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Time was a concept Vi could no longer grasp. Yet, like clockwork, she donned her leather jacket and black face paint, making her way to the nameless pit—a place neither entirely belonging to Piltover nor Zaun, ironically matching her current fate.
She couldn't return to the undercity, not after becoming infamous for collaborating with Piltie enforcers and helping them bust down a Shimmer factory. Nor could she return to Piltover and face Caitlyn, not after all the pain she had caused her.
In the aftermath of her sister's attack on the council, Vi vividly remembered how Caitlyn had collapsed against her, screaming in anguish upon learning of her mother's death at the hands of Powd—no, it was Jinx now. How could she forget?
She saw how Caitlyn flinched at every little sound, how she shook in fear each time she entered her bathroom, and how her once gentle sapphire eyes had turned cold and vengeful, directed at the only other living person she had left.
Despite the overwhelming guilt, Vi stayed. She stayed because if she had been there in the first place, Caitlyn wouldn’t have been kidnapped, and her mother wouldn’t have died. If Vi had stayed, she wouldn’t have lost Powder, and she wouldn’t have watched her sister transform into the very monster she had sworn to protect her from.
Vi never seemed to be in the right place at the right time. The people she loved got hurt whether she was there or not, so what good was she to anyone?
And so, there she was, standing in the pit fighting arena, watching a crowd of some of the worst of humankind egg her on. She was either going to beat the shit out of someone or get the shit beaten out of herself, and she honestly didn’t care which.
Winning would provide her the money she needed to drown her thoughts in alcohol, and losing meant she’d be knocked out cold and wouldn’t have to think about anything.
If she was lucky, maybe she’d never have to wake up again.
***
Caitlyn nearly fell off the roof trying to reach the location her sources had given her. It was actually quite comical; the first time she was down here, she had nearly died from a similar jump. The last time she had been here was with a certain pink-haired brawler, the very one Caitlyn had been searching tirelessly for.
Months had passed with no luck, and she wasn't even sure if Vi was still alive. There should have been some word of her from the undercity, but it was as if the world had swallowed her whole, and that worried Caitlyn endlessly.
There was so much she still needed to say, so much she needed to apologize for.
It was only in Vi's absence that Caitlyn realized she had become exactly the kind of person she swore to fight against. Someone consumed by anger and hate.
The death of her mother had drained any joy from her new role as the Sheriff of Piltover. Instead, she saw it as a tool for her own selfish desire to get revenge on Jinx. She had demanded Vi's help in taking Jinx down, putting her in an impossible situation.
What right did she have? She’s just a girl Vi met by coincidence, while Jinx was the reason Vi kept going all those years in Stillwater, where she was wrongfully imprisoned while Caitlyn and the rest of topside turned their backs on her.
Even though Caitlyn had known Jinx for a short time (most of it being held captive), she could tell that Jinx was deeply troubled. Beneath all the malice was someone profoundly hurt.
Caitlyn felt like the biggest hypocrite, lecturing Ekko and Vi about creating peace and ending the cycle of violence while being so ready to put a bullet through the sister of the woman she had grown to care so deeply about.
Now, she was determined to make things right because she wasn't about to let Vi walk away from her again without giving it her all.
She had come here all by herself, and no one even knew she was here. The rest of her force probably thought she was sitting in her office, diligently working on the case.
But here she was, down in this unfamiliar place, armed only with a rifle for protection.
Caitlyn had never been one to act so impulsively, but when she started hearing reports about a brawler with badly concealed pink hair who was apparently taking down opponents twice her size, she knew it had to be her.
The announcer's voice boomed overhead as she settled into her spot, careful not to attract any unwanted attention.
As the announcer introduced the fighters, Caitlyn's eyes caught sight of the familiar silhouette and tinges of pink hair, even beneath the layers of black dye meant to obscure it.
But her heart sank as she realized the woman she had been hoping to find wasn't just part of the audience; instead, she was the main event. Shit.
***
Vi heard the bell ring, her pulse spiking as she shrugged off her leather jacket. It was go time. She feigned a low kick, baiting her opponent, and then fired a swift right jab. But her opponent was sharp, sidestepping just in time.
Quick reflexes—no problem. Vi could work with that.
The two circled each other, an unspoken rhythm between them, a brutal dance of calculated moves and withheld blows. They both waited, tension thick in the air, neither willing to make the first full strike.
Finally, her opponent’s patience snapped, lunging forward in an attempt to close the distance. Vi seized the opportunity, delivering a swift sidekick to his ribs, pushing her opponent back just enough to keep him out of range.
But then she made a mistake—a split-second glance toward the crowd. For a heartbeat, she could’ve sworn she saw a flash of navy blue amongst the crowd of dull gray. Caitlyn?
The distraction proved costly.
Her opponent seized the opening, slipping inside Vi’s guard and delivering a brutal uppercut to her jaw. Vi’s head snapped back, the taste of metal flooding her mouth as she staggered.
