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Confusion. Anxiety. Rage.
Caitlyn’s mind couldn’t decide on one to stick to, a constant cycle of emotions clouding her already disoriented state from the blows to her head. Maddie fucking Nolan deceived her. Took advantage of her vulnerability. She’d opened her bed, nearly her legs, all to end here. Knees and palms digging into the cement, a much smoother finish than that of the underground cell she was kneeling on just hours before but somehow rawer and harsher still. Why do her knees ache more than her head? The butt of the traitor’s gun, now pointedly aimed at her from behind, had landed two heavy thuds to either side of her head. Her eyes looked back — no, not the traitor’s gun. Her own, now keeping her hostage on hands and knees. For a moment, it was Vi behind her, watching her come undone at her skilled fingers, eyes intensely boring into Caitlyn’s. She’d never felt safer then. This… this was the complete opposite. She felt a wave a nausea flood her, starting at the throbbing area on her forehead and reaching her knees before dissipating, leaving her toes numb behind her. A new emotion, rooted deep in her gut, took over. Guilt. Five months of easily controlled disassociation still weren’t enough to blur her parting actions toward Vi. Two guns, two lovers, three jabs. Caitlyn felt them all — even her own inflicted one twisted in her stomach like a knife. The overwhelming guilt left a bitter taste in her mouth. No, not just the guilt. It was blood, too.
Her gaze shifted, hot tears threatening to spill as she watched Ambessa approach Maddie. A heavy hand clasped her shoulder in recognition, a gesture she’d received not weeks before by the same hand. In return, Maddie offered the gun, her gun, to the beast of a woman. Caitlyn panted through her anger as Ambessa lazily ejected the cartridge, rendering her weapon useless to her now even if she could reach it.
“I warned you of the hazards of professional entanglement,” she chastised, almost uninterested. Caitlyn sneered, teeth gritting as Ambessa removed her mask and took in a deep breath, as though she were reveling in the war state. How many had she lost on her side already? How many had Caitlyn lost? Neither made a difference to her. What a bold, evil move. The mask she wore did nothing to shield her true motives, dark and twisted. A wolf in her truest form, fearless and ruthless with teeth that aren’t afraid to bite. Caitlyn felt used. Vi was right. She’d submitted without a second thought and, now, all of Piltover, topside and bottom, would pay the price from the hand she was dealt.
The overwhelming dread stalled her, nearly let her accept the end. She could almost feel the head of Maddie’s gun against her neck. She shut her eyes tight. But a voice rang in the back of her head, starting small from her aching wound and growing to fill her body. So quiet at first she couldn’t tell who it was. Powder blue eyes gazing up at her with trust, worry, but mostly love as she squeezed their hands tight. A heavy cloud of unknown. Jayce, her advisor, her friend, her brother, with a warning. If he makes it to the Hexgates.
Linked fingers tighten.
Then we’d best stop him.
Her own promise.
What a letdown the last six months had been. Shoulders she’d leaned on only to end up shoving her down. Figures she’d admired only to bury them with violets. Footsteps she’d followed only to lead her down a path she didn’t recognize. Who was left? Who could she trust?
A warm bed, cold with company replaced by a cold cell, warm with love. A council meeting in a bunker kickstarting the loss of herself turned to the last shred of hope. Pieces of her mother in Jayce, in Mel. In Vi. In her. The last shred of hope, the only shred of hope.
The price hung heavy on her now. If he makes it to the Hexgates…
Then we’d best stop him. Stop him. Stop her. Stop her first. Ambessa.
A surge of hope-fueled strength overcomes the dread. Caitlyn grabs the head of the gun trained on her and redirects it, the blast of a near-miss echoing in her ear as she hefts it back. Maddie knocks back with a grunt, successfully off guard and allowing her to take matters into her own hands. She loads the gun as she gets to her feet, aiming ahead, hoping it’s enough and then—
Blinding white.
An effort, barely valiant anymore, halted.
The adrenaline that prompted her feat rushed to the right side of her torso, where she was brought to an abrupt stop by Ambessa’s knife-wielding hand.
Caitlyn couldn’t hold back the whimpers of pain as she uncontrollably leaned into the crook of Ambessa’s neck. A mother’s embrace lacking all the security it should. Gods, Caitlyn missed her mom. Her mother would gently tend to her wound. Dab the beads of sweat off her forehead with a Kiramman-sigiled handkerchief. Bring her warm broth and tenderly support her head as she sipped. Caitlyn unconsciously leaned into the support Ambessa’s form provided, if only physically, she craved it. The woman’s lips leaned down to her ear.
