Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It took Vi and Cait almost a week to get her sister released from jail, despite Cait’s bests efforts and humongous political pressure. By then they had already arranged her a room on Cait’s house – their house. Their house. They lived together now, Vi reminded herself periodically. She had a room on Caitlyn’s house and it was the same as Caitlyn’s room, which made it their room, but she was still working on accepting that.

And then there was this – a room for her sister. Powder, or Jinx, however she liked to be called these days, after Vi had left her behind and she’d become a different person. It was polite, no, it was generous beyond words that Cait would arrange all of this to reconcile them.

So now she stood in front of her sister’s room. Her sister was inside, asleep. Presumedly. And she was holding a key.

She’d put her hand on the lock and taken it back a thousand times over, until she eventually just stood there, frozen in place, frozen in doubt.

That was how Cait found her, who knows how long later. Looking at a door to which she held the keys.

Cait put a hand on her shoulder.

Vi exhaled. “Could really use a bit of your wisdom right now, cupcake.”

Cait was quiet for a long while, leaning her head on Vi’s shoulder. Vi ran her fingers through Cait’s hair, still holding the key between her index and middle fingers, and let her think. She held Cait. She waited. It felt like time itself stood still.

“People only ever run away from places they feel trapped by,” Cait spoke, finally.

Vi felt something tight and sharp squeeze in her chest and closed her eyes. “Thank you.”

She slid the key into her pocket and left the room unlocked.

Jinx was gone by morning.

--

She found Caitlyn sitting on the couch, bare feet catching sunlight from the window, a book on her hands. Vi took a moment to watch her, to notice how she wiggled her toes without noticing, to burn to memory the way she licked her fingers before flipping a page.

“I can see you over there, you know. You’re hard to miss.”

Vi smiled, and walked over to her. Cait pulled her legs up to make space in the couch, then placed them over Vi’s lap when Vi took a seat. Vi put a hand on her knee and stared at her own fingers under sunlight. “My sister left.”

“I saw.”

She tapped her finger on Cait’s leg, anxious, fidgety. “Will you have your people look for her?”

“There’s no need. She’ll come back.”

And Vi had learned Cait always had a plan, for anything Vi could imagine and several situations she couldn’t foresee. She expected Cait to have a plan for this, too. But to trust was a daunting exercise. She’d have to ask. And Caitlyn had never minded sharing, but Vi wished she could trust enough to not need it.

She trusted enough that Cait’s words put her heart at ease, at least. “How do you know?”

Cait closed her book, looked at Vi and smiled. She was so, so pretty, and knowing most things about her were meticulous and calculated should have made Vi question that beauty, but it didn’t. By the gods, it didn’t.

“She took a book.” Cait said, and handed Vi the leather-covered volume she’d been holding. “It’s a two-volume piece. She’ll come back for the next one.”

“Maybe she’ll just rob a library,” Vi said, taking it, running her fingers over the spine. The cover was blank, and a title was nowhere to be found.

“Maybe.” Cait leaned her head back against the couch’s armrest. “But I don’t think so. Mine are annotated.”

“You think she’ll be here soon?”

“Depends. How fast does she read?”

“Tonight, then.” Vi nodded, and brought the book close to her chest. “Tonight. I’ll be here.”

Caitlyn propped herself up on her elbow and stared at her, always so thoughtful. “If you meet her, would you pass on a message?”

“Of course.”

Caitlyn went quiet again, for long enough that Vi forgot about it, feeling the warmth of the sun seep through her skin and into her bones.

And then Caitlyn spoke, and she nodded, and held her words to heart.

--

It was half past midnight when Jinx showed up. That she came in through the window but took her boots off before stepping into the room made the scene a particular kind of bizarre. Vi was sitting on the bed, waiting for her, and Jinx gave her a long look before approaching.

“I have your book,” Vi said, simply, and extended it to her. “I read it a little. I don’t get it.”  

“Cause it’s a part two. You need to read part one first.” Jinx took the book from her hands and swapped it for the one she had been holding. “Though I doubt you’d get it anyway. It’s a weird book. You’re too literal.”

Vi was, and so she didn’t argue back. Instead she tapped the bed next to her. Jinx hesitated, but joined her.

Vi waited for her to get comfortable before hitting her with the question that had been nagging her. “Why won’t you stay?”

Jinx shrugged, but didn’t answer immediately. She opened the book, laid down and started reading, eyes drifting over the pages. She was a fast reader, and Vi never understood how, given how little books they had access to while growing up.

“You’re all set up,” Jinx said, adjusting a pillow to support her back. “You and your girlfriend. A happy couple with their whole future ahead of them. There’s no place for me in that picture.”

She’s psychotic, they had told Vi, when she picked her sister up from jail. And Vi hadn’t truly known what that word meant beyond when it was used as an insult, but Cait had. Cait had told her that her sister sometimes experienced things that were not real.

And yet, sitting under the dim light of a fancy lamp and surrounded by fancy furniture and more books she’d seen her whole life, Vi couldn’t help but ask herself, Not real to whom?

Perhaps, to her, Jinx’s concerns felt very real indeed. “I don’t always feel like I belong, either. Feels like a farce sometimes. Like I’ll say or do the wrong thing, and I’ll get caught.”

Jinx raised her eyes from the books. “What does your lover have to say about that?”

“She’s… reassuring. In an assertive way.” She hugged herself and looked at her sister. “Is that what you need from me? Reassurance? I’m shit at this, Powd- Jinx. Please tell me what I can do.”

Jinx didn’t answer.

Vi sighed and looked at the empty window, at the way the wind blew at curtains that probably cost more than everything she’d ever owned. “Cait said if you come for lunch tomorrow, she’ll teach you about, uh. Literary movements, or something.”

Jinx arched an eyebrow at her. “You’re horrible at delivering messages.”

Vi shrugged. “I’m mostly good with my fists. Can’t punch a message into your brain, as much as I’d like to, sometimes.” She flipped the book from one hand to the other. “This room was her library, did you know? She had it turned into a bedroom for you. In a way that kept the books around. Cause I told her you liked books.”

Jinx held her gaze in silence, as if waiting for her to continue.

Vi felt a lump on her throat. “She’s trying. I am too. We’re trying, sis. Give us a chance. Please.”

“Okay.” Jinx closed the book and stood, then walked to the window. “What time is lunch?”

“At eleven.”

“Who the fuck eats at eleven.” Jinx muttered, sliding the book into her backpack. “I’ll be there at midday.”

And she left, through the window, before Vi could answer, leaving her to stare and to wonder.

--

Jinx arrived at half past one. She sat by the table. She put food on her plate but didn’t eat a thing. But at least she left the boots by the door. That was something.

Caitlyn was already done eating by the time Jinx arrived. Caitlyn ate at eleven and not a minute later. But she sat by the table and waited.

This was an incomprehensible standstill. Vi was having a terrible time.

Cait leaned back against the chair and tilted her head. “Is the food not to your liking?”

We ate rats, Vi thought, indignant. Jinx was acting out, and she couldn’t tell why, and she had half a mind to stand up and tell her to quit being spoiled, and half a mind to just downright smack her with her plate.

Cait put a hand on Vi’s knee.

Vi sunk back into her seat and exhaled. She simmered down. She realized what she’d been thinking about, and it made her feel something awful, something nauseating. She felt like crying. She was having a terrible time.

Cait squeezed her fingers against Vi’s skin, and she took a deep breath and counted to five.

“I’m not a fan of bittersweet,” Jinx said, and Cait narrowed her eyes, and for a second Vi wondered whether the two were talking about food at all.

“Noted. I’ll bear it in mind, if you come for lunch again.”

“Why would I?”