But the pain only grounded her in a familiar ache, one she could almost welcome.
Often, Vi pushed herself to the edge of endurance, numb to bruises and breaks, just to catch glimpses of faces long gone—hallucinations of family, friends, fragments of her past. Powder, not Jinx. Mylo. Claggor. Vander.
And sometimes, Caitlyn.
All the people she’d let down, haunting her like silent ghosts, reminders of every failure, every life she hadn’t saved. Maybe that’s what this was. A trick of the mind.
The reminder of all she’d lost, of the hurt she’d left in her wake, drained her desire to keep fighting.
Money or reputation be damned—none of it mattered anymore.
She was just a body, a vessel for punishment, a sacrificial offering to the memories that would never let her rest.
Her opponent readied another punch, and Vi did nothing to stop it, letting the hook slam into her side. A perfect body shot— the impact crumpling her to the ground. Pain exploded in her abdomen, sharp and unyielding, but she welcomed it.
Each blow, each bruise, felt like relief— something tangible she could endure to appease the ghosts that watched, that judged her.
She could feel herself drifting, the comforting numbness of near-unconsciousness taking over, letting her mind finally go quiet.
But then, as darkness began to close in, she saw her again—Caitlyn, the mirage of her face drawing nearer, closer than any apparition had before. This time, Caitlyn didn’t look disappointed.
Her cobalt eyes were wide with worry, the crease in her brow something achingly real.
Vi figured she must be really losing it, Caitlyn’s face would only look at her like that if... if she was on the edge of death, slipping into the final darkness.
Was this it? This ghostly beautiful hallucination gave Vi a strange sense of peace, and was the last thing she saw before finally succumbing to unconsciousness.
***
Before Vi was fully conscious, pain anchored her to reality, her body screaming as it was dragged over rough concrete. Her skin burned with every scrape, and though her vision was still blurry, she saw a flash of indigo hair in the dimness.
Was she dead? That would explain the hallucination. But the pain she felt was real—far too real.
Honestly what gives.
She couldn't suppress the scream that came out of her throat as she felt a particularly rugged part of the concrete scrape against her raw skin.
She was dropped immediately, the dragging stopped as her captor knelt down beside her outstretched body.
Again she was met with a view of Caitlyn Kiramman’s face, twisted in fleeting emotions: panic, relief, hurt, before setting on worry.
“Vi!” Caitlyn’s voice was tight, trembling. “Can you hear me? We’re almost there; you’re going to be okay,” she said, though her tone betrayed her desperation, as if she were trying to convince herself.
A warm hand rested on Vi’s shoulder. She frowned, confused. Hallucinations didn’t usually touch her.
She tried to make sense of the situation—if this was real, then she was alive. But if it was real, then Caitlyn… was here? Of all places?
Ridiculous.
It must be a trick of her mind again, this was some rando touching her, but her messed up brain was conjuring Caitlyn’s face as some last desperate attempt at comfort.
How pathetic.
“Go away,” she muttered, intending to sound defiant, but the words came out a weak, broken murmur.
“Vi,” Caitlyn pleaded, her brow furrowing, “it’s me, Caitlyn. You’re hurt, badly. I need to get you home so that I can get a better look at you, can you please cooperate with me.”
Vi was getting really tired of this whole charade.
“Stop pretending to be her,” she rasped, voice laced with bitterness.
“I’m not stupid. There’s no way in hell Caitlyn Kiramman of all people would be down here, wasting time on someone like me. So go on, take what you want from me, and leave me the fuck alone, if I’m gonna die out here then let me die in fucking peace,” Vi retaliated, her voice breaking during the last part.
Suddenly, she was gently but firmly pulled into a seated position against the wall. The ache intensified, and Vi clenched her jaw to keep from crying out.
She was about to hurl a few choice words at this stranger when warm hands cupped her face, forcing her to meet the determined, and somewhat frustrated gaze of the other woman.
“You listen to me, Vi,” lookalike Caitlyn said, her voice fierce.
“I didn’t spend months searching, lying to the police force, coming down into the undercity on nothing but rumors, risking my job, my life—hauling your half-dead arse out of the gutter—just to be told I’m some imposter. I don’t care if you think you’re not worth saving, because I am not about to let you bleed to death out here. So you better get your shit together,” she finished, her voice exasperated, punctuating her words with a firm jab of her finger against Vi’s chest.
There was no denying that voice. Those words.
That stubborn, posh, uncompromising accent that somehow managed to make curse words sound so refined.
Something in Vi cracked.
She felt a pang of emotion she hadn’t allowed herself in months—a sliver of hope she’d long thought dead.
“Cupcake,” she managed, her voice barely a whisper. “Is it really… you?”
Caitlyn’s expression softened, her eyes glistening as she allowed a faint smile. It had been so long since she’d heard that ridiculous nickname.
“Yes, Vi,” she whispered, her thumb brushing tenderly over Vi’s bruised cheek, just as she had the day they spent in Caitlyn’s bed before their talk with the council. “I’m right here. I’ve got you.”
