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The Kiramman mansion loomed as Caitlyn approached its grand doors for the first time in days. The place had always felt too large for her tastes, too empty despite its ornate splendor.
Her fingers trembled slightly as they found the door’s edge. With a soft push, she stepped inside, her boots muffled against the marble floor. The light from the chandeliers above felt harsher than usual, glaring against the pristine surfaces. Caitlyn winced, her head tilting slightly to shield her uncovered eye from the glare.
Her left side felt exposed, vulnerable in a way she hadn’t expected. The eyepatch sat snugly against her face, a persistent pressure she was trying—and failing—to ignore. Every now and then, her brain still tried to see out of the eye that was no longer there, leaving her disoriented. Depth slipped through her grasp like sand, every step feeling as if the floor might shift beneath her.
The familiar grand staircase rose before her, winding upward toward her room. Caitlyn hesitated at the bottom, gripping the bannister tightly. Her body ached, the sharp tug of stitches in her abdomen reminding her of the stab wound she’d barely survived. Each step she took was deliberate, her hand skimming the bannister for balance. Her breaths were shallow, careful not to pull too deeply lest she aggravate the wound.
Halfway up, nausea churned in her stomach. She paused, closing her eye and leaning into the bannister as she swallowed hard. It wasn’t just the pain or the disorientation—it was the exhaustion, the sheer weight of everything that had happened.
Her mind wandered as she climbed, unbidden memories flashing like ghosts in her periphery. The chaos of the battle. The sharp, burning pain of the blade that had pierced her stomach. And afterward, waking up in the hospital, her world narrowed to a single blurred perspective, muffled voices telling her she’d made it out alive. Barely.
When she finally reached the top of the stairs, Caitlyn paused again, her hand clutching the bannister until her knuckles turned white. Her bedroom door stood a few feet away, just as she’d left it. And yet, it felt like crossing a battlefield all over again.
Steeling herself, Caitlyn moved forward, her steps slow and uneven. Her hand reached out for the door handle, her fingers brushing the cool metal as she turned it and pushed the door open.
The scent of polished wood and lavender oil welcomed her, a soothing balm to her frayed nerves. She took a step inside, her gaze sweeping the room until it caught on a familiar figure.
Vi.
She sat at the edge of Caitlyn’s bed, her head bowed, shoulders hunched as though carrying the weight of the world. Her hands were clasped tightly in her lap, her knuckles bruised and raw. The sight of her made Caitlyn’s heart clench, a sharp ache layered atop her existing pain.
The sound of the door drew Vi’s attention instantly. Her head snapped up, her wide, tired eyes locking onto Caitlyn.
“Cait!” Vi’s voice cracked on the word, her shock and relief spilling out in equal measure. She surged to her feet, crossing the room in a few quick strides.
Caitlyn smiled weakly, lifting her arms slightly in invitation. Her vision was still unreliable, and she didn’t trust herself to reach out without misjudging the distance. But she didn’t need to—Vi closed the gap between them and pulled her into a fierce hug.
Caitlyn gasped softly at the pressure, her wounds protesting the contact, but she didn’t pull away. Vi’s arms wrapped around her tightly, her face burying itself in Caitlyn’s shoulder.
“I thought…” Vi started, her voice breaking before she could finish. Her body shuddered, and Caitlyn felt the warmth of silent tears against her neck.
Caitlyn blinked back her own, her hand gently finding its way to Vi’s hair. She stroked it softly, pressing a light kiss to the side of Vi’s head. Her own pain was momentarily eclipsed by the weight of Vi’s grief. She knew what Vi had lost—she’d heard the doctors murmur about Jinx’s death while she drifted in and out of medicated sleep. Caitlyn couldn’t imagine the storm of emotions Vi must be enduring, couldn’t fathom the strength it had taken to even come here.
She tightened her hold as much as her battered body allowed, murmuring softly, “It’s okay, Vi. We’re here.”
When Vi finally pulled back, her face was red, her eyes puffy, but she wore a faint smile, shaky as it was. Her hands found Caitlyn’s, their bruised knuckles brushing against Caitlyn’s trembling fingers. “You shouldn’t be standing,” Vi muttered, her tone soft with concern.
