Chapter Text
The message comes to Caitlyn in the small hours of the morning.
The timing is unusual but not improbable.
The work of the individual Councillor has doubled in the past months. Medarda summons her to her quarters at all hours of the day. Sometimes she’s alone. Sometimes Jayce is there too, his feet bare. Medarda’s hair unbound.
Caitlyn goes whenever she is called. She listens to Medarda muse aloud about imposing a tariff or opening negotiations with some Shuriman distributor. Then Medarda turns to her. Taps a finger against her cheek. Waits for Caitlyn to respond.
She usually doesn’t answer. Sometimes she fumbles her way through, recalling her mother’s lessons in childhood, or the grumbling of merchants during her rounds.
Medarda would nod. Satisfied. The next day, the Council would make a decision. The tariff on red-shale clay would be adjusted. Caitlyn would hold her tongue.
This time is no different.
Medarda greets her at the door to her home. Despite the late hour, she still hasn’t changed into her evening clothes. She tilts her head when she sees Caitlyn, then disappears inside. A silent invitation to follow.
When they arrive at Medarda’s bedroom, she says, “I would like your insight on a particular matter.”
“Of course, Councillor.”
“Please,” Medarda says. “It’s Mel.”
“What did you want to discuss, Councillor?”
Medarda’s brow pulls down. She studies Caitlyn for a moment before inclining her head to the bedroom. “Come.”
She pushes open the door.
Caitlyn comes to a dead stop.
There’s a visceral chaos to the scene. Every piece of furniture had been overturned and hacked to pieces. The vases smashed. The paintings on the wall torn down, their canvasses slashed through, their frames broken. Every textile, from the curtains to the Councillor’s own clothing, had been piled into the center of the room and burned.
And throughout the entire room are small but clearly discernible drops of liquid, almost iridescent purple in the lamplight.
“Now,” Medarda says calmly, “what can you tell me?”
“Councillor—”
Medarda just arches an eyebrow.
Caitlyn sighs, then turns back to the room.
She could certainly say something about the Shimmer. An obvious tie to the undercity. Though nothing about the attack lines up with the modus operandi of anyone she knows. It’s certainly not Jinx’s handiwork.
Then again, it’s telling that they managed to find Shimmer here at all.
Those she saw use Shimmer did so brusquely. Matter-of-factly. They often had apparatuses built into their bodies. Or they’d inject it with a needle. No one familiar with Shimmer would spill it like this. They wouldn’t be this—messy. It’s likely not someone from the undercity.
Then again, Medarda likely already knew that.
“You think you know who did this,” Caitlyn says. “You would’ve called law enforcement if you didn’t. Instead, you called me here, outside my professional capacity. You want to keep this quiet.”
She looks at Medarda. The other woman’s face is scrupulously blank, but Caitlyn can’t help but get the sense that she’s pleased.
“It’s certainly interesting, isn’t it? Why do you think this happened?”
Caitlyn sighs. “I don’t think—”
“I value your insight, Caitlyn.”
Medarda meets Caitlyn’s gaze. Holds it steadily. Her mouth is set into a firm line.
Caitlyn looks away first.
“They mean to send a message,” she says. “Piltover is restless. You’re one of the few Councillors left that’s still advocating for peace. An undercity attack would jeopardize that position. It would pressure you to change your stance, or else appear weak to the rest of the Council.”
Medarda hums. “A Kiramman to the core.”
Caitlyn keeps her eyes focused on the room. “I’m just an enforcer, Councillor. Why would you call me here?”
There’s a rustle of fabric as Medarda shifts beside her. When she responds, she isn’t quite able to fully keep her displeasure from her voice. “You’re here in your capacity as an enforcer, of course. I want you to go to the lower levels to investigate this matter.”
“This attack doesn’t have a real connection to the undercity.”
“I want you to go to the lower levels and investigate this matter,” Medarda repeats.
Caitlyn looks back at her. Medarda’s gaze is intent on her face. “Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Caitlyn replies.
“You still have contacts there, don’t you?” Medarda says.
Caitlyn stiffens.
“Excellent. Get in touch with them.”
“I—” She looks at Medarda’s face and sighs. “I will see what I can do.”
“Report back to me in a week.”
Caitlyn nods and turns to leave. She pauses at the end of the hallway.
Medarda is still standing there. Her frame is silhouetted by the light from the open bedroom door. She’s tucked one arm close to her chest. Her other hand is pressed against her cheek. Her expression is too distant to decipher, but she looks—pensive.
“Councillor,” Caitlyn says. “There’s something else, isn’t there?”
