Chapter Text
Caitlyn was an excellent sheriff.
From her razor-sharp wit and precise marksmanship to her commanding presence, she excelled in every area of law enforcement –– detective work, fieldwork, even paperwork. Undoubtedly her biggest strength was her attention to detail. Caitlyn could pick out the smallest discrepancy, something disregarded as useless to the rest of the force, and narrow down on it until it became crucial in cracking the case. In the last investigation, the incriminating evidence had been something as mundane as coffee grounds. Her detail-orientedness even extended to clerical duties; she noticed errors that sometimes even council members had overlooked.
This much was obvious; Caitlyn Kiramman was a perfectionist and it showed.
What most didn’t know was that such flawlessness came with its own set of difficulties. Only a select few knew the daily struggles Caitlyn hid behind her poised facade. The truth was, ever since she was a young girl, Cait had struggled with obsessive-compulsive disorder.
It had announced itself during a sixth-grade pop quiz. The initial shock of an impromptu assessment had thrown Cait off enough, but what prevented her from even starting was the absence of her special fountain pen. She had designated this pen for the specific purpose of taking tests, and without it, she simply could not begin. Rather than selecting another pen, Caitlyn spent half an hour rifling through her desk for the pen. Since the assessment was unplanned, she hadn’t been able to position it on top of her desk like she normally would have. Eventually, time ran out and she was forced to turn in a blank quiz. Since everyone knew Caitlyn as a straight-A student, this alarmed her teachers enough to alert her parents immediately, who were aghast at this shortcoming. Clearly, something was troubling their daughter, who had never gotten below 95 percent.
Yet when Caitlyn tried to explain her reasoning, no one understood. Even her dad, a level-headed doctor and her go-to when she was having a rough time, couldn’t grasp her reasoning. How could something as paltry as a pen result in her failing a pop quiz? But no matter how many times she tried, Caitlyn couldn’t find the words to help them understand. She didn’t fully understand it herself. There was the fact of it – she couldn't complete a test without the fountain pen or else she felt something bad would befall her or her family. But the functional purpose – the logic – behind this knowledge confounded everyone. As a fully rational person in every other aspect, this discrepancy confused Caitlyn and horrified her parents. To cure their daughter of her “issue”, they scheduled a meeting with Piltover’s best pediatric psychiatrist the following day. After just an hour of observation, questionnaires, and interviews, she was diagnosed with Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder – OCD.
And with that, the journey to recovery started.
It was long and grueling. It took more than a decade of multiple therapists, medication, tears, relapses, and soul-crushing frustration, but as an adult (and the Sheriff of Piltover nonetheless), Caitlyn liked to believe that she had overcome the worst of her mental illness. She worked every day to challenge the strict rules ingrained in her psyche that she knew in reality were illogical and suppress compulsions that only wasted her time and made her miserable. OCD still affected her daily life – it always would – but she was much better. She was at a place her childhood self never could have imagined reaching. She could never go back.
The alarm went off at exactly 5:34, exactly an hour earlier than it normally did. From the other side of the bed, Vi groaned and burrowed deeper in the sheets as usual. Caitlyn chuckled and kissed her girlfriend’s forehead before getting out of bed and slipping on her navy silk robe. She went into the kitchen and started a kettle of tea. She set the timer for four minutes and forty-four seconds and popped two slices of bread into the toaster. When the timer chimed and the toast reappeared, she poured the tea into her favorite blue cup and cut the toast into identical halves, so there were four pieces in front of her. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and counted to four before starting to eat.
Caitlyn didn’t usually go this overboard with the numbers, but today was different than most. The compulsory performance review was today. Representatives from the Council met with key members from the different branches of government once a year to analyze how effective they were at their job, which subsequently affected funding and resourcing. As the head of the city’s law enforcement, she was included in this.
This year Jayce had been her assigned representative, and although being paired with a friend should have comforted her, it only gave Caitlyn more anxiety. It was common knowledge that the two were close, and this put more pressure on her to remain professional and ensure that she was properly represented. She needed her competency as sheriff to be based on her actual work rather than her connections.
Caitlyn sighed and counted to four in her head again.
After finishing her breakfast, washing the dishes, and putting them into their designated places in the cabinet, she went into the bathroom to prepare for the day. She showered and shaved under her arms. Caitlyn considered herself lucky that performance reviews had landed on a Wednesday, and so fitted with her strict shaving schedule (Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays only). After she did her morning skincare ritual, brushed her teeth, and applied make-up she went into the bedroom to get dressed.
The clock read 6:24. Perfect. Just on time, and the prevalence of the even numbers further set her mind at ease. As she was slipping on her striped jacket, right arm before left, she was broken from her concentration by a sleepy grumble.
“Are you leaving already?” Vi’s voice was huskier than usual as she rubbed sleep out of her squinting gray eyes.
“I must.” The sheriff focused on buckling her jacket. “Today’s performance reviews demand additional time for preparation.”
“Oh, right.” Vi immediately sounded more alert. “I forgot those were today.”
Caitlyn only nodded in response, reaching up to fiddle with her hair, rolling a few strands between her fingers.
One. Two. Three. Four.
There was a slight pause before Vi spoke up again. “How are you feeling? I know that performance reviews always stress you out.”
Caitlyn cleared her throat.
Once. Twice. Thrice. Four times.
“It’s fine.”
She focused on straightening her jacket, startling slightly when she felt muscular arms wrap around her.
“Cupcake, you’ll do great. I know it, and I hope you do too.”
Caitlyn let herself relax in Vi’s grip for a few seconds before straightening up. “Thank you, Vi.”
She looked back at the clock.
6:35.
Her chest tightened slightly and she wiggled out of Vi’s grasp. “I’m afraid I must go. I’m already late.”
Vi turned to look at the clock. “No, you’re not...”
But she was already out the door.