Caitlyn followed Vi’s lead, letting her gently guide her toward the bed. The journey from the hospital had taken more out of her than she cared to admit. Her legs were trembling, her balance precarious, but Vi’s hand was steady, firm. When Caitlyn sank onto the edge of the bed, pain flared in her abdomen, sharp and searing, radiating outward from the stab wound that was still healing. She sucked in a breath but forced herself to smile, not wanting Vi to see how much it hurt.
As Caitlyn settled, her gaze fell on Vi fully for the first time since the battle, and her chest tightened. Bruises painted Vi’s face in mottled purples and blues, her jawline marred by a faint cut that trailed down to her neck. Scratches lined her forearms, some shallow, others deeper and hastily bandaged. Her knuckles were raw and bloodied, the kind of damage Caitlyn knew came from throwing punches that landed harder than fists should.
Her vision blurred for a moment, exhaustion and the strain of her injuries playing tricks on her. She blinked rapidly to clear it, refusing to let herself lose focus. Not now. Not when Vi was here, alive, breathing. The thought of losing her had been unbearable.
Caitlyn swallowed hard, her mind flashing back to the moment she’d heard about the explosion. The reports had been chaotic, full of screams and static, and she’d been too far away to do anything. The last thing she’d seen was the plume of fire rising into the sky, and for one terrible moment, she’d thought Vi was gone.
She’d been rushed into surgery not long after, her body weak from the blood loss, her mind spiraling into dark places she couldn’t escape. Between the haze of anesthesia and pain, the fear remained—the most visceral, bone-deep fear she had ever felt. Losing Vi. Not knowing if she was okay. It had been unbearable, worse than the searing pain of the blade or the realization that her left eye was gone.
Now, seeing Vi here, battered but alive, Caitlyn felt a tear slip down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away, hoping Vi hadn’t noticed.
Vi had.
“Cait…” Vi murmured softly, her voice fragile as her hand hesitated, then found Caitlyn’s.
“How’s it going?” Vi asked after a beat, her words tentative, careful.
Caitlyn hesitated, managing a faint smile. It was strained but genuine in its intent. “I’m... readjusting,” she said quietly, the word carrying more weight than she could put into words. Her hand instinctively brushed against the eyepatch, a tangible reminder of how much had changed.
Vi nodded slowly, her gaze distant, lost in thoughts Caitlyn could only guess at. She exhaled deeply, the sound heavy with grief. “I’m... readjusting too,” she echoed, though her tone was heavier, burdened with emotions that threatened to spill over.
Caitlyn watched her closely, noticing the way Vi’s shoulders sagged slightly, the exhaustion in her posture, and the faint tremor in her hands.
Vi looked ahead, her jaw tightening briefly before she spoke. “When I heard how much blood you’d lost…” Her voice cracked, and she paused, swallowing hard. “Mel told me you sacrificed your eye to stop Ambessa, to end the battle.” She turned her gaze to Caitlyn then, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “I didn’t know if you’d make it. They wouldn’t tell me anything, just that you were in surgery. Over and over again.”
Her hands clenched into fists before she forced them to relax, her knuckles brushing against Caitlyn’s. “It was like I was back there,” Vi said, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Back in Stillwater. That same helpless feeling, waiting for news I wasn’t sure I could handle.”
Caitlyn’s heart ached as Vi continued.
“And Jinx…” Vi’s voice wavered, and she blinked rapidly, a futile attempt to hold back her tears. “She… she saved me” her voice broke, and she exhaled sharply, shaking her head as if trying to clear the fog of guilt and grief. “She didn’t have to do that. She didn’t have to…”
Caitlyn reached for her, her trembling fingers brushing against Vi’s hand before curling around it. “Vi,” she said softly, her voice as steady as she could make it.
Vi looked at her, her eyes glassy but holding onto Caitlyn’s words.
“It wasn’t your fault,” Caitlyn whispered.
Vi’s lips trembled as she nodded, though her expression remained haunted. “I just… I keep thinking about everything I could’ve done differently. Everything I should’ve done differently. And then I think about you, lying in that hospital bed, and I—”
“Vi,” Caitlyn interrupted gently, her hand tightening around Vi’s. “You’re here. I’m here. And that’s what matters right now.”
