and endless candles for one of Vi’s bright grins. 

But there is just a soft sad curve of lips. 

A head on her chest. 

“You’re never going to get rid of me,” Vi sighs and Caitlyn’s heart breaks. 

Caitlyn Kiramman always gets what she wants.

Determines, beautiful. Dirt under my nails. Stain on my soul. My whole, whole heart. Caitlyn drinks the moment in, tries to memorize the feel of Vi’s head on her chest. Vi is steady, calm, happy. She wants to stay in this moment forever. Never speak again. She tries to will the love she feels into her palms. Like it can filter through all of Vi’s cracks and bind everything together. Tether them together. Vi lets out a soft breath, almost content enough for Caitlyn to lie to herself. She hums a few notes again and it guts Caitlyn. She does not want to do this. This is adequate, this is alright. Vi is treading water, she is above the wave. This is not absolutely necessary yet. Caitlyn does not have to make a decision to hurt her again. She can take this gift, this beautiful woman and they can just sit by the fire. 

Break the cycle.

I love you.

The bomb already detonated. Vi by the fire, Vi in her arms. The battle doesn't have to happen now. 

Jinx loves you.

You are so loved. 

I can be sore. 

Vi relaxes further, leans heavier. Like Caitlyn will keep her up. Like they can both live in this moment. Like it's fucking normal for someone as perceptive as Vi to not notice the puck on the other table. To accept Caitlyn saying she is sore as an explanation for why she is not speaking. Vi who cannot stomach bullshit. Who digs into her and finds her spine when they are cities apart. Caitlyn wants any fragment of Vi, more than she has ever wanted anything in her life. Anything except--well except all of Vi. The living, breathing woman whose determination painted her skin when she had nothing. Vi did not fall when Caitlyn knows she wanted to. She kept her promise. 

The last time we fight alone. 

Vi's has so many ghosts.

Let me be can be sore.

They never stay dead. 

Chapter Text

It’s so familiar, in a thousand wretched ways. 

When she was a young woman, Caitlyn would sit by the fire and listen to her mother work. She was not allowed to see what she was working on, her mothers eyes would flit from her to the monitor and back again. Caitlyn would always sit so she could see her out of the periphery. The glow painting her face as she moved seamlessly between being a mother and a Councilor. Caitlyn had been intrigued and horrified at the thought of one day being in that chair. Bearing that load. She wanted it but it never felt as though she would be ready for it. Even now that it is hers, it’s hard to sit in that chair. She always thought if she did, her mother would be next to her. Making sure she did not screw up irrevocably. Her fingers feel alien on the keys. 

Vi’s do not. 

Vi sits in the chair like she was made to do it. The generational weight of it does not register. This is another chair, another tool. When Caitlyn first turned it on Vi had hovered near the door. Neither of them said anything but she seemed to sense that it was not for her eyes. Now she has one foot up on the chair. She hunches over the keys and moves the plans like they are old friends. Caitlyn did this to her. She gave her this power. She does not regret it, in any other moment it would bring that warm feeling to her chest. It would be another sign that this is where Vi belongs. This is her home. But Caitlyn has just ripped open Vi’s tenderest wound. 

“What do you think?” Caitlyn asks finally, when the silence is so unbearable. 

The puck hits the floor with a thud, the nails in its head scraping along the stone. 

Caitlyn snaps her head towards it and follows the line of sight up to Vi. Vi has both legs drawn up and her arms behind her head. Her fingers are locket together behind her neck. The white glow of the monitor makes the lines of her face look impossibly harsh. Her grey eyes stare at the screen. She doesn’t look at Caitlyn, only straight ahead. Caitlyn pushes herself up. Vi’s eyes snap to her and the anger in them makes Caitlyn’s blood go cold. All that has happened between them and she has somehow dragged them into this room to fight over Jinx and Caitlyn’s decisions. Somehow it’s worse the second time. 

Caitlyn knows the sins she has committed will never come clean. She deserves to lose so much more than her eye, though no-one will say that to her face. The sin of keeping quiet should pale in comparison to the other things she has done. At least the others thought of Vi. If she’s right, Jinx chose this out of love. It’s selfless in such a selfish way. Maybe she’s wrong. Maybe she should have just kept her foolish mouth shut and accepted the gift. 

“Vi,” Caitlyn says her name. 

“It’s not possible,” Vi says finally, “even if she could make that jump, he had her. His grip was so tight she couldn’t shake him off,” Caitlyn nods but anger makes Vi even colder, “he was so strong, he almost killed me first! There’s no way—“ raw pain flies across her face, her eyes slamming shut before they fly back open, “she sacrificed herself to save me. You're wrong.”

Her voice dares Caitlyn to disagree. Vi is painted with all of her sins. Every time she resolves to stop, she somehow paints another. She wonders if Vi can see how she hesitated, how she wanted to keep her mouth shut. The same vicious part of her that ripped the world apart in her grief screams in protest. Screams like it can rewind time. Take them back to the fire, back to the moment when she hovered between the two decisions. When Vi was having a bad day but it was still a day they spent together. Why can’t Caitlyn have that back? If she is already condemned, why couldn’t she just keep her mouth shut. 

Caitlyn Kiramman always gets what she wants. 

Let me be sore. 

I love you.

Let me be sore.

“I’m sorry,” Caitlyn says. 

She does not know which sin she is apologizing for. Vi is still glaring at her. Daring her to disagree. Something evil in Caitlyn’s chest leaps at the thought. She can still salvage this. Still get what she wants. The only thing she wants. She can call something from this mess. All she has to do is tell Vi what she wants to hear. Vi looks frantic. She would take the lifeline. Caitlyn can throw her this lifeline, pull her back to the fire, back to her arms. This is everything, everything. Yes, yes she is wrong. 

What do you shoot for?

“I don’t think I am,” comes out of her lips instead. 

Vi shoves herself from the chair like Cailtyn’s words burn her. 

It’s the most alive she’s looked and Caitlyn has never felt worse about it. Vi moves like a caged animal. Like she did when Caitlyn first saw her in the cell. The fact they are in a mansion, that there is a door Vi can leave from at any time, none of that matters. Caitlyn has been offered something precious and she has thrown it back into a cell. Vi rounds on her and Caitlyn stays seated, forcing herself to watch. She opened this door. She can be in this cell as well. 

“Why?” She spits, “because you can never be wrong?” Caitlyn’s heart lurches, “you were wrong about her before!”

“Vi—“

“Stop looking at me like that!” Vi roars, “she’s my sister, she wouldn’t do that to me!”

The words hang in the air. 

No illusions, no hiding. Just wretched fathoms of pain. Caitlyn can only stare and wonder how she ever wanted Vi to choose her if it looked like this. Vi does not lean on anything for support. She plants herself away from anything that could help. She squares for a fight. But this—this is not an enemy Vi can punch her way through. Caitlyn glares at the window. She half wishes Jinx would appear. Just so there would be something other than the painful silence that stretches as Vi’s muscles coil and her breathing grows unsteady. 

Before Caitlyn can speak Vi grabs the puck, crosses to the fire and throws it in. 

Sparks and embers billow up. All Caitlyn can think of is Vi’s dad with his lava laced snarl. Her dad who clung to Jinx. Who made it so that instead of Jinx slipping away, Vi had to feel as though she failed the two most important people in her life. The red is reflected in Vi’s eyes as she stares at the flames. 

In some horrible, horrible way her eyes look like her father’s. 

Caitlyn tears her gaze away and focuses on the new marks on Vi’s skin. The embers have not started a fire but they have landed on the underside of Vi’s forearm. Right where the gauntlets would sit. When her hand drops to her side Caitlyn can see the angry dots that mark the underside. Like they were reaching for her. Clawing at her. She’s read the reports, she knows they found enough at the bottom of the shaft to confirm death. But as she looks at the embers she wonders if they could be wrong about that as well. It’s not just the ghosts. Vi watches everyone she loves suffer. Caitlyn knows that is worse than her own suffering. To Vi the powerlessness trumps all. Vi doesn’t even react to the burns. Caitlyn doubts she feels them. 

“Vi,” Caitlyn starts. Her voice seems to drag Vi out of her stupor. Those fire eyes are grey when they look at her but no less agonized, “we—“

“No.”  The refusal is flat. It would hurt less if she slapped her missing eye, “I have to find her.”

Caitlyn grabs her hand before she thinks. Vi reels back, grey eyes reflecting the fire again. They don’t know where Jinx is. Logically she could be anywhere. It’s been months since she fell. Months Vi has spent fighting through agony and caring for Caitlyn. Months she could have spent looking. They both know it. Even if it makes no sense, Jinx had been so convincing even Vi had thought she was dead. Vi who never let guilt stop her from trying to find her. As they stare at each other Caitlyn knows Vi will go to the ends of the sky to find her. She’ll spend her whole life looking. Caitlyn has no idea if it would be for Jinx or for Powder. She doesn’t think Vi knows either. She pictures Vi old and grey and twisted, her whole life spent looking for a blue haired child that no longer exists. The tragedy of it is crippling. As crippling as the resolve on Vi’s face. 

Vi will hate her even more. 

What do you shoot for?

Let me be sore. 

You are so loved. 

“Vi she doesn’t want you to find her.”

The slack jaw is so much worse than even the anger, though that quickly follows. Vi looks at her like she did in that temple and so, so much worse. Only this time she does not back down. The anger rears up again and she rips her hand away. 

“No you don’t want me to find her!”

“You’re right, I don’t,” Caitlyn says, “but this is—this is about your sister. She chose to leave,” Vi looks so wounded. Caitlyn pushes herself to her feet, “I don’t think she meant for you to think you failed,” she says. 

Vi clenches her teeth, sets her jaw. 

Caitlyn takes her torn, wounded heart and prepares for what is to come. 

Sacrifice. 

“But I don’t think she was ever coming off that battlefield with you.” 

Vi drops to her knees. 

Caitlyn feels her heart break.

How, how are they back here. Selfless, selfish, none of it seems to matter. She has dragged them right back to the temple. Right back to this moment. Vi stares at her with the same expression. It’s not just her. It’s everyone who has done this to her. Done this to her and left. Everyone who has made this choice without thinking of her. Or thinking of her in the frame of what they want. Caitlyn understands that so much better than she wishes. How badly did she want to keep her mouth shut? To wrap Vi in pretty lies. Swallow this pain. The hole of grief could have started to heal. But even with one eye Caitlyn knows she cannot make this decision for Vi. Vi always forces her to be aware of her own powerlessness.  

Without even meaning to Vi takes all her privilege and shreds it. 

She makes them equals. 

Caitlyn knows not to touch her. Knows Vi won’t accept it, not in this moment. Or she will throw her against the wall and they will fuck until she’s too exhausted for the pain. Caitlyn cannot give her that in this moment. She’s never felt less aroused in her entire life. Instead she touches the chair she knows is there, even if she cannot see it. For once her hand finds the fabric. She uses it to guide her way down to the floor in front of Vi. Vi stares at her as she gets to the ground. Caitlyn has dragged them back here. But she will not climb away, not this time. Instead she just sits across from Vi as the fire crackles behind them. 

They sit there until it runs out of fuel. 

They sit until the monitor fades out. 

Until it’s just them silhouetted in the dark. 

“I have to go,” Vi says, her voice low. 

“Vi—“

“Not to her just—“ not here “I can’t be here right now,” both of her eyes burn, “will you—“

“I’ll be alright,” Caitlyn forces out. 

She hears Vi move. There’s a thousand things she wants to say. All versions of I love you, I’m sorry, be safe. Please forgive me, I just wanted to give you the choice back. 

“We promised that was the last time we would fight alone,” she blurts out instead. 

Vi’s footsteps pause. Caitlyn can just make her out by the door. Without the light from the fire, the green hue has gone. Vi is painted in monochrome. She looks like the grease slicked woman she became when they were separated. The separation looms again. If she is already this, what will she be if—when—she comes through those doos again? Caitlyn knows they will see each other again. It may be the only thing that makes it bearable to watch her walk away. She needs to go, but she hesitates. Caitlyn cannot bear the thought of her leaving thinking of her the same way Caitlyn thought of Vi in that temple. 

“I told you because I promised,” she says.

“That mattered more than whoever told you not to tell me?”

The switch is so close to  completion. 

“Yes.”

There’s another roll of tension through Vi’s shoulders. Like she’s absorbing a blow. Caitlyn wishes with everything in her that she would stay and fight. But she won’t. Vi needs a fight Caitlyn’s still healing body cannot give her. She almost turns around. But then her shoulders set. Caitlyn’s fingers hum with the memory of the ladder rungs. They way Vi’s sobs echoed in her ears and taunted her nightmares. She turns her head away before Vi can go and covers her mouth with her hand. She squeezes her eyes shut. It’s the most she’s used the muscles in her missing eye and the entire world lurches with the strange sensation. Caitlyn throws herself into the nausea, clings to the physical discomfort so she does not have to hear Vi leave. 

When she opens her eyes the missing one strains to follow. It falls short. The other blurs at the sight of the empty doorframe. It’s not just her eye that aches with something missing, her entire body seems to. 

You’re never getting rid of me. 

Caitlyn draws up her knees and slips off the patch. When she closes her eyes she can almost pretend things are normal. She presses her forehead into her knees.

I love you. 

For the first time since the blade took her eye, she weeps. 

Chapter Text

Caitlyn takes over Vi’s side of the bed without meaning to. 

Her bed is a massive heirloom of a thing. But she has always tucked into one side. Especially after she got her first pistol and learned about constant awareness. She chose the window side and stayed awake for hours after bedtime in case someone made it past the guards. She would be ready. She would protect the family and show her parents that she was a good marksman on her own merit. 

No-one ever came in. 

Now she waits for the window to crack. Vi knows the route she showed her. If she just follows it a little higher she will be at their room. Caitlyn watches the window from her side of the bed until her remaining eye is sore. With her last motions she tugs down the sleep mask doctors have suggested, only so she can keep the canopy open. So if Vi sees it she knows the option is there. 

Unfortunately when her eyes close and sleep takes her, her self control goes out the window. She wakes on Vi’s side of the bed, wrapped around her pillow with her face buried in it. Vi likes being wrapped up. The pillow is a poor substitute. It does not have her heat or her muscles or her good heart. Doesn’t nuzzle against Caitlyn’s collarbone and skate calloused hands across her skin in the best wakeup of Caitlyn’s life. It just lays there smelling vaguely of Vi. Offering only what Caitlyn’s muscles tell it to do. 

It’s like her implant. 

Caitlyn loves solving puzzles. Loves knowledge. She knows more than basic first aide from her father. Medicine in Piltover has always been a seamless, beautiful thing. They just do not get hurt in meaningful ways regularly. So many things are fixable. Medicine seemed rather boring. People see doctors for body modifications. They turn their irises different colors and implant gems around their eyes. None of it has ever appealed to her. But that has always been how she experiences medicine. When someone is truly injured their injuries are lavished in gold and treatment and eventually a marvel of a prosthetic. 

Anything less is a sign of poverty. 

Caitlyn Kiramman always gets what she wants. 

“What would you like it to look like?”

Caitlyn’s throat tightens at the perfectly ordinary question. She never knew there were parts to an eye implant. She feels equal parts a fool and profoundly grateful for not knowing. Caitlyn likes to think it would not have changed her calculation with Ambessa, but it may have. May have given her pause. It probably would have ruined everything. She would have ruined everything. The ignorance helped. It made things easier somehow. To think in the back of her head that her father could make this right the way he made all injuries right. She could live with a scar, she liked her leg scar well enough. It was the least she deserved. 

No you don’t want me to find her!

I don’t think she was ever coming off that battlefield with you.

I can’t be here. 

“—Ms. Kiramman?” 

The doctor pulls her back from her horrible thoughts. Ignorance had made her strong. And because she was a selfish, horrible person she refused to give Vi that same grace. She feels sick as she stares at the doctor. The eye specialist. He is polite, excellent at his job. He did not speak to Vi the same way some of the other doctors did. Caitlyn vaguely remembers he volunteers at the cusp of the Undercity. He tries to help people where he can because it is the good, right thing to do. Caitlyn has not been the kindest to him but he never seems to judge her on it. 

Who decides who gets a second chance? 

“Did you treat people affected by the Grey when I gassed them?” She blurts out.  

For the first time he looks surprised. 

There has been so much bloodshed since then. It would be easy to focus on the current healing. But every time she thinks of Vi, she sees her leaving. And every time she thinks of that, her mind drags to when she left her. That had nothing to do with Ambessa. She cannot cry manipulation for those actions, not in the same way. Gods know she has tried. 

You say you were out of your mind, were you when you kissed her?

“I did,” he says. 

“Did I—“ he looks sympathetic and everything in Caitlyn wants to vomit, “did they recover?”

“Largely yes,” he says, “the use—“

“My use,” Caitlyn corrects. He hesitates, “you have seen inside my skull,” Caitlyn reminds him sharply. 

“Your use was not long-term,” he says, “your mother’s generosity meant the younger generations had not grown up with the same toxicity in the air and the older had a chance to recover. Your strategic use of it was little more than an irritant.”

Something in Caitlyn snaps.

“Stop lying to me!” 

They are both on their feet before Caitlyn’s mind catches up. The doctor looks at her with actual fear. Fear of her money, fear of her power, fear of her anger. In that moment Caitlyn realizes they are now all one and the same. And the weight of it is crushing. Her eyes flick down to the lip of his desk. There is a button there. She is certain of it. A panic button. He looks panicked. He has a way out. Caitlyn thinks of all the people down there who panicked and did not have a way out. Had no choice but to pray she would stop soon. Down there where she can only hope Vi is. All of it makes her want to vomit. The room is claustrophobic. She cannot stand the way the doctor is looking at her for another moment. 

“Excuse me,” she says and flees before he can press it. 

Outside she manages to make it a few blocks without tripping. She all but dives into the alleyway and braces her back against the smooth stone and her hands on her knees. Her heart hammers in her chest as she tries to be sick. But her body betrays her in yet another way and nothing comes up. The world lurches and she turns, pressing her forehead against the smooth stone. All the money in the world and she can do nothing but stand there wishing Vi would appear. A shadow comes across the ground but it’s tall and willowy and not the one she wishes she could see. Still, it is familiar.

“Steb?”

Steb acknowledges her with a curt nod and quick glance before refocusing on the street in front of her. He’s been a near constant presence since her mother died. He was one of the first she chose to be on her strike team. She had deliberately picked candidates based on their psychological profiles. Specifically ones who showed a distrust of Enforcer rules and doctrine. She thought they would be more likely to follow her with minimal questioning. Even though she got Vi out of any testing, all of their profiles spoke of similarities to her. Now she knows it was all for different reasons. Maddie was a traitor, Loris was too loyal to his friends and Steb, Steb cared more about people than rules. It was one of the reasons she placed him on the bridge to welcome anyone from the Undercity who came up to help. He thought she was helping in some way. So he stayed loyal. Beyond what Caitlyn ever deserved. 

“I apologize for making you run,” she says, forcing herself upright, “it was a difficult appointment.” 

He gives another nod and turns with military precision. 

In his hand is the patch she forgot to put back on. 

Caitlyn’s hand flies to her eye and touches the skin. It’s the first time she has been outside of her bedroom or doctor’s appointment without the patch on. Even though she knows logically what she will feel, the flaccid skin feels alien and tender under her palm. She is always careful not to touch it. She does not want to feel the absence of her eye. The feeling is so foreign she can only stare silently at Steb. He holds her gaze evenly, locked on her remaining eye. She realizes even if he found her eye disgusting, his medical training would not let it show on his face. The fins under his eye shift, drawing her attention from their locked gaze. 

“Did you complete your prosthesis appointment, Commander?” He asks. 

“No,” she says.

“Would you like me to accompany you in, Commander?”

“No,” she says, “the appointment is done for today.” His fins flicker, “what?”

“Delaying your prosthetic may compromise your eye muscles,” he continues, “while it is difficult—“

“This is nothing,” she cuts in. He inclines his head, “I don’t want one of their prosthetics,” she says.

“Shall I send for one from Zaun?”

