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Growing up in Zaun meant a lot of things. It meant paranoia, desperation, poverty, starvation, rot, but most of all, it meant sickness.
Powder had always gotten sicker than Vi or the others. Fever and chills settled into her bones and skin like old friends, and her big blue eyes glazed over as she hallucinated from the sickness. Violent coughs would rattle up from small lungs, painfully escaping in merciless fits. None of them had liked getting sick, but God, Vi hated Powder getting sick more than anything. She hated hearing Powder whimper and gasp for air while her chest seized. She hated standing over Vander’s broad shoulder, watching as her sister suffered and knowing that there was little she could do about it.
She was supposed to take care of Powder. She hated that feeling of uselessness that overtook her, but there wasn’t much to be done, not in the lanes. Medicine was nearly impossible to come across, even for The Hound, and the lucky ones who managed to get their hands on any never let it go willingly.
Stealing it from the Pilties was even more dangerous-they kept it locked away in pristine white hospitals that tranchers couldn’t get anywhere near without drawing too much attention. It was a suicide mission.
Instead, she would have to sit at her little sister’s bed side, pressing cold, dirty rags to her sister’s forehead to try and fight the fever while one of the boys ran around to try and find a semi-reputable home-made cure. She would have to stay up with Powder, watching over her throughout the night out of fear that her sister would die while she slept. It had happened one too many times in Zaun, and it haunted Vi, gripping her chest in what felt like one of Vander’s crushing hugs, but so much tighter, so much worse without the warmth and love that usually came with.
It just brought fear. Non-stop fear.
During those times, not even Mylo would open his mouth. He and Claggor would follow behind Vander, bringing food and water and whatever remedies they could find. The basement of the bar would remain oppressively silent outside of Powder’s coughing fits and wheezing breaths, and the quiet shushing sound Vi would make to soothe her.
Vi hadn’t had many chances to be soft with her sister then, not really. She loved Powder more than anything, and did everything she could to show her that, but children of Zaun couldn’t be coddled forever, if at all. Weakness, too much softness, couldn’t live in Zaun for very long, and Vi had to keep herself and Powder alive. But those scary moments when Powder would get worse, get so quiet and still, would pull that softness out of Vi. She wanted to show it to her sister all the time, but it only really came out when the younger girl was too sick to properly bask in it.
After Vi’s enforcer paychecks started, one of her first purchases was med icine- as much as she could carry. She bought bottles of strange liquids and tiny pills that rattled when she set them down on the counter. She couldn’t pronounce half of the names, and she didn’t know the use of most of the ones that she could. The pharmacist had raised a manicured eyebrows at the magnitude of treatment methods being bought, but thankfully said nothing.
Vi lugged home handfuls of bags of medication, stockpiling it out of habit- you didn’t always know what something was good for, but you held onto it anyway, because it was like gold in Zaun. Medicine was too hard to come back to be too picky.
(She’d made sure to buy anything that said it would help with fever or coughs, the image of her little sister’s pale blue lips gaping as she struggled to catch her breath haunting her through the pharmacy.)
Her next move was to secure some place safe and warm, with plenty of space for her and Jinx. She hadn’t managed to locate the younger woman after Silco, but she knew she’d need somewhere to bring her when she did. She bought warm blankets that were softer than anything Vi had ever felt and sweaters in bright colors she knew would catch her sister’s eye.
The closer it had gotten to winter, the more desperately Vi tore through Zaun. Powder had always gotten sick in winter, and she didn’t have anyone to take care of her now, if Vi couldn’t find her.
She eventually stumbled across her sister’s body hidden behind the counter of her favorite shooting game in the arcade they’d once made their space. It had gone untouched, even after everything, and while Vi checked it regularly, that had been the first time she’d seen her sister in it since childhood. She almost missed the younger woman, her pale figure curled up tightly into a small corner, out of sight. Jinx was deathly still, pale with shimmer and sickness, and cold to the touch. Vi’s heart leapt into her chest, and she was unable to breathe for a moment before she was spurred to action by the tell-tale wheeze that accompanied Jinx’s shallow breaths.
The trip back to her apartment took too long for her walking as she snuck down alleys and side streets, clutching her sister’s shivering body close to her chest. She dressed the younger woman in warm layers with soft, fuzzy socks on her feet, then draped heavy blankets over her form, laying the precious bundle down onto the soft mattress of Vi’s bed. She hovered, watching as Jinx slept, looking for any sign of distress; it was an old habit, and the thought of her sister being alone for even a moment while so sick was enough to make her head and heart hurt. When Jinx finally woke up, she was immediately at sister’s bedside, sitting next to her on the bed and pouring out sweet spoonfuls of something that was supposed to fight the obvious fever glossing over magenta eyes. Vi then made a nest of pillows and blankets around the younger woman, grateful and proud to see her sister finally warm in the winter. She shrugged off Jinx’s raised eyebrow after she passed her lotion-infused tissues, her heart swelling at the thought that her sister’s nose wouldn’t chap and bleed when all they’d had were rough scraps and rags to blow into.
The combination of actual, proper care and shimmer helped Jinx recover much quicker than she ever had when she was younger, but, somehow, Vi convinced her to stick around after she bounced back, anyway. She can’t remember what she said that truly convinced the other woman, but she didn’t care- Jinx was home , and she was staying- nothing else mattered. The apartment stayed well-stocked, Vi ready to jump at any sniffle. She memorized soup recipes that were made from fresh food and bought juices she knew her sister would like, enriched with extra vitamins that neither of them had ever really had before. Vi strived to keep Jinx healthy, and she took extra pride in knowing that Jinx wouldn’t have to starve and shiver through any more winters. On the increasingly rare occurrence that she did get sick, she was cuddled and cradled through it, Vi finally able to focus on her sister’s comfort as well as her survival.
When Jinx made it through her first winter without getting sick, Vi was ready to throw a parade, ecstatic that she had finally managed to give her sister a life that came with less pain and fear and suffering. She fed Jinx regular meals, gave her hugs and cuddles and kisses freely, and laid her sister in a bed that was just for her. Vi was finally able to give the younger woman the life she deserved, one where gentleness came easily, wrapping softly around her sister like she always wanted to. She gave love and sweetness like oxygen, and Jinx thrived on it.
Vi found herself wishing she could have always given Powder that life, wishing she could have always shown her the kind of love that doesn’t have to be brief. She wished she would have always let her guard down, let her sister truly see and learn and know her soft parts, the hidden delicate pieces of her heart that fit so perfectly with Jinx’s, even after everything that happened between them.
She wished her sister had always known life like that, but being able to see Jinx healthy and happy was enough to soothe the old ache of watching her little sister clinging to survival. She gave Jinx everything she always wanted to. She watched her sister flourish, and it was enough.