Vi wanted to scream. Cait patted her leg, then put her elbow on the table, an unacceptable breech of etiquette, and rested her chin on her palm. “I don’t know you.”

Jinx frowned, but didn’t speak.

“That’s what you’re thinking, isn’t it? That’s what you were going to tell me, if I told you that I care.” Cait drummed her fingers on the table. “You’re right. I don’t know you. But I know your sister. I love your sister. And she cares about you, so I suppose I care about you by extension.”

Jinx grit her teeth, then opened her mouth to speak.

Cait raised her finger to hush her. “I’m not done yet. If you feel you’re only here because of your sister, then know that this is true. I’m not going to try to talk you out of a bothersome truth you already know into more comforting lies. But.” She grabbed her glass of wine. “You should also know that how long you’ll remain as an extension of your sister is entirely up to you. I’d very much like to know you as a person, Jinx.” She brought the wine to her lips, drunk, then set the glass down. “If you’ll let me.”

Jinx blinked, then frowned, then mouthed something to herself. Vi was beyond tense then, uncertain whether this was a situation which would end with a fork stuck on someone’s forehead.

Then Jinx smiled. “Okay.”

And she ate.

--

She found her sister in bed that night, when she went to the shelf to give back the gods damned book she’d spent the afternoon trying to understand. She stopped by the door when she saw Jinx, legs crossed, nose deep into another, even thicker volume.

“The cows go flying,” She mumbled, stepping into the room and sliding the book back to its proper place. “The cows go flying and no one thinks it is weird, at all.”

“It’s called magical realism.”

“Sure it is. Did you learn that from Cait?”

Jinx smiled. “I like your girlfriend.” She lowered her book just a little. “She’s real.”

And Vi had a hundred playful answers to that, a thousand ways to tease, but something about the way those words were said gave her pause. Intuition, Caitlyn would call it, that feeling which made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. “What about me? Am I real?”

“Sometimes.” Jinx turned back to the book. “Not always.”

“How can you tell?”

“That’s just the thing, isn’t it?” Jinx closed the book and tossed it to the side, then crossed her arms. “I can’t. I can’t tell at all.”

Vi took a deep breath and sat down near Jinx’s feet. “Have you…” She hesitated then, looking for the proper words to ask the question she wanted without adding an offense she didn’t mean. Cait would know. She wished Cait was there, if only to hold her hand.

“Have I been taking my medication? The pills that were so thoroughly shoved down my throat while I was in jail, have I been taking them out of my own free will?”

Vi winced. “Well, have you?”

“I have. Surprising, isn’t it?” She grabbed the book again and flipped a page. “Your girl talked me into that, too.”

“She did?” Vi blinked. “When was that?”

“First night, when she caught me leaving. I think. I dunno, I have trouble keeping track of time.”

“She caught you leaving?”

“And didn’t try to stop me. It’s why I came back, I think.” She absently rubbed her palm on her arm, and Vi took notice of the tattoos crudely doodled on her skin. “When she let me leave, it felt like a trap. But when I realized there was no catch to that, it started feeling like a trap to stay away.”

Sounds about right for Cait and her schemes, she thought, and laid down on top of the blankets. “What did she tell you that convinced you to take the meds?”

“Can’t you ask her that?”

“She won’t say.” She pushed herself further up the bed. “Cait doesn’t tell a lot, and she never shares the things she spoke with other people about. She’s… very particular.”

“That’s a lot more mystery than I’d expect you to be okay with.”

“Surprising, isn’t it?” She echoed, and considered it for a moment. “I don’t know. I’m learning to trust again.”

“How’s that working out for you?”

Vi smiled and rolled on the side to face her sister. “Stumbling steps. Lots of crying. We’re getting somewhere, I think. Slowly. She’s calm. That helps.”

“That’s good for you.” Jinx met her eyes and put down her book. “I mean it. You’re happy. It took me a while and a lot of… internal discussion… but I’ve come to the conclusion that your happiness is something I want. Haven’t decided whether I want to envy it or resent it yet.”

“Why not share it? Join it?”

Jinx looked away and went still, except for a fidgety hand that toyed with the loops of her belt. “I don’t think that’s possible.”

“Won’t be possible unless you get out there and make it so. That’s what Cait would say.”

“Do you believe that?”

Vi shrugged. “I think it’s worth a try. You’re worth a try. You’re worth however many tries it takes.”

Jinx smiled. It was a sad smile – a heartbreaking one. “I don’t know how many tries I still have in me.”

And Vi was so, so bad at this. She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know a damn thing. “However many it takes. I’ll never stop. Even if you do.”

“Even if it costs you?”

“Whatever the price.”

Jinx scoffed. “Guess I’ll have to get better, then.” She poked Vi with her foot. “I would hate to be the cause of you losing a decent bed and hot showers.”

Vi smiled. She looked at the ceiling. Cait had painted the sky on it, with ink that glowed when the lights went out. “Does it help, being here?”

“Here? A little. With you? A lot.” Jinx sighed. “I’m lonely. I’m lonely and I’m scared. I’m terrified of losing people to a point where it’s unhealthy. Worse still, I’m all that and aware of it, because the voices in my head don’t let me get away with a single thing.”

“Does the medication help with that? The voices?”

“They didn’t go away, if that’s what you mean. They’re just…” She hugged herself, eyes distant. “Less angry. I don’t know if I deserve that. Maybe they should be angry. Gods know I give them reasons to.” She blinked, tuning back in. “I’m glad they didn’t go away, though. I wouldn’t want that. It would feel…”

Like a loss, Vi thought, and her mind was reeling with the implications of the things she’d been told. “Can’t say I get it. But I don’t get a lot of things. I deal better with the monsters I can punch. The monsters in here,” she tapped her forehead. “I have trouble with them, too. So, whatever makes you happy. Whatever works.”

Jinx sat up and bowed her head. Vi waited. She’d learned after the twentieth time Cait told her so that sometimes people simply needed time to think. Or discuss things with the voices in their heads. Whichever. She wasn’t one to judge, because she wasn’t one to think too long, either.

Jinx raised her index. “One try. I have at least one more try. I can give you that much.”

Vi grinned. “I’ll take it. But there are rules.”

“Oh?”

“If you are going to live under my roof –“

“It’s not even your roof, it’s your sugar mommy’s gods damned roof –“

“ – then you have to shower every day, and the dishes are yours to wash every other day. Give me a break from the dishes.”

“Doesn’t she have servants? I thought she’d have people who do the housework for her.”

“Yes, but I’m uncomfortable with the idea of servants, so I do the dishes myself. At least the dishes. I’m adamant on that.”

“And you’re trying to rope me into your guilty dish-washing –“

“Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, Jinx. I’ll do them Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays.”

“What about Sundays?”

“On Sundays, Cait cooks, and she doesn’t let anyone around the kitchen when she does.”

“Fine.” Jinx pinched the bridge of her nose. “But I get the books. Unrestricted access to the books.”

“They’re not even my books. They’re Cait’s.”

Jinx waved her off. “She won’t mind. She likes discussing them. Did you know your girl likes talking about books? Maybe that will finally motivate you to learn how to read.”

“Excuse me!” Vi sat up. “I’ll have you know that I’m perfectly capable of reading.”

“Slowly. Preferably books with pictures.”

“Fuck you!” Vi shook an angry fist. Jinx laughed. Vi caught herself smiling, too. “I’ll punch that smugness out of your face.”

“Will that make you read any faster?”

Vi threw a pillow at her, and Jinx laughed again.

Chapter Text

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

It was exactly three twenty-two in the morning when Jinx realized her voices were gone.

That was bad.