Everything in Caitlyn goes still at the suggestion. Steb looks at her steadily. They do not speak of their actions. Of the implications. Steb would not do that, he is not one for long conversations. In truth she is not either. There is so much unsaid in the offer and they both know it. People in the Undercity do not hide their injuries in the same way. They have so many more of them, so many more unhealed. The image of Sevika and her arms comes through her head. But more than that, this is an opportunity. A reminder. One that cannot be ignored because it is implanted in her face. Steb has fostered a relationship with Zaun since the fight, since he was the one to greet those who volunteered. He could get her an eye that is distinctly from the Undercity. 

“Yes,” she says, “but not one that looks like—“ she motions. 

“Like your eye, Commander?”

“I want it to look like it came from Zaun,” she says, “I’ll pay double what its worth.”

When she is preparing for the next in a line of endless speeches to the Council, Steb comes in with a round black case. 

The eye is purple and green. It’s heavier than she is expecting but not as heavy as she was afraid of. She can just see the shadow of her fingers behind it. It is so unlike the artificial eyes she has been offered. This is unmistakably of the Undercity. Of Zaun. Seb glances at the door and refocuses on her. She knows she is wasting time. She can already feel herself nodding. 

Will you be—

“I need your help,” she says. 

Seb parts her eye with practiced fingers. If he finds the inside disgusting it does not show on his face but Caitlyn does not look hard. The eye feels very strange as he slots it in with gentle hands. It does not hurt but something about it screams wrong to her senses. Caitlyn shoves the discomfort aside. Her hands are already in her hair, pulling it back. That also feels odd. She also pushes it aside. When she glances in the mirror the face that stares back at her is foreign and familiar all at once. There’s a dissonance. 

“How do I look?”

“Powerful,” Seb says. He hesitates. Caitlyn gives him a look, “unforgettable.”

That eases something in her chest. 

She gathers her discomfort and walks out to face the Council. 

Everyone stares at the eye. It is the great equalizer somehow. Piltover citizens are uncomfortable, the handful of people from Zaun are uncomfortable as well. One group is reminded of their sins, one is suspicious of her intentions. Both feelings are warranted. Caitlyn lets them look. Kiramman’s are the lifeblood of the city. Caitlyn wants them to see. They need to see. Her own desire for ignorant bliss is reflected in every Piltover face. Caitlyn does not want anyone else to lose an eye—or not most people—but they need to come to the same realization that she has. 

Let me be sore.

“Hope there’s no Shimmer in that glass,” Sevika says in that sneering way of hers as she drops into the chair in Caitlyn’s private office.

“There isn’t,” Caitlyn responds evenly. 

Their entire relationship is based on a fragile agreement. One that hangs between them like a spiderweb. You be honest with me, I will be honest with you. Or, as Sevika snarled, don’t put bullshit in my mouth and expect me to swallow. The bluntness coupled with her caring abut the Undercity was what made Caitlyn agree to this. They do not like each other. They will never like each other. Caitlyn would love to remove herself entirely from the Council but if she does, that seat will go to some mid-range house from Piltover. In essence she is Sevika’s shield. They both know it. It does not change anything. They are united by the same goal. Give the Undercity a voice. That trumps everything else. Sevika is the only one who looks at Caitlyn and does not see someone to fear. She has sneered through every conversation. Somehow, it is the most honest relationship Caitlyn has in her life. 

“It doesn’t change anything.” 

“I’m not trying to,” she says, “we can’t undo the past.”

Sevika reaches into her cloak and Caitlyn wonders if she’s going to hand her a bomb. She reminds herself thee is nothing to be gained from that. She sits still and watches as Sevika pulls out an envelop and puts it on the desk. There is something metal in there. Lighter though. Perhaps it is pieces of a bomb. Those certainly have ruined Vi’s life enough. Ruined her life. Sevika’s usual glare turns even harder and she leans forward across the massive desk. 

“I’m not taking back a reply,” she says in a tone that dares Caitlyn to respond. 

Caitlyn’s heart thumps wildly and she grabs the envelope. The contents jingle. Sevika makes a noise of disgust and leans back, rubbing her forehead. Caitlyn does not care as she rips open the envelope and tips out several unfamiliar objects. Metal barbells with countless tiles strung on them. Caitlyn picks one up and runs her thumb along the edge. Dust billows up and she coughs. The eye throbs enough to make her touch it. She lowers her hand and looks up at Sevika and the disgust written on her face. 

“Is she—“

“I said I’m not taking back a reply,” she says. Caitlyn swallows against the lump in her throat and nods, forcing herself to put the tiles back into the envelope. It’s a sign Vi is here. That has to be enough for now. She holds it out to Sevika who crosses her arm across her chest, “thought it was just the eye that got damaged.”

“Gone,” Caitlyn counters. One of her eyebrows arches. Caitlyn grabs what is left of her dignity, “I let the Noxian general put a spear through my eye and used a knife from my gut to cut away her magical protection so General Medarda could send her to hell,” Caitlyn can’t remember ever saying so many words to Sevika, “so my eye is gone. Not damaged.”

There is something almost like respect in Sevika’s gaze. 

“Gut wounds’ll kill you,” she says.

“It did.” 

Sevika shrugs and gets up. Goes over to the door. 

“She’s not drinking,” she says. The gruff kindness makes her stomach twist, “wins most of her fights,” Caitlyn swallows, “she’s trying.”

“She’s missed,” Caitlyn says. 

Sevika thumps the side of the door and leaves. 

In her room later, Caitlyn puzzles over the barbells. She separates them into letters and numbers, but that is as far as she gets. There is clearly a message for her, something she is not seeing. Before she can overthink, she pulls Vi’s red jacket from the closet and tries to put herself back in the Undercity. She has seen these somewhere before. But she cannot place them. She picks one up and crawls back to the bed, laying back and pinching it between her thumb and forefinger so she can spin the tiles again. She closes her eye and uses her thumb to flick through them. 

Her fingertip discover what her eyes cannot see. 

Some of the tiles are significantly dirtier than others. Like they have been exposed to the elements while others have remained covered. Caitlyn scrambles from the bed and sits on the ground. She presses the first barbell between her thumb and index finger and rotates through them slowly, arranging the tiles so the dirtiest ones are on display. Keeping her eyes closed, she gets on her knees so she is over them and can look down. When her eyes open, the message is displayed. Clear and also completely unclear.

_ VI_4800

It’s a score. 

Caitlyn’s eyes widen as she realizes the vaguely familiar tiles are from the boxing machine in the old arcade. The place that has so much history between the sisters. A history she is an odd part of now. The tiles are grimy because they are old. Because the Vi who hit that score is the Vi she inadvertently saved by dropping something in the hallway. Even though Sevika could have lied, the score stares back at her and Caitlyn knows in her gut that Vi is down there. She’s spent her entire life searching for her sister, for all of her ghosts. She’s never had anyone to leave a message for. Even though she is angry at Caitlyn, she’s left her one. One that speaks of a Vi Caitlyn never got to meet, whose life was cut short in a different way. Caitlyn looks at the tiles and even through the misery of their parting, she cannot help but smile. Vi is searching, but not for her ghosts. 

Vi is trying to find herself. 

Chapter Text

The shortages start in earnest. 

Caitlyn has never had to share. She’s never had anyone to share with. Not in any meaningful way anyway. She doubts she would enjoy it. Piltover certainly does not. As the shortages get worse, their willingness to share begins to strain. Despite everything, everything that has happened, everything they were supposed to learn, it is not long before the Council starts to talk about not sharing their resources with the Undercity. She hears it first as rumors. Rumors she tries to ignore. Her influence and money give Sevika power at the Council. They give her a voice. She lets her advocate for Zaun. She tries to trust the Council to show what they have learned. 

Then one day the door slams open and Sevika storms forward, slamming a piece of paper on her desk. 

“They want to close the bridge!” She snarls, “fucking do something because they won’t listen to me!” 

Caitlyn has been prepared to sacrifice. To serve the city the way it needs to be served. She thought—or hoped—one day it would be as an Enforcer again. Or enabling people with House Kiramman’s money. But never as a Councillor. She never wanted to be one, she still does not. But she swore she would serve the city. All of the city. Right now it required her to do the one thing she never wanted to do. Be a diplomat. Her mother had tried to train her, she had tried half heartedly to learn. True diplomacy required things she did not enjoy. It was all fragile, spun sugar lies that made her teeth ache. A gun was real. Solid. The lies that held Piltover together could be torn apart by little more than a rainfall. 

But this is what her city requires. 

So Caitlyn does it. 

“Surely we do not want to take a step back,” she says. 

“No, of course not. As soon as the shortages are addressed we will continue to support progress.“

“You’re absolutely right, Councilor. Thank you for bringing this up. As soon as the shortages lift House Kiramman will be happy to negotiate trade agreements with you. But as both of our Houses are suffering, I’m sure you understand we will need to freeze some assets.”

“Oh no, Ms. Kiramman, I misspoke—“

They fall over their feet to take back their desire to close the bridge as soon as she suggests House Kiramman will do the same. She is not as good as her mother, she will never be as good as her. She’s sure there will be consequences for this. But she cannot worry about them now. She focuses only on the task at hand. She has to keep the bridge open. There are so many reasons. All of them matter but every time Caitlyn’s resolve falters, the pink haired one screams loudest. Vi is out there. Down there. Caitlyn has to do everything in her power to make sure the city is livable. If that means playing this part, she can do that. 

When she comes back from each negotiation, she sees her mother in every mirror. 

Caitlyn and her mother shared the same eye color. She used to love and hate that. Love it because it told everyone she was a Kiramman. Cassandra Kiramman’s daughter. Hated it because the eyes that framed the blue were a different shape. They told people she was Cassandra’s daughter but would never be as perfect as her mother. Her eyes were always on display, her hair pulled away from her face so she could aim better. Now she lets her hair down. Uses it to conceal her missing eye. She has no time to properly establish herself. Not before they try to close the bridge. She needs them to look at her and think of her mother. She needs them to listen to her in the same way. She tells herself seeing her mother’s ghost in the mirror is a small price to pay, but it still makes her heart jump. 

She is better at navigating the world.

Not great at it, but better. Her steps grow more confident. Confident enough that her shoes stop being flat. Caitlyn has always liked her height, always liked shoes that are not flat and soft. The click of her heels against the ground and the feel of her muscles shifting her weight with them makes the diplomacy easier somehow. The claim of a lack of resources is so outrageous it makes her head spin. There are enough resources if they are distributed properly. She knew that before all of this. Back when she was only just meeting Vi and Ekko. She was going to do something about it then. If she could convince enough people. Now even though she has the power, she is still endlessly convincing people. 

It is exhausting. 

She wishes she could just shoot her way out of it. 

Despite Steb’s suggestion, she does not wear he eye to these negotiations. Not when she wants them on her side. She learns to pin her hair so it falls over the side of her face and hides the injury. It feels like a betrayal. Putting the mask on, playing this game. It is nothing she ever wanted. Every night she comes home and spins the barbells between her fingers and tries to imagine what Vi would have looked like as a teenager. She thinks about that day in the lab more than she should. About Vi and Jinx and how everything could have been different if she and Jayce had walked a little faster. Gotten the door open before Jinx grabbed the crystals. 

Found Vi. 

Caitlyn hasn’t heard from her. She spins the tiles on the bar and tells herself Vi would say something if she was going to leave. Maybe she heard somehow that Sevika gave her information. Caitlyn know Vi needs time. Needs space. She knows she should want to give that to her. Gods help her she doesn’t. Not really. Every time she sees the Undercity’s warm lights she wants to march down there and drag her back. She tells herself this is insanity. She has gone her entire life without knowing her. She spent months apart from her recently. She can function without Vi next to her. There is no reason for her heart to clench every time she sees a warm flicker or flash of pink hair. She needs to give her space. And yet every time she walks into her throw blanket laden room, her heart clenches. 

Caitlyn Kiramman always gets what she wants. 

She wants her home now. 

She would also like to kill her sister. 

Caitlyn does not understand how she is regressing like Piltover. How she has gone from whatever she was after the battle to forcing herself not to resume the hunt for Jinx. She is alive somewhere and if Caitlyn drags her home by her blue hair, she can get Vi to come back as well. Some part of her pride is deeply wounded at this turn of events. She is the Head of House Kiramman. She is supposed to get whatever she wants. That’s what generations of her family have worked for. And yet somehow she is manipulating and bribing and waiting for someone who has no logical business making her wait like this. Her patience has never been great, but it’s grown thin. She’s become difficult to deal with for her doctors. She thinks they might miss Vi nearly as much as she does. 

“How long am I supposed to wait?” she asks her father one night. He looks at her over the mug in his hands, “she should be back by now.”

“Caitlyn,” he sighs, “you need to be patient.”

“You miss her too!”

He nods and Caitlyn drops onto the couch next to him. She does not feel like a diplomat, she feels like a crazy person. 

“What if she doesn’t want to come home?” She asks finally. 

Her father takes her hand. 

“Caitlyn,” he says, “this is not something you can understand. Making this your home is not an easy thing under the best of circumstances. Vi’s circumstances are anything but that.”

As she lays in bed spinning the tiles, she knows he’s right. She hates that even more. Everything feels intolerable. Her frustration mounts so high that for the first time she closes the curtains of her bed. If this is too much for Vi, then she will damn well not be coming through the window. She drops the piece on the bed and buries her fingers in her hair. 

“It’s probably not even a good score!” She says to the quiet dark of her bed. 

“Come on, Cupcake, don’t insult me like that.” 

Everything in her body freezes at the familiar voice. 

Caitlyn realizes she didn’t even hear the window open. The curtains. She looks up at the drapes and scrambles forward to rip them open. But when her hands go to pull them, a pair of wrapped ones cover hers. Vi offers just enough resistance that Caitlyn can hear the request. A request she is no mood to give. She wants to rip down the curtains of her bed and drag Vi inside. But her body betrays her as the warmth of Vi’s hands seeps through her fingers and the indignation eases slightly. 

“Why are you here?” She asks. 

“I heard you kept the bridge open.”

“I didn’t do it just for you,” Caitlyn says, wishing it was less of a lie. But the indignation is still there. 

“All the same, thanks,” Vi says, “you saved a lot of people. Me included.”

Caitlyn glares at the curtains that separate them. She wishes she was glaring at Vi. She is irrationally angry that after weeks the only thing she gets is a touch of their hands together. She tries to cling to the annoyance but the aching is starting to win. Some part of Caitlyn wants to kneel her for as long as Vi is willing to stand there. 

“What do I need to do to see you?” She blurts out. Vi makes a sound, “Vi?”

“I’m not—“ Vi hesitates. Her voice takes on a more serious, tight note, “I’m not there yet, Cait.”

The broken parts of her heart grate together. Not there yet? It’s been weeks. Caitlyn was just trying to do the right thing. She hears another long breath escape Vi and her hands start to withdraw. Caitlyn moves to pull the curtain open. She knows she won’t but the motion is enough to get Vi to grip her fingers again. She knows Vi doesn’t want her to see her vulnerability. They were close—closer to it. And then Caitlyn had to open her mouth. Why did doing the actual right thing hurt so much? 

“Alright,” Caitlyn forces out.

There’s a beat of silence. 

“Yeah?” Vi says. 

“Yes!” Caitlyn spits, “I wish you were right about me getting everything I want.” 

She knows she sounds like a frustrated child. She feels like a frustrated woman. The past months of her life have been completely ruled by waiting for Vi. Waiting for her to wake up. Waiting for her to see she is loved. Waiting for her to come home. All of it is waiting. Caitlyn is only good at waiting in a fight. She’s not good at this. This screams of vaulting down rooftops. 

You almost got me killed. 

My kid sister could do that. 

“What do you want?” Vi asks. 

“You!” Caitlyn says, “isn’t that obvious? I want you to come—“ she hesitates, the word home on her tongue, “back to me.”

Vi’s thumb brushes the side of hers. 

“I’m not ready,” she says, extinguishing any hope Caitlyn had of her coming home this night, “Cait I don’t—“ she cuts herself off, “I can’t be here with you when I don’t know who I am.”

“I know who you are!” Caitlyn argues, “we—“ we fought together, we love each other, we chose each other, what are you doing? “Vi I hate this.”

“I know,” Vi says and for a moment there’s a note of misery in her voice, “but I have to do this, Cait. I can’t—“ she lets out a frustrated breath, “I want to be with you without feeling like you’re the only thing that’s real. The only person that—“

“Stayed?” 

Vi lets out a miserable sigh that makes Caitlyn’s heart ache. 

“Yeah.”

There’s a burning in Caitlyn’s eye again. She knows this is what Vi needs to do. Vi doesn’t hate her for telling her, she isn’t running away across the world to look for someone who doesn’t want to be found. She is here and she is not. Close and yet so far. Even though they are standing together separated only by a curtain. All Caitlyn can think of is the rain outside the Council. Vi’s miserable look. Oil and water. All Caitlyn can think is that this was meant to be. 

“I have to do this, I have to figure out who I am,” Vi continues, her voice strengthening, “I can’t see you, because if I do I’m just—never going to leave your side again.”

“Stop tempting me,” Caitlyn protests, “I’m trying to be supportive.”

Vi lets out a miserable almost laugh. Caitlyn feels the brush of hair against her fingertips. Soft hair, no grease paint. Something in her chest eases at another sign this is not self destructive. She flexes her fingers and Vi leans forward, letting her brush her digits through her hair. Caitlyn moves forward as well, pressing her forehead against hers through the curtain. She can feel the ghost of Vi’s warmth but nothing more. Vi lets her follow the line of her scalp. She can feel the short edge of Vi’s hair at the nape of her neck. 

“I’m sorry,” Vi says. 

“No,” Caitlyn brushes her thumb at the nape of Vi’s neck, “just let me know alive. Please.”

“Close your eyes,” Vi asks. 

Caitlyn closes the other one. The curtain moves away and she can feel Vi’s forehead against hers. The feel of her skin makes everything in Caitlyn ache. When her fingertips brush Vi’s cheek she feels her lashes. The seriousness of her words hit Caitlyn. She has the answer to the question. Vi wants to be here, but she wants to be here as her own person. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” she says. Vi’s breath catches, “but know that every second I want to go down there and drag you back.”

That gets the first honest laugh from Vi. 

“Thanks for trusting me,” she says, “keep it closed.” 

Caitlyn hopes she can see how much of her is still in the room, though more of Caitlyn has come through. It’s not really either of their rooms anymore, but some mix of things. Caitlyn hopes Vi will come back before she takes over more of the room, hopes she will keep it as theirs. She hears Vi pick up something. There’s a flicking sound. She places it as a candle and a lighter. 

“For a week after someone passes, their family puts a candle by the door. The smoke tells Janna someone is ready for her,” Caitlyn feels the start of panic but then there’s a hand that brushes her shoulder lightly. Trails down her arm and gently brushes her pulse point. Caitlyn keeps her balance as the fingers lightly direct her hand around the base of the candle, “the light helps the dead find their way. It tells them where to go.”

Caitlyn turns her face towards Vi. Vi’s fingers brush her cheek. Caitlyn thinks in that moment she will keep her eyes closed forever if it means Vi stays. She does not know what Vi is looking for when she looks at her. After a moment Vi’s fingers pressed against her wrist and she straightens up. Caitlyn knows she is leaving. Knows she needs to leave. But she came back for a moment. She is not going far. 

Caitlyn hears her crossing the room. There’s a sound of something being moved. Caitlyn keeps her eyes shut as she listens to the window move and then shut. She waits a moment longer until she is sure Vi is gone. She opens her eyes to the familiar empty room and looks over at the window. 

The metal table sits below it. 

It used to hold flowers, flowers Caitlyn hasn’t bothered with. It’s just big enough for a vase. She pushes herself up and picks up the candle. The window tempts her to look for Vi. She does not give in. What surprises her most is the unlit candle. She heard the lighter. The wax is bright, there was heat. But the wick is untouched by the flame. She can picture Vi standing there with the lighter poised. 

It’s a choice. 

Caitlyn grabs the candle and and the matches. She hurries over to the window. There are only a handful of spots in the garden you could see it from. Her hands shake as she pulls out a match. She has to take a breath to steady herself as she drags it along the strip of the box. Flame erupts between her fingers. She lifts the candle up, trying to make it more visible and lights it properly. She holds it close for several heartbeats.

Then she sets it on the table. 

So Vi can find her way home. 

Chapter Text

Both of her eyes are on fire. 

Along with everything else. 

