Work Text:
Caitlyn’s fingers worked with the disinfectant in her hand, moving against the wound lining Vi’s abdomen. She wanted to do more, say more, make things right, but…
She’d left her.
Crying, on cold stone. Those wails would never leave her mind, working their way into her nightmares each evening. It had to be done. At least, at the time, she thought it did. More and more, she’d been doubting it all, this thread of choices leading to what she’d become, and what became of Vi.
That was on her. She’d pressured her into being an enforcer, betraying the moral ground they met on, prisoner to enforcer. She’d joined Ambessa, become everything she’d sworn against. Vi, strong, handsome, Vi, who betrayed everything to support her. And for what? For nothing, clearly, as her black hair indicated. Those calloused hands of hers, new scars formed all over.
Caitlyn wasn’t sure what she’d been up to, in their time apart, but it wasn’t anything good, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to ask. A question would warrant a return of the favour, and she wasn’t sure she could handle that.
That’s why, now, in the cool tiled bathroom off her bedroom, she averted Vi’s gaze, avoided speaking, focusing only on the task before her.
Her hands wrapped clean bandages around the cut, around her chiselled abs. It wasn’t too deep to be dangerous, but it couldn’t be left alone. If she stopped for more than a few seconds, bending to get more disinfectant, it’d start oozing thick, red blood again.
She wasn’t sure if Vi noticed her avoidance of speech, or felt equally strange about this and was staying quiet on her own accord. After all, they hadn’t exactly…
This was all unexpected, to say the least. Both of them in the same place, at the same time, with the same goal - sort of. Neutralise the beast. Save her dad. Vi’s father. Vander.
Caitlyn still wasn’t sure how to process this all, how to know where they stood with one another. The last time they’d spoken, she’d-
Well, she-
No, it wouldn’t be good to think about that.
The wound was bandaged, and she stood up. Looked at the floor. Avoided the gaze of the only woman in the world who’d take one look into her eyes and see the truth of it all.
“I’ve cleaned and dressed it,” She started, keeping her tone pointedly neutral, wanting to avoid any emotional association with her voice, “I know it’s not ideal, but you should clean the rest of you up and rest. The Noxians won’t get back here for a while, we- you can let your stomach close up a little. It’s not good to move around.”
Vi’s face twisted, her eyes projecting something Caitlyn couldn’t quite read. “So they’re Noxians now that you’re done with them, huh?” Her voice was bitter, laced with venom, daring her to respond, to fight back.
She wanted to retort back, defend herself a little. But how could she? Vi was so clearly hurting, way outside the scope of her stomach. She lost her father again, that creature that defied the laws of anything Caitlyn had the scope to see or read about in her life. Not to mention she wasn’t exactly wrong. No, she couldn’t fight back against this woman, who still came back to Piltover with her after she’d left her in Zaun months before. Who trusted her to help her plans with Jinx, after everything.
Defeat laced her voice, as her eyes stayed trained on the floor and she responded, “I guess.”
Vi seemed a little taken aback by that, clearly expecting a retort of some kind. She hesitated, eyes squinting at Caitlyn a little. She suspected Vi was probably reading her mind right now, deducing her thought process, or something. She was brilliant like that, really. Knowing exactly what she wasn’t saying.
She opened her mouth to speak again, and Caitlyn’s stomach churned, “Towels are over there, you can take clothes from over there,” She pointed and turned, walking out before the other had time to say anything else.
—
Vi was in her bed now, gazing absently around the room, not really taking anything in. Probably stuck in her own head. There was enough for her to think about, having gained and lost everything in the past few hours of her life.
Her bed.
Maybe a few months ago, it would’ve meant something. Like the last time they lay together, Vi talking about Powder, not Jinx, before she became the focal point of Caitlyn’s own life. She remembered how her red hair fell into her face, the feeling of her cheek against her palm, her eyes closing, allowing vulnerability.
No, she couldn’t afford to think like that. She had messed up, and that was that.
They were done. And yet, here they were again, in her room. Vi let her take her back to Piltover, her room, something she shouldn’t have, by all logical accounts. They hadn’t spoken for months, then saw each other again all at once. Caitlyn couldn’t wrap her mind around that, still, the chance of it all.
“Vi?” She knew she sounded weird, she could hear it in her voice. That frustrated her, somehow. She wished her voice didn’t betray her, like her expressions so often did.
“Mm?” The pinkhead hummed, turning her head towards Caitlyn, who was perched on the end of the bed like some kind of flighty bird.
They made eye contact for a second, before she abruptly stood up, nervous, “You should get some rest. Your stomach…,” She gestured lamely at Vi’s abdomen, not really making sense. Vi looked at her blankly, clearly not getting it either. Honestly, she wasn’t sure what she was trying to say, just anything that would keep her here for the night.
At first, Caitlyn thought that she’d patch Vi up, with very bedrudging agreement, only for her to storm right back out and into Zaun. She stayed through that, though. Then, she thought she’d scoff at the idea of taking a shower, cleaning the oil slicked black out of her hair, and dirty her room. She didn’t, again, instead washing it all out and lying in her bed clean as a whistle. Finally, she thought Vi would refuse to lie in her bed altogether, making a snide comment and leaving her for good. She’d deserve it honestly, she wouldn’t be hurt. Or, she wouldn’t think about the hurt.
She didn’t, though. None of this made much sense to her, it felt like a puzzle gone wrong. Nothing could be predicted anymore, between the two of them. It was uncharted waters, and it terrified her.
“Caitlyn?” Vi’s voice sounded timid, and awfully tired.
“Yes?” She wouldn’t look over, and see those tired eyes she knew were looking at her. She couldn’t.