She sat up. This bedroom was not hers, despite how Vi told her otherwise. It was not hers, but by then it was familiar enough that it didn’t leave her disoriented to wake up on. She looked at her hands. She counted to ten. Her voices were gone, so she got up to look for them.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

She stumbled out of the room as quietly as she could, though it was hard for her to tell exactly how loud she was being, given that she could see her footsteps as splashes of banana-yellow and lime-green. This was bad. And she knew most things in her life were bad, but this was extremely-very-not-good.

“Claggor,” she mumbled, carefully moving down the wooden steps. “Mylo?” She gripped the handrails and walked. Something in her mind, the part of her that was still rooted to reality, told her she should sit down and take a moment. But she couldn’t. She was anxious. She was anxious because her voices were gone and she had to find them before they did something bad.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

“Come on, guys.” She rubbed her eyes with her palms. “Don’t fuck this up for me –“

She slipped, her socks sliding on the polish wood, and fell on her butt, sliding down the last couple steps. When she landed, her heart was beating fast enough that she felt dizzy. She stood again, found her balance and resumed walking.

And here was the living room, with a couch and pretty paintings on the wall. And here was the bathroom, with a bathtub and a sink, on top of which she could see soap that smelled of roses and  -

??? pills

- and the faucet and –

And there was the kitchen. She stopped there, clutching the counter, pressing her hand on her forehead. She shouldn’t be there. She wasn’t forbidden to be there, because Cait owned the place and Cait wasn’t one to enforce rules too tight even though she was an enforcer, but she knew she shouldn’t be there because the kitchen was a dangerous place –

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

- and what was that infernal ticking, anyway? She shook her head to clear it. She opened the drawers, looking for something – the source of the sound, or wherever the hell her voices had hidden. Something. She opened the next drawer. And the next. And the next.

“Anything I can help you with?”

She turned around so fast she nearly fell again. Cait stood by the door, arms crossed, leaning against the frame, wearing a bathrobe and slippers. She focused on Cait. Cait was good, because she was new, and so she was real, and she didn’t lie, and so she was real on top of being real.

“I – uh. Just looking for.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “Just looking.”

Cait frowned. “Can I come closer?”

Jinx opened her eyes. She looked at Cait. She considered the question. Her mind went from not safe to safe to not safe like a pendulum that ticked tick tick tick tick tick –

“Hnng.” She took a deep breath. She felt unwell. There were pinpricks climbing up her arms, and she felt unwell. “Give me a moment.”

Cait nodded. Jinx crossed her arms and gripped herself, digging her fingers deep enough that they hurt. There were clouds on her arm. Of course there were. She put them there. She watched them swirl and felt dizzy.

“I’m looking for my voices.” she mumbled. “They’re not here,” she tapped her forehead. “So I’m looking for them before they get me in trouble.”

“I see.” Cait pulled a stool from under the counter and took a seat on it. “Any luck with that so far?”

“No.” She stared at her feet, and then raised her head to look at Cait. “Do you think I’m crazy?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “I mean, I know I’m crazy. There’s no voices. I know there isn’t. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing here. I’m just,” She made a vague gesture. “I don’t know.”

Cait crossed her arms and stared at her. She was smart, Jinx could tell. She had that look smart people had to them when they were thinking, as if their brains were gears that went tick tick tick tick –

“I think you’re looking for something.” Cait moved her foot up and down, and Jinx watched the slipper move against her sole. “What is it?”

what is it what is it what is it what is it –

“There you are,” Jinx mumbled, rubbing her temples. “That’s right. What is it?”

help, someone whispered inside her, and she shivered. Sometimes she could tell her voices apart. Sometimes she couldn’t. Sometimes her voices were her own, and those were the worst ones. “I need help,” she said, frowning. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

“Okay.” Cait got off her stool and approached, but not much, still keeping the kitchen table between them. That was good. Jinx didn’t like feeling cornered. “Care to specify what you need?”

tick tick tick tick tick, someone chanted, and it overlapped with the metallic clicking she’d been hearing since she woke up into a nightmarish cacophony, and then there was a click that ran through her like thunder, a moment of raw lucidity that hit her like a slap, so hard that she flinched.

“I’m going to get bad,” she said, and squeezed her eyes shut, and let herself slide down to the floor. “I don’t know why. But I haven’t been sleeping. That’s always the first sign. I’m going to get really bad, and I don’t want to lose Vi again.” She paused, frowned, opened her eyes. “Or you. I like you. I don’t want to lose you, either. But I do things I don’t mean and I can’t help myself.”

“What would you have me do?”

Jinx was quiet for a moment. Her mind was quiet for a blissful moment, but her thoughts were cutting through static. “Lock me up. Just until it passes. I’ll curse you for it, but I’ll thank you later. Or I’ll thank you now. I don’t know. Just don’t let me out there like this. If you do, I’ll do bad things, and I don’t want to do bad things anymore.”

Cait crossed her arms and nodded. “I’ll see to it.”

“All right.” She took a deep, shaky breath. “Yeah.” She slapped her hands against the cold stone floor, hard enough that it sent jolts up her arms. “Yeah! Hell yeah. I can do this.” She blinked. She looked at Cait again. “I’ll wait. I’ll wait right here till you come get me.”

Cait stirred and yawned, then stretched her arms above her head. “Should I get Vi to wait with you while I make the proper arrangements?”

“No!” Jinx straightened her back. “No. Please. She’ll make it worse. It’s not her fault. Or I don’t blame her, at least. But her being here does make it worse.”

“As you wish. I’ll be but a moment.”

Jinx nodded. She closed her eyes and hid her face behind her hands. “Thank you.”

“It’s no trouble.”

“Not just for this. For what you told me the other night.” She raised her head. “It meant the world to me. And it helped. A lot. This isn’t easy.” She stared at the floor, at the lines where one stone touched the next. She ran a finger over it and watched it bend into a curve. “This isn’t easy, but you were right. My worst delusion was believing it is easier to get worse than it is to get better.”

Cait walked to her. Jinx flinched, but forced herself to stand still rather than to scurry back. Cait extended her a hand. “May I?”

Jinx took it. Cait pulled her into a hug.

Something inside her went snap.

She broke into sobs.

Cait rubbed circles on her back, and her touch left ghosts under Jinx’s skin, snakes of tactile stimuli that took life of their own and crawled up and down her spine, making her shiver. “You’ll pull through.”

She breathed. She screamed. Or didn’t scream. She couldn’t tell which. “It’ll pass,” she told Cait, or maybe she was talking to herself. “But then it’ll come back.”

“But then it’ll pass again,” Cait said, running her fingers over Jinx’s hair. “And it’ll take a little bit longer to come back, and when it does, it’ll be a little bit easier, and you’ll be a little bit stronger. You’ll get there.”

“I’ll get there,” she repeated, and it echoed inside her skull, there there there there.

“My family has a workshop.” Cait let go of the hug and held her hand. “I’ll take you there, when you’re feeling like yourself again.”

I haven’t felt like myself in years, she thought, but didn’t say. Or did say. Her thoughts were loud, and it was hard to tell the difference. “You’re not worried I’ll blow you up?”

Cait shrugged. “If you want to blow me up, you’ll do it with, without or despite me. It seems cruel to keep you away from the things you love because of a maybe.”

“All right.” Jinx wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Cait pulled her up, and Jinx let her. “I’ll do my best.”

“That’s enough.” Cait kissed her forehead. “I’ll be right back. Will you wait for me?”

“Mm-hm.” Jinx closed her eyes.

Something inside her went tick tick tick tick –

--

She was in a room made of pillows.

The walls were pillows. The floor was pillows. The bed was pillows on top of pillows. It was a bit comical, and also a bit maddening. She wasn’t sure how she got there, or how long she’d been sitting on the corner, staring at nothingness, but Cait was sitting on the bed, reading a book, looking pointedly out of place in her black clothes inside a white room. She would have questioned whether Cait was real, if Cait wasn’t always real.