The riots have been small, manageable. They are a warning, or so she thought. That was why they went ahead with the ceremony on the still-open bridge. A sign of unity between Zaun and Piltover. We are still one city. She doesn’t know how it starts. There is a sound in her blindspot and suddenly everything is hot and burning. Fire is met with gas until the entire world is heat and smoke. Caitlyn manages to fight her way to one of the towers and shove her back against it. Everyone is nameless, faceless, screaming. This bridge has seen so many riots. So much bloodshed. Caitlyn thought by keeping it open she could prevent that. But the tide rises all the same. 

It’s the first proper fight she’s been in since Ambessa. 

It’s awful and not nearly as bad as she was afraid it would be. It’s an impossible enemy. One that would have struck fear into her heart not very long ago. But she supposes after you take on Ambessa Medarda with a knife in your gut, no enemy feels truly impossible. Everyone is shoving for Piltover. That has always been the goal in the endless riots. This time there are no barricades in place. Because she decided there wouldn’t be. Because she manipulated and bribed and ordered there not to be. We are one city. One people. We rise or fall together. Every breath she pulls is laced with heat and gas. Since she was a little girl she was taught to run home. But the heat and gas is worse over there. She can’t make it home if she’s dead so she dives for the rail and shoves her way towards the Undercity. 

“Commander—“ Steb is nearby, trying to pull her.

“No! Go!” She orders even though the breath that it takes to give makes her lungs scream. She has to get them air, “Go!”

Zaunites deserve to breathe.

A hand grabs for her and she strikes. It comes again and even though it is the last thing she wants to do, her hand finds the blade on Stebs belt and she sends a broad sweep towards the man. Flesh tears under the blade. She has no idea if the strike is lethal. She wishes that mattered more. He does not move back and she has one moment to think how wrong that seems before she shoves Steb back and throws her arms over her head. The explosion sends heat and debris flying. Only the foolish, stupid cape keeps her remaining eye from being damaged. The railing on her blind side falls away and for a moment, Caitlyn leans only on air. Then a rough hand grabs her wrist and rips her back so forcefully she stumbles. 

Sevika.

“Come on!” She roars. They both hesitate, “we didn’t do this!” 

Don’t put bullshit in my mouth. 

“Go!” Caitlyn orders, forcing another deep lungful of the putrid air. Steb grips her wrist, “Go! I’ll be right behind you!” She shakes him off, “Get him out of here!”

Sevika grabs him as Caitlyn turns to cover them. Cover anyone who is making it to this side of the bridge. She looks for a gun, for anything of actual use but she’s growing increasingly blind. She shoves aside any feelings on the matter. She can fight blind. She can fight with a knife in her gut. She can stop this from being another tragedy. She is learning to use sound on her blind side. She just has to focus for anything that sounds out of place. 

A sound she has never heard grates across her ears. 

It’s so shocking she whips her head to look. The metal rope whines again and a sick realization hits Caitlyn’s gut. She has fought the shortages, kept supplies equal. But equal means there is less. Less to go around. Choices need to be made about what to repair. What takes priority. The metal screams in protest and Caitlyn stares as it begins to twist. No, to untwist. Another grate on her other side. All the people across the bridge. The bridge has stood for so long, seen so much. It’s an artery in the city. The break happening here is just an insult. It does not matter where an artery is cut. The blood flows out all the same. They have to get off the bridge. She has to get off the bridge. There’s another shrieking groan accompanied by a deep cracking sound. Her foot starts to move back when there’s a hail of bullets that forces her against the tower. 

That stings even in the panic. 

Why do they get a gun?

Green flashes out of her periphery and the gun starts to belch towards the Firelight. But if the gun is going towards him it won’t be going towards her. Caitlyn prepares to move when there’s another shriek of metal. The Firelight’s head whips towards it. 

“Dive!” Caitlyn cries and he shoots towards in a graceful arc as the bullets only manage to catch the flap of his coat. 

She can see the reflection of him shooting towards the far side of the bridge and getting swallowed in the smoke. She hopes his mask has some kind of filtration system. She sees other reflections of green and something in her hearts sings. They are trying to help. They had nothing to do with this—whatever this is. She hopes they are going to save a lot of lives. More bullets and more grating. Caitlyn rips her gaze and tries to find the nearest foothold. She has no idea if the tower will hold. She vaguely remembers hearing about how deep underground it goes. Either way her options are incredibly limited and the stone is going to fall away before she figures out a way past the machine gun. 

She’s gotten all her weight onto footholds in the stone when she sees the green lights spiraling towards her. 

There’s three of them and they zip in a wide arc that makes her think of how one of the ridged bullets spiraled out of her gun. This is purposeful. The green winks in and out as they use the environment to disorient whoever is at her back. She’s seen the tactics before. This playing field is wider, but they use them just as effectively. Taunting and disorienting and keeping each other safe and—

“Cupcake! Arm!” 

Oh God. 

She has just enough time to throw out her arm as Vi loops over the bridge and shoves herself under her arm. There’s a sharp pain in her fingers but it barely registers as Vi locks her arm around her wrist and they fly clear over the bridge. For a moment Caitlyn is suspended over nothingness with only Vi’s hand on her wrist and her waist keeping her from falling. Vi swerves the board under her feet and they dive into the fresh, cool air under the bridge. There’s cold air but it rushes by Caitlyn so fast it’s not any easier to breathe. It’s utterly irrelevant as Vi shoots them along the bank. Caitlyn cranes her neck as much as she can. It’s a blur of smoke and gas and some horrible augmented creature with a machine gun. Green darts in and out of the smoke as the bridge finally, finally cracks away. She has no idea how many Firelights are there but she sees the corner of Vi’s mouth move in a silent count and the board somehow goes impossibly faster. 

Vi makes a sharp turn and there is a horrible sucking sensation as the tunnel rushes up around them. 

It’s all hazy and stagnant air. Caitlyn cannot look anywhere and risk throwing off their balance. Though that does not seem to be a concern for Vi. Through gaps she can see other Firelights zipping in the dead space above them. Vi keeps her board lower and urges more speed out of it. A light appears ahead. 

“Bend your knees!” 

They are suspended again above an impossible distance. 

Then they arc downwards. 

It’s the same formation which might be the only reason Caitlyn stays on the board. Even if she fell, Vi’s got a tight grip on her and she knows she would be pulled back. There’s an impossibly small opening she sees them all aiming for. She can’t help but squeeze her eyes shut. Vi gives the hand one her shoulder a squeeze of reassurance Somehow they don’t crash. Everything is black and then it erupts in to warm light. The boards slow but Caitlyn keeps her eyes squeezed shut as they almost drift downwards. Like leaves falling off of a tree. The board vibrate as it it slows to a stop and then drops. Just enough to elicit a surprised sound from her lips. But they have stopped. Caitlyn thinks she might be sick but she shoves the urge back. She just needs to get her bearings. There’s a hiss and a clasp being undone.

“Not bad for your first flight, Piltie,” Ekko says.

Caitlyn’s eyes fly open and her body catches up with her. Her stomach twists and lungs burn. Her eye sting and her knees buckle. Vi hefts her weight up and suddenly her physical discomfort matters very little. She does not know if the blindspot was intentional but her body does not seem to care as her sore hand grabs the lapel of Vi’s jacket. Vi reaches for it but her fingers lock onto the leather. She won’t look up, she’ll keep respecting that decision. But she can hold on. Vi shifts her weight and Caitlyn is terrified she is going to step away but she just turns so they are facing each other. So the arm Caitlyn still has around her shoulders slides to her neck. The hand around her waist slides across her back and drops free, but only to reach up and pull Caitlyn’s hand from the back of her neck and guide it to her cheek. 

“Hey, Cupcake,” she says and her voice is warm and soft and suddenly Caitlyn can breathe again. 

“You—“ the air is Vi scented. It’s the sweetest air she’s inhaled in months, “you caught me.”

A warm sound she can feel because Vi’s breath is against her face. There’s still pain in those grey eyes but something else is there too. 

“Of course I did, Cait. I wasn’t going to let you fall.”

The dam breaks and Caitlyn throws herself against VI’s bulk. Vi’s arms lock around her and pull her close. Caitlyn doesn’t care that she is weeping in front of people she would never want to weep in front of. Doesn’t care who sees her. Vi is warm and real and here. And holding her tightly. All Caitlyn can do is sob against her and try to pull her closer. Every tug she gives Vi answers with a tightening of her arms. Sometimes there’s a press of lips against her head and she just shoves it closer against Vi’s pulse point. She can feel it against her temple. Steady, strong, here. 

Vi breathes deeply and evenly and finally Caitlyn tries to match the rhythm. Eventually every breath is not a sob or shallow pull. The world filters through her ears slowly and Vi just holds her until she lifts her head. Just enough to place them but Vi gets a little space between them. Space Caitlyn is not willing to give up. 

“Shh,” Vi soothes, “I’m not going anywhere, just let me look at you.”

“Can I look at you?” Caitlyn questions. 

The warm chuckle almost summons annoyance through the relief. She presses her forehead against Vi’s collarbone. 

“Yeah, Cait, you can look.”

Caitlyn takes in this new Vi. She almost starts to look for her Vi, but she’s right there. Her pink hair is shorter, spikier. And pink. The muddled darkness has been banished. The only remnant is a thin braid that starts as two plaits buried in her hair before funneling into a small metal bead where they become one. Goggles peak out from her hair. The goggles, Caitlyn realizes. Only now they protect her eyes as she zips through the city. The jacket she wears is a deep violet color. Caitlyn touches her wrapped forearms and Vi’s smile widens. 

“What?” She asks. 

“You were right,” she says, “that coating can irritate the skin.”

The gauze. 

It almost makes Caitlyn cry all over again. The idea that Vi has had it this whole time, underneath the wide clean wraps that now spiral up her forearms. Instead she focuses on something, anything so she will not start to weep. She has no idea how long she will have with her. If this is proof she is alive or her finally, finally letting Caitlyn see her. Anything—

“Seriously?” Caitlyn brushes the top of the familiar, infuriating pants. 

“They’re my lucky pants,” Vi says. The smile falls, “not my only ones anymore.”

I want to be with you without feeling like you’e the only thing that’s real.

“Vi—“

“Hey, I’m here,” Vi catches her hand. Caitlyn feels the soreness, “I’m here,” she repeats, “come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

She sits across from Vi and lets her clean her scrapes and place narrow white bandages along the deeper ones. The antiseptic here stings but the pain helps Caitlyn know this is not a dream. Even as she works Vi’s eyes keep dragging back up and catching her gaze. Caitlyn gives her a questioning look and Vi motions to her own eye. Caitlyn leans forward and lets Vi touch her face. Her thumb brushes along the bottom of Caitlyn’s eye socket, gently exposing more of the glass nestled in her eye socket. Caitlyn wants to watch her reaction but the touch is so nice she feels her eye closing. 

“That’s some eye,” Vi says. 

“I wanted them to remember,” Caitlyn says, “what we did down here, before—“ Vi’s breath catches, “I didn’t want them to forget. I was going to leave it empty but Steb—“

“Steb?”

“His idea,” Caitlyn explains, “it seemed right.” 

Vi’s hand trails up and pushes through her hair. Caitlyn leans forward before her fingers are even at the back of her head. Their foreheads press together. The touch warm and familiar. It’s the only touch Caitlyn has had but now she can open her eyes and see the hand Vi has clasped over hers. Further proof she is here. They are here. Vi’s breath is shaky as she leans into the touch. 

“I missed you,” she whispers, so faint Caitlyn almost doesn’t hear it. 

“You’re here,” Caitlyn says, not meaning for it to come out as a question. 

“Yeah,” Vi replies, her voice strong. Their eyes meet, “I’m here,” her eyes flash with emotion, “I’m so—“

“I don’t care about anything else right now,” Caitlyn cuts in, “just—be here with me.”

Vi shifts upwards and scraps the chair closer until they are pressed together. Caitlyn spreads her legs so they band the outside of Vi’s thighs. They lean on each other, holding the other close enough to feel but far enough to see. Vi invades almost all of her senses until there is no chance any part of Caitlyn can doubt this is real. The longing, the missing, the frustration all sigh away as their fingers gently explore new scrapes and new hair. Eventually Caitlyn’s fingers trace Vi’s braid to the bead and down to the end. It’s a tribute. Vi will always carry the pain of what happened. But when she twists the end around her finger, the look on Vi’s face turns sad. Not tortured, just sad. Mournful. She lets out a breath and leans back. When Caitlyn goes to let her, Vi traps her fingers on her shoulder, still tangled in the braid. Caitlyn waits as she forces her eyes open and looks at Caitlyn. 

As she doesn’t try to hide it. 

“Every woman in my family has worn a braid,” she says, “I wanted to try it out.”

Not just Jinx. Not just that pain. There’s another pain here. The pain of someone who lived the life Vi had before all of this. Caitlyn thinks of the tiles that she left her. Vi spent so much time fighting to get back to her past. To a past that had already vanished. She knows Vi’s parents died on that bridge. Killed by Enforcers. There has been so much grief in Vi’s life. She thought Vi’s ghosts never stayed gone. Most of them don’t. Vander raised Vi, he was her dad. What happened there his tragedy enough. It’s almost easy to forget that he only did that because Vi’s parents were murdered. Caitlyn has sworn she will not let the old pain be swept under the rug by the new. It looks back at her in the mirror every time she wears the swirling green and purple eye. 

It seems Vi has made the same promise. 

Oil and water. 

I love you. 

You are so loved. 

Caitlyn twirls the braid around her finger and brushes the edge with her thumb. Vi lets her inspect it. Lets her see it. Caitlyn settles the long hair against the purple of Vi’s jacket. She wonders if it is purple as a blend of Jinx’s blue and Vi’s pink. Or if it means something else entirely. There is time enough to ask. To figure this out. Vi’s eyes scan her face as Caitlyn meets her gaze and offers a smile.

“It suits you.” 

Chapter Text

When the broken sphere appears on the horizon, everything in Caitlyn stops working.

She will never forget this place as long as she lives. Everything changed here in so many ways. It was so chaotic when they last left, the silence makes her head swim. Only Vi’s arm around her waist and the fact that she is in front of her on the board keeps Caitlyn from throwing herself off it. When Vi said she wanted to show her something important, Caitlyn thought she meant the arcade or her place with her dad. Literally anywhere but this. Caitlyn has to force herself to remember they are not the same people. That Vi is alive and warm and not bleeding out as Caitlyn screams for Jayce to not move her. Vi doesn’t go to the battlefield though. She takes them around the outskirts and through the fields of dead flowers before she lands the board. They don’t let go of each other as they step onto the ground. But then Vi pulls away with one last squeeze of her hand and reaches into her pocket.

“This is what I wanted to show you.”

At first Caitlyn doesn’t understand what she’s looking at. The stone was clearly part of something else. It looks vaguely familiar but also very different. Soot marks line it from when the foliage was burned away. It’s been ringed in stones. In front of it are a handful of candles, one of which has only recently gone out. They are so far underground, Caitlyn is surprised there is any light down here without the sign or the dome. She watches as Vi crouches down and lights the candles again. Caitlyn recognizes two from her own house, though the jars have clearly been refilled with new wax. There is only one scented one. The sugary smell feels childlike. Caitlyn realizes she is looking at a shrine to Vi’s dead. When the candles are all lit, the stone is illuminated. It’s secret is revealed along the far edge. Caitlyn’s stomach drops so quickly she feels as though she is back on the board.

—Violet

—Powder

—Powder

Vi sitting here stabbed before everything. Their relationship barely even that. She had no idea what it would become. She had known when she came down with Ambessa that they were deep in the bowls of the Undercity. But she hadn't known they were so close to where she had gone with Vi. Even back then being here had been difficult for Vi. She can't imagine what it must have been like to wind up here again with her family. Only to lose them all over again. That made it twice she had watched Vi almost die here. And yet somehow they are standing here again. 

This only works if we trust each other.

You have a good heart.

“This was your home.”

A pained but fond smile tugs at Vi’s lips and she straightens up. 

“It didn’t always look like this,” she says. 

She read about this place, or what she could find about it. So much of it was lost. The Undercity did not keep records like they did. She had no idea of the significance the first time. And she certainly was not going to tell Ambessa. The Undercity's history was more abstract. Riots and fighting and Shimmer had all affected this place. She cannot remember if there was an evacuation or if the people were just wiped out. From the way the stone is cut, Caitlyn thinks it was probably the former. When she came down deeper with Ambessa, Caitlyn had thought about following Vi down here. Even then it had felt forbidden. Worse, somehow, than the place above. In a million years she never would have guessed it was once a home. Long enough that Vi and Powder had a chance to grow. She tries to picture a woman with a braid cupping Vi’s chin and drawing the line. Writing her name next to it in careful cursive. She tries to picture an innocent version of Jinx begging to be next. 

“I read about this place when we came down here to look,” she says, “there was a community but—I had no idea you were a part of it. I didn't recognize. I didn't realize it was this place.”

“It was a long time ago,” Vi says, but her voice is not dismissive, “after Van—dad found us on the bridge, we never came back. He said it wasn’t safe. Then it was gone. Except—“ she motions at the stone. 

Caitlyn crouches down to have a closer look. The first time they were down here things were so different. This time nothing had been recognizable. Now she looks at the names that have come to mean so much. Caitlyn thought the fight that almost killed her was cruel. Everything that happened down here was cruel, despite what Viktor was trying to accomplish. But this adds salt to the wound. Even with the houses long gone, even with only this stone remaining. This entire battle took place on what was once Vi’s doorstep. Vi almost died feet from where she was born. The thought makes her stomach knot. She’s grateful when Vi crouches down next to her. It reminds her she’s alive. Her hand reaches out and touches the stone. Like she can transport herself back here. Her eyes go shadowed at the memories. Caitlyn can only hear the roaring and screaming and all the blood that poured out of Vi as she desperately tried to keep the wound closed. Caitlyn throws herself back to the present and bumps Vi’s shoulder with her own. 

“You’re almost that tall,” she says. 

A smile tugs Vi’s lips.

“She said I’d grow like a weed one day,” Vi says, “even though neither of them were tall.”

“Do you look like her?” Caitlyn asks.

Vi considers the question. Caitlyn cannot fathom having to consider the answer. But she has grown up with her parents looking back at her. She has seen more of their features and mannerisms take root in her as she’s gotten older. She knows Vi doesn’t even have a picture of her parents to call her own. Or maybe she does now. She has the goggles, she gave Caitlyn the score from that machine. Maybe she’s picked up more of her past along the way. 

“I think so,” Vi says finally, “in my face. But she—“ she looks over but instead of meeting Caitlyn’s eyes, she looks up, “her hair was really dark. And long. Kind of like yours.”

“Like mine?” Caitlyn says, surprised. 

“Yeah,” Vi says, “it made me want to trust you back then.”

She offers the information so casually it seems wildly unfair. They rarely speak about their time together when they first met. Thinking about that time always drags Caitlyn to the dinner party. To the blue trail splitting the blood red moon. When she does think about it, it always stuns Caitlyn how much her life changed even before Jinx’s attack. She did not know anything about true change. Not like she does now. But some part of her knew, even back then, that her life would never go back to how it was before that explosion outside her mother’s tent. Before she went into Stillwater and crossed the red line she wasn’t supposed to. 

“I wish I had her handwriting,” Caitlyn says.

“Your penmanship’s great, Cupcake.”

“Because I had to practice,” Caitlyn says, looking back at the lines, “your mother had a steady hand.” 

“She was good with them,” Vi says, “I remember them when she danced,” she says. Caitlyn looks at her, “we used to dance wherever there was room,” her finger brushes a chip in the wall, “I knocked something into the wall and she would just grab my hand and we would just—keep dancing.”

It’s so hard to imagine and yet at the same time it’s not. Not really. On the surface perhaps. With the hell that Vi’s life has been, the image of a happy pink haired little girl being pulled into a dance is hard to imagine. But she’s seen Vi move. Seen her vault and flip and soar. When Ambessa had grown frustrated with Caitlyn’s staff work she had smacked her in the shins and it felt like her old dance tutor. More than that, Caitlyn thinks of the way Vi hefted the gauntlets and made them her own. Without thinking, without practice, she slid them on and they were seamlessly hers. Even Jayce had been grudgingly impressed. 

“So you move like her,” Caitlyn says. 

Surprise paints Vi’s face painfully young in the candlelight. She looks back at the stone. 