That was all it took. It was really her—the beautiful, smart, and infuriatingly stubborn Piltie who had somehow broken through Vi’s walls. And here she was, risking everything to save Vi’s sorry ass.
The defenses Vi had built so carefully shattered, and before she knew it, she was clinging to Caitlyn, burying her face against her shoulder. Her body protested, but her heart finally surrendered, and she couldn’t hold back the hot, salty tears that spilled down her cheeks.
Caitlyn’s arms wrapped tightly around her, her fingers tracing soothing circles along Vi’s back, grounding her.
“We’re almost there,” Caitlyn murmured, her voice gentle but determined. “But I’m going to need your help just a little longer, okay?”
Vi, barely able to speak past the knot in her throat, managed a small nod, face still resting in the crook of Caitlyn’s neck.
***
After what felt like an eternity, Vi finally recognized the shape of the Kiramman mansion, its lavish silhouette unmistakable against the Piltover skyline. It screamed "wealth and privilege" with its towering structure and opulent details, standing out like a gilded crown amid the city.
Caitlyn came to an abrupt stop, nearly causing Vi to slip out of her grip and faceplant onto the stone walkway.
Caitlyn’s arm shot out, catching her just in time, and Vi let out a groan of both pain and embarrassment. “Sorry,” Caitlyn whispered, offering an apologetic smile that softened Vi’s annoyance.
"The front’s guarded. We’ll need another way in,” she murmured.
“Sneaking into Piltie mansions—now, that’s a specialty of mine.” Vi smirked, nodding toward an open window that led to Caitlyn’s room.
Caitlyn just rolled her eyes.
Through the window it was again, only this time the roles were reversed: Caitlyn was helping a battered Vi inside, guiding her up and through as gently as she could.
“Oh, how the tables have turned,” Vi muttered with a grin that looked more like a grimace.
“Easy,” Caitlyn warned, gently lowering Vi onto her oversized, velvet-draped bed, which was so plush that Vi could feel herself being swallowed whole.
“I’m going to grab the medical kit. Stay put.”
For once, Vi didn’t argue. She lay there, feeling a wave of fatigue settle into her bones as Caitlyn slipped out of the room. She returned in record time, a set of supplies in hand, and perched herself on the bed beside Vi.
“Thanks, Cait. I’ve got it from here,” Vi said whilst reaching for a roll of gauze, though her voice betrayed how weak she felt.
Caitlyn’s response was a light slap to Vi’s hand, shooting her a look of exasperation.
“As if you’re in any shape to patch yourself up,” she scolded, edging closer to inspect the damage.
Vi opened her mouth to protest, only to be shot down by a pointed, know-it-all look from Caitlyn that said she could see through all of Vi’s bullshit. The sternness in her gaze softened almost instantly, shifting to a look of quiet concern and tenderness that made Vi’s heart skip a beat.
“Let me help, you idiot,” Caitlyn muttered, her tone softening as her fingers lightly gripped the edge of Vi’s torn leather jacket, coaxing it off.
Vi hadn’t even realized she’d gotten her jacket back after the fight. Caitlyn must have retrieved it, risking herself to get it back for Vi. Because of course she would.
Without the jacket, Vi was left in little more than her blood-streaked chest bindings, each tear and stain testament to the brutality she’d endured.
In the unforgiving glow of the Kiramman mansion, nothing was concealed—black dye smudged across her skin, streaks of mud and dried sweat clinging stubbornly to her, and bruises blooming in vivid shades of purple and blue.
Tattoos peeked out from beneath the wrappings, marks of old battles and losses, each scar etched like a memory into her skin, both fresh wounds and those long healed.
Caitlyn let out a sharp gasp, fighting back the tears welling in her eyes at the battered sight before her. “Vi…” she managed, her voice thick with emotion, barely holding back a sob.
Vi attempted a joke, her words hollow. “That bad, huh?”
Caitlyn ached to pull Vi into her arms and cry for every moment they’d spent apart, every bruise and scar that now lay exposed on Vi’s skin because of her.
It was all her fault, she thought bitterly, for letting Vi slip away, for not being there when Vi needed her most, for every ounce of pain Vi had endured alone.
But there was no time for self pity.
She steeled herself, jaw tight with determination. She was here now, and she would make this right. She could fix this. She had to.
She gently took one of Vi’s bruised arms in her hand, her grip so light it was barely there, a silent offering to let Vi pull back if she wanted. It was such a small gesture, yet Vi understood its weight: Caitlyn would go only as far as Vi allowed, would respect every boundary, would back away if Vi requested her to.
A war raged within Vi—part of her wanted to pull her arm back, leave this too-bright, too-polished room that felt worlds away from the streets she knew. Oil and water, she reminded herself bitterly; they didn’t mix, and heartbreak was only ever around the corner.
But another part of her felt worn down, exhausted from holding herself together. Caitlyn made her feel like someone deserving of tenderness, of safety—a foolish thought for someone who’d failed everyone she cared about.