Jinx stood. “This is the weirdest jail cell I’ve been locked up in my life, and I’ve been in jail many times.”

“That’s because it’s not a cell.” Cait closed the book and made a vague gesture. “It’s a mental health padded room.”

“Of course.” Jinx rubbed her hands up and down her arms. “The lack of windows and the complete sensory deprivation are doing wonders for my sanity. Why are you here, anyway?”

“It seemed a bit inhumane to leave you here by yourself, so I stayed.” She reached under the pillow and pulled a book. “Brought you this, too. I think you’ll like it.”

She walked over to the bed, noticing she was barefoot. She took the book. “What is it about?”

“Injustice. Loneliness. And second chances.”

Jinx ran her fingers over the cover, relishing the sulks on the leather where the title had been engraved. “You should go. I could hurt you.”

Cait arched an eyebrow. “You’re unarmed, I’m heavier than you, there’s guards outside and the walls are made of pillows. I think I’ll be fine.”

Jinx opened her mouth to argue, realized she had no arguments to counter that, then shrugged. She sat down and opened the book. The words floated out of the paper, shifting into scribbles as they did.

She closed the book and sighed.

“Hated the first three words this much?”

She shook her head. “Head is playing tricks on me.” She stared long and hard at her hands. She moved her fingers into an L shape, mimicking a gun, and slowly turned it to herself, brought it close to her face –

Cait caught her hand and gently lowered it.

Jinx frowned. Stared at her. Blinked.

“I’ll read it for you.” Cait took the book from the bed and flipped it open, then stretched her legs and patted her lap. “Come on. Lie down here.”

“The whole room is pillows,” she argued, unsure why she was arguing at all. “I could lie anywhere.”

“You could, but you’re touch starved. It’ll do you good.”

“This is kinda weird.” she mumbled, but did as she was told. “You’re, like, parenting me.”

“And?”

“And you’re my sister’s girlfriend, not my mom.” She stretched her legs. “Whatever. I’ll take it. I accepted Silco as a parental figure. You’re better.”

“Appreciate the compliment.” Cait patted her head, then turned to the book. “Here we go. Chapter one –“

Jinx closed her eyes and listened.

--

The ticking was back, and it was driving her crazy.

“Crazier,” she muttered, sitting up. The lights were off. Cait was still there, asleep on the bed. Jinx had dozed off on the floor. She liked the floor, because you couldn’t get any lower from there. She rubbed her eyes.

Tick-tick-tick-tick-tick-tick-

“What the fuck is this even about,” she said, running her hands down her cheeks –

Her finger caught on something. She hooked it around the thing, something metallic, and the ticking got louder, angrier. She pulled. There was a jolt of pain, and a screech, and something fell down.

A gear. It was a gear. She crouched, picked it up, held it between her thumb and index. Stared at it in wonder. She blinked. The gear was gone. Her hands were covered in blood.

Jinx backpedaled, reaching into her face again, finding metal. She tugged at it, ripped it off, yanking at the wires. Things fell down as she did it – nuts and bolts, another gear, and then a screwdriver, a hammer, half a dozen springs. A metallic jaw with teeth made of human bone. And then an eye, soft and humid that hit the ground with a squelch.

The wires that came out of it were gold and copper. Its pupil was a spiral, spinning and spinning and spinning –

Tick-tick-tick-tick-SCREEEEE

She screamed.

And then she hit the ground, breath knocked out of her lungs with an oomph. She struggled, but her hands were caught behind her back and something heavy kept her down. She had a moment of complete panic when she kicked and bit and clawed, and then she was rolled over.

Cait held her down, knees pinning Jinx’s arms to the ground. “It’s okay, it’s okay. It’s just me.”

Jinx stopped struggling. First came confusion. Then came betrayal –

“You were hurting yourself.”

- or that. Yes. That figured. She cleared her throat. “I do that, sometimes.”

“I’m going to let you go,” Cait said, shifting her weight. “Will you be okay?”

Jinx nodded. Cait rolled off her, and she sat up and caught her breath. She felt like throwing up. She brought her hand to her stomach. Her hands brushed against metal on the way, and when she looked she could see it – a giant winder sprouting from her chest, its butterfly shape taunting her.

She grabbed it with both her hands and turned, feeling the resistance of the spring and the sound of the gears whirring into place.

Her heart went tick tick tick tick tick –

Cait was staring. “Sorry about manhandling you.”

“Sorry about the crazy.” She replied. Now that her pieces were falling back into place, she could feel her face burn. She touched it, and her hand came back damp with bright-crimson blood.

“I’ll have someone bring me a first aid kit to clean that up,” Cait said.

Jinx ignored her, standing. She turned to the white walls and pressed her finger against them. She painted a circle. Then another. Then a smile to complete the picture. She stared at it and didn’t know for how long.

It must have been a while. Next thing she knew, Cait was dabbing a piece of cotton with iodine on her face, and the sharp pain it caused snapped her back to reality. She blinked. She looked for the smiley face she’d drawn in blood.  

It was gone.

Cait followed her gaze. “I had them clean it up. It’s unhygienic. But here,” she turned to the side and pulled something – three flasks of paint, one yellow, one sky-blue, and one a particular shade of pink. “I got these for you. So you can paint.” She offered Jinx a block with a dozen sheets of thick paper and a soft brush.

Jinx ignored it, but took the paint and stood. She opened the flasks, set them down on the floor, then dipped her fingers on the blue and ran them over the wall. The color was pretty. She smiled.

She dipped her fingers on paint again and got to work.

--

She had paint all over her hands, arms, torso and feet. The colors had spilled over the floor when she kicked the flasks on accident, and the pictures which had started colorful had gradually degraded to the nondescript brown of paint badly mixed. She hated when that happened. She loved when that happened.

It reminded her of the color of dried blood.

She sat down to stare at her handiwork. Cait was on the bed, legs crossed, book on lap, nearly finished with it.  Jinx scrambled back until her back hit the bed and she was close enough to tap Cait on the knee. “I’m finished.”

Cait put the book down and stared at the wall. “It’s interesting. Want to tell me about it?”

Jinx nodded and pointed at the first drawing. “This one is Mylo.” She looked at it, the rough lines and sharp teeth. She watched his mouth move.

He told her she was a failure.

Cait put a hand on her scalp and rubbed it. Jinx leaned into the touch. “Mylo never liked me much, I think. Or he didn’t like that I screwed up. I screwed up a lot.”

“You were a kid.”

“I still do.”

“You’re seventeen. You’re still a kid.”

Jinx frowned and stared at the wall. “Being a kid at seventeen is a privilege of the wealthy. We grow up faster where I’m from. No other choice.”

Cait nodded, then slid down to the floor to sit next to her. “You’re right.”

Jinx stared at her from the corner of her eyes. “I appreciate your honesty.” She stretched her hand in front of her and stared at her fingers. They were covered in blood. “Mylo shows up when I fail, or when I feel like I failed, or when I think I will fail.”

“It’s okay to fuck up sometimes.”

“Not when people’s lives are depending on it, it isn’t.”  She stared at Milo’s moving mouth, his terrifying smile. “I fucked up. He died. I blew him into a thousand little pieces. Now he haunts me.”

“You’re just like Vi. You let guilt eat you alive.”

Jinx turned to her. “Don’t you ever make mistakes?”

“Quite often.”

“And you don’t feel bad for them?”

Cait shrugged. “Sometimes I do. But I’ve learned to not torture myself over it.”

“What’s the secret?”

Cait licked her lips and paused for a moment. Jinx let her think. She watched Mylo’s face turn into a scowl, watched him stick his tongue out at her.