“I guess,” she says and though Caitlyn imagines she means for it to come out casual, there’s a realization in her tone that gives it more weight than those two words should.

“Did your mom ever do this?” Vi asks after a moment. 

“No,” Caitlyn says. Vi nods though something shadows her eyes. Caitlyn can almost hear the question. Are we similar? Caitlyn lays her head on her arm, “my father’s the doctor,” she reminds Vi, “and my mother always believed in finding the best person for the job. My wall like this is in his office. Though mine does start higher.”

That gets a chuckle out of Vi. Caitlyn hopes it means there’s a bit of similarity. A wall for both of them, a parent’s loving hand, even if the places are so different. Caitlyn feels Vi rest her head on top of hers. With the warmth of the candles Caitlyn could almost pretend they are back in front of the fire in her house. Even though they are in a place that has been such hell, this somehow feels more peaceful than that moment. If she just focuses on the flicker of the candle and the feel of Vi’s shoulder under her cheek, everything feels oddly peaceful. It’s a peace that Caitlyn only seems capable of finding with Vi, no matter where they are. 

“I can’t believe this all happened in your backyard,” Caitlyn says. 

“That’s how backyards are here,” Vi tells her. Caitlyn glances up as her head dips, “things get destroyed and you build until they get destroyed again. It’s—“ the pain sparks, “stupid.”

“No,” Caitlyn squeezes her arm, “it’s a cycle we can break.”

She wanted to break the cycle.

You sound like her.

Horror floods through her as soon as the words have left her mouth. She expects Vi to get up. To realize what a mistake it was to bring her down here, to show her this part of herself. But Vi stays where she is. Her anger focuses on the candles, not on Caitlyn, On one candle in particular. The jar that had just gone out. Though she can only recognize the corner of it, Caitlyn knows the candle. Knows the blue sky and the airship that is splashed across the front hovering over the ocean. One she found incredibly foolish when she picked it up because who would bother with an airship when they had the Hexgate? Vi’s hand covers Caitlyns in a silent request for her to say where she is. Caitlyn nods against Vi’s shoulder.

“I lied when I told you I wasn’t going after her,” Vi says quietly and Caitlyn can feel her pulse pick up, “the Captain said to stay on deck and focus on the horizon,” Vi shakes her head, “I heard them taking the ropes off. I was going to find her—“ she falls silent and it takes everything for Caitlyn to stay where she is, “he yelled at me not to be sick on his ship and I realized I wasn’t looking at the horizon I was looking at home.”

Caitlyn can imagine it so terrifyingly well. Like she has imagined Jinx smuggling herself away. But in her imagination Jinx is always hidden. Drifting away into the sky with no-one the wiser. Like a peaceful version of her war balloon. But there is always peace. She can clearly picture the set of Vi’s shoulders and the tightness in her jaw as she does what she must. As she keeps her impossible promise. The difference is so staggering. It makes it so hard to picture the pair of them as little girls jostling and dancing with their mother. 

“So I grabbed my bag and jumped—“

“Wait, what?!” Caitlyn forgets her promise and jerks up. The image of Vi leaping off the airship makes her entire body go cold. Even though she has seen Vi make some impossible jumps, “you could have asked him to turn around!”

“First time on airship, Cupcake,” Vi says, dragging her back into the present,“Besides, it wasn’t much of a jump. And I needed to start finding my way back.”

Caitlyn has to struggle from the image of Vi lying twisted on the sand a few hundred yards from here. It’s hard not to yell at the idea of Vi in a heap somewhere far below the airship. Vi has leapt across roofs and spent weeks zipping across the Undercity on a hoverboard. Every time they have been apart, Caitlyn has refused to let her thoughts linger on the Undercity and Vi getting hurt. The only time she failed to fight the thought with Ambessa was when she stole the blueprints to Vi’s gauntlets. Caitlyn has spent her entire life hearing about how dangerous the Undercity is. The fact that Vi could have cracked her head open again on the docks does not make it any better. 

“I’m sorry I lie—“

“I don’t care about the lie,” Caitlyn says, “of course I thought you were going after her. Vi gives her a questioning look, “I tried not to think about you getting hurt and you could have cracked you head open the day after you left. And I would not have had any idea.”

Vi hesitates. Looks almost guiltier. 

“Honestly I kind of figured you were having me followed,” Vi admits. Caitlyn opens her mouth in outrage, “look I realized I was wrong. That’s why I got Sevika to give you the tiles.”

“I wanted to have you followed!” Caitlyn says, “I wanted to drag you out there myself—stop smiling!” She says at the look on Vi’s face. 

“Sorry,” Vi says, “it’s just—“ she lets out a breath, “it’s kind of nice to have you being annoyed at me again,” she looks up through her pink hair, “makes this feel kind of normal.” 

Caitlyn feels the weight of this place. She cannot imagine how it must feel for Vi. The closest thing she has is the Council Chamber and that has been restored. It looks reborn. There is no rebirth down here. There is only memories and death. Vi’s own blood runs thick in the sand. Hers, her fathers, Ishas—and yet she comes back here. She brings a light into the place when Caitlyn while every time Caitlyn walks into the Council chamber the lie of it almost chokes her. Putting someone from the Undercity into the Council Seat was the right thing to do, but some part of her is profoundly grateful she does not have to regularly go in there. 

“I can’t believe I’m yelling at you in your childhood home,” Caitlyn mutters, “your parents would be horrified.”

“My parents would have loved you,” Vi says, shifting back closer, “your parents were the horrified ones.”

Caitlyn never would have imagined going to the Undercity with anyone. Let alone meeting someone there or being with them to the point where she followed them home. It’s such a foreign concept. When people court members of House Kiramman, they know that they are marrying into the Kiramman Family. Not the other way around. They fall over her, she never has to consider things like their approval. 

I love you.

Will you still love her. 

Now she tries to picture going down to a house with Vi. Being nervous about meeting the people closest to her. Wanting them to like her for herself, without the entanglements of her money or power. Wanting to promise them she would take care of their daughter. Somehow, her mind just goes back to sitting outside the cell with Jinx. The appraisal she did not recognize at the time. Those pink eyes that considered her and decided she was worthy of Vi. She wonders if that was a part of Jinx’s plan. She remembers the softness in Vi’s dads eyes when they all came together in his arms and the look he gave her. 

“So we would have gone through your front door properly then?” She says. 

A smile tugs at Vi’s lips. 

“Nah, I probably would have snuck you through my window.”

Caitlyn sighs and drops her head back to Vi’s shoulder. Even though the space is a dark place full of silence and the echoes of death. There are echoes of life here too. She lifts her eyes to meet Vi’s soft look.

“Well then they definitely wouldn’t have liked me,” she says, “parents hate it when you do that no matter who you bring home.”

Just for a moment, their laughter echoes through the space. 

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.”

Chapter Text

The world looks the same when she finally eases off the mask.

Caitlyn lets the familiar disappointment echo through her. But this time it slides away as Vi’s breath coasts down her skin.  She doesn’t want to move but for the first time, she wants to see. She gets one of her legs underneath her and pushes her hips up, shifting her weight onto her shoulders. Her muscles ache with the unfamiliar feeling, but they also remember. The web of lines is still shockingly dark. Vi’s attention still clings to some of them, making the light trail across the broken skin. Vi shifts her head and looks as well. 

“Do you ever get used to it?”

“Yeah,” Vi says, “but every so often you’re  still going to try to scrub it off.”

Caitlyn shakes her head at the memory. The way she had scrubbed without thinking and it felt like fire across her skin. The stinking her stomach when she realized it was not dirt, it wasn’t going to come off with her soap. She felt like a fool for forgetting and spent the rest of the shower with her eyes anywhere but her own skin. Now she looks. She lets her free hand touch the skin and find the spot. The line has been extended, as the doctors tried to find bleed after bleed. But she can span the spot with her fingers. 

“I was so confused,” she says, thinking of being dropped to her knees and the sound of Maddie cocking the gun, “I was supposed to be alive to see Piltover fall,” she feels Vi’s lashes against her neck as she looks upwards, “she gives this to people she wants to suffer.”

Vi exhales and shifts again so they are lying next to each other. Her hand draws away from Caitlyn’s pulse but her head doesn’t leave her shoulder. She replaces one hand with the other so they are laying on the bed side by side. Joined hands between them. One hand on her stomach. 

“Suffer because you helped me,” Vi says. 

“She was going to find out I was working against her eventually,” Caitlyn says, letting her hips drop back to the bed. Vi’s head shifts against her shoulder, “I should have realized what this was when she handed me that stupid cape.”

“When did you?” 

“When we raided the university,” she says. Her throat tightens at the memory but she pushes past, “she tore apart Jayce’s lab. Destroyed everything and couldn’t find them,” she licks her lip, “I could. I did. I had them in my hands—“ she remembers the feeling so well, “and something in me woke up,” she turns to look at Vi, “I put them in my pants.”

“Put what in your pants?” Vi asks, looking confused.

“Jayce’s blueprints for his Hextech devices,” she says, “Ambessa wanted Hextech weapons. I wanted to give them to her,” she trails off. Vi is quiet, “then I thought about you fighting someone else with the gauntlets.” 

Vi is quiet for a moment. 

“You thought about me?” She asks quietly. 

“I thought about how much I wanted to hit you again,” she says, “how angry I was at you,” she looks at Vi’s grey eyes, “but the thought of someone else hurting you made me sick.”

Vi doesn’t smile, doesn’t joke. She doesn’t move away either. She squeezes Caitlyn’s hand and Caitlyn looks upwards at the canopy of her bed. 

“I put them in my pants under the cape right before Ambessa came in. I told her they must have been destroyed or Viktor took them. She cracked the board in half,” the memory makes her flatten her fingers against the scar, “she said ‘as you command, commander.’”

Vi makes a scoff and Caitlyn wishes again that she had been there to make it the first time she heard those words. 

“I realized I was being used,” Caitlyn continues, “I got home and threw the plans in the fire. But I rolled them wrong, they left a stain. I couldn’t get it out.”

Vi squeezes her hand and Caitlyn looks over. 

“So you spent months with evidence of your crime on your back?” She says. Caitlyn opens her mouth and then closes it. Nods. Vi reaches over and pushes back her hair, tucking it behind her ear, “that’s pretty badass, Cupcake.”

“I didn’t have any other choice,” Caitlyn tries to explain, “she gave me that cape. If I changed it or stopped wearing it, she would know. I needed more time,” she says. Then stops herself, “I thought I needed more time.”

All her careful, surgical moves. The knot of anger still in her guts. And the moment Vi said she had a chance at happiness, Caitlyn was coming up with a plan. She had thought. perhaps, Ambessa would not piece together the net was hers immediately. But she knew that was a long shot. Knew it was nearly impossible even as she hoped for it. All of her outthinking, all of the tiny successes, the miserable inches towards victory and suddenly she was staring Ambessa in the eye across a battlefield. 

“I pictured the shocked look on her face so many times,” Caitlyn admits, “how good it would feel to beat her,” she sighs, “then it happened and I don’t know which of us was more shocked.”

They just stared at each other. Caitlyn hadn’t even thought to hide her face. She just clutched her gun and stared while the surprise on Ambessa’s face gave way to pain and fury. 

“If it makes you feel any better she looked pretty pissed off when I punched the net into her face,” she says, “she probably realized it was yours and spent the whole walk over trying to convince herself otherwise.”

Caitlyn tries to picture it and hums at the thought. Ambessa shoving off the net and recognizing it. Telling herself there was no way Caitlyn had outsmarted her, not when she had played the game so much better. Caitlyn knew Ambessa saw some of the moves she had made, she headed them off and then lectured Caitlyn like a child. All her talks about war contained the same message: I am better at this than you, child. I have already won, look at where you are. And each time Caitlyn had forced the poison down her throat. Each swallow came with the same savage response: You are the blind one, you just don’t know it yet. She can picture Ambessa pacing for a moment, working though the puzzle before grabbing her blade and running to see the truth. It’s that momentary pause that Caitlyn focuses on.

“That does make me feel a little better,” she admits, turning so her head is cushioned on Vi’s chest. The cotton pressing against her empty socket is another new sensation, “I forget it’s gone sometimes,” she says. It’s like Vi has loosened something in her, “then I remember and I am so angry,” she curls her fingers into Vi’s shirt, “it never stops.”

“Cait,” Vi trails her fingers down her arm. Caitlyn looks up at her, “I want you to just listen for a second. It’s not gonna make sense otherwise. Can you—?” Caitlyn nods against her chest and turns her face into the cotton, “it’s not anger, not really. You think you’re going to feel this way forever but you’re not,” Caitlyn has to press her lips into the cotton to keep from objecting, “Cait you’re grieving.” 

Caitlyn forces herself to be quiet out of respect. Vi takes a bigger inhale. 

“Okay I’m done.”

“I’m not grieving,” Caitlyn says instantly, “it’s been months since she passed. No,” she shakes her head, “I learned my lesson. I’m just angry.”

“Cupcake,” Vi says the nickname slowly and her other hand trails the corner of Caitlyn’s eye, “I don’t think you’re grieving for her.”

Those frayed, brittle pieces. 

Suddenly they make horrible sense. Suddenly she can see the impossible chasm they have suspended her over. It’s all in her head but the panic that roars up is so very real. She cannot, she will not fall into it. The only thing she can find to hold onto is the cotton of Vi’s shirt. She has to hold on though. If she doesn’t if she let lets go she will never stop falling. Vi is here but she is not. Physically in addition to mentally. Caitlyn knows she cannot depend on her to catch her. No matter how Vi’s fingers cup her shoulder or she pulls her closer. Caitlyn braces herself above the abyss and grapples for the anger that has kept her aloft. The pit seems to reach back for her. Pursue her. She has to be stronger than it. 

“I’m fine,” she says when she’s gathered herself, “this was my choice,” she has to undo her fingers and flatten them against Vi’s chest, “there’s nothing to grieve.” 

She sits up from the safety of Vi’s arms. Her robe is laid neatly over the chair where she left it this morning and she moves towards it. Behind her she hears Vi sit up and she knows the conversation is not over. But she will not have it while she is naked. She needs something. Especially if she is to make Vi understand why falling apart now is not something she can do. She tightens the cord around her waist. 

“You and my father, when you grieve you go quiet. Distant. You go away,” she turns to face Vi, “I attacked defenseless people. I made you become an Enforcer,” she touches the scar on her forehead, “I wanted all of it. I wanted people to feel what I was feeling,” she drops her hand, “now I feel better and they are still suffering for my crimes.”

“So you’re just going to punish yourself?”

“No-one else will!” She says, “except you.”

“Cait I’m not punishing you!” Vi says.

“No, I know,” Caitlyn says, “I’m sorry, I know that—“ she presses her fingers to her temples, “I know that and it still feels like you are.”

Vi sits down on the edge of the bed. She doesn’t look happy but she keeps her mouth closed. She’s not picking a fight. Though for the first time Caitlyn wishes she would so they could just have sex again. She liked feeling that more than she likes the notion of having this conversation. Caitlyn doesn’t know how to articulate this without it sounding like the worst thing she’s ever said. Or one of them anyway. Vi drops her head and rubs the back of her neck. 

“Just say it,” Vi says, looking up at her, “it’s nothing I haven’t told myself.”

“I thought dealing with the looks people would give us when we were together would be the hard part,” she says, “but it would be fine because we would be together. I didn’t expect—“ she looks around, “I didn’t expect you would be gone or it would feel this way. I thought I was strong enough to just wait patiently and that some day I’d light the candle and you would—“

She trails off as Vi falls backwards onto the bed and lets out a noise of frustration. Of all the things she is expecting, it’s not that. 

“You’d light it up and I’d find you,” Vi says. There’s a beat of silence, then the most miserable, angry whisper that cuts through Caitlyn like a knife, “like a fucking flare.”

You sound like her.

Caitlyn feels like the wind has been knocked out of her as the realization crashes in. Her fingertips find the chair and she drops into it. There is so much radically different here. It’s been shorter, she is not scrambling for her life. She hasn’t gone insane. But Vi has pressed a signal into her hands and told her she will find her if she just lights it up. And Caitlyn has been standing with it in her arms every night since. Caitlyn looks around the room, half expecting to see Jinx there. She wonders if Vi expects the same thing. But as she looks around she only sees the comforts Vi has dragged into the room, all the ones that Caitlyn has kept here. Preserved. It feels like a room of ghosts all of a sudden. 

“Gods,” Vi pushes herself up and walks over before Caitlyn can think to stop her, “I am so sorry. I had to go, I did—“ she shakes her head, “but I never should have left you alone like this.”

“I can’t stay here,” Caitlyn says meeting Vi’s grey eyes.

She doesn’t know where here is. Some part of her knows she would wait and light candles and feel foolish for the rest of her days if that was what Vi needed. But the romance of it has started to turn hollow. Even if she pushes aside all the voices in her head that sound like her mother’s instructions, even if she ignores everything she’s been taught, the hollow feeling still remains. Like that chasm of her grief. It’s so strange how they seem to have shifted roles. She wonders if Vi ever felt this way when she was fighting for her sister. Or fighting for her. She doubts it, fighting for others is what Vi does. That was what caught her so off guard when she kissed her in that cell. It may have been the first thing she had seen Vi do simply because she wanted it. 

“No,” Vi says, dragging her back to the present, “no listen you have been incredible. Beyond anything I thought I would have in this lifetime.”

“Vi—“

“Cait I’m gonna say something really stupid,” she says, “and I know, I know I’ve asked a lot from you but could you—“ she seems to fumble for the right word, “could you let me try to explain why I went away?”

Caitlyn nods. They’ve come this far. Vi walks over to the other chair and picks it up, carrying it closer and angling it so they are almost sitting in front of one another. Caitlyn hates the way her body refuses to turn towards Vi fully, but she feels unable to fight it in this moment. Instead she waits as Vi takes a breath like she is remembering something. Dimly Caitlyn realizes she’s practiced for this moment. This explanation. Though she doubts this is the timing she had in mind. 

“Jinx wasn’t always like the girl you met,” she says, “even after we had seen some stuff as kids, she was fine. She never talked to people in her head or anything. But sometimes she would start to go quiet. And I would make her play games with me until she came back.”

Caitlyn watches as Vi shifts her weight and tries not to look frustrated. She fails miserably but it doesn’t stop her from continuing to talk. 

“Something broke in her that night I left, when Dad died the first time,” she says, “but Ekko said it took a while for it to get that bad. When I came back it was the worst he ever saw her.”

Caitlyn doesn’t say anything. She’s still shaken from the realization that Vi has pressed a candle into her fingers and put her into the same position. She can feel the pricks of anger starting again though. Spinning like a web across the chasm of her grief. Vi seems to have done it without realizing and she was so focused on doing what was best for her, she hadn’t either. 

Desperation is the doorway to oblivion, child. 

Caitlyn grits her teeth. Of all the ghosts in her head, of all the voices, that is the one that grates over her the most. She shoves it aside and tries to focus on Vi. 

“Cait when I said I dreamed of you every night, it wasn’t just when I was dreaming,” Vi says, “When we were apart, I saw you everywhere. You—you danced, you laughed—you talked to me.”

Something cold slides down her back. 

“Jinx and my dad didn’t just fall, they fell out of my hand. I know—I know it wasn’t that simple but my head didn’t. While you were recovering, the being here and not being here got really bad.”

Caitlyn thinks she might be sick.

“I just kept waiting for Jinx to show up in my head. I kept waiting to see her,” she stands up abruptly and it catches Caitlyn off guard. 

She doesn’t go far, just far enough to grip the high back of the chair and rock onto her heels. 

“Then you said she’s alive and I—“ she cuts herself off before continuing, “I’ve been mad at her before but that—that felt different. That felt like how she talked about me when things were bad.”

“Did you see her?” Caitlyn asks. 

“No,” Vi says, “but I was waiting. We sat there and I kept waiting to hear her voice. And then I remembered Ekko saying it didn’t start right away. And I just kept thinking what if you were right? What if it’s not just our blood, what if it’s our heads?”

Caitlyn almost doesn’t want to hear what comes next. 

“Cait I couldn’t come back until I was sure I wasn’t turning into her.”