Taking Vi’s silence as permission, Caitlyn let her fingers glide over Vi’s arm, taking in the damage of bruises, cuts and scrapes that lay there. Her touch was feather-light, but it still managed to make Vi shiver.
Caitlyn’s fingers reached the hand wraps on Vi’s forearm, dirty and crusted with dried blood. She paused, meeting Vi’s gaze.
“Can I take these off?” she asked softly, fully aware of the significance those hand wraps held for Vi.
Removing them was like unloading bullets from her rifle; it left Vi exposed, stripped of the armor that protected her most vulnerable self. Caitlyn knew that in doing this, she was asking Vi to surrender the defenses she clung to so tightly.
Vi hesitated, her eyes drifting down towards the floor, but finally, she nodded.
Caitlyn began peeling the wraps away, each layer resisting where blood had dried into the fabric. Vi winced, feeling her raw skin tug and pull, but Caitlyn was unrelenting, every movement as gentle as if she were handling the most fragile of glass.
The sight of Vi’s bare fists shook Caitlyn deeply; for the first time, she could truly see them—swollen, marred with purplish bruises, and streaked with faded scars that mapped the history of battles, each a testament to the punishment her fists had endured.
Still, she focused on her task, carefully taking Vi’s hands and submerging them in warm, soapy water.
She murmured soft reassurances as Vi hissed at the sting, running a washcloth gently up her forearms while tracing a light finger over the tattoos inked there, marveling at the dark lines and shapes emerging beneath layers of grime, dried blood, and black dye. Underneath, Vi’s skin was pale—a surprising contrast against the harsh life she’d led.
The entire time, Vi kept her eyes fixed on Caitlyn, wary yet unable to look away, as though any second Caitlyn might vanish, proving herself just another cruel figment of her imagination.
But Caitlyn was real—solid, present, her touch anchoring Vi in reality.
“I’m going to use some disinfectant to clean the deeper wounds,” Caitlyn explained, holding up a bottle. “It might sting a bit.”
Vi nodded as Caitlyn began dousing her wounds in the solution. “Huh. Doesn’t sting as much as I expected,” Vi remarked, sounding almost surprised. “Usually, peroxide bubbles up and hurts like hell.”
Caitlyn’s head snapped up. “Why would you use hydrogen peroxide? This is just chlorhexidine.”
“Doesn’t it kill the bacteria?” Vi replied, genuinely puzzled. “In the Undercity, we rarely had actual antiseptic. You take the strongest alcohol you’ve got, pour it on, and hope you don’t pass out.”
Caitlyn looked horrified, as though she’d just been told the sky was falling. “Are you insane? First of all, hydrogen peroxide kills your skin cells along with the bacteria, so you’re causing even more damage. Second, how on Runeterra have you avoided sepsis? You must be absurdly lucky to have made it this far without a serious infection.”
Vi’s eyes narrowed, her usual confidence slipping into a rare seriousness, almost brooding. Sometimes I wish I wasn’t so lucky , she thought bitterly.
Caitlyn’s face fell as though she’d been slapped—had she actually said that out loud? Shit.
She could practically feel Caitlyn connecting the dots, and for the first time, Vi found herself hoping she wouldn’t figure it out.
Caitlyn kept her voice soft, cautious, trying not to sound accusatory. “Vi… I’m not sure if you remember, but at the pit fight arena…you were in a fight before you passed out, right?”
“Yeah, what of it? Asshole got the better of me at the last second. It was a one off moment, that’s all.” Vi’s arms crossed defensively, but her words lacked conviction, as if even she wasn’t quite sure if she believed herself.
Caitlyn laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, her eyes searching Vi’s face.
“I know he was tough, but, Vi, I’ve seen you fight crooks twice his size—and hold your own, even against Sevika and that mechanical, shimmer-fueled arm of hers.” She tilted her head, trying to catch Vi’s gaze, but Vi’s stare remained fixed elsewhere. Taking a steadying breath, Caitlyn continued, her voice barely more than a whisper.
“Vi… did you give up that fight on purpose? If I hadn’t been there, you would’ve died. Was that what you wanted?”
Caitlyn was expecting Vi to get angry with her, to tell her to fuck off. Vi didn’t explode or yell, and somehow, that quiet, it scared Caitlyn more than any outburst ever could. She held her breath, seconds stretching like hours, until finally, Vi’s voice came, low and trembling.
“I wasn’t trying to, at first…but I kept seeing them, all the faces of people I let down. I used to fight for them, but… what if they didn’t want me to fight for them? Everyone I care about ends up getting hurt. It’s all because of me.”
She took a shaky breath, refusing to meet Caitlyn’s eyes.
“Turning myself in to the enforcers, trying to save Vander, going after Powder, stopping you from… from shooting her—everything I do just messes things up. You lost your mother because of me, Cait. Then I didn’t even have the guts to stand beside you and help track down Jinx. Even though I know… I know my sister’s gone. I’m no better than her. I’ve got just as much blood on my hands. So yeah, I’m not fucking stupid for realizing the world’s better off without me. I’m the real jinx.”