“The first step was realizing that sometimes I’m handed problems that are far bigger than a single person could solve. When I get those right, that’s my genius.” She smiled and bumped shoulders with Jinx. “But if I don’t, well, they weren’t mine to fix, not really. It’s not my fault. It’s the fault of whomever caused it on first place.” Cait turned to her. “You were what, twelve?”

“Thirteen.”

“Thirteen. You didn’t cause poverty. You didn’t cause social inequality and hunger. You didn’t cause violence, drugs or gang wars. You merely reacted to it. Give yourself a break.”

Jinx considered her words for a full minute. “You’re right, I think.” She made a gun with her fingers, pointed at the painting and lowered her thumb.

Milo’s face shattered into fragments of ink.

She turned to the drawing next to it.  “That’s Claggor. I got him killed, too.”

“What does he represent?”

Jinx stared at it. The lines on him were softer, far more curves. He had a gentle smile, but his eyes were cold and distant. “Indifference.” She twisted her fingers on one another, uneasy. “He was kinder to me. Just not enough to stop the others when they mocked. He just let it happen. As if he wasn’t even there, as if he was just a cog in a machine. I don’t understand why. It kills me that I don’t get it.”

“Ah.” Cait nodded. “The greatest evil perpetrated is the evil committed by human beings who refuse to be persons.”

Jinx turned to her. “Is that from a book?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Can I read it?”

“Of course.” She crossed her legs and looked at the painting. “Can you forgive him?”

“No.” She stared at the picture as if it were a puzzle. It winked at her. “I can’t let go of him, either.”

“Can you let him grow into something better?”

Jinx considered the question for a long while. “I think so. I think that will have to do.” She raised her fingers. Pointed at him. She hesitated before pulling the trigger, not because she had doubts, but because she knew what came next was harder.

Cait waited in silence.

Jinx pulled the trigger. Claggor dissolved as if hit by acid.

She lowered her hand. “Vi is right. You’re calm. That does help.”

Cait hummed. “Are you ready for the next one?”

Jinx took a deep breath and forced herself to look at it. “That one is Vi. I think you can tell.”

“You’re a good artist.” Cait bumped shoulders with her. “Tell me about Vi.”

Jinx choked on her words. Her tongue felt like sandpaper. “I don’t know. I thought it was about betrayal. But I don’t resent her for that anymore. She had no more control over it than I did. I don’t know why she still shows up.”

“Don’t you really?”

Jinx went quiet again. She watched the picture of Vi twist and turn. It was the hardest one of them all, the crudest, the one that mixed lines and circles, as confusing as her own feelings. “I’m scared of people leaving me,” she said, finally. “I’m scared of being alone.”

“It’s not about other people,” Cait said after a moment. “Being alone, I mean. It’s about you. It’s always about you. You should know that, so you don’t feel powerless about it ever again.”

The monster who worn Vi’s face laughed at her. Jinx grit her teeth so hard her jaw hurt. She forced herself to relax. “Care to elaborate on that?”

“You can’t force people to stay.” Cait drummed her fingers on the floor. “No use in trying. It’s the wrong way to handle the problem, anyway. Like trying to use a nail with a screwdriver.” She shook her head. “A locked door has never kept anyone in a room, Jinx. People come. People go. That’s how it is. You just work on yourself, and if you feel like a home to someone, then they’ll come back. Through the open window.”

“Powder,” she said, without tearing her eyes from the wall. “That’s my real name. You can use it, if you want.”

“Powder,” she repeated. “And who’s Jinx?”

“One of my voices,” she said. “The loudest one. The one that keeps me safe.” She reached out to the painting, not with a gun this time but with an open hand. Vi’s cartoony hand unstuck itself from the wall and reached back, stretching until their fingers touched.

Jinx closed her hand.

The wall exploded into color. They danced and blended and swirled together. She blinked. The wall flashed yellow, then pink, then blue. She squeezed her eyes shut.

When she opened them, the painting had shifted to something else entirely. It was her, she realized. It was her, and Vi, and Cait. The others were there too, popping from the background – Mylo and Claggor, Vander and Ekko.

“Oh.” she said. They were smiling, the people in the painting. Not angry, not mocking, just smiling, sweet and genuine. She heard the ticking again, and watched something move on the very bottom – her little monkey wind up toy, clapping the metal plates.

She wasn’t afraid of it any longer. She reached to it, tapped it on the head. It stopped its shambling and turned to her with a smile. It clapped the plates again, and then blew up into three splotches of color, yellow, pink, blue. They spread over the painting without ruining it, forming a pretty cerulean sky with clouds made of the cotton that leaked from where she’d torn the pillows. There was a bright sun, and blooming flowers.

She could see her fingerprints on the petals. She looked at her thumb. It was covered in paint. “Oh,” She said again, and looked at the painting, and smiled. “I think I’m all better, now.”

Cait turned to her and smiled back. “Told you that you’d make it. It’s a beautiful painting.”

“Yes,” she nodded, still staring at her own art, mesmerized by it. “Let’s do this again never.”

Cait laughed. “Could have gone worse, all things considered. You did good. I learned a lot, too. If you ever need this again, I’ll go for less padding, more art supplies.”

“Some padding is good.” She patted the floor. “I like falling asleep on the floor with no dignity at all and waking up without back pain.”

“Noted.” Cait stood, and offered her a hand. “Are you good to go?”

“Yes.” Jinx let herself be pulled up. She was unprepared for the exhaustion that hit her then. “I need sleep,” she said, steadying herself by holding onto Cait. “I’m tired.”

“A bath first. You’re also filthy.”

“Okay.” She let Cait guide her out. They stopped by the door, and Cait turned the handle and opened it. It was unlocked. Jinx halted before she could leave, turned back to the wall. “I want to keep it. Can I keep it?”

“I don’t see why not. I’ll let them know you want the room untouched.”

“Thank you.” She gave the art a final look, kept it to her heart. Then she took Cait’s hand, feeling more vulnerable than she’d had in years. “I like you. You can keep my sister.”

Cait smiled. “Appreciate the blessing.”

“You don’t need it. She looks at you as if you’re her whole world. It made me a bit jealous at first, but now I sorta get it.” She hesitated. “Will you hug me again?”

Cait did, even though she was filthy, and planted a kiss on the top of her head.

She hugged back. She breathed. “You and Vi are a family. I’d like to be a part of it,” she raised her eyes. “If you’ll let me.”

“I had hoped you would want to.” Cait squeezed her hands. “You’re very welcome. I’ll show you the workshop, tomorrow.” She poked Jinx’s nose. “Just so you have something to look forward to.”

“I feel like I do. Like the future could be… not terrible.”

Cait nodded, but didn’t speak.

Jinx decided that Cait’s silence was growing into her.

Chapter Text

Caitlyn considered herself a fairly mature person, and yet nothing made her feel more herself than the moments when she allowed herself to be petty. She followed Vi across the rooftops, jumping over gaps far too wide to be safe, turning corners she didn’t know.

And then they were on their destination, climbing over the roof of a particularly fancy place in the heart of Piltover.

Cait paused to catch her breath, and Vi took the chance to bombard her with questions.

“We’re here.” Vi said, gently reaching out to catch her when she slid down to the bedroom balcony. “Mel Medarda’s place. Which we’re going to break into. In the middle of the night. For undisclosed reasons.”

“The plan, Violet.” She smiled, walking around the perimeter of the balcony. “There’s always a plan.”

“Yes, and you don’t usually mind sharing it.” Vi tried pushing the balcony door open. It was locked. “But you’re being particularly secretive about this one. And you know I’m not above crime. Definitely not. So I’m curious.”

“We’re stealing her prized pet fish.”

Vi stopped fiddling with the window and turned to her. “I’m sorry, what?”