“Desperation is the doorway to oblivion, child,” she shares one last guidance, harshly emphasizing each word.
Caitlyn exhales with a stutter, eyes clouding with tears as the sides of her peripherals darken. Ambessa twists the knife deeper in her gut before letting go. Lacking the necessary support, Caitlyn drops to her knees. She foggily hears Ambessa address Maddie as her hand helplessly frames the handle of the knife. It barely even hurts, surprisingly. There’s a strong heat rushing to her core, blood pooling to the wound she imagines. Even in her daze, she knows to leave it in, leave it alone. Accept the pain rather than never feel again. If only for a few more seconds.
The handle in her stomach might as well be the nail in her coffin. She hears Maddie approach her backside once more, wielding the gun once more.
I failed.
Caitlyn’s breaths break into quiet, strained sobs. Her throat tightens as she kneels helplessly. She thinks of her dad, if he survives this war. The new Piltover that she failed to prevent. Will he even get the chance? Would he survive this loss? She thinks of Jayce, disassembling the Hexcore, waiting for the team to carry out their end of the mission. The team that is lined up to her left, each with a soldier ready for the execution cue. She thinks of Vi. Sweet, beautiful Vi who has lost more than this world ever gave her. It’s all she’s ever known and, time after time, everyone she holds dearly lets her down. Caitlyn tearfully adds her name to the roster, wondering if Vi would be around to grieve another loss. Maybe death would welcome her with arms that life never offered. Maybe Caitlyn would find her there, too.
“I did appreciate your warmth.” A gun cocks.
Warmth. Caitlyn hadn’t felt warmth. Hadn’t given it either. Not once in those five months. She only found solace in her dreams, dreams where she didn’t grow as cold as her mother’s dead body. Where Vi was by her side. Each waking moment without deepened the emptiness she felt. That is, until her love returned. How unfair to get everything you dreamed of only to have it ripped away once more.
An empty cartridge falls.
Caitlyn’s eyes widen as her breath picks up. She can’t help it. Might as well get as many breaths in while she can. The wait is almost worse, but she refuses to look back.
The metal rings as it lands on the ground behind her.
A tear finally escapes. Vi. Maybe she will be okay. But I can’t assure that. There’s no more she can do. I’m sorry I— She never even got to say how she felt.
The gun blasts.
Her eardrums ring.
Powder blue eyes lock with hers.
I love you.
Caitlyn shoots up, gulping for air. Her legs tangle in silk sheets as choked sobs wrack her body. It’s dark; is she dead? Did she die? What happen—
“Cait, baby.” The ring hasn’t faded.
Her hand reaches for the back of her neck, feeling for the entry point. It’s so dark.
“Cait, Cait?”
Wait. What? Her breath starts to even as she comes back to herself. A familiar hand — large, calloused, and warm — courses up and down her back as if it was guiding the deep breaths in and out of her.
Her eye screws shut as she attempts to follow the guidance of this trustworthy hand. “It’s okay, baby, you’re okay.” That voice. It’s so pretty. “Hey, hey, hey. C’mon.”
She inhales deeply, long through her nose. When she exhales, she opens her eye. It’s adjusted now, and she can make out the darkened view of her room from her bed. No, their bed. She turns to her right. The moonlight from the window outlines Vi’s sitting-up form. Even in the dark, she can see concern tightened across her face. It eases slightly, offering a warm smile as Caitlyn’s eye focuses on her. “There you are.”
Vi. She’s okay. They’re okay. “Violet,” she croaks, her voice thick with sleep and terror.
When she collapses, there’s no doubt in her mind that Vi will catch her. She buries her face into Vi’s neck, inhaling her comforting smell as supportive arms hold her closer. She curls in on herself as though she was trying to be absorbed by Vi. Vi lets her.
Scarred lips are placed on her hairline, a long kiss left as the arms around her tighten. “You’re okay.”
Time was hard to tell. It could’ve been seconds, minutes, maybe hours. She feels Vi adjust around her, situating herself and Caitlyn in tow to lean against the headboard of their bed. Long legs intertwine with strong thighs as Caitlyn is able to find the warmth and support in the crook of a neck once more.
Another kiss. “Wanna talk about it?” The question, mumbled against the top of her head, doesn’t push. It offers space while simultaneously assuring her of Vi’s presence.