Medarda straightens up. Her shoulders pull back, her back stiffening. Any semblance of human vulnerability is gone.
“None that an enforcer needs to know,” Medarda replies. “Do as you're ordered.”
“Right,” Caitlyn says. “Of course.”
She leaves.
To be honest, Vi’s day has been pretty goddamn shitty.
Then again, a lot of her days now are shitty.
Ekko tells her that things got nasty under Silco, but he at least enforced his own rules. He was a slimy, self-serving bastard. He was also consistent. He made the undercity consistent.
Now that Silco’s gone, everything was allowed to go truly to shit.
And Vi can’t keep up. She can run the errands. She can bust a guy’s face in. But the undercity isn’t how she remembers it.
She doesn’t know how to talk her way through shit. Doesn’t know quite when to push, when to back off, when to shove. Some of the geography’s different. Some of the people are dead. If she hangs out too long in the Last Drop, she starts picking fights.
A lot can change in four years.
Powder’s in the wind now. There hasn’t been any sign of her in almost a month.
A few days ago, Ekko very gently suggested the possibility that she’s dead. Vi nearly—she had to walk away before she did anything stupid.
That’s what it’s like now. Vi’s head getting stupid about shit she can’t control.
Today was a bad one.
She’s been on a job for Babette the past week. Personal favor. Someone’s sister got snatched. Vi was tracking the bastard down.
Found him today. Him and most of the rest of the girl.
Babette hadn’t said anything when she brought them back. Just stared down at him, almost completely still except for the way the tips of her ears quivered.
She gave Vi the rest of her payment. Said her first and only words since Vi dragged the bastard in.
“Her name was Mara.”
So now Vi’s in some hole in the Lanes.
Not the Last Drop because then she’ll just start seeing Vander standing behind the bar, and she doesn’t need to fuck herself up in that way. But yeah, she’s here. Trying to see how fast she can get to black-out without actually asking the bartender to outright drug her cup.
Pretty fast turns out.
Vi wakes up, and it’s not under the garbage pump behind the bar.
Which is a good sign. Or a bad sign. Hard to tell through the blinding headache.
“Hrgh,” Vi says.
“Good morning,” someone says back.
If Vi were in better shape, she maybe would’ve nailed them in the jaw. As it is, she only really manages to flop over.
She’s on a bed.
“Vi,” the someone says.
They know who she is. That tips things over to the deep shit end of the spectrum.
“Ngargh,” she says as a clever distraction. Her arm lurches out.
The someone sighs.
“Look at you.”
There’s the rustling of fabric. A shift in the light as they move to stand over Vi.
Vi jabs the needle of Shimmer into her own thigh.
It surges through her body. Blows out her sinuses. Clears her head almost instantly.
She springs up, throwing her weight into the other person. The breath rushes out of them. Vi levers the both of them over until they’re tipping, tipping.
They land hard, only marginally cushioned by the mattress. Vi pins the other’s limbs down. She catches her breath.
Her vision clears.
“Cupcake.”
Caitlyn looks up at her, her hair in disarray, her face caught between amused and annoyed. Something loosens in Vi’s chest. Something else winches tighter.
“It’s been a while,” she says.
“No shit.”
Caitlyn exhales softly, her expression shifting. “So,” she says. “How’ve you been?”
Vi raises an eyebrow at her.
“Right. I take it you still haven’t found—” she stops.
The last time they talked was like this too. All sore spots and no safe place to land. The hex crystal tore itself to pieces with the force of launching a heavy fucking artillery shot straight into the heart of Piltover.
At the end of it, it was Vi slogging back down into the Fissures to look for Powder, and Caitlyn heading top-side with the largest chunk of crystal in her pocket. That was what they agreed. It was for the best.
“What brings you down here?”
Caitlyn’s eyes slide to the side. A muscle in her cheek pulls.
Vi snorts. “Here for business, not pleasure, huh.”
She doesn’t say anything.
“Hey, I don’t mind. You got shit to do.”
It takes a moment longer for Vi to realize they’re—she’s still pressing down into Caitlyn. And Caitlyn’s looking up at her with this expression that Vi shouldn’t be seeing. A little bit irritated, maybe even a little bit angry, and a lot quietly relieved.
Her eyes flick around, tracing over Vi’s face. Studying her. Remembering her.
Vi rolls off and fwumps over onto her back. Her head gets stupid.
“It’s good to see you, cupcake,” she says to the ceiling.
“Yes, it’s good to see you.” With just a little too much honesty.