Vi braced herself, expecting Caitlyn to push her away in disgust, to tell her to get lost—or even to slap her for not having the strength to fight for her own life after Caitlyn had risked everything to save it.
But instead, Caitlyn pulled her close.
The taller woman pulled Vi into an embrace that was both fierce and fragile, as if she feared Vi might vanish if she let go. Her arms tightened around Vi, and she pressed her face into Vi’s neck, her breaths coming in shallow, ragged sobs, each one quivering against Vi’s skin.
Tears flowed freely, warm and salty, trickling down the curve of Vi’s neck and pooling at her collar. The two stood locked together, a fragile shield against everything broken between them.
“I’m so, so sorry, Vi…” Caitlyn’s voice cracked between sobs, thick with guilt and remorse. She pulled back just slightly to meet Vi’s gaze, her eyes brimming with grief.
She cupped Vi’s face with gentle hands, but her fingers shook as she whispered, “I let everything get out of control. I was so angry, so lost, and I took it out on you, the one person who’s stood by me through it all. If I’d just… if I’d just talked to you… none of this had to happen.” She broke off, struggling to catch her breath.
“I let you get hurt,” she continued, guilt etched deep in every word. “I let things get so bad you were… you were ready to give up.” Her voice faltered, and she blinked, a fresh wave of tears spilling over. “And it’s my fault.”
Vi stiffened, her heart pounding in her chest as Caitlyn’s words washed over her. She took a step back, looking at Caitlyn incredulously.
“Cupcake, how the hell could you think any of this was your fault? I’m the one who stopped you from taking the shot at Jinx. Twice. I kept hoping… hoping there was something left of Powder, but…”
Vi’s voice cracked, her own pain and regret threatening to choke her. “ You were right Cait. All that’s left is Jinx, and I’m too much of a coward to put an end to the monster I made.”
Caitlyn’s expression hardened, a fierce determination flashing in her eyes. She was done watching Vi shoulder all the blame for her sister's actions.
She gripped Vi’s shoulders, steadying her as she spoke, her voice soft but unwavering.
"No, Vi, you're wrong. You didn’t single-handedly create Jinx. You can’t blame yourself for everything that happened. It’s not entirely your fault… Powder’s past, the way she turned out—it’s not just on you, Vi. You were a child too… you couldn’t have known any better."
Vi shook her head, the weight of Vander’s words ringing painfully clear in her mind. “When people look up to you, you don’t get to be selfish. You say run, they run. You say swim, they dive in. You say light a fire, they show up with oil. But whatever happens, it’s on you. Vander’s last words were to look after Powder. And I left her all alone.”
Caitlyn sighed softly, moving closer as she cupped Vi's face again, her thumb gently brushing across her cheek. “And who gets to be there for you?” Caitlyn asked, her voice a quiet challenge, filled with both concern and affection.
Vi’s eyes flickered up to Caitlyn’s for a moment before she looked away, shrugging slightly. “If anything, Stillwater taught me one thing: you can only rely on yourself,” she replied, the old armor of bravado slipping over her voice.
Caitlyn’s expression faltered, a shadow of sadness and understanding flickering across her face. She gently took hold of Vi’s chin, tilting her head back up so their eyes met again.
“Just because you’ve always had to fend for yourself doesn’t mean you have to keep doing it. You don’t always have to carry everything yourself, Vi. I know I wasn’t there when you needed me the most, and I’ll always regret that. But I swear to you—whatever it takes, for as long as it takes—I’m here. I’ll do anything to make it up to you. You don’t have to face this alone. Not anymore.”
Vi felt her throat tighten at Caitlyn’s words, the vulnerability in her own eyes barely hidden. She tried to laugh it off but felt the words come out more like a broken whisper. “But why, Cait!? Why do all that for me when all I’ve ever brought to your life is trouble?”
Caitlyn's grip on Vi's chin is gentle but unyielding, keeping Vi’s face tilted up, holding her gaze with an intensity that made it impossible to look away. “You’re more than just trouble, Vi,” she murmured, her voice low but charged with conviction. “You’ve shown me the real world—the one I was so carefully shielded from up here in this fancy arse estate.”
She paused, letting her words sink in, before continuing with quiet sincerity.
“Because these last few months without you... they’ve been hell. Because nothing’s made sense, and everything feels empty. Because I care about you, Vi. You... I…” Her voice faltered, raw emotion flickering across her face as she hesitated, wrestling with the weight of her words. Taking a steadying breath, Caitlyn looked Vi straight in the eyes, her own filled with a mix of fear and resolve.
“Because I’m in love with you. So please… don’t go somewhere I can’t follow. Just this once... stay.”
The words hung in the air, thick with emotion, the silence between them stretching unbearably as Caitlyn’s heart raced, pounding in her chest. She could feel the heat rise in her face, a vulnerability so stark that it felt like she was stripped bare.