Caitlyn lurches to her feet, unable to remain seated a second longer. She needs space. Desperately. She loathes how much sense Vi makes. Loathes how much fear hangs in her voice, how afraid she was of this. Of Caitlyn’s reaction to this. Caitlyn knew it was something in her head that she needed to heal, but she never would have imagined it was the fear of turning into her sister. Caitlyn consoled herself constantly that they were different. That she could love Vi while her sister shredded her world apart because they were not the same. 

“We could have helped you if you were!” She says and her voice comes out so much louder than she means for it to, “there are doctors and treatments—“

“Cait I couldn’t do that to you,” Vi says and Caitlyn can’t remember the last time she heard her sound so serious, “not after everything—“

“Why do you get to decide that?!” Caitlyn erupts, “I told you the truth because you deserved to know! I accepted you might hate me afterwards—this whole time I thought a part of you did. But you were protecting me?!’

Instead of shouting back like Caitlyn so desperately wants Vi comes around to the front of the chair and drops into it. Color rides high on her cheeks and she folds her arms across her chest and lets her legs dangle over the arm. She looks so casual, so at ease even though she has just shattered every facet of Caitlyn’s lies. And she won’t even yell back and give her the satisfaction of that. 

“I told you it was stupid,” she says. 

Caitlyn pinches the bridge of her nose and feels the faint scars there. She’s taken a spear to the eye. She is Cassandra Kiramman’s daughter. She can figure out how to talk to Vi. Caitlyn had always railed against her choices being limited by her parents. She thought it was unfair that restrictions were placed only on her because of her bloodline. Which feels like a joke when she thinks about the actual restrictions poverty and prison have placed on Vi’s choices. 

“You feel as though you have always been a part of my life,” Caitlyn says, “like we met in Jayce’s lab. Sometimes I forget how little autonomy you’ve had in your life.”

“My back tattoo says otherwise,” Vi says. 

“Vi,” Caitlyn sighs, “it’s not—“ she stops herself, “it’s your life,” she walks back over to her own chair and sits down, “there’s no sense in denying it.”

“Yeah but,” Vi drums her fingers on her stomach, “it’s not like I’m incapable of making decisions.”

“No, but it’s understandable you would occasionally make foolish ones,” Caitlyn shoots back. Vi waves a hand, “was that red jacket not the first piece of clothing you ever chose for yourself?” Vi sighs loudly and her arm drops, “that doesn’t mean you don’t know how to dress yourself.”

“That jacket was awesome,” Vi sighs. 

“It’s in the closet,” Caitlyn says. 

The wipes Vi’s face clean with surprise. Caitlyn is both annoyed and understands. She did hold it over the fire and was fully prepared to burn it. That was what made sense. Burn the jacket, burn every last thing that tied them together and beg Ambessa for forgiveness. The joke of it was even if she burned the blueprints she had the backup plan on her Key. Vi’s memory showed her she was in a cell. But her family pride kept the Key out of it. She doesn’t know what to make of the pair working together through her. Hope, perhaps? Though right now she doesn’t thing the hovering feeling has a name. Curiosity is as close as she can get. 

Caitlyn pulls herself up. Her body feels more relaxed than it has since before her fight with Ambessa. She also feels like she needs to wash the smell of sex from her skin. Vi shifts as she gets up but Caitlyn shakes her head. If Vi comes into the shower she’s only going to do one thing and Caitlyn needs to digest the information she just gave her. 

“I understand you’re afraid,” she says, “and you will make these kind of decisions frequently right now. But nothing you or your sister has done has scared me out of loving you.”

She just makes it past the chair when Vi speaks. 

“I couldn’t—I couldn’t bear the thought of you looking at me differently.”

Promise me you won’t change. 

“How I look at you is going to always change, Violet,” she says, her full name slipping out of her mouth, “but my feelings won’t. You’re going to have to learn to trust that,” she forces herself to the bathroom, “I hope you’re still here when I get out.”

She lingers in the shower longer than she wants to as she scrubs her skin clean. It feels like she is shedding something, but she cannot fully decide what it is. If it is a good or a bad thing. If it simply is. Some part of her feels irrationally pleased her body still does something she wants it to. Something that is not the robotic movements that are carrying her through life. Something that is just pleasure. Even if her lip still throb with those first bruising kisses. She touches her lips and realizes she’s lingering at least in part so she does not have to see. She can hover there, caught between so many possibilities. She still doesn’t feel ready to face the one that might await her but she cannot delay forever. 

Things have shifted in the empty room. 

The fireplace on the far side of the bed that Caitlyn usually neglects has been stoked to life. Two of the folded blankets are stacked on the edge of the bed. The rest seem to have vanished. The endless candles are tucked away except for a ring of them on the table. All Caitlyn can think of is the piece of Vi’s house buried deep under the earth and the candles she placed there. Her board is by the window but the rest of her gear is folded on top of the chair. On top of the bunny mask is a folded piece of paper. Caitlyn gets the sense it’s for her even before she sees her name scrawled in loopy script. 

Caitlyn’s copy.

Caitlyn unfolds the piece of paper. A whole day is written out. Meal times, patrol times, exercise times. There’s even a block of time for ‘Visiting Caitlyn’ right in the middle of the day. It’s a carefully written out routine. Vi’s routine. It’s so regimented, almost military like. It reminds Caitlyn of the early days in Enforcer training. She looks up when the door opens and meets Vi’s eyes. She’s carrying two cups of tea and looks exhausted. 

“Who designed this?” She asks, holding out her hand for one of the mugs. 

“Ekko,” Vi says, handing it over, “after the dock I went to him. He told me he helps Shimmer addicts. But they have to want it, he says they have to want to be saved or it doesn’t work. I asked for help.”

“This is very regimented.”

“That’s a part of it,” Vi says, “you get on a routine. You stay out of trouble. You find something that makes it worth it.”

“Is that how you became a Firelight?”

“Yeah, but that wasn’t the only thing that made it worth it,” she says, “I’d write out coming and visiting you before I had this schedule. Just so I could see where you fit. It made me work harder.”

Caitlyn half expects the confession to feel offensive but it doesn’t. Amidst all of this her heart finds it sweet. Even if her pride still feels stung. She’s surprised when Vi sets down the mug, reaches into her pocket and pulls out another piece of paper. She thumbs the edge nervously before holding it out. Caitlyn shifts the current paper to her hand with the tea cup and takes the new one. The moment it’s out of Vi’s hand she grabs her own cup like a lifeline and takes a mouthful of tea that makes Caitlyn’s own burn in sympathy. Caitlyn gives her a questioning look before unfolding the paper, wondering what could possibly be on it that is so troubling. 

It’s another routine. 

This one is even more regimented. The day is broken down to even smaller blocks. Her Firelight schedule is divided between patrols and meetings. Caitlyn can see there’s no visiting hours. But before the question can start she sees how the day is bracketed. 

Home. 

“It’s—a lot,” Vi says, “but I gave Ekko my word I’d give you a copy. So you could see what you were getting into.” 

“When are you coming home?” Caitlyn demands. 

The tone of her voice catches them both by surprise. Caitlyn realizes the death grip she has on the paper and the mug. How suddenly the answer to that question is the only one she wants to hear. The rest is so heavy, there is so much to work through. Too much for anyone to work through alone. She can light endless candles and Vi can find her a million times over, but unless they come down together that is all they will ever do. Patience outside of shooting has never been Caitlyn’s strong suit. She’s trying to prepare herself for some impossibly difficult timeline when Vi eases her hands out of her pockets. 

“I can stay tonight,” she says. Caitlyn takes a step forward but Vi matches with one back, “it can’t be every night,” she says, “I have to keep the routine. But I can be here tonight.”

“I’d like that,” Caitlyn says trying to keep her tone measured. Like she can usually do so well. 

A relieved, beautiful smile cracks across Vi’s face.

“Yeah?”

Caitlyn barely manages to set the cup on the ground before she and Vi are hugging. Vi hugs like no-one Caitlyn has ever met. She hugs with her whole body, with her whole heart. There is nothing reserved about it. Caitlyn always finds herself melting into them, even when she swears she won’t. This time neither of them pull back as Vi bands her arms around her and holds her close. Caitlyn just savors the feel of her warmth. For the first time in a very long time, her room does not feel cold and waiting. It feels warm and real. She has to duck her head to get it under Vi’s chin. 

Together, they watch as the sun slips below the horizon. 

Chapter Text

When Vi appears at the foot of the bed wearing loose shorts and a ribbed tank, Caitlyn finally believes this is real. 

She hesitates for only a moment before she spreads out the throw blankets and crawls under the covers. Caitlyn sets her book aside, turns off her lamp and slides down as well. They both just stare at each other in the fire’s glow. Like they are looking at half remembered strangers. It’s so strange to Caitlyn. She loves Vi, she knows so much about her, Vi’s tongue was in her body a few hours ago. And at the same time each so many of her behaviors are strange. Foreign. Caitlyn is suddenly hungry to know them all. 

“Do you get cold at night?” She asks. 

“I don’t like sleeping alone,” Vi says, “it was a luxury at Stillwater but—I always hated it. It felt wrong.”

“You didn’t even have a bed,” Caitlyn points out. 

“Sometimes I did,” Vi says, “but when we met they had taken it away.” 

Her eyes scan Caitlyn’s face. Caitlyn knows she’s looking for judgment, for pity—for anything that says it’s not safe to continue speaking. Caitlyn keeps her face blank. Or she tries to. Keeping her face blank was a thing of practice. She had been trained standing in front of the mirror with her mother. She knew what muscles to tense, which to relax, everything required to override the emotions she felt. But those muscles feel different now. Especially on the left side. She turns her face into the cotton and Vi shifts her weight. 

“Does it still hurt?” She asks.

“Does what?”

“Your eye socket,” she says, “we did a lot of new moving—“ Caitlyn can’t help the smile. Vi tries to hide hers, “you keep pushing against it.”

“It doesn’t hurt, the pressure just feels nice,” Caitlyn says. 

Vi gives her a look and then shifts over, sliding her arm under Caitlyn’s neck in a silent invitation. Caitlyn goes willingly, trading the soft coolness of her pillow for the broad warmth of Vi’s chest. The blankets on Vi’s side weigh her legs down in a wonderful way as their bodies fit together like puzzle pieces. A long, happy sigh escapes Caitlyn’s lips against her will as the cotton of Vi’s shirt presses against the socket and the warmth of the skin underneath begins to seep in. 

Vi’s body has changed since the last time they were together like this. During the period when she was recovering before Vi left, there wasn’t a lot of snuggling. Neither was sure where to touch the other with the mess of stitches and broken pieces between them. Vi is still impossibly well muscled and broad, but there is a softness to it now. When Caitlyn lays her head on Vi’s chest she can feel the hard muscle of her pecs but also the swell of her breasts. Maybe because she’s eating now, or maybe because everything is not a physical fight. Either way, Caitlyn is glad. She hears Vi’s breath catch, but when she goes to look up Vi’s hand slides against the back of her neck lightly. Caitlyn burrows back into her warmth. 

“Are there treatments?” Vi asks quietly, “if this doesn’t work—if—“

“Yes,” Caitlyn says, raising her neck despite the hand. It falls away and Vi glances down at her, something painfully unsure in her grey eyes. The fire reflects them but they don’t look the same way they did the night of the fire, “Vi if—“ Vi glances away, “if you get like that,” Caitlyn continues, “there are other treatments we can try.”

“This is working,” Vi says, pushing her hand through her hair. Caitlyn reaches up and follows her fingers. Vi leans into the touch, “but if it stops—“

“If it stops we will figure it out,” Caitlyn says, “we can have a plan if the worst should happen,” she trails her fingers to Vi’s chin, “like how I had one for when I was recovering.”

That seems to click for Vi. Vi’s wishes have mattered very little throughout her life. The simple need for survival has driven so many of her actions. Caitlyn doesn’t know how people express their wishes down in the Undercity. She knows in prison they are rarely considered, especially if the person does not have outside connections. Caitlyn always thought of prison as the place where bad people went. That was how she had been raised, what she had been taught, what she believed in. When she had begun her Enforcer training, she told herself the cells would be filled with her prisoners. She wouldn’t be able to walk the hall without them screaming for her blood because she was going to be such a good detective. There’s a terrible irony sometimes when she gets what she wishes for. 

“What are you thinking about?” Vi asks. 

“You,” Caitlyn says, “Stillwater and how they treated people,” she curls her fingers into Vi’s shirt, “When I read your file I thought I had caught Sheriff Marcus making a clerical error. I was planning where I was going to leave your file so my mother would find it and realize he made a mistake.”

“You were trying to get him into trouble before everything?” Vi asks, her brows drawing together, “why?”

“His predecessor was my mentor,” Caitlyn says, “my mother taught me how to handle a weapon but I begged for someone else to teach me. She hired Sheriff Grayson,” Vi is quiet so Caitlyn keeps talking, “she’s the one who taught me how to shoot in the field, to shoot to protect other people,” she explains, “she asked me once ‘what are you shooting for, young Kiramman’ and I never forgot being unable to answer her,” she sighs, “her voice was so—“

“Raspy,” Vi finishes. Caitlyn frowns and looks up. Vi is looking at the ceiling but her head tilts when Caitlyn moves hers, “Cait I was there the night she died.”

“What?” Caitlyn questions, pushing herself up. 

“Yeah,” Vi says, sitting up as well. Caitlyn stares at her in disbelief. Vi doesn’t love talking about her past but Caitlyn is desperate to know more, “she and my dad had some kind of agreement about keeping the Lanes safe,” she says, “when we broke into Jayce’s lab we fucked it up,” she shakes her head, “I fucked it up. She came down to arrest me and my dad tried to turn himself in. One of SIlco’s goons killed her, the same ones that gave me these,” she says motioning to her face.

Caitlyn’s mind in spinning. It’s another connection between them. The man who taught Vi to punch had an agreement with the woman who taught Caitlyn to shoot. Things they have carried their entire lives, their entire time together, they came from two people who knew each other. Who saw the value in passing their knowledge down. Who had some common ground even though all the differences between them. She knows the complexity so well, but when she pushes through to the core of it they are a reflection of Piltover and Zaun having common ground. 

“You were always there,” slips out of Caitlyn’s mouth. 

Vi stares at her. 

“I found it strange how it felt like you had always been there, even when we just met,” Caitlyn says, “I’m not comfortable with people so quickly. Even when I am attracted to them—“ Vi’s lips twitch, “but you always felt like you were a part of my life somehow. Like you were there, just out of sight.”

“Maybe I was always just in your blindspot,” Vi says like it was the simplest thing in the world. 

Caitlyn thinks of her blindspot and how much bigger it has gotten with the loss of her eye. Metaphorically she told herself it got smaller after everything she’s been through, but she never considered it gone. All those times Vi helped, all the times Caitlyn could feel her presence but couldn’t see her—it fits together like a puzzle. She sees Vi’s confused look as she laughs. She knows she must look insane sitting in bed in her nightdress laughing and feeling emotion prick at her eye. 

“I was wrong,” she says. The confusion on Vi’s face grows but Caitlyn scoots forward so their knees bump together, “partially. I did change after I promised you I wouldn’t. My blindspot changed, but it’s always been there.”

She turns her head so her hair falls over and narrows her field of vision. She cannot see where their legs are bumped together on the blind side. Nor can see see Vi’s hand as she traces her fingers up her thigh. As she does Vi’s hand moves down to meet hers.

“It’s always been there, it’s always been filled by you. Before I knew you, when I was angry at you—even Ambessa thought you were a distraction whether or not I could see you,” she curls her finger’s around Vi’s palm, “the only time I’ve ever been sure of myself is when I trust you to fill it. Since we were kids, before I knew you. I am at my best when I trust you with my blindspot,” she squeezes Vi’s hand, “and that has never changed.”

Vi is silent for a moment and even though Caitlyn know what she has said is true, she is painfully aware of the jumbled mess her excitement has turned her words into. But Vi sifts through it as she always does. She sifts right to the heart of the matter and reaches out, sliding her hand under Caitlyn’s good side and tipping her head so now Caitlyn can see the complete picture. Their joined hands, their pressed knees, the fire and light soaked room. 

“But now you can see me,” Vi says, something soft and hopeful in her voice. 

“I can see you,” Caitlyn swears, shifting to her knees and cupping Vi’s cheeks. She presses her fingers into Vi’s temples and Vi’s eyes flutter shut and her breath catches, “stay with me,” Caitlyn says, giving voice to what her touch has always tried to say.

“I’m here,” Vi whispers, looking at her with clear, sharp eyes. Fear lurks in them though, “I’m right—“

Caitlyn ducks her head and presses their mouths together. 

It’s barely a kiss. She doesn’t mean to initiate anything, it actually might be the least romantic kiss she has every given someone in her life. She does it because when their lips meet Vi is always here. Caitlyn always sees her focus on her in a way she doesn’t when she goes quiet and lost. This close she can see the blue undertones of Vi’s irises and the scattering of freckles across her cheekbones. How Vi’s lashes are brown even though she darkens them every morning. She knows so many secrets of Vi’s face because she tries to hold them there until she is sure. Until she is sure Vi is here and now. 

And she always is. 

Sometimes from the beginning, sometimes she wakes as their bodies are pressed together. Sometimes Caitlyn forgets to look when Vi is eager from the start. This time it takes a moment for her to soften. But when Caitlyn goes to pull back she parts her lips and deepens the kiss. Her arms slide around Caitlyn’s waist as she shifts to get to her knees. The soft bed and the awkward angle work against them though and one loses their balance while the other follows. Unwilling to part they wind up with Vi on her back and Caitlyn on top of her. 

The kiss turns hungry. 

Vi’s side of the bed is full of life again. From the warmth of the fire to the woman beneath her and Caitlyn wants to drown in it. Vi tangles her fingers in her hair as she hitches her knee over Vi’s hips, settling herself by her waistline. Vi palms her thighs, pushing up the edge of her midnight blue slip. Her fingers skim the edges of her panties and Caitlyn feels her brow draw together in confusion. Caitlyn flattens her hand on Vi’s chest and pushes herself up, pulling the slip higher so she can see the matching pair. Edged in the same lace. It does exactly what Caitlyn hoped it would when she picked it out and makes Vi stare at her like it’s the first time she’s seeing a woman. 

“Shit,” she breathes, her finger thumbing the lace. She tries to move her hands forward and Caitlyn puts her own on top of them, stopping them, “Cupcake—“

“Have you done this since we’ve been apart?” She asks Vi. 

“No,” Vi says. Caitlyn catches her lip, “no I’ve been yours this whole time.”

Caitlyn smiles and shakes her head. 

“I meant have you done anything, even to yourself?” she says. Vi swallows tightly and then shakes her head, “should we try tonight?” Caitlyn asks. 

“We don’t have to,” Vi rasps. 

“Do you want to?” Caitlyn asks, flattening her palms against Vi’s stomach. Her fingertips just skirt the edges of her breasts. Vi hesitates but Caitlyn can see the hunger in her eyes. “does it help your decision if I say I bought this for your first night back?” Vi’s hips arch before she flattens them back. She doesn’t stop her, the desire is there. So Caitlyn continues, “I was hoping you would look at me like this and I would be brave enough to let you take it off me.”

Vi’s mouth falls open. Caitlyn remembers her whine of frustration when she could not take her top off the first time they did this. Now Vi has already peeled her top off but Caitlyn knows what they did before was about her. She had ask for Vi to do it. She thought this moment would be terrifying. Until Vi kissed her again. But the stunned look on Vi’s face makes her feel something she hasn’t since earlier. It makes her feel attractive, but more than that it makes her feel like herself. Like the Caitlyn who knew what it was to have people look at her like this. To enjoy that look. She’s been so obsessed with pushing forward, she hadn’t thought how it would be to have a partner again in her new body. Or how badly she would want to find that power again. 

She curls her fingers in the fabric and Vi drags her hands up her hips. She sits up and slides her palms up Caitlyn’s ribcage, the fabric pooling on her forearms. Even though she avoids touching her chest, her eyes keep dragging towards it. She loses contact with Vi as she tugs the slip off her. She leans forward to kiss Caitlyn’s collarbone, her hands flattening against her spine. As her lips start to go lower, Caitlyn flattens her hands against Vi’s shoulders and pushes her back. She rocks her hips at the same time, forcing Vi to lay back against the bed. Color is already on Vi’s cheeks as she stares up at her. Caitlyn tries to judge what she’s doing but she feels Vi’s thumbs on her upper thighs, just dipping below the edges of her underwear. 