Vi doesn’t know what to do with it. It makes her feel—exposed. Like all it really takes is a pretty girl, a crack-shot on that folding rifle, and a bit of sincerity.
Vi’s about to say something about it when Caitlyn reaches over and presses two fingers firmly against the inside of her wrist. She feels herself grind to a halt.
The quiet passes them by.
It’s a comfortable mattress. Vi hasn’t been sleeping that well. Paranoid that someone’s going to find the Firelight Tree. Ekko’s going to blow himself up trying to buy them all time. Maybe someone’s going to take another pot-shot at Ajuna on his board. Mara, who was—fuck.
There’s murals painted on the ceiling. And on the walls. Vines and flowers. Stone columns. Birds perched on tree branches. Gardens and shit.
“We’re back at Babette’s, aren’t we.”
“It was the only place I could think of where someone could help me find you,” Caitlyn says.
It was a smart call considering what she knew. Caitlyn isn’t familiar enough with the Fissures to find her way back to the Firelights. This was the only other place where they had allies.
“She let me in through the back,” Caitlyn continues, “so no one would see us.”
Of course, she would. Vi just smeared some guy’s face into the gutter then dragged him the entire length of the Lanes to Babette’s doorstep. That was the deal. Send a message. Don’t fuck with the yordle’s people.
Kinda ruins the effect if Vi’s seen back here less than a day later, barely able to walk through the door.
“Yeah. Real nice of her to do that.” She levers herself to her feet. “We’ll have to leave the same way.”
She heads for the door, pushes the beaded curtain out of the way to peer into the hallway. Clear.
They head deeper towards Babette’s office.
There’s laughter in some of the rooms.
The backdoor is just around the next corner.
Vi starts thinking of the quickest route to the Firelight Tree.
The laughter gets louder. A group of men spill out of one of the rooms just in front of them.
One of them notices Vi. “You’re—”
Vi grabs Caitlyn’s wrist and steers them both out of there.
The backdoor opens into a narrow alley hidden from the view of the main street.
They pause there.
“I take it your reputation’s changed,” Caitlyn remarks.
Vi snorts. “You could say that.”
Caitlyn’s description will likely make the rounds now. She was seen with Vi in the run-up to Silco’s death. Once already at Babette’s. But that sort of thing would get lost in the rest of the chaos of that day.
Caitlyn getting seen with Vi at Babette’s a second time—that’s a different story. That’s an inclination. And all sorts of people are looking for leverage on Vi these days.
“You’ll want to swap out the rifle soon,” she says. “Only enforcers use foldables.”
Caitlyn raises an eyebrow.
Vi sighs. “People know my face now. I mean, a lot of folks remembered me cause I was Vander’s kid. Then I beat the shit out of Silco’s attack dog in Vander’s old bar just hours before Silco died. Did it with tech not even chem-barons have access to.” She feels heat prickle the back of her neck. “Turns out people just decide what they want to think about stuff like that.”
Caitlyn’s expression does something odd. “Your name holds weight now. More than you want it too.”
She shrugs. “Guess so.”
Caitlyn stares at her for a moment longer before she lets out an incredulous laugh.
Vi squints at her.
“No, no,” Caitlyn says. “I’m just—it’s nothing.”
“Hm.”
Caitlyn eventually manages to compose herself. Her eyes squinch up when she laughs like that. Vi doesn’t notice that because she’s not in the business of noticing things about Caitlyn.
“So why’d you come down here again?” Vi says, quickly.
Caitlyn’s still laughing a little. She’s smiling when she says, “I believe there’s someone tailing me.”
“What.”
“I don’t think they’re nearby,” Caitlyn continues. “I can get into the undercity faster than they can.”
Vi snorts.
“And they don’t need to follow that closely to track me.”
Caitlyn shrugs her jacket off and smooths the collar. There’s a small but noticeable lump just under the seam. The stitching had been undone and then carefully re-sewn.
“I already suspected someone would be following me so I checked. One of the hextech workshops has been developing crystals with unique harmonic frequencies. Jayce mentioned it once.”
Vi stares down at the unassuming lump in Caitlyn’s clothing. “We can’t go back to the Firelight Tree.”
“Ahh.”
“How’d you know they’d be tracking you?”
Caitlyn tips her head up until she’s looking top-side. “It’s the reason why I’m here,” she says. “I’m buying time. Leading them on a chase. ”
Vi frowns. “You were ordered to come here.”
“Well, I thought maybe just this once.” Caitlyn looks back at Vi. “Someone’s trying to start a war.”