Work Text:
First came denial.
Enforcers rushed into the scene, amidst the rubble and ash. Half the council pronounced dead upon arrival.
Part of Caitlyn already knew her mother was gone even before the shot landed.
Through everything, that was the one thing she didn’t want to believe. Through crawling back topside despite every injury, pushing her way through what remained of the council chambers, she kept telling herself it wasn’t real, it couldn’t possibly be real.
Her mother couldn’t be dead.
A heavy, almost sickening weight settled down onto her chest as her hope dwindled, then completely died out. A scream so horrifying ripped through her own throat before she’d even realized it.
It was real.
The days that followed after the attack came as a blur, carrying herself without so much realization as to what was really going on. A state of fragility, and really, it was only a matter of time until she broke.
Even now, being face to face with her mother’s corpse felt unreal. Like this was all some sort of sick nightmare she’d soon wake up from. But that was a foolish, naïve dream. Something akin to the kind of daydream she’d have were she still the same clueless girl who yearned for something more than the sheltered life she’d been given.
How she found herself eating those words now.
Her mother’s casket was open, laid peacefully to rest surrounded by a multitude of beautiful purples. A councilor, wife, a mother gone too soon.
And yet all she could do was stand. Apathy painted her expression as she observed the corpse, the weight of the world looming over her shoulders. Nothing allowed to slip through the cracks at that moment.
She couldn’t lose her composure. Not here.
Caitlyn turned away. There would be no tears shed.
Depression followed next.
Days spent locked in her bedroom; the only acknowledgement of what time passed was Vi’s presence when she would visit. The slightest beacon of hope for Caitlyn, and how she clung to it oh so desperately.
Was she even allowed to cling to that beacon, when she’d so carelessly asked about Vi’s parents; learning the truth about them being killed by enforcers? Caitlyn had empathy, sure, but she’d never dreamed of having to experience such a horrific event herself. Her family was wealthy, healthcare was easily accessible for the Kirammans, the thought of something so tragic happening to her own family was just a passing thought most days.
And yet it still happened. Death was inevitable, and it struck her family early.
Guilt clung to her mind stubbornly, inducing another wave of sickness to course through her body— spiraling from the weight of the world. Yet through it all Vi was right there at her side, holding her, presence grounding enough to pull her out of her panicked state. Vi was always there, telling her to breathe, helping to pick herself back up when nobody else dared to.
Still, Caitlyn didn’t voice any of the concerns plaguing her mind to Vi, or to anyone for that matter. In those rare moments of alone time the guilt, the regret, everything that’d been bottled up would spill out like an uncontrollable tidal wave, drowning her in its ocean waves, until she’d inevitably run out of tears, leaving her to once again swallow her words, spending yet another day rotting in bed without so much of a thought of picking herself up.
The cycle would repeat.
But there was only so much time that could be spent wallowed in her own pity; for the city of Piltover was at war. And who was she, if not one to stand up for the people who were suffering from loss, just like her?
So Caitlyn stood, despite everything.
After all, she’d witnessed the attack that had taken the lives of so many first hand. And she’d been powerless to stop it— having fumbled her one chance at taking down that deranged individual.
Anger was soon to set in upon this realization.
Jinx.
An acknowledgement finally coming to light in her mind. Deep down she knew this was preventable, that the blood was on her own hands, but she couldn’t acknowledge it, let those thoughts come to life, rather trying so, so hard to bury them within the darkest depths of herself.
In the end, any efforts of suppression were futile. It was only a matter of time until skeletons were inevitably due to come out of the closet.
Caitlyn had the shot, could’ve prevented all of this tragedy before it even began. Lives could have been saved, the war could’ve been stopped before it truly had a chance to flourish. Yet she fumbled, she was weak, too weak— had she not let it happen right in front of her eyes? Perhaps her mother was right in trying to keep that girl sheltered, and look what happened for attempting to be something bigger than she really was.
No. None of that was right.
Caitlyn wouldn’t let those thoughts consume her, not when she could still manage to do right. This time, she wouldn’t fail, she’d prove it to herself, to her mother, to the council, to the city, to anybody who dared underestimate her.
It didn’t matter what or who was at stake, so long as she got the job done. It didn’t matter the consequences of her actions, so long as the job was completed by her own hand. She’d been against weaponizing Hextech, yet that could be the key to taking down Jinx once and for all. An advantage Caitlyn needed to give herself.
She wouldn’t fuck this up— not when that’d already cost her mother’s life. A second chance she was not deserving of, yet she still gave herself.
Taking down Jinx would be her saving grace. There was no point in dwelling on the past; not when there was a job to be done.
The irony of it was that so much of her upbringing had been spent protesting the mere idea of following in her mother’s footsteps to carry on the Kiramman name. And yet, here she stood. There was nothing else to do but accept the role she’d been trying to avoid all her life. But she’d do things her own way.
This time, Caitlyn wouldn’t miss the shot. No matter what.
Finally; acceptance.
Things had changed, and so had she.