Vi’s silence felt like a chasm growing between them, and a shadow of doubt crept in as Caitlyn worried she’d gone too far, fearing she might’ve pushed Vi away forever. Vi’s wide eyes searched Caitlyn’s face as if desperately seeking reassurance, her mouth opening and closing as she tried to find the right words.
She was used to danger, to punches and bruises, to fights that ended in blood, sweat and tears. But standing here, hearing words she never believed anyone would say to her—words she didn’t think she deserved—was something she couldn’t fight through.
It left her feeling exposed in a way that nothing else ever had.
She swallowed hard, her gaze flickering over Caitlyn’s face, searching for any sign that this was a fleeting moment, something Caitlyn would take back. But the sincerity in Caitlyn’s eyes remained steady, grounding her.
Finally, Vi’s voice emerges, soft and unsteady. “You... you love me?” she manages, a fragile mix of disbelief and wonder coloring her tone.
Caitlyn, sensing Vi’s hesitation, steps closer, until their foreheads are touching. Her voice is steady, even as her own heart races. “Yes, Vi. I love you. And I’m not saying it to put any weight on you, or to make you feel like you owe me something. You don’t even have to say it back. I just needed you to know that someone sees you, really sees you—and cares for every part of you.”
She squeezes Vi’s hands, her touch tender yet unwavering.
Vi’s breath catches. Her fingers hover over Caitlyn’s, feeling the urge to pull back, to retreat into the comfort of her independence. But Caitlyn’s presence, the warmth radiating between them, grounds her.
For once, Vi feels a weight that isn’t a burden but a lifeline—a solid presence in a life that’s known only turmoil.
She closes her eyes briefly, steeling herself, before looking back into Caitlyn’s eyes. “I... I don’t know how to do any of this, Cait. I’m not used to people sticking around.” Her voice is barely a whisper, raw and exposed.
“But... these past months, you were all I could think about. I’d see you everywhere— shadows in the streets, prickles on the back of my neck. Losing Powder was... it was everything. And then I thought I’d lost you too.” Her voice trembles.
She lets out a shaky laugh, attempting a wry smile to mask her emotions. “Guess I’m just as down bad for you.” The joke is light, but Caitlyn hears the unspoken words beneath, words full of longing, of fear, and of everything Vi has tried so hard to keep buried.
Caitlyn’s heart swells, her own walls melting at the words she’s longed to hear. She can’t hold back any longer.
Gently, she leans forward, her nose brushing softly against Vi’s, a tender expression of affection that speaks to everything she’s held back. Her eyes drift to Vi’s lips, her gaze filled with both desire and vulnerability, silently asking for permission.
When Vi doesn’t pull away, Caitlyn feels a surge of warmth and relief, grounding her in this long-awaited moment. Slowly, with a tenderness she’s barely allowed herself to imagine, she presses her lips to Vi’s in a soft, lingering kiss.
It’s not rushed or desperate; it’s a quiet, unspoken promise, a release of all the love and worry and hope she’s held for so long. The kiss is gentle, reverent, as if she’s afraid of shattering this fragile new bond between them. When they finally pull apart, their foreheads rest softly together, their breaths mingling in the silence that follows—a silence filled with everything they haven’t said but no longer need to.
“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” Caitlyn whispers, her voice barely above a breath, a soft smile playing on her lips. “You mean more to me than I think you realize, Vi.”
“I think I’m finally starting to understand.” She smirks, but it’s gentle, her gaze full of everything she’s been too scared to say out loud.
As Caitlyn takes in Vi’s expression, she notices smudges of black dye scattered across Vi’s face, remnants from her earlier disguise. Glancing down at her own hands, she realizes that they're now stained with the same inky black.
Caitlyn lets out a small laugh, and Vi gives her a confused look.
“Your dye, Vi. Not only is it all over your face, but it’s on me now, too!” Caitlyn chuckles, shaking her head as Vi flushes, her cheeks turning nearly as pink as her hair usually is.
“We should probably wash that dye out before it gets everywhere else,” Caitlyn teases, running her hands gently through Vi’s hair, unfazed by the further staining of her fingers. “Unless, of course, you’re still going for the ‘goth’ look.”
Vi rolls her eyes but leans into Caitlyn’s touch, playing along. “Hey, I think it could be a look.”
Caitlyn’s expression turns thoughtful. “Do you think you could make it to the bathroom? I could run some water over your hair, rinse some of this out.” Vi hesitates, glancing down at herself. She nods, but as she tries to stand, her legs wobble, pain jolting through her body, a harsh reminder of everything she’s endured. Vi topples dangerously close to the edge of the bed before Caitlyn manages to catch her just in time, her arms firm and steady as she holds Vi in place.
“Okay, I’m taking that as a no,” Caitlyn says with a wry smile. Without warning, she scoops Vi up, lifting her easily in her arms.