“I’d like to try something,” she says. 

“Me too,” Vi agrees, one thumb sliding under the edge. 

“Not that,” Caitlyn says, putting her hands on Vi’s wrists. Vi’s fingers flex but she holds her hands still, “I want to know how to touch you.”

Vi looks down at where their hips are joined and where Caitlyn has her hands on her wrists. 

“This works.”

“Vi,” Caitlyn rolls her eyes, “Violet,” she says watching how Vi reacts, “have you been touched before by someone you want to stay with?” 

Vi’s eyes widen and Caitlyn sees the way her pupils contract at the question. The way she holds herself impossibly still. She knows Vi wants to be here, wants to be with her. She knows Vi is experienced in a way she wouldn’t have expected. Every time they have done this, it’s been driven by something so heavy. The world ending, the need to show their feelings, the need to fight until things softened, when words were not enough. Caitlyn has no doubt Vi has had sex in a cell before. But she thinks this may be the first time she’s had it in a bed for nothing but pleasure. She still wants her, but Caitlyn can see something close to embarrassment creeping in Vi’s face. Caitlyn recalls her earlier words about Vi’s immaturity and grinds down on her hips, drawing her attention. 

“How about this, you tell me if you don’t like something and I will solve this mystery,” she grips Vi’s wrists, “I’ll work with what I know and you can redeem yourself from the commentary on my shooting.”

Vi swallows, looks at her breasts and nods. 

Caitlyn considers her next move. The wrists. She wants to touch Vi gently but she knows when Vi drifts away or when she is afraid of it, she likes to be touched hard. So Caitlyn guides Vi’s wrists down and stretches them up above her head, pressing them into the headboard with the flat of her hand. Vi shifts downwards, on the bed, letting Caitlyn stretch her torso up. Caitlyn can see the tension in her muscles but when she goes to remove her hand, Vi shakes her head. Caitlyn guides her arms back until her fingers are buried in the underside of the pillow, arms stretched up and back. Caitlyn presses her elbows as she curls her fingers into the pillowcase and deepens the stretch. Vi fights for a moment and then exhales into it, opening her eyes. 

“Good girl,” Caitlyn says. 

The reaction is something Caitlyn is not expect. Color splashes across Vi’s cheeks and her mouth falls open. Beneath her Caitlyn feels her hips rock up. Like she’s chasing the words from Caitlyn’s lips. The praise is almost painful but also something she desperately wants. Her fingers grip the pillow tighter. Caitlyn settles her weight on Vi’s hips and pushes down into the mattress, lengthening Vi’s body further and digging her fingers into the jut of Vi’s hipbones. The harder touches she was expecting Vi to like but her reaction to the praise is something entirely different. She softens her hands and Vi shakes her head. 

“Keep me here,” she breathes. 

“Stay with me,” she says, pressing her fingers against the taut muscles of her lower abdomen, “you’re doing so well.”

Vi tries to rock up but Caitlyn keeps her hips there. Only when she stops does Caitlyn dip her fingers just underneath the waistband. Vi shakes her head at the gentle touch and Caitlyn locks her wrist and shifts her weight, pushing down with her fingers. Vi makes a hissing sound and arches her head into the pillow as Caitlyn’s knuckles dig into the flesh by her hipbone. Vi tries to press into the hard touch and Caitlyn shifts more of her weight onto her knuckle. She keeps it dug in as she shoves Vi’s shorts down. Which makes Vi try to turn her head into the pillow but Caitlyn touches her face with her fingers until she opens her eyes. 

“Stay with me,” she repeats. Vi nods breathlessly and catches her bottom lip between her teeth but Caitlyn smoothes it out with her thumb, “tell me you’re here.”

“I’m here,” Vi pants out. 

“Good,” Caitlyn praises and she shudders, “be a good girl and let me hear you.”

“Fuck,” Vi gasps as she eases up to drag her shorts down, “Cait—“ 

Caitlyn drops the shorts somewhere near her slip and eases back onto Vi’s thigh, dragging the throw blanket with her over her other leg. Flying has added new muscles to Vi’s legs. Caitlyn lets her fingers explore them with the same pressure as she sits on Vi’s other thigh. Before Vi can say anything, she digs her fingers into the thigh that she’s sitting on. Vi sucks in a breath and looks at her as Caitlyn makes her way to the closest hipbone. 

“It’s unfair that those stupid pants still fit so well,” she says. 

Vi laughs which turns into a groan as Caitlyn presses into her hipbone and then a wordless sound as she presses her knuckles to Vi’s center. Enough pressure to make her cry out, but not what she can see Vi’s hips chasing. One of Vi’s hands releases from the pillow and covers her mouth. Caitlyn tugs her wrist. Vi gives it willingly as she guides it up to the headboard and presses their tangled fingers together. 

“This is my house,” Caitlyn says, “our bed,” she guides Vi’s hand to the pillow and her fingers grip the fabric, “let me hear you.”

It’s still the quietest Caitlyn has ever heard her. But Vi keeps her hands tangled in the pillow. She lets Caitlyn work her body to its peak. She twists and Caitlyn responds, she chases pressure and Caitlyn adds more. They get so close before she makes a choked noise of protest. Something almost like a dry sob and all her muscles tense as she fights it. Caitlyn has seen her fall apart, made her fall apart, the sudden refusal is hard to see. But Caitlyn refuses to look away. She holds her hand still as Vi tries to chase and then throws herself back. 

As she holds on.

Caitlyn shifts the rest of her body intending to fit hers across the length of Vi’s. She thinks it will be awkward, but some long forgotten muscle memory takes over. Lowers her so one hand stays perfectly still, poised on a trigger. Amidst the weight of the entire moment, some part of Caitlyn sighs in frustrated fondness. Somehow Vi has ruined her first attempt at static shooting and also gotten her into a sniper position Caitlyn has taken countless times before. Except it’s not her rifle, it’s Vi. Caitlyn always found objects to be better to consider precious. Less messy to deal with. But Vi is a precious, broken thing in her arms desperately trying to fit herself together. 

“We can stay here until you’re ready,” Caitlyn says. Vi turns and looks at her. The want and pain all churn in her eyes. Caitlyn shifts and Vi rocks her hips up, making it possible for Caitlyn to move higher onto the bed. To stroke down Vi’s sweat damp cheek, “breathe for me.”

“Cait I can’t,” she whines after a ragged breath, “I can’t—”

“Can’t what?”

“Let go,” Vi chokes out. Something in Caitlyn’s heart clenches and wonders if this has been a horrible idea. Too much too soon. If she has pushed and Vi will vanish again. But Vi shakes her head, lost in her own pain and gasps, “help me,” and grinds down on Caitlyn’s hand so there is no question to her meaning. 

Caitlyn thinks of every touch that has affected Vi. Everything that keeps her here. How she is now, not how Caitlyn hopes she will be. Caitlyn pushes away from her even though she doesn’t want to. She switches her hands quickly and closes her eyes before the world can shift. Her left eye at the high point is always what does it. She lets her hair hide the feeling as she presses into Vi with her left hand at the same time she digs her wet fingers into the neat pink line on Vi’s abdomen. 

Vi’s entire body goes taut and a wordless sound echoes from her core as the pain and pleasure drive her over the edge. Caitlyn works both hands together as Vi cries out again and falls apart in her hands. Here, now, facing the pain with someone she wants to stay with. Caitlyn ignores the dizziness to watch as everything in Vi softens in the wake of her crashing over the edge for the first time in months, leaving her a panting mess. 

Caitlyn leans forward and kisses her as she shudders, forcing her harsh breathing to soften. She wipes her hand on the sheets and uses it to press against Vi’s chest. As the harsh muscles have eased, there is a new softness there. Closer to how they were when they first met. Caitlyn cups the swell of her breast and rolls her palm across it. Vi lets out a stuttering breath but Caitlyn doubts she has any arousal left in her. It’s only when Vi opens her eyes that draws her arms down to her chest. Vi is trembling and languid at the same time. Caitlyn kisses her nose and gets up. 

“Where—“

“Shhh,” she says, “I’ll be right back.”

She comes back with a cool towel and wipes the sweat off of Vi’s brow. 

“Cait, you don’t—“ Caitlyn touches her lip. 

“This is a part of this, Vi,” she says. Vi looks up at her, “you’re not the first partner I’ve had to like this,” she says, “but if you trust me to explore that, I want you to trust me to take care of you afterwards.”

Vi looks at her for a moment. Caitlyn wonders if she’s jealous but nothing like that shows on her face. 

“Can we shower then?” She asks, “I don’t think the towel’s gonna do it.”

Caitlyn laughs and nods. Vi lets her help. To the shower, in the shower. She leans against the wall and lets Caitlyn work lather through her hair and soap across her back. Even though she has nothing left in her Caitlyn notices when her breath catches as she scrubs her scalp. Standing in the hot water Caitlyn lets her fingers explore the ink on Vi’s back. She’s had the tattoo memorized but she loves being able to stroke the lines. 

“Can I ask you something?” Vi hums, “what did they use for color?”

“Pens,” she says, “sometimes that Enforcer would feel bad and he’d drop stuff off for me. He gave me pens once.”

Caitlyn knows Marcus was complicated but she wants to kill him all over again. Vi turns her head towards her like she does when she mentions her time at Stillwater. But there’s no surprise on Caitlyn’s face. 

“He was an ass,” she says, “he tried to keep me from being on your sisters case,” she explains, “I actually went against his orders breaking you out.”

That makes Vi smirk. 

They step out and she wraps a towel around Vi’s shoulders and works another through her hair. She gives Vi a questioning look at the half undone braid and Vi nods. Caitlyn does the plaid quickly and tightly, though she cannot remember the last time she braided anything. Not since Vi's hair when she was injured. That feels like a lifetime ago.

“We can re-do it if I did it wrong,” she says, “I haven’t braided hair in a long time.”

“I did,” Vi says, “while you were out. To keep it off your eye.”

Caitlyn feels like another puzzle piece is fitting together. 

“The long time was you,” she says to Vi, “while you were out.”

Vi looks at her in that way that makes Caitlyn want to shake her until she sees she is not alone. That Caitlyn knows she messed up but is not going to give up. That she never really gave up. It’s so frustrating sometimes to not get what you want. Except Vi’s body betrays her with a yawn that breaks whatever tension is building in the moment. Caitlyn tightens the towel around her shoulders and steers her back to bed. She stops only long enough to find her own slip and throw it on. She flips the throw blankets to her side of the bed and steers Vi under the covers. It’s still impossibly warm but she wraps her ams around Vi from behind and runs her fingers down the plait. 

“Careful,” Vi mumbles, “that means something.”

“What?” Caitlyn asks. She thought it was a memorial braid. Vi yawns again and Caitlyn wants to let her sleep, but the hunger for knowledge is great. She kisses below Vi’s ear, “what does it mean?”

“Means you have a family,” Vi continues in that same mumbling tone, “means someone loves you.”

Caitlyn smiles. It’s fitting then—

“Means you’e married,” Vi sighs.

Then she falls asleep in Caitlyn’s arms. 

Caitlyn stares at the dressing screen over Vi’s shoulder. She is suddenly, impossibly awake. She knows, logically, that is not what just happened. She also knows her knowledge of Fissure Folk customs is—not as much as she wishes it was. She’s tried to read on it but the books are insufficient. The fact she stood in Vi’s past home, a place she had been before, and didn’t even realize where she was is evidence of that. When she braided Vi’s hair she had only been thinking about giving her one choice. Especially since she had scrubbed the other away as Vi lingered under anesthesia. She supposes that it was done with love, though the guilt and pain makes it hard to name that emotion. 

She doesn’t know what to make of the knowledge Vi braided her hair. 

She wants to say it was of the moment. Necessity. Caitlyn has read her medical report. She knows she died before they made it to the hospital, crashed several times over those first few days as her body succumbed to the wound and the coating on the blade. Ambessa hadn’t just gutted her, she had put something on the blade to make sure Caitlyn was going to die one way or another. It was Mel that saved her with an antidote. Mel and Vi’s piece of gauze. Mel, Vi’s piece of gauze, and Vi’s choked voice begging her to stay. 

Telling her she loved her. 

Caitlyn knows Vi loves her. Caitlyn knows Vi is in love with her. She’s never doubted that. She also knows it is a foundation, it is not the home. It’s bedrock, not the bridge. Caitlyn has a library full of books on the subject. Lovers whose love was never in doubt but whose lives and circumstances pulled them apart. Over and over until they were separated, the love still there but not enough. Caitlyn has lived the over and over part. She cannot stay there. She always expected her first night with Vi would be full of starts and stops and awkwardness. Skirting around issues and figuring out what to say. Instead it’s been dragged into the open with every word, every touch, every action. They’ve taken the fragile thing between them, placed in a position of honor and broken it wide open. 

And Vi is still here. 

Caitlyn is still here. 

Caitlyn tucks her forehead against the curve of Vi’s neck. There’s no gentle wondering where to or if she can touch. It’s all so wonderfully warm and real. Usually it’s Vi who needs the physical confirmation but now Caitlyn sinks into it. Vi sighs in sleepy acknowledgement of the new position and her foot hooks around Caitlyn’s ankle. Caitlyn cannot be bothered to reach for her sleep mask so she shifts until it’s Vi’s shoulder that blots out the window. Until when she opens her eyes it’s just ink swirled skin she sees. 

It’s warm and it’s home. 

It’s a start. 

Chapter Text

Caitlyn lingers in soft, warm slumber even as movement occurs around her. 

It’s not until fingertips brush her cheek that she opens her eye to Vi standing in front of her. She’s dressed and the curtains on the bed and pulled closed. Caitlyn realizes that instead of holding Vi, she’s holding her towel wrapped around her pillow. Still curved protectively around it even though the pillow is a poor substitute. She looks up at the real Vi who  sits on the edge of the bed as Caitlyn gets a hand free to hook a finger around her belt loop. Her vision is blurry but she cannot see if there are any marks on Vi’s skin from last night. 

“Just tell me how you are,” she says. 

“I’m good, Cupcake,” Vi says and there’s a warm calmness in her tone that makes Caitlyn’s chest warm, “I gotta—“

“Keep to the schedule,” Caitlyn remembers, going to push herself up but Vi puts her hand on her shoulder, “I want to see you off,” Caitlyn protests.

“You always see the girls off, Cupcake?” She teases.

“Only the ones I like,” Caitlyn says. Vi shakes her head, a smile pulling at her lips. 

“I don’t believe that for a second,” she says, giving her a soft look with none of the jealousy Caitlyn half expects. She forces herself instead to let go of Vi’s belt and push against her thigh.

“Go,” Caitlyn says. 

“I’m putting this here,” Vi tells her, leaning over her to put the schedule on her pillow. Caitlyn feels the softness of her tank and the skin underneath brush against her upper arm, “you okay?” She asks, touching Caitlyn’s cheek, her eyes searching her face. 

“You need to go before I show you what I do to girls I like in the morning,” Caitlyn says. Vi’s eyes go wide, “schedule,” Caitlyn reminds her, turning her face to the pillow, “I’ll show you on a morning off.”

Vi nods and before she can get up, Caitlyn remembers the ring of candles and grabs her thigh. 

“If you’re not back tonight, when do I light them?” Vi hesitates, “when?”

“Nightfall,” Vi says. There’s a brush of lips against her cheek, “thanks.”

Caitlyn nods. Even though she has no idea how many times she’s yelled about lighting a candle to Vi over the course of the day, that was about Vi’s candle—about their situation. There is only one candle on the altar for someone living now, and it isn’t Vi. Vi is here, real and warm. If lighting candles for her dead brings her some measure of peace, Caitlyn is willing to help with that. She turns her face further into the pillow, pulling her hair to cover any sight of her features. 

“Go,” she orders, pressing her knee to Vi’s hip. 

“Okay, okay,” Vi says. 

Caitlyn listens to the sound of her board humming to life and the window squeaking up. She hugs the pillow tighter and drifts back to sleep. When she wakes there’s a dull pulse behind her eyes that she just pushes away. She goes about her day refusing to look at any windows. She knows there’s a chance Vi will not make it home for the last part of the day and she tells herself that there could be a million reasons for it. She refuses to let herself near the knot of worry that last night may have pushed Vi away. Every time it starts she smooths her fingers over the piece of paper in her pocket. It’s ironic that the evidence Vi wants to be there is written on something so flammable. 

When dusk falls she lights her altar as promised. 

For all that she’s been lighting a candle, this feels different. She tries to imitate how Vi did it, but none of her movements seem to hold the same reverence. Still she tries. She saves the powder blue one for last and tries not to think angry thoughts as she brings it to life. Only after her eye starts to water from looking at the flame does she realize she’s waiting for it to glow violet like Jinx’s eyes. Dusk turns to night and the knot in her chest grows even as she faces it back. It’s one night, that is all. There could be million reasons for why her window isn’t glowing green. She waits as long as possible before she changes for bed. She is trying to remember whether or not she should blow the candles out or leave them to go on their own when she looks up at the window. 

A nightmarish skeleton stares back. 

She can’t quite help the cry of surprise she makes at the skeletal face that stares back at her. It’s bathed in green light and vaguely familiar. She claps her hand over her mouth, partially to pull it from the gun and partially to keep from any of the Enforcers coming to check on her. The Firelight taps again at the window and gives a wave. Caitlyn pushes herself up and grabs her robe, tying it around her waist and approaching the window. It’s never locked but he waits for he to slide it up. She vaguely recognizes the Vastaya’s features, but she’s not sure they have ever properly spoken. 

“Vi sent me,” he says, “she’s fine but she’s banged up.”

“How banged up?” She questions, shoving away the panic. 

“We can handle it,” he says. Caitlyn stares back at him and he sighs, “she dislocated her shoulder, maybe a bruised rib, definitely a sprained ankle and she busted her lip and her eye,” Caitlyn turns and his hand clamps onto hers, “we can handle it,” he repeats, “she asked me to tell you so you didn’t worry.”

“I’m going with you,” Caitlyn says. He raises his eyebrows, “just give me a minute.”

She throws on the first clothes she can find and grabs a change for her backpack. She also throws in some basics for Vi, her personal first aide kit and her toothbrush. She has no idea what she’s packing for but then she runs over to the nightstand and grabs her book, her prosthetic and scrapes her hair into a ponytail. The Vastaya is looking away so she shoves her pistol in it’s case into the bag’s compartment as well and grabs her old enforcer badge and some money. Throwing on her shoes she scrapes her hair into a ponytail. At the last minute she grabs the first jacket she comes into contact with and then runs over to the window. 

“You want to leave a note or something?” He asks. 

“My father knows there’s only one place I would be,” she dismisses. He raises an eyebrow and she turns, scribbling something and placing it on the bed. She goes and pulls herself out of the window. The ground swims below her and she has no idea how Vi does this. The Vastaya moves forward on the board and she gets behind him, wrapping her arms around his middle, “alright.”

He takes pity on her but it is still completely nauseating to glide the route Vi takes constantly. She focuses on the worry in her stomach instead as he takes them past everything and into the dark sewers. Vi’s room is partially up the tree. She has not been back here since that dizzying ride from the bridge. She is just as grateful when they land on the balcony. And apparently just as wobbly, though she grabs the balcony before her legs go completely slack. The Vastaya turns his back and lets her collect herself before they face each other. Caitlyn sticks her hand out. 

“Thank you,” she says, “I’m Caitlyn.”

“Scar,” he replies and grips her hand, “you want me to go first?”

“No,” she says, “she’s forever going through my window, this is only fair.”

He barks out a laugh and glides away as Caitlyn opens the door and steps into Vi’s living quarters. Even though she’s only been there once, the room is immediately familiar. What lingers in their room at her house has been cranked up to another level here. It’s lit by candles and a small fireplace crackles by the window.  Collections of vaguely familiar knick knacks are all grouped together across various surfaces and spices cluster the fireplace. The small table is covered in papers, some with writing and some with lines she feels strange seeing. She focuses instead on the figure laying on the bed. Bruised and battered with her eyes hidden behind a bag of something cold and an unmistakable pout on her bruised lip. 

“How mad was she?” She asks, “no, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know,” she sighs, “no, tell me. I can use this time to figure out how to make it up to her.”

