Work Text:
She stops responding to Vi.
Every time she hears the name the voice fades into her sister screaming. One of the fancy doctors who come to examine her call it a trauma response. He says things like time and tries to hand her a bottle of white pills which she checks into the fireplace. It floods the room with acidic smoke that sets off one of the fancy alarms hidden everywhere. She can’t believe they were going to make her swallow those.
Pilties can be so fucking weird.
Everyone around her calls her Violet seamlessly. Thankfully they drop the ‘Miss’ just as quickly as the ‘Vi’. She’s not sure who she is anymore but ‘Miss Violet’ sounds like a cartoon character. Like one of the fancy ladies that come by in the first few days with armfuls of flowers and wish Caitlyn—and only Caitlyn—a speedy recovery. She hears one of them talk about how brave she is to have fought so many monsters.
She doesn’t listen after that.
When you stop using a muscle it atrophies. She blows out some part of her throat on that ledge. The less fancy doctors who triage her say she shouldn’t try to talk. She doesn’t. She has nothing to say. She knows if she opens her mouth she’s going to tell them—no beg them—to take her back to the ledge. To let her go the same way they went. Her entire life has been about getting back her family. She came so fucking close. All she had to do was fall with them and she couldn’t even manage that.
“Good morning, Violet.”
Caitlyn’s voice is soft when it pulls her. Everything, every fucking thing she’s willing to do, Caitlyn gets done. It makes her head spin. Care has always been a matter of money and resources. Usually when there are none. But Caitlyn doesn’t care. She would think it was because of money, but then she remembers this is the same woman who traded her one weapon for a potion to save her life. The money helps but she’s pretty sure this is just Caitlyn.
Caitlyn’s a shadow in her peripheral for a long time. She’s so patient, so anticipatory, she can see why she’s a sniper. Caitlyn brings doctors to the house to examine whatever part of her she’ll allow. None of them push her to do anything. If they aren’t there one day, they are back the next and the day after. Until she pulls her shit together enough to let them poke at her shoulder or press a ball into her mangled fingers to build strength.
She doesn’t know what that strength is for.
She doesn’t know what’s changed today. But when Caitlyn greets her in the morning she manages to look up. Surprise makes Caitlyn’s eyes go wide. Or the eye she can see anyway. The corners her lips curl up but one looks normal. The other doesn’t go up as far. Before she can stop herself she’s on her feet. Caitlyn’s smile falls as she quickly steps forward as though to help and then stops herself. When she thinks about it, she can’t remember the last time anyone who wasn’t a doctor touched her.
“You’re hurt,” she blurts out.
Caitlyn’s stares at her in shock. Tears flood the eye she can see. Quickly Caitlyn turns around and mumbles something to herself. Some instruction she’s been given by one of the fancy doctors. They hover around here enough, though she never bothers with what they do when she ignores them long enough to get them to leave.
“Yes,” Caitlyn says, plastering on a fake ass smile, “but I’m better now.”
“Liar,” she says and it really does fucking hurt to talk, “your eye.”
“Gone,” Caitlyn says simply. Like she didn’t loose a fucking eye. How long did that take? It occurs to her that she has no idea what day it is. How long has it been since they fell? “I’m fine,” she says, “really. Would you like some tea?”
When she first dragged Caitlyn home and tea was produced, she had no idea it was the solution to everything to the Kirammans. It appears after every doctors appointment, every nightmare. She can barely go to the bathroom without someone shoving a cup under her nose.
She likes the dark ones the best. Even though sometimes they make her feel like crying. They smell like a fancier version of what Vander would drink on late nights. Fancier and stronger. Strong enough to make her shove her nose in the cup and inhale. Maybe if she breathes in hard enough she can will him back.
The cup Caitlyn shoves at her isn’t that. It’s sharper and green. Caitlyn stares at her so she takes a sip. It’s familiar but she can’t place how. Caitlyn must have given it to her before. There’s something sweet in it that feels so good on her throat. She could care less about the taste when it seems to coat her throat like that.