For a while, neither of them spoke. They simply sat together, the quiet of the room wrapping around them like a fragile cocoon. Vi’s hand rested near Caitlyn’s, close enough to touch but hesitant, her fingers twitching slightly as though unsure if the connection would break the delicate moment. Caitlyn leaned back slightly, just enough to close her eyes and let the warmth of Vi’s presence seep into her.
After a beat, Vi reached out, her fingers brushing Caitlyn’s cheek tentatively before cradling the left side of her face. Her thumb traced just below the edge of the eyepatch, the caress gentle, reverent, as though Caitlyn might break if she pressed too hard. Caitlyn exhaled softly, leaning into Vi’s touch, allowing the tension in her shoulders to ease.
The exhale was mirrored by Vi, a quiet release of a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Her voice trembled when she finally spoke. “Lookin’ good, Cupcake,” she said, her attempt at lightness barely masking the vulnerability beneath.
Caitlyn’s lips curved into a small, breathy chuckle, her hand reaching up to cover Vi’s. She turned her head just slightly, bringing Vi’s bruised knuckles to her lips. Her kiss was soft, lingering, as her tired blue eye met Vi’s. “You’re not bad yourself… Violet,” she teased, the full name slipping out with a gentle, playful tone that softened the edges of the moment.
Vi let out a quiet chuckle, her gaze lingered on Caitlyn. The weight of everything they had endured—and almost lost—crashed over her like a wave. Without thinking, Vi leaned forward, her hand still cupping Caitlyn’s cheek as she pressed a soft, slow kiss to her lips.
The kiss was unhurried but brimming with emotion. Vi poured everything she couldn’t put into words into that moment: the fear of almost losing Caitlyn, the ache of losing everyone else, and the fragile hope that somehow, against all odds, they had this. Caitlyn melted into it, her good hand finding Vi’s arm and holding on, grounding herself in the only solid thing she had left.
They parted briefly, their foreheads resting against each other’s as they shared a few shallow breaths, before Vi kissed her again. And again. Each kiss was a reassurance, a promise, and a release.
Eventually, Caitlyn pulled back gently, her lips brushing Vi’s one last time before she stood, moving with care to her belongings. Her steps were slow, deliberate, as she began tidying her room. Each movement was methodical, punctuated by short pauses as she adjusted to the wave of nausea that came with her unsteady depth perception. The ache in her abdomen flared with every bend and stretch, but Caitlyn pressed on, her pride refusing to let her falter.
Vi remained on the edge of the bed, watching her intently. Every instinct in her screamed to get up and do it for Caitlyn, to spare her the strain, but she held herself back. Caitlyn would never want to feel incapable, not after everything she’d fought for. So Vi sat, her hands gripping the blanket beneath her, ready to spring into action if Caitlyn stumbled or needed her.
Her thoughts drifted as she watched Caitlyn. Jinx’s voice echoed in her mind— “You deserve to be with her.” The memory of her sister’s sacrifice felt like a weight pressing down on her chest. “Oh, Pow… I miss you,” Vi thought, her heart aching as tears threatened to spill again. But then her gaze returned to Caitlyn, to the way she pressed through her discomfort with quiet determination, and Vi made herself focus.
She couldn’t lose Caitlyn. Not after everything.
Slowly, Vi stood and moved toward Caitlyn. She approached cautiously, wrapping her arms lightly around Caitlyn’s waist from behind. Her touch was gentle, mindful of the tender wounds Caitlyn bore.
Caitlyn hummed softly, the sound low and full of appreciation as she leaned back into Vi’s embrace, letting her weight rest against her. The tension in her body eased, and for a moment, the nausea, the pain, and the fear didn’t matter.
Vi rested her chin lightly on Caitlyn’s shoulder, closing her eyes. No words passed between them—none were needed. The silence wasn’t empty; it was full of unspoken promises and quiet understanding. Together, they stood, letting the world outside fade into insignificance, sealing a silent vow of love and care that would carry them through whatever came next.