“We’re stealing –“

“No, I heard you.” Vi grabbed the lock and tugged at it. “And again, I’m not above stealing, but I thought you were above stealing. Why are we doing this, again?”

Because I’m a vengeful piece of shit, she thought, and gently pushed Vi to the side. “Great and complex political scheming, babe.” She pulled out a lockpick and wrench from her pocket and gave the lock a try. “The machinations of the State machine.”

“We’re stealing fish, Cait.” Vi peeked over her shoulder. “Since when do you pick locks, anyway?”

“Why don’t you know how to pick locks? Aren’t you a criminal?”

“I’m the hired muscle kind of criminal. I kick doors down. Do you want me to kick this door down?”

“No.” She worked her way around the lock, feeling for the pins and springs. “This has to be a sly, impeccable kind of job. We’re in and out like ghosts.”

“But why are we stealing the fish?”

“Because,” Cait said, then paused to focus on her task. She turned the wrench, heard the lock click, and grinned. “Quite frankly, this is about Jayce.”

“About Jay –“ She tried the doorknob again, blinking when it unlocked. “Why do you know how to do this?”

“I am interested in locks, ropes and handcuffs in the context of sexual play,” Cait said nonchalantly. She opened her backpack and grabbed a device – a monkey-shaped toy made by Powder specifically for this task.

It seemed to snap Vi out of her stammering. “Did you get my sister to help you on this madness?”

“She was delighted to.” She put the monkey on the floor and tapped its head. It walked into the room, emitting a high-pitched hum as it did. When a red light flashed on its chest, Cait pushed the door open. “Alarms down. Let’s go.”

“So you’re stealing Mel’s pet fish because Jayce…?”

“Because politics is one big game, and in this game, Jayce has always been on my side. We’ve been friends since we were little. He’s like a brother to me. We trust each other. And Mel is using him. She’s a bitch. I know that, because I’m a bitch, too.”

“So you’re jealous?”

“Of course not.” She made her way through the room, careful with every step. “I couldn’t care less about who Jayce takes to bed. This isn’t about feelings. This is about my territory. The Kirammans financed Hextech research. We backed Jayce and his ambitions when no one would. I cannot afford to have his loyalty shaken because a pretty woman looked his way.”  

Vi frowned. “Should you not take that up with Jayce?”

“And how do you think that would go, sweetheart?” She turned, poked Vi’s nose, then walked through the bedroom and to the living room. “He will think I’m jealous and it’s about the feelings, and if I tell him otherwise, he’ll think I’m the one who’s using him. It’s a setup. Mel is an efficient bastard. I can respect that.”

“I’d expect her to have stronger security measures,” Vi said, tapping on a glass that separated her from expensive-looking cutlery.

“Mmh.” Cait found the stairs and made her way down. “Leaving valuable-looking things in the open is a good way of hiding things that are even more valuable. Makes one wonder what she would deem worthy of leaving inside the safe, doesn’t it?”

“You think like a thief.”

“I have to. I’m an enforcer.” She stopped at the bottom of the staircase, face to face with an aquarium that covered the entire wall. She gestured to a side room. “But we’re not here for the safe. Let’s go around, to where they feed the fish.”

“I can’t believe I’m on a heist with a cop.” Vi took Cait’s hand and let Cait guide her. “And we’re going to steal a councilwoman’s pet. This is the most fun I’ve had in years.”

“Do you not find my dinner dates entertaining enough?”

“I didn’t say that!” Vi stumbled to catch up with Cait, even though she was that much taller. “I love your dinner dates. This is just highly unusual.”

“What can I say? I’m an eccentric.” Cait stopped by the feeding room, found a pack of fish food and a net, then climbed to the top of the aquarium. She handed Vi the net, then got a plastic bag from her backpack. “I’ll throw the food. Fish comes up, you catch the fish, I bag the fish, we get the hell out of here.”

“Sounds simple enough.”

It took them eight tries.

By the time they got it, Cait was soaked and smelled of fish. It would have made her irritable, had Vi not been so delighted by the situation.

“How will she even know,” Vi said, between giggles, and paused to catch her breath, still holding the accursed fish inside a tightly knotted plastic bag filled with water. “How does she know it was you?”

“Dinner at our place tomorrow,” Cait said, twisting the water out of her shirt. “Mel is invited. We’re having sushi.”

Vi laughed. It made Cait’s mood a little bit better.

--

Caitlyn swirled the red wine on her glass and stretched out on the sofa. When Vi entered the room a few minutes later, she’d already drained half her cup.

“Some goon came by today to pick up Mel’s evil fish.” She sat down by the couch, near Cait’s hands, and Cait caressed her scalp. Vi closed her eyes and smiled, satisfied. “I assume that means you and her came to terms?”

“Mm-hm. We’re allies now.”

“Can’t say I get it, but I’m glad animal theft had that effect on her.”

Cait smiled, sitting up. “The first step to making an ally is forcing them to acknowledge you.”

“By breaking into their homes and stealing their pets.”

“An unorthodox method, for sure, but it worked.” She let herself slide down to the floor so she could sit next to Vi, and offered her the wine.

Vi took a sip of it and scrunched her face in distaste. “I don’t know how you like this. It’s bitter.”

Cait scoffed. “I’ll make sure to get Moscatos next time I go out for alcohol. They’re sweet. You’ll like them.”

“The fuck is a Moscato. You’re so rich.” Vi mumbled, leaning onto Cait’s shoulder. “Will Mel leave Jayce be?”

“I doubt it, but now she knows I’m onto her moves.”

Vi wrapped an arm around Cait’s shoulder and pulled her closer. “Maybe she does like him. He sounds… interesting.”

“Impossible for me to tell. She’s too calculating.”

“So are you.”  Vi rested her chin on the top of Cait’s head. “How can you tell?”

“How can I tell when I really like a person?” Cait shrugged. “It’s hard to miss. I have maybe five or six feelings total, and I think one of them is just hunger. My emotional range is that of a toddler.”

Vi tilted her head and smiled. “That is good to know. I don’t do complicated, either.”

“I know. It’s one of the things that make you so easy to love.”

Vi flinched then, pulled back her arm and put distance between them. “That’s the first time you’ve said that.”

Cait frowned, backtracked in her thoughts, went over her own words, then her own memories. “That I love you? It can’t have been – is it?” She blinked. “I’ve been feeling it for so long, I thought surely…”

And Vi was still recoiling, even as she blushed at a shade of pink that could rival that of her hair. “This was the first time,” she said firmly.

Cait took her word for it. “Forgive me, then. I should have made it special.”

Vi relaxed, just a little. “No, it’s all right. I like it better like this. It would have made me anxious otherwise.” She fidgeted with the zipper of her jacket. “I… don’t know if I can say it back just yet.”

Hadn’t you? Cait thought, but didn’t say. She shook her head and took Vi’s hand. “It’s no problem at all. You can take your time.”

Vi stirred, still uneasy. “It’s not that I don’t… you know. It’s stupid. Powder said if I don’t ask you out properly, I’m going to lose you to some snotty Piltover nobleman on a white horse or something.”

“I don’t like horses.”

“ – and I want to, but –“ Vi cut herself short and frowned. “You don’t like horses? What kind of person doesn’t like horses? They’re friendly and useful.”

“They’re too big. It’s unnerving.”

“Well –“ Vi rubbed her face with her palms. “Good, then. I wasn’t planning on asking you out with a horse. I don’t even own one. I’d have to steal it, and unlike fish, horses are hard to disguise.”

Cait smiled and leaned back against the sofa. “If it’s important to you, then do it however you see fit, and know that I’ll love it regardless. But if it’s going to cause you stress, then know that you don’t need to. My whole life is bureaucracy. I don’t mind skipping formalities when I can.”