“Thanks,” she tries out and the word sounds something like her. Caitlyn inclines her head and lets out a shaky breath, “how long?”
“Four months,” Caitlyn says.
It’s been four months. She went seven years without seeing her sister. Seven fucking years. But she had hope. There was a chance. It’s been four months and she will never see her again. Her stomach churns at the thought. Caitlyn is immediately there, one hand reaching for the fancy ottoman in front of her. Like she has no idea where it is even though this is her fucking house.
“Was there—a memorial?” She asks. Did she miss it?
“A public one,” Caitlyn says, “for the fallen. We thought we could do something for them when you’re ready.”
Of course they weren’t included. Jinx helped but they didn’t save the world. And that thing that used to be Vander didn’t save anyone. But Jinx saved her. She sacrificed herself so she could live. She knows that counts for nothing compared to all the heroes out there, but the unfairness of it makes her chest twist. Caitlyn’s hand hovers for a moment before it settles on her shoulder.
“Ekko took what he could find back,” Caitlyn continues, “he said to let him know when you were ready.”
She’s never going to be ready.
They are already on the wall. She is too. All five of them clustered together like it should be. But now they are gone and she is sitting here still breathing. Unable to even die right. She thought she was used to loneliness. She thought she even knew what it was to be hopeless. All of those were just light versions of the yawning hole in her chest. The only grounding thing is Caitlyn’s hand on her shoulder.
Caitlyn is still here.
She reaches out and Caitlyn immediately covers her hand, bringing it to her cheek. Caitlyn’s skin is smooth and warm and wet. Caintlyn’s been crying. She forces herself to take in the shadow under her eyes, the hollowness of her cheek. Caitlyn’s been worried and not taking care of herself. She wonders if it’s been worry about her. Given how relieved she looks, she thinks it might have been.
“Sorry,” she says.
“Don’t apologize,” Caitlyn says, “for anything. Violet I’m so sorry.”
The words burn but she’s not a coward. Not in this moment. She cups the back of Caitlyn’s neck. Caitlyn leans forward and she tries to be gentle when she rests her forehead against hers. Caitlyn leans into the touch and lets out a shuddering breath.
She was going to roll. Sister’s sacrifice be damned. She was.
But Caitlyn.
Caitlyn.
“I couldn’t—“ she forces out.
“I know,” Caitlyn says, “Vi—“
The name slips out and burns across her skin. But it’s not her sister screaming it. It’s Caitlyn. Screaming and begging her to take her hand. To come back to her. To please, please come back. It would be so easy to roll over and fall. But she’s never done anything easy. So she lurches to her feet and staggers towards the sound of Caitlyn screaming. Their hands lock and Caitlyn pulls her back with a pained yell, right before the metal gives.
Now she’s in Caitlyn’s arms and she doesn’t know how she’s supposed to reconcile that with wanting so badly to fall.
“It hurts,” she forces out and Caitlyn makes a pained sound.
“I know,” she says. She does, “I know. It won’t always feel like this.”
Caitlyn’s fingers dig into the base of her neck. When she matches Caitlyn’s next exhale, she realizes how tight they are. It’s several breaths before she can relax them at all. Four months. Four months and a lifetime more. She tells herself it’s another impossibly big goon. All she has to do is set her jaw and drive through. But driving through has always been for a purpose. If she’s strong enough, hits hard enough, she can get back to her family.
But Caitlyn holds her there.
And she lets her.
She talks more, though not a lot. Most days she meets Caitlyn for all the meals. Some days they exist on tea and flat gold biscuits. One day the biscuits have chocolate on them. It’s creamier than any chocolate Vi has every tasted. She eats because if she doesn’t, they will get her nutrients through bags and tubes. But the chocolate explodes on her tongue and she reaches for another without thinking.
“You’ve been holding out on me, Cupcake,” she says at Catilyn’s surprised face.
“I have not!” Caitlyn objects, “I didn’t know you liked them.”
It’s the most normal she’s felt in months. She can’t say she belongs here, but it feels damn close with Caitlyn looking indignant over her manners. The thought of doing something just to make her blush more crosses her mind. And for a moment, everything seems alright. Her mind doesn’t drag to the ledge immediately. To her sister staring up at her as she knocks out the gem. As she falls.