Vi lets out an indignant squeak, eyes wide with surprise. She knew Caitlyn was strong—anyone who could haul around a hextech rifle like it was nothing had to be. But she hadn’t expected to be carried as if she weighed nothing, effortlessly cradled in Caitlyn’s arms. It’s humbling, and oddly comforting.
Caitlyn meets Vi’s stunned gaze with a knowing smile, her look both teasing and reassuring. As Vi instinctively wraps her arms around Caitlyn’s neck for balance, ready to protest, Caitlyn cuts her off with a tender kiss. It’s brief but grounding, a quiet reassurance, before Caitlyn sets Vi down gently, making sure she’s steadily seated on a stool close to the bathroom sink.
“You didn’t have to do that, you know,” Vi says, her tone soft but grateful.
Caitlyn gives her a small smirk. “Maybe not. But I wanted to.”
Next thing Vi knows, her head is submerged under the warm cascade of water, a sensation so foreign that it almost feels surreal. It’s nothing like the ice-cold showers she was forced to endure back in Stillwater, the kind that left her trembling and aching.
This warmth, though, wraps around her like a blanket, and she melts into it, allowing herself a rare moment of pure, simple comfort. Caitlyn’s hands move gently through her hair, fingers massaging her scalp as she lathers in the same fancy schmancy lavender-scented shampoo that always seems to linger in the air around Caitlyn. The fragrance that was initially foreign to Vi but was now becoming strangely soothing.
Vi can't even remember the last time someone cared for her in this way.
Maybe it was when her parents were still around, but even then, it didn’t feel like this. Vander took care of her and Powder—he was always there for them—but he couldn’t fill the role a mother would have. Vi had been so focused on filling that gap for Powder, on making sure her sister never felt the absence of their mother, that she never realized no one was really there for her. No one had ever taken the time to show her this kind of softness, this kind of tenderness.
So, for what felt like the hundredth time that day, Vi felt the familiar sting behind her eyes. She didn’t even try to stop the tears that spilled down her cheeks.
Why the hell did Caitlyn make her feel like this every time she was around? Why did she always feel so raw, so exposed?
As Caitlyn finished rinsing the remnants of dye, dirt, and dried blood from Vi’s hair, she gently moved a washcloth to Vi’s face to clean off the smudged black stains. But as her eyes met the streaks of tears on Vi’s cheeks, Caitlyn hesitated.
Her touch softened, concern flickering in her gaze. “Vi... is everything okay? Did I do something wrong?”
Vi shook her head vehemently, her voice wavering with a mix of frustration and vulnerability. “No… it’s just… I can’t remember the last time someone cared enough to do something like this for me. Or when it didn’t hurt to be touched by someone else,” she admitted, her words laced with embarrassment and a deep, quiet sadness.
Caitlyn’s heart broke again at the weight of Vi’s words, the vulnerability in them raw and painfully familiar. Without thinking, Caitlyn wrapped her arms around Vi, pulling her close, holding her as if she could somehow shield her from the weight of her past. Vi allowed herself to soften, to lean into the touch instead of flinching away.
She had always prided herself on not needing anyone, on keeping others at arm's length to protect herself from the inevitable pain of loss. But here, in Caitlyn’s arms, she found herself wondering if maybe—just maybe—it could be different.
After a long moment, Vi reluctantly broke the embrace, realizing that her wet hair had soaked through Caitlyn’s clothes. She mumbled a soft apology, but Caitlyn only shook her head, her eyes gentle.
Without a word, she got up, grabbing a towel from the bathroom and returning to Vi’s side. Her movements were practiced, careful as she gently began drying Vi’s hair. Caitlyn couldn’t help but notice how long Vi’s hair had gotten. The shaved side had grown out a bit, leaving just a small section of short hair, and the longer side now hung halfway down Vi’s back.
As Caitlyn worked, she saw the remnants of dye still streaked through Vi’s pink locks, a mix of faded color and vibrant streaks. There was something beautifully chaotic about it, just like Vi. She smiled softly to herself as she finished drying Vi’s hair, letting her hands linger a moment longer than necessary, savoring the softness of the moment.
"There we are,” Caitlyn whispered, her voice soft and sincere. “I like the pink much better. It’s much more you .”
Her words lingered in the air, and as Caitlyn walked away, Vi stood frozen for a moment, letting the weight of what Caitlyn had said settle in. The warmth in Caitlyn’s voice, the care behind it—it felt different, somehow.
It made Vi’s heart tighten in a way she wasn’t sure how to handle.
Moments later, Caitlyn returned, and when Vi saw what was in her hands, she was stunned. Caitlyn had brought over a pair of clean clothes—comfortable, simple—but it wasn’t the clothes that made Vi’s breath catch. Nestled carefully among them was a familiar, worn piece of fabric.
Her old red jacket.
The one she used to wear before everything changed. Before the enforcer uniform, before the weight of the world became a constant burden on her shoulders.
