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She looks at the lines on the woman’s back, and sees tension wrought in every fissure, in the angled curve of her shoulderblades.
This is someone who’s seen things. Caitlyn’s not sure even she wants to know what those things are.
The boat casts off from Stillwater, and the water of the night churns underneath them. Their boatsman says nothing about the new addition, which Caitlyn silently is thankful for. No doubt she’d have to pay a little extra to keep his silence after they land back at Piltover. It’s in the few moments like these she’s almost grateful for her family’s money. Almost. It still chafes her pride to be associated with it, dependent on it.
As they cross the bay underneath darkened clouds, the freed prisoner doesn’t even flinch when thunder rumbles nearby. When the vicious, cold winds bite at their bare skin, Caitlyn shivers underneath her cloak — but her new companion does not.
Why would she? She’s colder than the storm, pent up with the fury and rage of a hurricane.
When Caitlyn had reviewed her file, she’d been baffled to learn her name was Violet. That’s a name for sweetness, for loveliness.
The woman sitting in front of her is anything but. Vi had snarled like a feral dog when Caitlyn had addressed her with her full name as they’d exited the doors of Stillwater.
Don’t fucking call me that. Name’s Vi to you.
Morbidly, Caitlyn hopes she can keep a tight leash on her. Vi’s her best and only hope at uncovering Silco — or at least, the origins of the great conspiracy. She’ll have to play nice and hope that Vi knows how to do the same.
—-
“Look, I know you want to get to the Lanes as soon as possible, but the night watch is out and I can’t have you being seen in Piltover while you look like—” Caitlyn makes a gesture to the entirety of Vi. How unfortunate her impeccable detective skills let her take in all of Vi’s figure in that second — she’s all pure, hardened muscle.
“When I look like shit? I would’ve never known unless you told me,” Vi says with biting sarcasm. The two of them stand in an alleyway just off the ports; shadows darken the lines of their faces, but Caitlyn can see her scowl clear as day. “And who cares about the night watch? You’re an enforcer. Just tell them you’re going to beat the shit out of me somewhere and they’ll let you pass.”
Caitlyn hates that she has to play this card so early. Gritting her teeth, she hisses, “I’m not an enforcer. Getting you out was completely off the books, as I was r-relieved of duty earlier today.” Her pride’s still raw from it — the stammer is unintentional.
And of course Vi picks up on it, and decides to dump salt into the wound. She barks out a cold laugh as she leans back against the alley wall. “Wow, you? You got fired from being an enforcer? Holy shit, you must’ve really fucked up for them to fire you. And that really says something you know.”
“I didn’t get fired, I just — look, this is not the time nor place to discuss this. You should simply know I’m risking my neck by getting you out — you could at least thank me for that.”
Studying her with a hard gaze for a moment, Vi finally says, “Fine, princess. Thanks. For getting me out.”
There’s still that blunt edge to her voice, that steeliness that layers her every word — and yet it surprises Caitlyn, just slightly, to hear a semblance of gratefulness. It’s barely there, barely audible, but it’s enough for Caitlyn to blink and be at a loss for words.
Of course, the moment doesn’t last long because Vi bluntly says, “So where are you going to stuff me tonight? A barrel? Bottom of the pier?”
Caitlyn snaps back to herself real quick. Swallowing back a retort to state the obvious fact that she can’t have Vi dead, she says, “No, we’re going to my place. We’ll lay low there until morning, and then we can head out.”
Vi’s eyebrows shoot straight up into the fringe of her pink hair and she looks like she’s trying to hold back another laugh. With a low whistle, she says, “To your place already? So soon? We’ve only just met, sweetheart.”
Violently resisting the urge to be violent, Caitlyn grabs a hold of Vi’s forearm — ignoring just how rough and hardened the muscle is underneath her hand — and turns. “We’re going.”
—-
With her parents out late at another party, Caitlyn manages to discreetly bring Vi into the Kiramman house, quickly bringing her new charge over to her bedroom. The moment Caitlyn shuts the door, she turns to see Vi spinning in a slow circle on one foot, eyebrows raised as she cast her gaze about Caitlyn’s room.