Something warm chases away most of the worry in Caitlyn’s gut. 

“Oh, she was livid,” she says and delights in watching Vi’s fingers tighten on the ice pack. It shifts and one grey eye peaks out, “Hi.”

“Y-you’re here,” she sputters, “you didn’t have to come all this way.”

“May I?” Caitlyn asks nodding to the bed. 

Vi nods and Caitlyn places herself on the edge. Despite it’s size Vi has managed to get three blankets onto it. Though two of them are tucked underneath her ankle. Caitlyn looks at the injuries she can see. One of Vi’s arms is strapped to her chest to limit her shoulder moving. There’s nothing to be done for her ribs. Caitlyn gently lifts the icepack and winces in sympathy at the bruise darkening Vi’s eye and her lip. Vi tries to smile and even she cannot contain the wince. Caitlyn touches her chin lightly and puts the icepack back against her face. 

“You’re luck you didn’t re-break your nose,” she says. 

“My arm protected it,” Vi says. 

“You shouldn’t be talking with that lip,” Caitlyn says. 

“I always want to talk to you,” Vi replies. Caitlyn sighs and pushes her fingers through her hair, “I was protecting one of the other Firelights,” Vi offers, “we wound up falling.”

“Are they alright?” Caitlyn asks. Vi nods, “did your arm protect them?” She nods again. Caitlyn frowns at the look in Vi’s eyes, “why do you look so nervous?”

Vi sighs and pushes herself up before Caitlyn can tell her not to. She pulls the icepack off her spectacularly bruised face and looks at Caitlyn almost dejectedly. Caitlyn is just glad she’s alive. She remembers the way that hoverboard felt and cannot imagine what falling off of it must feel like. The fact Vi has broken nothing is almost a miracle. But Vi does not look particularly happy at this turn of events. Caitlyn touches her non-bruised cheek lightly and Vi takes a breath, finally looking over at her with her currently mismatched eyes. 

“I had an episode,” she says quietly, “after the fall. I remember getting back here and I don’t.”

“Vi—“

“But I’m better,” she says quickly, “they got my shoulder back in and I’m alright now—“ Caitlyn puts her hand on top of hers and lightly digs her nails in, just enough to remind Vi how she brings her back. Vi trails off and looks down, taking a deep breath, “I’m still getting better.”

Caitlyn sighs at the frantic way Vi says it. Vi holds herself to such a high standard. She always has. Vi’s eyes dart around her face, looking for any reaction. Caitlyn knows she only has a few moments before her looking down will be misinterpreted. Instead she picks up the cool pack and holds it to Vi’s neglected split lip. She tries to be gentle, imagining the pressure is why Vi has had it shifted off the skin. Still Vi hisses and she has to use her hand to hold her jaw steady and support the pack. The split is close the lip scar Caitlyn has dreamed about kissing the entire time she has known Vi. The one she can now taste whenever she wants. She looks up at Vi. Vi’s eyes focus on hers and narrow suspiciously. 

“I’ve had half a headache all day,” Caitlyn says, “we’re getting better but it’s not going to be as quickly as either of us would like.”

Vi says something muffled and Caitlyn lowers her hand.

“You can’t just get what you want?” Vi repeats. 

She says it so despondently that for the first time it doesn’t ring as an insult to Caitlyn’s ears. It actually just sounds like a joke. Like something she would have said when they were down here the first time, though Caitlyn doubts she would have allowed the warm feeling in her chest to get this bad. Maybe it’s just the relief at Vi being alright. Banged up, but alright.

“Apparently I used all of that up on wishing for you back,” Caitlyn responds. 

Vi’s gaze softens. 

“Not your best move,” Vi says softly but the affection is heavy in her tone. 

She leans forward when Caitlyn does, but Caitlyn cups the back of her head and flattens her palm on her chest. She guides Vi back to the pillows and settles the cold pack back on her face. Vi sighs and puts he hand on top of it as Caitlyn gets up before the temptation can be too great for either of them. Instead she focuses on the objects Vi has collected. Or she means to, when her eyes catch on a photograph she forgets everything else. 

Three people stand against the familiar railing of the Bridge of Progress. At first the only person she recognizes is Silco. Except his face is whole. But the discomfort on it is familiar. No anger though. Next to him is a broad shouldered man wearing a vest. And on the other side is a woman in a dress, braid hanging over her shoulder. The braid is what makes it click for her. 

“Is this your mom?” She asks. She looks at the imposing size of the man, “and your dad?” 

“Yeah,” Vi says. 

She nods her head and Caitlyn comes over still holding the picture, sitting on the bed. Vander is the one she cannot take her gaze off. Not now that she knows about his connection with Sheriff Grayson. The connection that exists between her and Vi through them. Silco and her mother lean into each other, or her mother tugs at Silco’s vest but Vander stands apart. There but slightly removed. His weight perfectly balanced in a very familiar way. 

“You stand like him in photographs,” she says. 

Vi scoffs. 

“There are no pictures of me.”

“I have one,” Caitlyn says. Vi looks skeptical, “we have that portrait of us when we—“ she sighs, “when you took the badge,” she swallows, “I swear you’re standing like this. Like you can take on the world.”

Vi is quiet for a long moment, long enough for Caitlyn to realize she’s quiet and watching her. Vi doesn’t say a word though, she just pushes herself over slightly in a silent request. Caitlyn sets the photograph down and walks over to the bed. When she sits down, Vi shifts her hips over and Caitlyn gives her a long look before laying down next to her. She’s trying to decide where it will cause Vi the least pain when Vi shrugs her good shoulder up in silent invitation. Caitlyn sighs and gently places her head on Vi’s chest, watching what she can see of her face for any reaction. But her swollen lip remains neutral and Caitlyn can’t help but relax into the heat of her skin. 

“How mad were you really?”

“I wasn’t,” Caitlyn protests, “I was concerned but when Scar came I was in my pajamas,” Vi settles her good arm around her shoulders and Caitlyn finds herself snuggling more into the warmth and scent of Vi’s skin, “I was just hoping you were alright after last night.”

“Last night was awesome,” Vi practically sighs into the ice pack in such a satisfied way Caitlyn can’t help but turn into her chest, “seriously, that was—“

“I just wanted to make sure you were alright,” Caitlyn says, “but I wanted you to keep to your schedule. Besides you did say you wouldn’t be home every night.”

Vi tightens her arm around her shoulders and Caitlyn sinks further into her chest. She knows it’s foolish to get so comfortable against Vi’s chest while they are still figuring everything out, but the throbbing behind her eyes is back. And it feels very nice to just lay there and listen to her breathe. Caitlyn swears she will only do it for a moment, then she will get up and tend to whatever Vi needs. Just a few moments to savor nestled against the warm, hypnotic rise under her cheek. 

She wakes to a vicious pulsing throb in her head. 

She’s lucky with how infrequent her migraines are, according to the doctors. When she lost her eye, she only lost her eye. It pierced her pupils and dragged across the globe, splitting the organ. But it did not go all the way through. Because she turned her head, it did not catch on the socket. The trauma was to her eyeball alone. This migraine feels almost personal. She came here to check on Vi. Vi is still asleep next to her, arm around her. When she shifts, Vi shifts towards her ankle so Catilyn tops. She covers her eyes with her elbow and tells herself she will let Vi sleep. When she wakes up she’ll ask for a ride back to her dark room with one of the other Firelights. Mind made up, Caitlyn tries to listen to Vi’s breathing to help lull her to sleep and tells herself the pain is not getting worse. She has time to fix this so Vi can continue to heal without worrying about her.

“Hey,” Caitlyn doesn’t realize she fell asleep until Vi touches her shoulder. Caitlyn realizes her eyes are pinned by her arm but when she goes to move it, Vi covers her hand with her forearm, “did you bring your mask?”

“I’m fine,” Caitlyn says quickly, wondering why her voice is so loud, “could you ask someone to give me a ride back?” She can hear Vi’s hesitation and pushes her arm, “it’s not that bad yet.”

Vi’s bruised face is ringed in a halo of light that makes the nausea even worse. She’s lying down, it’s not usually bad when she’s lying down. But it swims through her and she swallows against the acid creeping up her throat. 

“Bathroom?” She risks asking. 

Vi lifts something by her foot and Caitlyn sees it’s a bowl. Nothing comes up but her cover is thoroughly blown. Some part of her is horribly embarrassed even though Vi spent two months nursing through unconsciousness and endless hours afterwards getting her back on her feet. She came here to tend to Vi and instead Vi is holding out a bowl for her to dry heave into. Caitlyn lays back as soon as she can and throws her arm back over her eyes. The lack of light helps immediately but it also makes her feel like a complete failure. Vi is all about light and warmth. Caitlyn can’t even deal with the light coming in from the window. 

“Did you—“

“No,” Caitlyn says, trying to keep her voice low, “I thought I was just going to come check on you.”

There’s a sound of moving as Vi gets up. Caitlyn misses her warmth immediately and somehow feels worse as Vi takes a few halting steps on her recently sprained ankle. 

“I can manage,” Caitlyn says, “but anything that covers my eyes will work.”

She listens to Vi pick something up and hobble back over, sitting on the bed. 

“Here,” Vi says and puts something over her eyes. 

It’s a small pillow that weighs just enough to put a wonderful pressure on her temples and eyelids, though one side is distinctly heavier. It blocks all the light and smells distinctly herbal. 

“What is this?”

“People down here lose eyes a lot,” she says, “I’ve been talking to who I can and a lot of them swear by this. I was gonna bring it next time.” 

“Thank you,” Caitlyn says, “but what is it?”

Vi chuckles softly which makes a warm feeling curl in her as she tilts towards her. 

“It’s a pillow filled with—whatever you can find. Those fields by where I grew up? There are seeds there. They’ll never grow but they work,” she continues, “I clean them and add some of the oils people use to sleep.”

“You made this?” Caitlyn says. She reaches up for the edge and Vi catches her hand, but she isn’t going to lift it. She just runs her finger down the edge and feels a row of neat stitches, “you can sew?”

“And cook,” Vi says, guiding her hand down, “I kept Powder alive before prison.” 

It makes Caitlyn’s head spin, even though she knows that. Vi is so strong, so tough. It’s quite easy to think she is just about punishing and violence. It’s easy to forget the toughness is her armor. She wasn’t in Jayce’s lab stealing for fun, she was stealing out of necessity. It makes Caitlyn wonder who she could have been if she hadn’t had to do all of those things. She reaches up and touches the stitches again, feeling all the neatly spaced bumps. 

“God, my mother actually would have liked you.”

“Huh?”

Caitlyn sighs.

“Every Kiramman is supposed to take a journey to Ionia before they take the Key,” she says, “so you know where you came from. My mother wanted to ‘do it right’ and worked the whole time. But the only thing she was good at was repairing the sails. She was forever trying to get me to learn how to sew.”

“You can’t sew?”

“Now you sound like her,” Caitlyn complains, “what occasion would I have to need to sew?”

“I can think of five right now.”

Caitlyn reflexively tries to roll her eyes and immediately regrets it. 

Vi hobbles over setting something on the table and Caitlyn feels the bed dip. Her hand reaches out and connects with some part of Vi. Vi immediately takes her hand in both of hers and Caitlyn can tell she has undone the sling. Caitlyn reaches up with her other hand for the eye mask but Vi catches that one as well and clasps both of them between hers. Logically Caitlyn knows she could just sit up and let the thing slide off, but that would let in the light and she does not want to be sick again. Instead she slips one of her hands free and places it on top of Vi’s. She wants to ask where her sling is, but she knows the non-answer she’ll get. 

“Come lay down with me,” she says instead. 

“Let me just—“

“Vi,” she cuts in, “come here.”

“In one second,” Vi says. Before Caitlyn can protest, a pair of dry swollen lips is brushed across her knuckles. Caitlyn can hear the creak of the door being opened, “keep it down,” Vi says even though Caitlyn wishes they wouldn’t so she could hear. 

“You coming on patrol?” Ekko asks and some part of Caitlyn is livid that is even a question. Vi huffs, “are you coming?” Ekko repeats. 

“I need to stay back,” Vi says, her words tight. 

“Why?” Ekko asks and Caitlyn realizes how measured his tone is. How practiced he sounds. How old. 

“My shoulder hurts,” Vi says quietly. 

There’s a soft sound from Ekko. 

“Get the sling,” he says. 

“I’m fine,” Vi huffs, “keep your voice down she’s got a migraine.”

“Hey Piltie,” Ekko says, his voice still low, “mind if I come in?” Caitlyn motions and there’s a further sound of shuffling and a distinct one of knots being tied as Ekko puts Vi’s arm back in the sling, “gotta admit I was worried when Vi said she was spending the night. But you two managed to exceed my wildest expectations.”

Caitlyn feels her face get hot as the bed dips with Vi’s weight. She doesn’t need to lift the mask to know the expression on Ekko’s face. It’s the one he wears every time they seem to collide with one another. Caitlyn has no illusions she does not present well to Ekko. If she thinks about their meetings there is yet to be one where she hasn’t wound up slack jawed and completely without her dignity. Right down to their first meeting where he threw a bag over her head and she begged for Vi’s life. The fact she is blind and prone on her back is actually not the strangest way he’s seen her. She clings to that as she lays there and fights the instinct to sit up or take off the eye mask. Her body thinks she’ll have some dignity but her mind knows that it will just wind up with her feeling sick. 

“We were fine when I left,” Vi says, “we were great—“ 

Caitlyn touches her lightly. Laying here with a migraine is one thing, she will not be able to do it if Vi explains the state they were in when she left yesterday. 

“I’m so sorry if this has caused any problems,” she says. 

“You’re good, Piltie,” he says. 

There’s a kindness in it but Caitlyn is very aware how many she has caused. From their first meeting with the crystal to giving Vi the truth against his wishes. Now she’s laying in his tree. Caitlyn knows her presence is tolerated here because of Vi. But she is under no illusions that there are people taking refuge here because of her actions. Actions she took before and after Ambessa’s presence. Ekko, though, doesn’t bring any of that up. He just talks in a low, soft tone like this is something he does regularly. Maybe it is. It’s strange, for all that the Undercity is rough the people down here take care of each other. Or they do in this pocket of it. There is a softness here she never could have anticipated.

There’s an exchange of something and the sound of Vi swallowing before Vi places two round pills in her hand. 

“These’ll take the edge off.” 

“Oh I don’t—“ Caitlyn tries to push them back, “really it’s just the dark that will help.”

“Take them,” Ekko says, silencing her protests, “we have enough with your donations.”

Caitlyn puts them in her mouth and Vi helps her take a mouthful of water to wash them down. She grasps Vi’s wrist when she realizes how thirsty she is and Vi helps. Some part of her feels incredibly foolish being fussed over, but she knows that laying here means Vi will stay on the bed instead of hobbling around on her sprained ankle. Sometime when she is drinking the water, Ekko and Vi say their goodbyes and she hears the door click. It crosses her mind that she’s not sure he or Vi ever say a proper goodbye beyond a nod of their chins. Vi moves when she sets the glass down but the painkillers and the water have given her some energy back.

“Stop fussing over me and lay down,” she says, her fingers lingering over Vi’s wrist. Vi covers her hand, “you’re hurt too.”

“Just one second,” Vi says giving her hand an endlessly frustrating squeeze and pulling away. 

Caitlyn likes this small place but she wishes they were back home where she could call someone to do whatever she hears Vi doing. Then again, she’s getting the distinct impression that while she was clumsily figuring out sponge baths and bandage changes under careful supervision, Vi needed significantly less help. Some part of her knew with how Vi easily helped her after she woke up, no task too small or embarrassing. Caitlyn wouldn’t call her parents cold, but she realizes now how nice it felt to have that warm strength whenever it felt like she was going to fall. 

“Vi,” she uses the edge of pain being gone to put some actual force behind her tone, “I’m counting to five before I take this mask off and drag you to bed.”

Vi makes a huffing sound that distinctly sounds like baby. But she shuffles over setting something down near Caitlyn’s head. Caitlyn touches the wall and pushes herself over to it, wedging against the wood. Vi sits on the bed and Caitlyn tugs lightly but firmly on the back of her shirt. 

“Hang on,” Vi says, “one handed, remember? Can you—“

“Yes—“ Caitlyn presses the mask to her face to scoot over, realizing she’s wedged herself into the worst position.

“Wait I have an idea,” Vi says, “hold it.”

Vi helps her sit up, keeping one of her hands on the back of her skull. There’s some shuffling and then Vi guides her back down. Instead of hitting the soft warm pillow, Caitlyn feels Vi’s thigh underneath her head. Her ponytail is already gone but Vi gathers her hair away. The fingers of her good hand begin to push through Caitlyn’s hair near he scalp and it feels incredible. So incredible she does not even feel her usual frustration that none of this will actually make the headache go away.  She has just enough wherewithal to reach up and make sure Vi is still wearing the sling. 

“Now whose fussing?” Vi teases.

“I’m not fussing I’m double checking,” Caitlyn shoots back. Vi lets out a snort of laughter but her fingers stay on Caitlyn’s scalp.

“You’re bored out of your mind, aren’t you?” Vi accuses. 

Caitlyn opens her mouth to protest but Vi’s fingers leave her scalp. She hears an unmistakable sound of pages rustling and realizes one of the things Vi was getting was the book she had thrown into her bag. Just to have something to do in case Vi was unconscious when she got there or willing to let her wait while she went about her duties. It’s such a sweet gesture but Caitlyn reaches up and touches her wrist anyway. The book is interesting, but it’s a volume on Noxian war theory. It’s too violent for what is happening here. The idea of hearing those words in this soft, warm space seems so wrong abruptly. 

“Tell me something about Zaun instead,” she says, “something—you want to share,” she continues, not fully knowing where the bombs lay in Vi’s memories, “was Ekko always this mature?”

Vi laughs. 

“Kind of?” She says, “he thought he was,” the book being set down feels almost like a victory, but when Vi’s fingers find her scalp again it really does, “he and my sister always saw the world so differently from the rest of us.”

Her voice doesn’t catch at the mention of her sister.

“How?” Caitlyn prods. 

“Parts, potential,” she says, “she’d find the most busted piece of metal and get so excited about what she could make with it. She’d show me and then stuff in the bag so Mylo wouldn’t try to make us leave it behind.”

It’s not hard to picture Vi making a bag heavy for her sister’s delight. Even though it would slow her down, even though it wasn’t practical. She would do it for love, as Vi did all things. 

“The second we got home she would just vibrate until—“ she sighs, “until she got to bring it to Ekko.”

“Not to you?” Caitlyn chimes in as Vi trails off. She shifts her head against Vi’s hand and her fingers resume, “why didn’t she want to show you?”

“She did, but she and Ekko—Cait, it was like they spoke a different language,” Vi says, “she would see what something could be and Ekko always knew how to get it there. They always got so close.”

She lapses again but her fingers keep moving. Caitlyn gets the sense she is still here. Vi shifts her weight and before Caitlyn can say something she keeps speaking. 

“He tried to get her away from Silco,” she says, “but she refused. She wanted to stay with him.. Ekko was right there.”

The angry disbelief in Vi’s voice makes her insides clench. On paper she understands how frustrating and illogical it seems. Someone as smart as Jinx electing to stay with a monster instead of stepping into the light. It defies logic. And yet Caitlyn understands completely.

“She wasn’t in her right mind,” she says. 

“Yeah, I know.”

“No,” Caitlyn reaches up and slips her fingers through Vi’s hand, guiding it from her scalp and bringing it to the side of her face on Vi’s lap. She can’t bear touching her temple but she keeps it so Vi can feel the side of her cheek, “we think you weaken us. All we want is to stop the hurt and you make it so safe it creeps in,” Vi tightens her grip on her hand, “the only time I could cry was in your arms,” she swallows against the lump in her throat, “you’re supposed to cry when your mother dies.”

“I was looking for you,” Vi says, like a confession, “everything I did, I was trying to find you—trying to bring you back.”

Promise me—

Promise me you won’t change.

“That’s what you meant,” Caitlyn realizes aloud, “Vi.”

“I know people change,” Vi says, “we’re both different. We’re going to be different. But that wasn’t you and I—I didn’t know if I was ever going to see you again. Not until the bathroom.”

Caitlyn can still feel a brief flash of embarrassment. Even though Vi has now made her scream in so many ways that one probably shouldn’t count as embarrassing. Not when she thinks about how her father could have come down the elevator at any moment while she was screaming Vi’s name with her tongue inside her. 

