Chapter Text
VI
Caitlyn is a heavy sleeper. The girl could sleep through a hurricane and wake up the next morning none the wiser. This is something Vi has become increasingly grateful for. It allows her to wake up tense, shaking, weeping, a scream hardly dying in her throat without being a bother.
It lets her pry herself from Cait's arms and haul herself out of bed and stumble out of the room to wedge herself into a corner sobbing as quietly as she can manage, to dry heave leaning against shining porcelain, to take shuddering gasps of cool night air looking out on the city. In Cait's closet filled with more clothes than Vi has owned over the full course of her life, in Cait's bathroom that’s at least five times the size of Vi's Stillwater cell, on Cait's balcony that looks down on everything Vi spent her childhood gazing up at. It's hard to put a finger on why she still feels a little out of place.
She knows she could wake Cait up if she wanted, and she knows she would probably help, but she can't bring herself to, to entirely no fault of Cait's and absolutely all of her own. The idea of waking Caitlyn up just so Vi can languish in her arms and cry about her dead family for the millionth time makes her feel sick. Even if she did, it wouldn't be any use, nothing Cait could say would fix it. They both know that. They don't pretend it isn't true.
On the rare occasion that Cait does catch her crying, she doesn't have much to say, and Vi doesn't blame her. What is there to say? Still, she's awfully kind about it, and Vi can hardly stand it, to feel so pitiful and fragile in any way someone can see. It kills her to see the weariness in Cait's eye as she dries her tears. Vi is far too much and not nearly enough all at once, she's not sure how to exist in between.
Time passes, miraculously and inevitably, and Vi manages moments of contentment. It's never allowed to linger guilt free, she never thought it would, but it's fine. Caitlyn goes back to work and Vi can't bring herself to leave the house some days, but it's fine. Vi doesn't sleep through the night even once since the- since. But it's fine. She's fine. She has to be.
She doesn't know what to do with her hands if they're not hitting something, so she spends most of her time in Cait's training room (an honest to God training room , just in her house!) trying desperately to lose herself in the motions, to wear herself out enough that her sleep will be restful and dreamless.
It doesn't work.
The rest of her time alone is spent idle and twitchy, waiting for a fight that won't come, listening for voices long gone, pacing, longing to go somewhere but having nowhere left.
CAITLYN
Months pass, and some things find a way to stay consistent. Caitlyn likes consistent. She and Vi have breakfast together every morning and dinner together every night. (She does this largely to ensure that Vi eats.) She very firmly takes weekends off from work. (She does this largely so Vi doesn't spend too much time alone.) She takes Vi out on a date every Saturday. (She does this largely so Vi leaves the house at least once a week.)
Those aren't the only reasons by any means, she loves spending time with Vi, she loves being with her, of course she does. But Vi sometimes makes her feel helpless. She's hard to read at the best of times, stormy eyes and tight lips. Even in the rare occasion that she does let on that anything is bothering her, she resists any questioning, pushing back when Cait expresses concern, putting up new walls anytime Cait can make a dent in another. She can hardly judge, though, God knows she's entitled to however she feels. Cait had certainly processed her own grief poorly enough. It seems better not to push and let Vi open up on her own time.
All this to say, she takes care of Vi in every subtle little way she can, and only hopes they add up into anything meaningful.
Work has been hectic since… the big day. There were a lot of names for it that floated around: the last day of magic, the war on Piltover, the Noxian invasion, evolution day. The one Cait hated the most was the day of reckoning, it made it seem like some fated catastrophe. It all could have been so easily avoided if she had only- well. That was neither here nor there. Anyways. Erase, restart.
Work has been hectic for the last couple months. Caitlyn had somehow landed herself even more respect since… Ambessa’s death, perhaps. She'd shown Piltover that she was exactly what they thought she was, and she'd shown the undercity that she could be what they needed her to be when it came down to it. That she'd make sacrifices for the greater good. An eye for several thousand lives hardly felt like a worthy enough sacrifice. Anyways. Erase, restart.
Work has been hectic in the last couple months, and Caitlyn has been selected by the Council to visit a few cities on the Hexgate trade route to ensure that there is no shimmer, or Hextech, still present on the loose. Demacia, Ionia, Noxus. She's planning on meeting with Mel while she's there, hoping to check in on her. Neither of them took Jayce's disappearance well, nor the loss of their mothers, and they'd become friends in the aftermath. She would travel by airship, and the whole round trip was expected to take a month, give or take a few days.
(The summons were not extended to Vi. Cait had caused an uproar over this, naturally. Her superiors didn't budge. Vi wasn't an enforcer and refused to become one again, and this was a work trip. It was not for leisure, and no one else was bringing plus ones. Cait had threatened not to go at all under duress of termination of her position.
Vi, perhaps in spite of Caitlyn calling her predictable, encouraged her to go. Cait caught the distinct impression Vi wanted some time to herself, and only hoped she did a good enough job concealing how badly she wanted to never leave her side again. Being overbearing may break the delicate balance she'd tried so hard to build.)
Cait was getting used to the airship.