Caitlyn’s thumb against her lip rips her attention back to the present.
Their contact has been more frequent. To the point where stretches without brushing against Caitlyn’s hands or shoulders make her fingers twitch. But there’s been no contact like this. It catches her off guard and it seems to do the same with Caitlyn. Her eyes widen in surprise but when Caitlyn goes to pull he hand back, she catches her wrist and holds her hand there. Caitlyn doesn’t pull back.
She brushes her lips against Caitlyn’s hand.
Caitlyn lets out a shuddering breath that stirs something in her. She tastes the chocolate from her lip that decorates Caitlyn’s thumb. Caitlyn’s fingers curl against her cheek, blunt nails against her skin. She remembers them digging into her back, clutching at her hair, clutching at her hand and screaming not to let go. To stay, stay with her. The screaming echoing in her ears makes her try to turn away but Caitlyn is suddenly on the same chair, her other hand on her cheek.
“I keep hearing them,” she confesses, “I keep hearing you,” Caitlyn’s thumbs brush over her cheekbones, “I keep choosing--“ she forces her eyes open to look at Caitlyn, “it’s always you.”
She doesn’t understand. All she ever wanted fell down that shaft. And every time, every time she thinks of Caitlyn. Thinks of all the blue haired soldiers she pulled off the field who made her heart seize. The ones who weren’t her but could have been. She thinks of how it would feel for Caitlyn to find her body at the bottom of the shaft. She thinks of the scream that always catches in her throat when Powder says she’s gone. She fell down a well.
So she lets the scream out and stays on the ledge.
“I don’t want to fall.”
“I won’t let you,” Caitlyn swears, her fingers sliding around her ears, cupping the back of her skull, “I won’t,” she says in the voice that moves mountains, “stay with me.”
She nods against Caitlyn’s forehead. She is trying. Gods is she trying. Caitlyn is asking her to fight. Her partner is asking her to fight. Her will feels as atrophied as her muscles but she shoves at it with everything she can. She focuses on Caitlyn. Not the screaming one who pulls her back. The one in front of her who has their foreheads pressed together so tightly she can feel the strap of her eyepatch digging into her skin. Who has given her the one thing she’s never had. A soft landing.
She tastes tears on Caitlyn’s lips when she crushes their mouths together. Caitlyn gasps around her lips and she pulls the same breath into her lungs. It feels like the first breath she’s taken since the ledge. Maybe since the last time she kissed her. Caitlyn tries to follow but it’s only a moment before her lips turn greedy against hers. Something in her sings at Caitlyn doing something for herself after months.
“Here,” she mutters into her skin.
“Yes,” Caitlyn breathes.
Her fingers hesitate at the patch straps. Caitlyn presses her fingers to it in silent permission, her other eye still closed. She guides it off carefully. There’s no eye left. Gold lines fan out around the skin. She brushes a finger against them and Caitlyn’s breath catches, her hips jerking. Silco’s mismatched eyes flutter though the back of her mind and she shoves the thought away. Instead she brushes her lips against the gold on Caitlyn’s skin.
“Vi,” Caitlyn moans her nickname into her ear and the thaw in her chest burns hotter.
“Again,” she whispers against Caitlyn’s neck, half plea half demand.
“Vi,” she repeats, “Vi, please.”
It feels like coming home. When Caitlyn’s under her like this, everything ceases to exist. Her world narrows until the only thing in it is the woman in front of her. Or underneath her. Nothing else matters. Only Caitlyn. It caries like a current. Like a promise. Everything has changed so much. She has changed. But that feeling still lives in her chest. Buried, frozen, but it is there. Caitlyn drags it to the surface with every sweep of her fingers and gasp of her name. She doesn’t know what this is, if this is love. If this has a name.
She just knows right now it’s the only thing that makes sense.