“Like I said,” she says, “you make it safe for the hurt to creep in. Sometimes we’re not ready.”

Vi curves her finger against her thumb.

“Are you?”

Caitlyn thinks of the yawning chasm in her chest, the fragile threads that suspend her above it. How impossibly huge it feels, how if she looks at it too long, it reaches for her. She cannot see the bottom, she does not know if it ends. But Vi’s hand is warm in hers. Vi has soared through fire and sewers and hell to grab her. Vi who fights for her when Caitlyn doesn’t deserve it. Who trusts when she has no reason to. Vi who put them both through hell for weeks but still came home. Even though there is no-one who know Caitlyn’s anger better. 

“Not yet,” she says, “but I will be,” her throat has that infuriating lump again, “I may need you to cry on though.”

Vi lets out a shaky breath. 

“You’ve got me,” she says and it sounds like a vow. 

Caitlyn lifts her hand enough to brush her lips over Vi’s knuckles. She can hear Vi’s breath catch at the gesture. For all that she dreamed about what it would feel like to have Vi’s lips on hers, Caitlyn knows there is something more intimate about kissing her knuckles. She hears Vi’s head against the wall. The movement is so heavy and they are both so banged up there is nothing to do but sit with it as it settles over them. All their usual distractions robbed. Instead Caitlyn pushes Vi’s fingers back against her scalp and curves her free hand against the sliver of skin between Vi’s shirt and pants, right where her hipbone is exposed, curving her finger over the bone. 

“Tell me something else,” she says, pressing against it.

“What do you want to know?” Vi asks as her fingers begin to move against her scalp. 

Everything, Caitlyn thinks. 

“How did you and your sister meet Ekko?” She asks instead.

Vi is silent for a moment. But Caitlyn can hear her uneven breathing and she knows she is there. 

“I’ll tell you in a sec,” she says and Caitlyn gets the sense she’s building up to something, “can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” Caitlyn says, pushing aside the concern. She taps Vi’s hipbone, “anything, you know that. What is it?”

“It’s not the question,” Vi explains quickly, “Can I ask you something and just get a yes or no answer? And then we don’t talk about it again for a while? Not until one of us is ready?”

Worry and something oddly like hope clog in her stomach. Caitlyn shoves them both aside. Tries not to think of the braid and Vi’s sleepy explanation. That is a foolish road to even go near at this point. Yes their relationship is there, yes they love each other, but it is so complicated. They have so much to work through. The first two nights they have spent together have left them battered and bruised in so many ways. There is absolutely no reason for anything like hope to flutter in her chest. For a yes to linger behind her teeth. 

“Okay,” she agrees. 

Vi is quiet for the longest moment of her life. 

“Are the Gauntlets safe?”

Whatever Caitlyn is expecting, it’s not that. 

If Vi asked about the Gauntlets since the fight with Ambessa, it was to Caitlyn’s unconscious body. The last time she saw any indication of Vi being curious about them was right before Jinx. When she saw the plans on the Key. Caitlyn knows it didn’t go farther than that, because if Vi had asked anyone they would have told her. They were required to tell her. If the worst should happen Caitlyn made sure those weapons were somewhere only a select few could access. She had done it to prevent the focus from shifting towards power plays for who would control Hextech. It was very clear no-one was ready for it. It had been a problem she had pushed somewhere far far away while they worked to build a better future. 

Even if it had come into play, a part of her honestly expected the Gauntlets to stay where they were. Asking Vi to put them on was not something she was willing to do under any circumstances. Not with the trauma heaped on them. While she could physically wield them, Caitlyn had no idea how you looked if someone was emotionally ready. The kind of fighting Vi did in the Gauntlets it was a matter of time before she was holding onto someone with them. What then? It wasn’t something Caitlyn was prepared to think about the last time it had drifted across her mind. 

Now her mind drifts down to the blue light that rims the door. 

What waits in there. 

For them. 

Not until one of us is ready.

“Yes.”

Chapter Text

Caitlyn rides the elevator up with Jinx’s words echoing in her ears. 

She didn't choose me completely.

She chose you too.

It just wasn't enough for you.

It’s only in these moments she allows herself to drop the mask. To rest her aching head against the wall and see if she can summon tears. She never can. They never come. How could they? The past months she has been surrounded by enemies on all sides. She pushed away the only person who made it safe enough for the tears to come. Now that person is laying still and small under the care of doctors while Caitlyn tries to learn bandage changes. Even the sight of Vi laying there doesn’t summon the sobs that constantly claw at her throat. 

She truly is a monster. 

When the doors open Caitlyn is poised and steps out. The staff is relieved Ambessa is gone, scared Jinx is here and generally wary of her. It is not how Caitlyn ever envisioned becoming their new boss. Not with people who had served her family for so long. Even the oldest ones make themselves scarce. People who have known Caitlyn her entire life, who washed and folded her underthings, they can barely tolerate her presence. It’s the newest staff, the ones with less pull, that pass on messages from them. Before, Caitlyn didn’t even notice. Now, she can admit it stings.

It’s a surprise when one of the older housekeepers meets her outside of the elevator. 

“You will not like the bill,” she warns, “but they got results.”

Vi’s clothing is folded in her hands.

The mask slips as Caitlyn thumbs through the clothing. The jacket has been carefully cleaned and conditioned. The black leather is soft under her fingertips and the gold rivets shine. The two headed dog looks even more menacing though the blood that coated it is gone. She puts the jacket over her arm and picks up the pants. Also miraculously cleaned, softened and polished. The rips have been reinforced with careful stitches. Caitlyn has no idea how she is going to get them back onto Vi’s prone form, but the idea that she can give this back to her makes her heart jump. 

The belt is a surprise. 

Caitlyn can’t remember if she noticed it was from Vi’s enforcer uniform in the moment, if it just hadn’t really occurred to her or if some part of her brain had deliberately blocked it out. The belt is adjustable but the fact Vi can get it around her hips is a sign of how much weight she has lost. How little she has been taking care of herself. She refuses to swim in the guilt at this moment and takes the belt. The badge case lays empty next to the polished buckle and she refuses to think about that either. 

“Her shoes?”

“Upstairs,” the housekeeper says, “they were easy, comparatively,” Caitlyn nods, “this was in her pocket,” she adds, reaching into her own. 

“Wait!” 

The pitch of Caitlyn’s voice surprises them both.

Embarrassment overwhelms the panic coursing through her veins as the shock on the housekeepers face eases into skepticism. Caitlyn realizes the first time anyone has dared look at her skeptically who wasn’t a Noxian war general. For a moment neither of them moves. Caitlyn realizes that she is being completely ridiculous. Vi is laying in a hospital bed, Jinx is in her basement, whatever is in Vi’s pocket is the least of her problems. More importantly, she can keep it with the rest of Vi’s things. She can give her back as much of herself as possible. She has to swallow against the lump in her throat and shifts the clothes to drape over one arm as an excuse. 

“What is it?” She asks. 

The housekeeper grants her dignity she does not deserve. 

“Her Badge,” she says simply and rips a hole through Caitlyn’s entire existence. 

That’s what it feels like anyway as she holds it out. 

It feels like being handed a bomb. Which is ironic, considering who is in her basement. She has to force her hand out and keeping it there takes actual effort. It’s the longest moment of her life before the circle of metal is placed in her hand. She looks down at it. She knows this was her first crime. She wishes desperately it was her worst, but she knows in the sea of them this is insignificant. Insignificant to everyone except her, Vi and Jinx. There is an unspeakable cruelty in this small circle of metal. Hidden among the blue and gold and blood. 

There’s blood. 

“It’s filthy,” Caitlyn says. 

The housekeeper has that skeptical look on her face again. 

“Policy?” She reminds her and embarrassment flares up again.

“Right, of course,” Caitlyn shoves the filthy badge into her own pocket, “I will take care of it,” she says, “thank you.”

“Will that be all?” The housekeeper says. 

Caitlyn almost says yes. 

“No,” she says, “could you please tell the rest of the staff I’m feeling better,” she says. The housekeeper looks at her calmly, “I know I haven’t been myself these past months—“ she continues, wondering how she has been giving endless orders, “but I am feeling more like myself now.”

The housekeeper nods. 

“They will be glad to hear,” she says, giving Caitlyn more grace than she deserves. 

There has always been a line between herself and the staff. They are incredibly different, they work for her family, as an adult she knows they are not there by choice. But many of them have been a constant in Caitlyn’s life. At Kiramman parties they have been the only people to take pity on her and let her slink into the kitchen when things get to be too much. She knows they cannot be called friends, but some part of her always considered perhaps they were. She realizes she’s not sure which of them have stayed on, which have given her the loyalty she doesn’t deserve. How many of them are from Zaun?

“Could you tell them I’m sorry?” She blurts out. The housekeeper pauses, Caitlyn grips the clothes, “no, don’t tell them,” she says. The housekeeper turns, her face blank.

“I’m sorry,” Caitlyn says. The woman just looks at her, “there is no excuse for my behavior. This is not how I wanted things to start when I took over,” she swallows against the lump in her throat, “if you could get me a list of who remained I would like to give you a bonus as a small token of thanks.”

For a moment she is silent. Caitlyn watches her closely, she knows if she accepts her apology it is probably because of her job. Caitlyn has pretty much dragged the country into war. Though when she considers it, she’s not certain whether that makes it easier or more difficult to find a job. She hopes the list has their addresses on it, though she knows them not trusting her would make sense. But perhaps there is another way she can makes sure all of them get the money. Her mother must have a list of everyone who was employed before the attack. She will find it and start there. The beginnings of the plan make it a bit easier to shore up her spine under the housekeeper’s calm gaze. 

“The list is the same, Lady Kiramman,” she says. 

The world is suddenly swimming. 

They all stayed. 

She’s been a horrible person and they all stayed. She cannot remember the last time she spoke to anyone about the house, but the lights are still on. The floors are still polished. Her uniforms still come back neatly pressed. Tea and meals and all the things that have always been there have continued. Caitlyn’s entire world has fallen apart but these people have stood by her. She thought maybe Vi could help her find the fragment of her still buried in the grief and horror. But now she realizes there have been people here who may have seen it all along. She forces several breaths through her lungs and grapples in her head for her mother’s voice. Seeks it out like a babe, but the formality seems so wrong. 

“Thank you,” she croaks out. 

“I shall have the list and tea sent to your room, Lady Kiramman,” she says.

Caitlyn nods and she acknowledges it before turning away. Caitlyn forces herself back under control and wipes under her eyes. She makes her way back to her room with as much dignity as she can muster. She lays the clothes on the bed. Her polishing kit is in the closet which is meticulously cleaned. There’s no evidence of dust though Caitlyn has not picked up the kit in months.

 She has not needed her badge in months. 

It occurs to her how wrong that is. Their badges are meant to be visible, to tell people the Enforcers are there. They are here to help. The badge means something. Hers is the easier clean and she allows herself to start there. It’s just a simple polish but when the gold winks up at her, she feels a little better. 

The tea gives her the strength to tackle Vi’s disaster of one. 

It’s not just Vi’s blood, a part of her wishes it was. No blood, mud, greasepaint and God knows what else are caked into every crevice and streaked down the back. The shine has been so worn away she has no idea how it will remotely look like hers again. She had her badge for longer but Vi’s resembles the old Enforcers. The ones who have carried it for years and can name every dent. Because this one is also dented, Caitlyn realizes as she scrubs around the ridges. Dented and scratched and very banged up. Even when she gets it clean it looks old and used. Her fingers ache with the work.

Annoyed, she tosses it onto the desk and it rolls onto one of the dents. 

An idea occurs to her and Caitlyn stands up. She picks a wall and sends the badge towards it as gently as she can but with some force. The badge finds that same spot, hits the wall and slides along the floor. Caitlyn picks it up and tries to make her fingers shorter. Like Vi’s hands. They find the most worn and dented parts so easily she needn’t have bothered. Caitlyn sits down hard, the badge still clenched in her fingers. 

Vi didn’t just carry it the whole time.

She held it. 

She threw it. 

It wasn’t just forgotten in her pocket, she put it there. Time after time she picked it up and shoved it in there. Caitlyn can so easily picture the look of disgust on her face when she did it. The self loathing she must have felt as she tried to leave it behind and failed. She stares at it when there’s a knock at her door. Caitlyn follows the other maid down the hall in a daze to where Loris and Steb are waiting. Dimly she realizes she’s completely forgotten about a meeting she scheduled with them to explain Vi may be coming back home. She needs people she can trust around her. Loris is loyal to Vi and according to her Steb was the least annoying member of the peanut patrol. Loris and Steb also get along, she can put them together with minimal drama. She needs Maddie to remain watching her father. 

“Commander,” they acknowledge her. 

“Oh, good, you found it,” Loris says, “I was worried she’d dropped it.”

Caitlyn realizes she still has Vi’s badge clenched in her hand. 

“She had this the whole time?” She asks. 

Loris hesitates for a moment. They both know she has no reason to be informed about what Vi did during their separation. She could use the excuse of damaged Enforcer property, but she does not. It is tempting though, for more information. Though she can picture Vi yelling where she can shove the badge if she finds out. So she is silent and lets Loris consider things. He has been a friend to Vi, he’s made himself scarce, but he is an Enforcer. He glances at Steb who offers a flick of his facial fins. 

“Yeah,” he says finally.

“It’s dented,” Caitlyn says. 

“She threw it a lot,” he says, “but she always put it back in her pocket except—“ he sighs, “sometimes I threw it.”

“You?” 

“I had too,” Loris says, “the only time I could get her to clean up was when she thought she lost it.”

“She cleaned?” Steb questions. 

“She moved shit from one side to the other and I could get a broom in there when her back was turned,” he explains, “I just wanted to keep her from getting mites.”

Steb’s stoic face breaks. Caitlyn feels the disgust in her own bones. Loris looks between them and shrugs. Of the three of them only he has a sense of how bad things got. Caitlyn does not know why it is upsetting. She has seen Stillwater, she closed those cells. It would not be the first time Vi had mites. But those mites were forced upon her by the prison. Here she was free, here it was a choice—except it wasn’t. Deep down Caitlyn knows it wasn’t. The old ones were forced upon her by Stillwater. These would be forced upon her by Caitlyn. Caitlyn knows she was the final straw, the card that took the whole house down. The badge feels like a bomb again as she grips the familiar dents worn by Vi’s actions. 

“But she always picked it up,” Loris says quickly, “always put it back in her pocket. Don’t think she had a fight without it in there,” there’s something prideful in his face, “like a lucky charm.”

Steb’s face turns fully skeptical as Vi’s medical report runs through her head. Even the pride on Loris’ face slips. They’ve come across the information in different ways but the conclusion is the same. Vi is banged up. Badly. If the badge is supposed to be a lucky charm Caitlyn thinks it did not do it’s job very well. She has no idea how it could though. She forced it on Vi. The badge was neither earned nor wanted. How could it be anything but a curse. Vi has stayed alive in spite of what was pushed on her. Not because of it. Caitlyn is tempted to throw it away again, but instead she offers it to Loris. 

“You should keep this until she’s awake,” she says.

Steb flicks his fins and Loris tears his eyes from the badge to look at him. There’s some silent exchange Caitlyn dislikes not being a part of. Steb is the one who has remained a presence here so she looks at him. But Loris is a loyal man so he reaches for the badge with a sigh. 

“With all due respect, Commander, she kept it because of you,” Steb says. 

Loris’s eyes widen in surprise. 

But all Caitlyn can do is think how odd the truth sounds in this room. She tries to remember the last time anyone spoke the complete truth here, but all she hears are the lies and half truths between her and Ambessa. Between her and Vi. Between her and Vi. Half truths Caitlyn demanded so she could lie to herself. Still call herself a daughter, a good person, so many things she no longer was. It’s not the lies that make her taste sour. It’s the cowardice they represent. Her cowardice. She tightens her hand on the badge and lowers it, forcing the metal back into her pocket.

“Then I will give it back to her,” she says. She looks at Loris, “if you think that is alright.”

“Yeah,” Loris says, “I think she’d like that.”

When she does give the badge back, it’s because Vi demands it back. 

They are sitting near each other cleaning smaller weapons. Mostly blades, mostly for Caitlyn so she can slice the runes from Ambessa’s arm. Vi is still against the plan. Caitlyn refuses to let her intervene. This is her responsibility. If it was up to her she wouldn’t let Vi on the battlefield at all. But Vi won’t hear it. Every time it comes up she shuts things down. It’s Caitlyn’s fight but she will not let her face it alone. It’s that same loyalty Caitlyn does not deserve. Vi is sharpening one of them when the silence turns so heavy Caitlyn cannot bear it anymore. 

“You need to consider—“

“No,” Vi says. 

“Vi—“ Caitlyns starts again. 

“Where’s my badge?” Vi cuts in. Caitlyn’s eyes widen but Vi’s remain unnervingly calm. Defiant, “Loris said you had it.”

Caitlyn swallows tightly. A few months ago, a lifetime ago, she pressed the badge into Vi’s hands and forced her into a life she never asked for. Vi carried the badge their entire time apart. Caitlyn only has it because she came back unconscious and bleeding out. It’s strange to think this is the first time the badge has been asked for. The badge is a few feet away but Caitlyn feels paralyzed at the thought of giving it back. So much has changed, and yet here they are facing another fight where Caitlyn may or may not come home in a box. VI cannot save her this time. 

One of us comes back in a box.

All the apologies claw behind her teeth as she tries to figure out which one should go first. The sin of asking for her to wear it? Pressuring her? Abandoning her? Making her complacent in hurting her own people? There are so many things she wants to apologize for she barely knows where to start. Yes they have had sex, yes it’s clear they both want to figure whatever this is out, but Caitlyn remembers how the housekeeper looked when she forced out the apology. Those foreign words mean something. She wants to say them. She needs to force them out so Vi understands she knows she messed up. 

Except Vi lays her hand over hers and curls her fingers into Caitlyn’s clenched fist. 

“Cait,” she says, “where is it?”

“Why?” Caitlyn says, the emotion in her voice betraying everything she wants to show Vi. 

“Because I want it,” Vi says as though it’s the simplest thing in the world, “because your fights are my fights. And if I can’t be with you, I want the people I’m fighting with to know whose side I’m on.”

She tears her eyes away and looks around for it. She spots it but Caitlyn grips her hand before she can get up. Vi looks at her curiously and though she still desperately wants to give Vi every apology she realizes that is not what Vi needs. Maybe it’s not what she needs to do right now either. 

“I’d like to give it to you properly,” she says.

Vi considers for a moment and then nods. They get to their feet and Caitlyn holds the badge. It still feels so heavy, so loaded. But now she is determined to make it loaded with something other than sin. Vi stands in front of her and lets her get her thoughts together. Caitlyn swallows against the tightness in her throat. It occurs to her this may be the last formality she does as an Enforcer. She’s shored up the Enforcer’s numbers so quickly in her quest for revenge, she does not know how many she has given out. But she remembers how proud each looked, how ready to serve. In her darkest moments it only made her more annoyed at Vi’s reluctance. Now though she understands. 

“This badge represents your commitment and service to—the people of this city and to your fellow Enforcers,” she says, “it represents what you have sacrificed to prove your worth,” Vi swallows, “and there is no-one more worthy of this than you.”

Vi blinks at her and actual surprise shows on her face. But Caitlyn continues the formality. 

“It’s not supposed to be your Commander that gives it to you, it’s supposed to be someone important to you,” she says, “but it would be my honor to fill in and present you with this.“

Vi stares at the blue case she holds out. 

“You’re not,” Vi interrupts hoarsely. Caitlyn stares at her, “you’re not filling in.”

Caitlyn swallows tightly and Vi undoes her belt, holding it out. Caitlyn open the case and threads it through the line of fabric. Before Vi can take it back, she moves forward and wraps it around her hips, securing the buckle over her pants. Vi shifts her weight slightly, trying to find the formality she’s never been trained in. Caitlyn refuses to give into the tears that threaten her and looks at Vi instead. They’ve kissed and fucked and done so much but the first touch still echoes though her bones. Their hands are both bare now as she holds hers out and Vi grips it. 

“Welcome to the Enforcers,” she says, “we are honored to have you fight alongside us.”