Caitlyn takes another deep breath, trying to soak up the feeling. So she’d never grow cold again. “It— I… It was Maddie,” she exhales into Vi’s neck.
She feels Vi shiver from her breath. Fingers gently stroke up and down her exposed arm. “Mmm.”
Space. To continue. To not. Choice is nice. Caitlyn shifts again, pulling her head out of Vi’s shoulder to rest on her chest. In her struggle or maybe their embrace, she couldn’t be sure, her eyepatch budged, exposing her still-healing scar. Vi carefully adjusts the skewed fabric, allowing her fingers to trace Caitlyn’s jawline on their way back to holding her. She rests her chin atop Caitlyn’s head. The pressure is nice. It grounds her in this moment.
“I— I thought that was it.” It should’ve been. “I just…” The odds of her being here right now were impossibly out of her favor. And yet.
“I know.”
Caitlyn inhales sharply. “And,” a cracked sob interrupts her. “I was thinking of you. I— I could see you and…”
She squeezes Vi tighter if possible. Vi hushes her softly, her hands continuing their ministrations.
“I thought you were dead, too.”
“Baby..”
“Or,” Caitlyn continues, her breath rapidly increasing. “I thought you would be. If you found me. Like that.”
“Hey, hey,” Vi coaxes, adjusting their positioning so they’re sitting back up without the headboard support. She holds Caitlyn’s head with both hands. Her right thumb traces the bottom seam of her eyepatch. Firm, but gentle hands hold her upright. “Listen to me. It’s okay, it’s over now. You’re still here. I’m here. And it’s not easy getting rid of me.”
Caitlyn can’t help the laugh that leaves her lips, wet and choked from her cries. “I don’t want to.”
“Good.” Vi leans in for a quick, but passionate kiss, allowing her forehead to rest against Caitlyn’s. “You’re never gonna.”
It’s not the first time; far from it in fact, since the war. More often than not, Caitlyn’s sleep was disturbed. It never made sense to her, though, because she always felt safe falling asleep. Reassuring kisses and sweet nothings exchanged between her and Vi as they prepared each night. With her own nightmares often pulling her from sleep being a shared struggle with Vi’s own, the two hadn’t truly had a night of peace in the two months post-battle. Two months, two weeks, three days. Caitlyn wasn’t sure how long they could go on like this. Days were spent exhaustedly rebuilding a broken world while trying to build each other up with it. Only to regress each night. Two steps forward, one step back. Lately, though, it seemed one step forward, two steps back.
Caitlyn felt weak. She should be fine by now. She couldn’t help but feel guilty leaning on Vi for support. Vi had lost the two people closest to her. The ones who knew her when Caitlyn didn’t, with fewer scars, fewer burdens. Life had its way with her since. Left her with enough scars and burdens to last at least two lifetimes. Scars and burdens she helped inflict, regretfully. She wanted nothing more than to shoulder everything Vi had to offer, and everything she kept contained. Her own, stupid recovery prevented this when her support mattered most.
Vi had got a total of eleven hours of sleep in the six days Caitlyn laid unconscious. According to her father, she didn’t leave her side for anything other than to relieve herself or run a Caitlyn-related errand. She’d posted at her bedside, watching her stomach and eye begin their slow, treacherous healing process. She’d cleaned her, cared for her. As though letting her out of her sight meant she would lose her. All while bearing her own grief, channeling it into action to avoid slipping away.
Caitlyn felt awful. Since then, she’d attempted to return the favor in any way she could. Some days were better than others and she was able to offer more of herself to Vi. Other days, her stomach twisted in phantom reminder of the blade that almost took her life. Not to mention learning how to walk again, to balance. Between her depth perception basically nonexistent, her left side vulnerable, and her right side still healing, Caitlyn had to constantly search for reasons to get out of bed each day.
It always came back to one reason. Vi, who didn’t come out of the war unscathed by any means. Still in recovery from her own near-deadly wound and rushing fearlessly into battle. She wasn’t sure how she was physically able to hold herself up and Caitlyn. But she was always there, guiding Caitlyn’s blind side or easing her to sit when she grew dizzy. Always there as a buoy in a rocky sea as Caitlyn struggled to pull herself from the watery depths of her mind. Always there for her, rarely for herself.
Physically, she tried to cut herself some slack. Rushing the healing process, tempting as it was, would only harm her in the long run.
Mentally, however, was another battle. One she thought she’d overcome by now. It was the least she could do for all she owes Vi.
