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As a kid, Caitlyn liked rules. They made life calmer, cleaner, easier. They helped her figure out what to do when she didn't know, gave her a foundation to who she was. They were her comfort.
As she got older, this never changed. She always wanted rules, guidelines, a way to know she was being a better person than yesterday, that she was doing the world right.
Sometimes, her rules were different to the ones other people wanted her to have. Her mother wanted her to be a councillor when she grew up, to be able to navigate the political webs of Piltover.
But the people and the events were insufferable. The rules made no sense. Why stay quiet when something was wrong? Why should she go to events just to do nothing, learn nothing, say nothing?
She learnt to shoot to get away from that. It was selfish, sure. But it was more useful than doing nothing. It gave her a goal, a way to be more than what others wanted her to be. A way to be herself, even if only for a moment.
She still had to go to parties, had to pretend to be boring and polite, had to try to be interested in the problems of people without problems. It was easier though, now. She had things to look forward to. The events became more of a chore than a misery.
—————
"What are you shooting for?".
That was when it changed. If Caitlyn was honest with herself, she didn't know. It was a hobby, a way to fill time, a way to be someone she couldn't.
She hadn't deserved the win. She knew that. She hadn't been the better shooter. She couldn't improve if she didn't get to make mistakes. She didn't feel any pride. She just felt empty.
Her mother had managed to turn even her shooting into just another social event. Caitlyn was a party trick to show off, her skills painted as ones that made people say "She's very good at that" in a very proper tone of voice, rather than ones people respected her for.
Why did she shoot? Grayson had said that she shot because it helped protect people. It helped keep people safe. But others kept Caitlyn safe. She didn't have the power to make the world better. Even if she grew up, became a councillor, had that power, she wouldn’t know what to do with it.
—————
Rain.
She had an umbrella, of course. She didn't want to freeze. But that only hid her from the rain. It couldn’t stop it. You can’t stop rain.
She had thought she was doing the right thing, that she would be able to help the world from the top. She had thought she was making progress.
But she couldn't stop the council from expelling Jayce. Her mother didn't try to do more. What was the point of being on the council, if she couldn't stop a good person from being punished. A person who thought, who knew , what they were doing was right.
The rules had seemed fair, seemed right. Now she knew that was only because she'd been hidden from the rest of them. She couldn’t keep others dry from under an umbrella.
—————
Becoming an enforcer was hard.
Oh, they'd said it would be difficult, that they wouldn’t treat her differently to anyone else. But that wasn't why it was hard. It was hard because they did treat her differently. Because she wasn't allowed to be put in any risk at all. Because she was a Kiramman.
She had never failed a test. Whether that was because she had passed them, or because they'd passed her, she didn't know. She didn’t ask. They would have lied.
Everyone knew who she was. That made it worse. She was made fun of; not taken seriously; treated as dead weight. She never complained. It would just prove them right. She would just be a spoiled girl playing at being something more.
Grayson had believed in her. Grayson was dead. All Caitlyn had left was herself. Jayce was supportive, but only to the extent of her being there. He was just as worried about her taking risks as the others.
She wouldn't stop trying though. This was what she shot for. This is what she wanted to do. She could never be a councillor, she knew that now.
She was trying to make the world a better place, but it was fighting back. It would be easier if she was anyone else.
—————
Flowers. They covered her room. People wishing her a good recovery.
They reminded her of her failures. People had died. She had gotten lucky.
If she had to make the choice again, to try to save a child, she would make the same choice. It was the right choice. There was always a risk. That was part of being an enforcer. She had accepted it long ago.
She was no longer an enforcer. People who “cared” for her hadn’t accepted the risks. Strings had been pulled. She'd been honourably discharged.
There was no honour in it. This wouldn't make her suddenly want to do what they wanted, make her who they wanted her to be. That imaginary woman wasn't her. It could never be her.
She was going to figure out a way to keep making things better. She could never be an enforcer again, she knew that. No one would be willing to face her mother's wrath.
She had one last chance. Something she'd been working on for months, years. A complicated web, notes about some grand design going on in the undercity, right beneath everyone's eyes. And she had been given a lead. She would follow it as far as it would go.
—————
She had learnt more tonight than ever before. She could leave now, and try to fit Silco into her ideas, and see all the ripples in the web from it. She could be safe, tell others, convince them, get an official investigation going.
But that wasn't her. She knew there was corruption, deep at the core of the enforcers. She would struggle to convince people. The pink-haired prisoner had convinced her, but others would scoff at her for believing someone in Stillwater. "They're a criminal"; "They were making fun of you". No one would ever believe her.
If she wanted to do something about this, she would have to do it herself. And the girl had been right. The undercity would eat her alive. She wasn't naive enough to think that she would make any progress down there. It wouldn't stop her trying if she had to.
There was one option, as she saw it. If it went poorly, she would never get another chance to do better, to be herself. But she would never have another chance if she didn't take it.
So she forged a councilors signature. Forged documents, signing for the release of a prisoner who hated her, who she'd only ever seen, met, interacted with once before. It was a hope, and that was all she had. If the girl ran away, then Caitlyn would have still made the world better. She would have gotten someone who shouldn't be in a prison out of one..
She made her choice. She was going to be herself, follow her rules, make the world better her way.
Anyone who wanted to stop her could fuck off.