Vi went quiet, took a moment to think. “All the men around you would make a show out of it. A big event.”

“And I would like them less for it.”

“I can tell you would hate it.” Vi still didn’t meet her eyes. “And I would never make it flashy. But doing nothing would make me feel… lesser.”

Cait acquiesced with a nod.

Vi pulled her legs up and hugged them. “I just don’t know what I could give to a person who already has everything. I don’t know what I could…offer.”

“You’re overthinking this in all the wrong ways,” Cait mumbled. She kicked off her socks and wiggled her toes.

“Is there a right way to overthink?”

“Sure. Why don’t you ask yourself why you are the one who has to ask me out, rather than the other way round?”

“I – “ Vi frowned, her lips curling down to a scowl. “I hadn’t even considered that possibility.”

“If anything, it’s far more logical for it to be me. I have all the money. I could make it a big deal. Announce it on a ball or something.”

“Would you?”

“Sure.”

“Please don’t.” Vi turned to face her. “It wouldn’t be right. It would make things all about the high society of Piltover and your parents and your colleagues and everyone else but us.”

“Now you’re on the right track.” She bumped her foot on Vi’s ankle. “See why I don’t care for it?”

“Hnng.” Vi booped her foot back. “Still. Even in Zaun my friends would absolutely end me for being careless if I didn’t ask you out properly. I’d like to make you feel special.”

“That’s what everyone else already tries on me. You’re better. You make me feel human. I love you for that, too.”

Vi met her eyes then, searching for something. Cait wished she knew what it was, so she could offer it to her. “Do you mean that?”

“That I don’t care for the grandiose, or that I love you?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “No matter. I mean both of them. I have a principle of never using a lie for something I could achieve with a truth.”

“And what are you achieving, with me?”

Cait clicked her tongue and considered it. “There’s a lot of answers I could give to that. Happiness. A family. Personal growth. But the truth, Vi, is that I don’t have a fucking clue.” She grinned and raised her index. “You’re the one thing I didn’t plan for. The one thing I don’t want to plan for. You surprise me every day, and I wouldn’t have any other way.”

Vi smiled, small, hesitant, uncharacteristically shy. “You do mean it.”

Cait rolled her eyes. “I always say the truth, and for some reason, people keep doubting me.”

“Aw, man.” Vi covered her face with her hands and laid down on the rug, spreading her arms and legs as if she was making a snow angel. “I’m scared if I say it back, I’ll jinx it.”

“You keep using that word, see where it gets you.”

Vi winced. “I should remove it from my vocabulary entirely.” She closed her eyes. “My sister has been using her own name again. I don’t know what you did, but she seems better. Happy, even.”

Cait hummed, but didn’t answer.

Vi sat back up, her hair a mess. “I appreciate it. You and her, it’s a good thing. Regardless of what happens between us, you should know that.”

“I do.” She scooted forward and reached out to comb Vi’s hair with her fingers.

Vi bowed her head to make it easier. “My hair is too long. I look like Piltover royalty.”

“Do you want me to get you a pair of scissors, or do you want me to start calling you princess?”

Vi raised her head, completely ruining Cait’s work, gave her a sheepish look, then lowered her head again. “Stop teasing me.”

Cait grinned. “Okay. I’ll be nice. You should know I find you lovely, whatever way you choose to look.”

“Flatterer.”

“It’s not even that. It’s just that when I’m not feeling threatened, I live so deep in my own head, I barely perceive things.” She tangled her fingers on Vi’s hair and gently twisted the strands into a braid. “Though I do notice you more than most. So much that it gets in the way of all my scheming. I find you pretty. It’s distracting.”

“Never thought being the distraction would make me feel so smug.” Vi said, and Cait couldn’t see her face, but she could tell by the goofiness in her voice that she was smiling. “I think I’ll let it grow a bit more.”

“Enjoying the new face, then?”

“I just like the way you play with it.”

Cait smiled. She smiled so easily around Vi, she feared she was growing addicted to it. She let her fingers move down Vi’s neck, enjoying how it made her skin tingle, then kissed the top of Vi’s head. “I’m all done.”

Vi raised her head and touched the braid. “Thank you. You’re too kind to me.”

“I’m the correct amount of kind a person should be to her lover, and indeed, to any other human being in general. You just have horrific standards.”

“I do not.”

“Should I ask your sister for her opinion on the matter?”

“Don’t you dare.”

Cait laughed. Vi pouted, and Cait leaned in and kissed her, cupping her cheek, moving her lips against Vi’s, taking her sweet time to make it perfect, to give in when Vi demanded and chase after when Vi pulled back to catch her breath.

“Gods, you’re relentless.” Vi mumbled, when Cait pushed her down.

“Do you have objections?”

“None whatsoever.”

---

She rung the workshop doorbell, heard it go screech across the door and waited. There was an alarming number of noises and high-pitched screaming before it opened. Powder greeted her with a smile, her whole face stained with oil, her clothes in a state of calamity.

“Cait!” She hopped from one foot to the other, then pulled her in. “Hi! Hello!” Her hands smudged Cait’s sleeves, and Cait let herself be led. “Here,” She pushed Cait on a stool. “You can stay there. Non-flammable zone.”

She looked around, shifting to keep her body close to her seat. “Making explosives again?”

“Bold of you to assume I can tell whether I’m making an explosive before it explodes.” She sat on her chair, a metal monstrosity with wheels, and spun on it.

“Fair.” Cait smiled. “I’m surprised you took the time to make a safe corner. Are the inspectors giving you trouble?”

Powder frowned. “Yes? No? Maybe? I don’t know. I don’t pay attention to them. The no-kaboom space is for you.”

“Thank you. I enjoy not being on fire.”

She gave Cait a thumbs up. “It was Mylo’s idea. He’s been better. More constructive. They’ve all been better.”

Cait nodded. She stretched her neck, trying to see Powder’s working table. “What are you working on?”

Powder grabbed a wrench and tapped it on a device. It whirred, then it gave off a metallic groan, then it crackled and let out a puff of black smoke. “I made a thingy.”

“What does it do?”

“It’s a detoxifier. Supposed to filter out the smog on Zaun. But it’s still an early attempt. Making more smoke than it clears.”

“Mmh.” She stood and carefully moved closer. “Is there anything you need? Funding? Resources? A second opinion? I could ask Jayce to come and take a look. Perhaps you could exchange ideas.”

“No. Don’t trust him.”

Cait crossed her arms and leaned against what seemed to be a mostly safe pillar. “He’s all right. A childhood friend of mine. He went a bit astray with Mel, but that has been worked out.”

Powder frowned, her gaze growing distant. She went quiet. Cait waited for her to find her words. “No.” She shook her head. “Don’t trust him. The other one, the one with sad eyes,” She made a frustrated gesture.

“Viktor?”

“Viktor.” Powder nodded, then turned back to her invention, frantic fingers tweaking the bits and pieces. “He’s from Zaun. Like me. I like him. Don’t like how Jayce treats him. Don’t trust him at all.”

Cait narrowed her eyes. “I see.”

Powder paused her fidgeting and met her eyes. Cait did not look away, let Powder search for as long as she needed. “I’m making this for Zaun. Do you understand?”

Caitlyn nodded.

Powder relaxed and spun the chair again. Back to work. She had both a fierce focus and a chaotic flow. Cait weighted the safety of staying in the flammable zone versus her desire to watch Powder do her thing.

And then Powder stopped again and grabbed her sleeve without warning. “Do you trust me?”

“To a certain extent.”

“Elaborate.”

“I trust your intentions. I don’t expect betrayal from you. I trust your genius as well, the brilliance of your inventions, though I sometimes question your judgement and the safety of your prototypes.”