“You can stay here, you know? In the bed. I don’t mind.” It sounded like a confession, a secret hidden under the words she didn’t want to get out.
Caitlyn paused again, timidly keeping her eyes glued to the floor.
“… Really?” She shouldn’t be letting her do that, after what she’d done. The couch in her room was comfortable enough, and a respectable distance away from her bed to not be weird for them. She didn’t expect Vi to be here at all, and honestly, it already felt like she was testing her luck just having her in the room at all. You shouldn’t be able to mess up as royally as Caitlyn did, and still get to see the person she’d affected the most. At least, that’s how she felt about it. Maybe Vi didn’t think the same.
Weird, though. A few months ago, this wouldn’t have been an issue at all.
She turned her head upwards, looking at Vi fully, “Okay,” And got into bed.
—
Caitlyn couldn’t sleep.
Vi had nodded off an hour or two ago, softly snoring beside her. When she was asleep, the pain on her face was lost to the shock of waking, leaving her face peaceful as she rested. It was nice, to see her like that. Lately, even her neutral face seemed stressed. Not that she would know what she looked like lately.
She hoped she was dreaming of something pleasant. Her dad, her family… even her sister. Really, Vi deserved that much. Too much had happened to her - too much was still happening - for her to deserve anything else but a restful, happy sleep. She wondered if she’d be in her dreams.
Turning back to herself, Caitlyn moved the sheets slowly, not trying to disturb the other. The sheets fell around her as she slunk to the end of the bed, curling up into a ball, staring around her room - or rather - at nothing at all. She needed to breathe.
While Vi had been sleeping, she’d been thinking. About everything. About nothing. About her mom, who she loved so much. About her murderer, who she despised more than she felt a will to breathe, to eat, to move. Often, she felt that without that hatred burning inside her, she’d cease to exist at all, which led her to wonder how she functioned without that in her life, before it all. The hatred kept her going, though, she wasn’t sure she felt like that anymore, and there lay the problem.
Months upon months of ruthless investigations, false leads, arrests, harsh laws, and for what?
Where had any of this gotten her, really?
She looked to her left. A corkboard covered in her leads was up, as it had been for months, Jinx’s wanted poster pinned right in the middle. Strings dotted around it, dotting seemingly random papers together, connecting it all. Her motivation to keep going, to remember what everything she was doing with the city was for.
On her right, she gazed down at Vi. Beautiful, brilliant Vi, who despite her temper was the calmest person she’d known. The kindest woman in all of Piltover and Zaun too, in her eyes. And she’d forgiven Jinx, she saw it in her face when they embraced with their father. No more animosity left to give, just… hurt, and love. Maybe that was just family, Caitlyn couldn’t know what that felt like anymore.
Jinx. Vi.
Jinx.
Vi.
It felt like a cruel trick being played on her, the existence of these sisters. Yet one brought her such calm.
Her mother probably hated her, what she’d become.
Using her methods of helping Zaun to hurt them. Reckless endangerment of children. Martial law. Practically being in charge of an entire city with only a warlord in her ear, egging her on. Countless other choices upon choices that stacked up and tilted the scales of these cities in nothing but her own favour. What was all of it worth? Who was Caitlyn Kiramman, anymore?
A tear fell on her hand. She hadn’t even realised she’d been crying.
Her mother, disappointed in her…
Caitlyn gave in to her tears.
—
“Caitlyn?” A half asleep, oddly timid voice whispered from behind her. Vi had woken up, and she hadn’t even realised, in her sorrows. Very unlike her. She’d been sobbing softly into her arms for what felt like hours now, never ending sadness pouring out from her chest, held in since the very day her mother died.
Embarrassment washed over her. She really hadn’t wanted to wake her up. Her presence here made her feel so safe, but she wasn’t meant to actually see this. Not when they were… how they were. Swiping her sleeve haphazardly against her face, she sniffed, “Sorry, just go back to sleep. You need to rest.” She tried to sound reassuring, but her voice was thick with tears, she could hear it. There was no way she could put this burden onto Vi, who barely stayed the night. Yet, she already had.
Vi‘s brows furrowed slightly as she sat up, summing up the situation, “Cait? You okay?” She seemed to already know otherwise, but wasn’t sure what else to say. Even when the funeral happened, she hadn’t cried like this. It’d felt weak then, but now…
Cait. She didn’t deserve this, not one bit.
The tears started up again, morphing into full sobs.
Vi, who probably hated her guts, but let Caitlyn help her and dress her wounds and slept in her bed and called her Cait and-
She opened her arms, signalling for Caitlyn to enter, to lie with her in an embrace.
Nothing else mattered, really.
She entered it, Vi’s arms wrapping reflexively around her, holding them against each other. She was so warm, from being under the sheets. Like a sturdy pillar, she held her above the ocean of her mind she was drowning in.
“You’re cold, Cait.” The whisper hit her ears, followed by a hand in her hair, combing through and stroking softly. She wanted to reply, say anything, but all that came out was a small wail. It felt pathetic, she felt pathetic, but she’d given up on fighting it. Maybe she’d given up on fighting at all.
“Vi,” She choked out, voice wracked with sobs. She wanted to tell Vi that she was sorry, that she didn’t know what she was thinking. Or she did, and she got lost in revenge, or her mind, or her sorrows. None of it came out, but the other seemed to get it, nonetheless. Her hands continued combing through her hair, arms holding her tight, and she whispered her name every now and again, grounding her.
She’d have to apologise verbally eventually, she knew, to explain herself in a way that explained why she pushed her away, and sealed herself in a cavern of nothing but her anger.
Not tonight, though.
They lay like that, until Caitlyn exhausted all tears, passing out in exhaustion. Vi followed soon after.