Caitlyn had packed up her giant crisscross web of connections earlier into her desk — her mother disliked seeing her do those unnecessary police things — but her giant table covered with well-wishes and bouquets of flowers still stands close to the entrance. Her bed sits well made at the center wall, the vanity table next to it as pristine as always.
It only just occurs to Caitlyn what her bedroom might look like to an outsider — it looks exactly like any other highborn citizen’s abode, resplendent and flawless, every bit of decor a symbol of wealth and status.
It looks like a place a person from the undercity would hate.
Before Vi can speak a word, Caitlyn says quickly, “Don’t. I know what you’re going to say, and you don’t need to say it.” Letting out an exasperated, exhausted sigh, she tosses her bag of things down and runs a hand through her hair. She wants this to go well — no, she needs this to go well. “I can give you some of my clothes, and you can go get washed up. To be frank, the prison didn’t seem all that sanitary and I think it’s best if you’re to spend the night here, that we at least make sure my parents don’t catch wind of you.”
Vi snorts, hands shoved in her pockets. “You want me to fit into your clothes? I think I’ll pass.”
“You don’t want to change out of...that?” Caitlyn asks, incredulous. Surely she’d want something more comfortable to sleep in than prison rags.
“Sweetie, full offense, but I’d tear out of one of your dainty little shirts if I so much as tried to put one on.” For good measure, Vi flexes her arm, showing off her bicep and Caitlyn hates to admit that Vi’s... figure definitely wouldn’t fit into any of her clothes. The woman’s definitely bigger than her, no doubt about that. “I’m sure your wardrobe’s full of good shirts, but I’m good with what I’m wearing.” Turning around and underneath her breath, Vi adds, “I could definitely tear your clothes another way, too.”
“Excuse me?”
“Nothin’. So where’s your giant bathtub made of solid gold?”
—-
The two of them get washed up — separately, of course — and Caitlyn returns from the bath to see Vi casually lounging at the foot of her bed, flipping through her notebook.
“Hey! That’s official evidence you’re tampering with—” Rushing forward, she shoots a hand out to grab the book from Vi’s hands when Vi childishly holds it out away from reach.
With a smirk that borders on almost being attractive, Vi says, “Your handwriting’s kinda cute, you know. Like you. And besides, this isn’t official anything. You got fired, remember?”
Leave it to Vi to pry apart her wounded pride once again. “Look, please. I worked hard on gathering all of that intel on my own. It’s the only trail of evidence I have of the great conspiracy’s crimes.”
“Yeah, I can see from your neat notes that you’re really obsessed with this ‘great conspiracy,’” Vi says, but strangely, there’s not a note of ridicule in her voice — instead, when Caitlyn sits down next to her, Vi looks at her with an indiscernible expression as she hands back the notebook. “Why are you so interested in knowing about all this? Was this your assignment when you were on the force?”
“Frankly, no one on the force was looking into this. It’s as if everyone turned a blind eye to it,” Caitlyn says, brow furrowed. She thumbs the corner of the pages of her notebook, as she’s done hundreds of times late at night. “Some called it low priority, the smuggling, the underhanded dealings, the degradation of the undercity — but the explosion at the square was a much larger in scale attack, a bigger plan, and I don’t doubt that the technology stolen from Jayce’s labs was done on purpose. I’m positive that there must be an ultimate force behind all of this, and it all must be leading to something.” She doesn’t really know why she’s telling Vi all of this — not even Jayce really seems to believe her when she launches into detail about her ideas and hunches.
No one was really ever on Caitlyn’s side. Not her parents, not Jayce, not the enforcers.
Why would Vi be any different?
And yet.
“I think you’re right,” Vi says.
Caitlyn jerks her head up, mouth dropping open. Breathless, and completely caught off guard, she says, “Excuse me? What did you just say?”
“I said, I think you’re right. I’m pretty sure Silco’s got some shit up his sleeve and that he’s planning something big for Piltover, and the undercity,” Vi says, and she reaches a hand out, nudging Caitlyn’s hand aside for a brief second to flip to a page in her notes. “You wrote here you think people are getting paid off to let these things happen. It’s definitely true, and as much as you don’t wanna hear it, I bet you a bunch of your enforcers are getting paid off too. You know the undercity has deals with the enforcers, right?”