“Hey.” A thumb rubbed her cheek, sweeping away a tear she didn’t realize fell. Caitlyn opened her eye and, of course, Vi was there. Vi was always there. “Where’d you go?”
Her damn perfect fool. It tugged at her heartstrings. Caitlyn sniffed. “I’m sorry.” She barely heard her own voice, hoarse and small.
Despite her concern, Vi chuckled. As though an apology was absurd. “Cupcake… nothing to be sorry for.”
“But I—”
“Nothing,” Vi emphasized, punctuating the word by tightening her hands still cupping Caitlyn’s face. Fingers threaded through her hair.
Physical touch was a pillar in their relationship, withstanding every trial and tribulation. From day one, they’d leaned on each other. It came so naturally — the yearning, the connection, the trust. Vi’s hands seemed to magnetize towards Caitlyn’s face, not that she ever minded. A reassurance before any confirmation was established. Falling so easily into one another, barely knowing the other but knowing well-enough they’d catch the other.
And then she had broken that trust. A butt of a gun. A previously-wounded area she herself had tended to. Caitlyn wouldn’t blame Vi if she never touched her again.
But immediately when reunited, that worry was moot. Physical connection was their root and trust would reignite through it. Caitlyn would do whatever it takes, spend every day proving it true, to make sure Vi felt safe with her. This also didn’t take long — much sooner than expected, the fingers that had lovingly stroked her cheeks were buried inside her, deepening the connection to a level so intense Caitlyn believed it transcended all levels of physical being.
From then on it was routine. Vi never letting her hand go as she sat at her bedside. Caitlyn brushing Vi’s bangs back when she got lost in a low-hanging daze as the sun set. Vi carrying her to bed when her migraines debilitated her, slow and careful not to jostle her and make it worse. Caitlyn tracing the tattoos that covered Vi’s back as they prepare for sleep. Vi kissing her stomach scar on the way to her favorite spot between Caitlyn’s legs. Caitlyn rubbing reassuring strokes on Vi’s thigh as they sat through uncomfortable council meetings.
Vi holding her face between her hands as she threatened to fall apart.
Caitlyn nuzzling deeper into her palm.
Vi kissing her forehead again.
Caitlyn kissing her lips.
They settle back into bed, facing each other with legs still intertwined and moonlight still catching their eyes. Caitlyn brought a hand to cup Vi’s face. Vi kissed her palm. “Violet.”
“Mmyeah?”
“I love you.” It wasn’t the first time the sentiment was exchanged, far from the last. But Caitlyn never got sick of saying it, reminding her. Loving her.
Vi’s smile was warm. Sleepy but engaged. “I love you, too, Cupcake.”
Caitlyn tucked a loose layer of pink hair behind her ear. She inhaled deeply, feeling everything. The weight of her own burdens, dreamlike and real. “Because I love you, I will try harder.”
“Cait—”
“No, please,” Caitlyn hushed. She needed to say this. Vi needed to hear this. “I don’t want you to have to fret over me constantly. I want to be there for you just as much as you’ve been for me. Lean on me, use me. I want you to.”
Vi studied her face. A moment shared in silence. “Because I love you, I won’t expect it.”
“Darling—”
“Ah,” Vi quiets softly. “My turn. Me being there for you is how I love you best. I don’t do it so you’ll give it back. And, believe me, you do. But even if you didn’t, I’d still be here. Dirt under your nails, remember?”
Caitlyn closed her eye with a small chuckle. “If that were true, I’d never wash my hands again.”
“There’s my disgustingly sweet cupcake.”
“You’re never getting rid of me,” Caitlyn parroted Vi’s earlier promise.
A promise she prayed she could keep. One she’d felt stronger than she ever thought imaginable. It took no more than three days of knowing her for Caitlyn to realize she never wanted to live a life Vi wasn’t part of. It took the viscous hands of grief to foolishly let her go. It took one word, one silly nickname, to fall right back on track. It took one too-close call to remind her of life’s fragility.
Despite it all, Vi was worth living for. Maddie, Ambessa, even her own manipulated self nearly stole her life once. She buried all three, determined not to let them steal her second chance.
The dreams were painful reminders of their clutches. Hard to forget, harder to relive. But, somehow, even with every wrong turn she took, her path led her back to Vi. Vi with open hands and a bigger, more open heart. One she vowed to protect and cherish as they faced tomorrow each day. Both with ghosts. Vi’s urged her to live while Caitlyn’s tried to bring her down with them. But Vi’s grip was tight. And they’d continue this walk hand-in-hand if that’s what it took to shake them.