Later she inspects the new marks that litter Caitlyn’s body. The narrow line on her gut is the one that stands out. The others are mostly surgical but this one, this one is from a lethal shot. Someone wanted her to die slowly and painfully. Caitlyn has her own ledge. They all do. Caitlyn meets her questioning look as she thumbs the scar.
“This before or after the eye?”
“Before,” Caitlyn says, “the eye was a—a calculated move.”
“It’s your fucking eye,” she points out. There’s a note of pride in Caitlyn’s voice. The kind of pride that comes with winning a battle, “that’s pretty badass, Cupcake,” she says.
“I have a prosthetic,” Caitlyn says. She is still focusing on the gut wound, “if this makes you uncomfortable—“
“Why would it do that?” Caitlyn shrugs, “who said it makes them uncomfortable,” she asks, looking around as though the offending party might be in the room with them.
“No-one,” Caitlyn assures her, pushing her fingers through her hair, “but you—“
“I don’t care,” she says. Caitlyn tilts her head, “I don’t fucking care,” she repeats, emphasizing the words like she did in the cell. She touches the gold lines, “what about these?”
“I needed to find you,” Caitlyn says. Like that makes sense. She blows out a breath and pushes herself up to her elbow, “I had Mel stop the bleeding.”
When Caitlyn parts her eyelid the socket is laced with gold. She vaguely remembers the gold dressed counselor. Now with a lot more gold on her. She was there on the ledge. There during the fight. Gold light spills from her hands into a thousand different shapes. Caitlyn had her put that light in her eye. All so she could get to her. Caitlyn’s gives her a puzzled look. It’s been so long since she smiled but she feels her lips tug.
“So you went from one tiny leg scar to getting your wounds magically cauterized to find me?” She says.
Even though she’s naked under her, now Caitlyn goes cherry red.
“Oh—“ Caitlyn starts.
“That’s hot, Cupcake,” she cuts in.
Caitlyn looks up at her and the burning thaw is back. It’s hot and it’s humbling. She’s spent her whole life chasing. Begging. Desperate for the ghosts to stay so things can go back to when they made sense. But everything keeps falling away. Except, except Caitlyn. Caitlyn shoves gold in her wounds and charges up stairs when she shouldn’t be walking. She’s seen Caitlyn climb. She sucked at it when she had two eyes. Several times she stopped and went pale at the manageable height. But none of that stopped her. She didn’t even know she was alive and Caitlyn did all of that on the chance she might be.
“I think I was waiting for you,” she tries. Caitlyn drags her fingers through her hair. It feels nice, “no I was, I kept thinking of you finding me.”
“Thank you for waiting,” Caitlyn says.
She thinks of the months it’s been. Of Caitlyn’s endless patience. Pulling her back time and time again. She thinks of the cell and Caitlyn’s smile. Not all the guards were needed back then but Caitlyn sent them away. For her. She’s always been the one to fight. It’s who she is. But for the first time it feels like she hasn’t been fighting alone. Like if her strength fails, the entire world isn’t going to fall away.
For the first time, there’s someone to pick up the slack in the way she needs.
“Can you get a message Ekko later?” She asks. Caitlyn’s fingers pause.
“Yes,” Caitlyn says, “it’s alright if you’re not ready.“
“I’m never going to be ready,” she admits, “but I need to,” she looks up at Caitlyn’s eye, “will you come with me?”
She knows it’s an ask. Despite the fragile whatever between them, Caitlyn spent so much time hunting her. But Jinx’s words echo in her ears. Be happy. Don’t worry about me. Even with everything her mind she saw that clearly. Salt stings her eyes. Even as she turns into Caitlyn’s skin and tries to ground herself, the gentle words echo in her head.
Caitlyn’s warm pulls away momentarily. Only Caitlyn’s hand on her head keeps her from protesting. Then Caitlyn is behind her, folding herself around her. She’s safe and warm and home. Caitlyn slots their bodies together until there’s no space between them, even as she curls up. Caitlyn follows and bands her arms around her.
“Of course I’ll be with you,” she swears, “stay here with me, Vi.”
So she folds her arms over Caitlyns and laces their fingers together.
And again she chooses to stay.