“What deals?”
Vi lets out an amused snort, but there’s bitterness in her gaze too. “Few years back, the guy who ran the undercity had a deal with the sheriff. We both stayed out of each other’s business. That was the deal. That guy—” Vi swallows, and her jaw goes tense as she forces out, “—that guy, I think, got replaced with Silco. And now Silco runs the undercity and he definitely has the power to pay off the law to get what he wants.”
“Do you know what he wants?” Caitlyn asks, breathless. The enforcers — corrupt, from the top. That could change everything. Who else at the highest echelons were being paid off? How far did Silco’s reach go?
“Hell if I know. He’s a fucking prick, like any other power hungry asshole.” Scowling, Vi draws her knees up to her chest, resting her chin upon them as she clenches her fists. “I’m gonna find him, whatever it fucking takes.”
Caitlyn doesn’t know why, but she reaches a hand out and rests it on Vi’s shoulder. The look of wide-eyed surprise from the woman is almost enough to make Caitlyn chuckle, but she wonders just how long it’s been since Vi has experienced any kind of...well, kindness. Softness.
“Thank you, for telling me all of this.” Glancing at the clock on the wall, Caitlyn makes to stand. “We’ll have a long day tomorrow of hunting Silco and his associates. You should get some rest.”
For a moment, Vi says nothing, only looks at her with an expression that Caitlyn can’t quite read, like the hardened mask is barely holding on.
“So, where am I sleeping? The floor? Your wardrobe?”
“I imagine the beds were uncomfortable at Stillwater. You can just sleep on mine.” Caitlyn heads over to her desk, lying her notebook atop it. “There’s some work I still want to do, so I’ll stay up for a bit. I can take the floor when I need to sleep.”
“Your giant ass bed is big enough for two, princess. You don’t have to shatter your back lying on the cold, unforgiving, solid gold ground.”
“And you think I would trust you enough to sleep next to you? You must think me a fool.” Whatever little bond they’d built up in those few minutes immediately evaporated — at least, in Caitlyn’s opinion.
Vi stands up, sighing and stretching her arms up high — Caitlyn once more has to resist noticing the flex of Vi’s muscles, the outline of her lean and toned figure. “I’m sure you got great training like the rest of the enforcers, honey, but trust me, if I wanted you dead, you would be. I was in prison for a couple of years, remember? You pick up on how to survive there.”
Throwing herself on the bed, Vi looks over at Caitlyn and then says with a smirk, “And you know what, I know what would make you feel safer.”
“And what is that, pray tell?”
“You obviously still have enforcer gear. You can handcuff—”
Caitlyn crosses the room so quickly that Vi’s caught off guard when Caitlyn leans in close, real close. With a finger pointed directly in between Vi’s eyes, Caitlyn hisses, “Say another word, Vi, and I swear, I’ll—”
“Gag me?” Vi laughs, breathless. “You have a lot of weird tastes for a princess—”
Throwing her hands up in exasperation and turning away, Caitlyn stalks back to her desk. “You really don’t know when to shut up, do you?”
She waits for the retort, the snappy reply, but none ever comes. Instead, when Caitlyn turns around, she sees Vi simply lying there, lips thin, and in her gaze is something...heavy. Underneath the cold shell, Caitlyn sees...sadness.
Caitlyn remembers once again, that Vi has definitely seen things.
Maybe too many things. Things not even Vi wants to remember, or think about.
“...I’m sorry, did I say something wrong?” Caitlyn doesn’t know why the words come out of her mouth, the apology, the unexpected desire to take back what she’d said.
“...No, it’s nothing. Night.” Vi rolls over, back to her, and says nothing more.
—-
When Caitlyn eventually does retire, she silently gets into bed next to Vi and finds her counterpart fast asleep. With her keen eye, Caitlyn once more sees things she wishes she didn’t; the tightened fist on the pillow, the permanent scowl in Vi’s brow, the way she slept curled up in a tight ball, as tense and coiled as she is when she’s awake.
For both their sakes, Caitlyn thinks. She hopes they’ll find Silco and take him down.