Powder frowned, went still, then nodded. “Good answer. Real answer.” She pulled Cait’s hand and placed it on top of her machine. “I lied. It’s safe. It’s done. I had it break down on purpose.”

Cait left her hand where it was, without moving a finger. “What made you feel the need to hide it?”

“Jayce.” She moved Caitlyn’s finger to a button and pushed down on it. The machine whirred, this time only once, then hummed. “And Viktor. He wanted to make things better. For everyone. For Zaun. But Jayce took his thing. Twisted it. It wasn’t fair, what he did, and you’re his friend.”

Caitlyn licked her lips and took a minute to think about it. She picked her words with care. “My family and I have supported Jayce for a long time. I… never got myself much involved with his science, or with the people he worked with. I did not know Viktor, but I knew of him and of what he wanted. I chose to stay out of it when I should have stepped in. I was wrong, and I was a coward. I can’t take that back, but I’ll do better by you.”

Powder looked into her eyes again, her face tense, her gaze focusing and un-focusing, her expression shifting by itself. Then she let go of Cait’s hand. “I trust you.”

“I’ll work to keep it that way.” Powder nodded. Cait pulled her hand back. “I meant to ask you something. About your sister.”

“Is she being an idiot?”

Cait smiled, feeling a bit of the tension on her shoulders dissipate. “She’s all right. But I think she’s struggling with...well, us. We had a talk the other day and I realized we never officially asked each other out. I’d like to do it, but I don’t want to rush her.”

“Rush her. You’re the best thing to happen to her since childhood. She’s an idiot.”  

Cait scoffed. “I can’t deny the straightforward approach is appealing, but I don’t want to add unnecessary pressure when she has so much on her plate.”

“Tell her what you want and let her respond to it. Vi is not frail. She would hate hearing what you just said. You’re being an idiot. Both of you are.”

Cait frowned. “Huh. I suppose you’re right.”

“Always am, and yet people keep saying I’m the crazy one.” She grinned, then looked at the clock mounted on the wall. Her face fell. “Oh no. Oh no, oh no. It’s only ten minutes to eleven in the morning.”

Cait looked at the watch on her wrist. “Are you on a schedule? Is anything about to explode? Should I move back to the non-flammable zone?”

“No bombs. But it’s barely eleven and I am hungry. Starving.”

“No wonder. It’s nearly lunch time.” Cait wiped her hand on her pants and started walking towards the door.

“It’s not!! It’s not lunch time!! There’s no way I’m going to turn into a person who has lunch at eleven. I refuse to.”

“Aha.” Cait opened the door and turned back to Powder. “So, will you join us?”

Powder paused. Her finger roamed over the button on her machine for a solid minute, then she pushed it. The machine died down. She looked at Cait. “Today. Just for today.”

“Of course. Want something specific fetched for you?”

“No. I’ll have what you’re having.” She skipped her way to the door, then slammed it shut behind her. “And don’t you worry about Vi. I’ll solve that problem for you.”

Cait arched her eyebrows. “Remember what I said about not always trusting your judgement?”

“Nope. You said that? I must have forgotten it. What were you talking about, anyway? Forgot it again.”

Gods have mercy.

--

She had washed her hands and swapped her shirt, and even convinced Powder to do the same, and now they were having the single most awkward lunch in existence, because Powder was pushing her sister’s buttons, and she was terrifyingly good at it.

“Thanks for the alarm-disarmer, Powder.” Cait said, trying to steer the conversation from whatever those two were bickering about into more pleasant waters. “It worked impeccably.”

“Ah, yes.” Powder grinned. There was a piece of salad stuck between her teeth. She probably knew it. “The alarm-disarmer. To break into Mel Medardo’s house. An excellent device of mine.”

Vi cleared her throat. “I have to agree. That was a good one.”

Powder stuck her fork on a slice of meat. “And you’re on good terms now?”

Her instinct told her that the question was a trap, and Cait approached it as if it was wrapped in barbed wire. “I suppose we are allies, until further notice.”

“Hmm.”

Vi stared from Cait to Powder and back to Cait. “Mel is… polite.”

“Pretty, too.” Powder shoved the food into her mouth and spoke, mouth still full. “Don’t you think so, Cait?”

Oh, goodness.  

Cait looked long and hard at her fork. She weighted down the consequences of truth versus lie and went with the former, because she knew she couldn’t reasonably pull off the latter. “She’s a very exquisite woman.”

Powder grinned, and Vi frowned, and Cait had the urge to get up from the chair and to do a triple-piked-backwards-somersault away from the table.

“Exquisite,” Vi repeated. “Are you into that?”

“I’m… into… women.”

“Just women?” Powder pressed, toying with the food on her plate. “You get an awful lot of flowers from men, too.”

I don’t even fucking know, she thought, not for the first time. She dropped her fork. “I find men a lot more… tiring?”

Vi turned to her sister and scowled. “What are you playing at?”

Powder shrugged and stuffed her mouth with food.

Vi turned back to her, and Cait met her eyes, bewildered and confused. She raised her open palms. “I have no idea.”

“Did you know I throw them out,” Powder said, chewing. “All the love letters, I mean. I intercept them from the mail and set them on fire.”

“That’s good,” Cait blurted. “I can use that as an excuse for not answering.”

“You get love letters?!”

“Mm.” Cait tapped her fingers on the table. “The love letters… don’t get to me anymore?”

“Why did you never mention it?”

She blinked. “I just toss them in the trash bin with the rest of the advertisements for clothes, shoes, and penile enlargement devices.”

“It’s quite all right.”  Powder grinned. “My sister gets a lot of little notes as well. And paid-for drinks. Gods, everywhere we go.”

It was Cait’s turn to look, bewildered. “That’s… good for her?”

Powder slapped both her hands on the table and stood. “I’m going to go for dessert. If you don’t solve your shit by the time I’m back, I’m going to start ranking your respective suitors.”

She left. Vi stared at Cait. Cait stared back at Vi.

Vi cleared her throat. “I’m sorry. She’s unhinged.”

“Occasionally. On this, though, she’s right.” Cait stood, walked across the room and sat next to Vi. “I’m being ridiculous. I should just tell you what I want.” She grabbed Vi’s hands and looked into her eyes. “What I want is you, Violet. Do with that as you will.”

Vi leaned forward, serious, and this time, she did not look away. “Why?”

She went with the truth, as she usually did. “You make me silly. I don’t know how to explain it otherwise.”

“I think I get it.” Vi said, and touched her forehead on Cait’s. “I’ve lost too much. To love you and lose you, it’s not something I could bear.”

“You’re far from frail,” Cait said, straightening her back. “And that, my sweet, is your risk to take.”

“You’re right,” Vi said, and kissed her, short but tender. “I love you.”

Cait did not expect that to hit her the way it did, dizzying, disorienting. “You make me silly,” she repeated, and kissed her again, slow and deliberate.

“About fucking time,” Powder said, leaning on the doorframe, holding a spoon and a plate with pudding on it. “This is good shit. I think I got a new favorite dessert.”

Cait stretched her neck to look at what she was having. “The condensed milk pudding? It’s not hard to make. I’ll teach you, if you come for lunch tomorrow.”

“At eleven? Not a chance.” She pointed at Vi, then at Cait. “I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it. Let me know if you need anything demolished.” She pushed herself off the doorframe and walked out, still eating. “Delicious pudding.”

Cait turned back to Vi. They were still holding hands. She stared, sheepish, filled with joy and an unbearable heartache, wondering when, how, why had she fallen so fast and so hard, not regretting it for a second.

She brushed her lips against Vi’s again, then pulled back and smiled. “I’m going to get us some wine. I did get that Moscato.”

“What the actual fuck is a Moscato –“

Cait laughed.