"I don’t know why I kept onto it,” Caitlyn said, her voice suddenly shy, almost vulnerable. “I guess I hoped maybe one day you’d come back to get it.”
Vi’s heart stuttered at the quiet honesty in Caitlyn’s words. She could see the hesitation in Caitlyn’s eyes, the way she avoided looking directly at Vi as she spoke, like she wasn’t sure how it would be received. But for Vi, it hit harder than she could have anticipated. She couldn’t believe Caitlyn had kept it all this time. It was a simple gesture, but the meaning behind it was monumental. Caitlyn had held onto something that was part of Vi’s past—part of a person she thought she had lost forever—and, in doing so, she had kept a piece of Vi's old self alive, just waiting for her to come back.
"I—" Vi started, her throat tight, words failing her for the first time in a long while. She swallowed hard, fighting back the sudden rush of emotions threatening to spill over. “Cait … I don’t know what to say.”
Caitlyn shot Vi a knowing look, stepping closer to Vi. “You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know I kept it. For you.”
Vi was at a loss for words, overwhelmed by everything Caitlyn had done for her. In an attempt to convey all the gratitude she couldn’t quite articulate, she squeezed Caitlyn’s hand gently, hoping the simple gesture would speak louder than her words ever could.
Caitlyn, understanding the sentiment, offered a soft smile before handing her the rest of the clothes. As Vi changed, Caitlyn turned her attention elsewhere, giving her space, though her mind remained on the other woman. Vi’s exhaustion was palpable—her body had been through so much that day, the weight of everything finally catching up with her.
Caitlyn watched, her gaze filled with concern, as Vi struggled to stay awake. “Come on, let’s get you to bed,” Caitlyn said gently, her voice full of warmth.
Vi, her tired eyes already half-closed, looked at Caitlyn with a playful challenge. “Only if you let me walk back by myself,” she teased, though there was no real intention of following through with her words.
Caitlyn, as expected, didn’t take her seriously.
“As if you don’t look like you’re going to pass out any second,” Caitlyn quipped, although slightly worried that Vi was a couple minutes away from passing out on her bathroom floor. With ease, Caitlyn scooped her up, as if it was second nature to her now. Vi didn’t resist. Instead, she let herself melt into the warmth of Caitlyn’s arms, wrapping her own around her neck, sighing into the soft curve of her collarbone.
“Looks like someone’s enjoying being carried around,” Caitlyn teased, her voice laced with amusement.
“Shut up,” Vi grumbled, though there was no real bite behind her words. She could feel Caitlyn’s light laugh reverberate through her chest, and it was a comfort, in its own way.
Caitlyn’s arms held her gently but firmly, and in a matter of moments, she had laid Vi down on the bed, the mattress dipping as Caitlyn crawled in beside her. Vi barely had time to adjust to the softness of the blankets before Caitlyn’s presence surrounded her, her warmth a constant and calming force.
Without a word, Caitlyn pulled Vi closer, wrapping her slender but strong arms protectively around Vi’s waist. The feeling of Caitlyn’s breath against the back of her neck made Vi shiver involuntarily, a jolt of warmth rushing through her.
“Is this okay?” Caitlyn asked, her voice soft, almost timid as she waited for any sign of discomfort.
Vi couldn’t find the words. Her throat felt tight, her heart a little too full. Instead, she nodded, her own breath catching in her chest. The silence between them felt heavy, but not in a bad way.
It was a quiet understanding, a shared moment that neither of them seemed to want to break. In that stillness, they both knew something had shifted. They had crossed a line they couldn't retreat from. It’s no longer unspoken glances or hesitant touches—this is something real, something they can finally claim as their own. And, for the first time in months, Vi felt as if she’d found something worth fighting for.
***
As Vi’s breathing slowed, becoming steady and deep in sleep, Caitlyn found herself watching her, tracing the peaceful rise and fall of Vi’s chest. Even though Caitlyn was mere minutes from slipping into sleep herself, she couldn’t help but reflect on how much had changed between them.
It seemed like just yesterday that they had been two people so determined to stay apart, their differences like chasms they couldn’t seem to bridge. Vi had called them oil and water, two opposing forces that could never mix, and Caitlyn had once believed it.
But Caitlyn remembered that day—the day Vi had spoken those words. She remembered how her leg had bled in the shower, the crimson flowing freely, mingling with the water in a seamless dance. It swirled together effortlessly, tumbling down the drain, indistinguishable from one another. In that quiet moment, as the warmth of the water enveloped her and the blood ran steady, Caitlyn understood something fundamental: they were not oil and water. They were blood and water. Blue and red.
Because yes, blood runs thicker than water, but they both feel the same when your eyes are closed. The warmth of it, the way it surrounds you, the way it moves through you—there is no difference. They were connected, in a way Caitlyn had never fully realized until that moment.
So as the weight of sleep began to pull her under, Caitlyn made a quiet vow to herself. She would prove to Vi what they really were. Because now, Caitlyn was certain of one thing: they were not just two separate forces; they were a force of their own. Together.