Chapter Text
The sound of footsteps on the stairs down to the kitchen breaks Vi out of her thoughts. There is no need to look up to know Cait is home, so she refrains. She moves her knife smoothly over the shallots on the cutting board before her, humming out a greeting.
“You’ve been down here every evening this week. Found a new hobby?” Caitlyn smiles warmly at her girlfriend, examining the assortment of vegetables laid out on the table as she walks to her side. She touches her hip to Vi’s, gentle enough not to disturb the shorter woman’s work.
“Yeah, I think so. Needed something to do with my hands while you’re working.” She smirks up at Cait, proud of her own joke.
Cait notices that Vi’s smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes and concern flashes through her own expression. She’s done her best not to push. Vi has barely left the mansion. Walking in to her hovering over some food is a marked improvement to her hovering over a liquor glass. She thinks back to their discussion at the fireplace a few weeks ago and it reassures her just enough. She wants sorely for Vi to join her when she talks to the Council and the enforcers, even if a bit of that want is selfish desire for Vi to see up close that she is trying.
“You work too much, Cupcake.”
Cait’s not surprised that Vi sees right through her, but she’s wrong. If anything, she doesn’t think she’s doing enough. When she had recovered enough, she had immediately started running interference between the Piltovan Council members and Sevika, along with directing the remaining enforcers into helping the repair effort.
“Well, maybe you could go out with me tomorrow,” Cait sighs out. “In fact, there’s something I want to show you.”
She sees Vi’s hesitation in her hands as they hover over her cooking task a beat too long. Vi sets the knife down and turns around, resting her back against the counter. Her voice is quieter when she speaks. “I’m not ready for it all, Cait. I wouldn’t be any help. I don’t want to see the Council.”
‘Or the enforcers. Or Piltover. The way they look at me, like I’m some kind of hero,’ she finishes the statement inside her head and looks down at her feet. The first time she went out after recovering from the battle, she could barely answer the questions that were flung at her. She blinks as Cait’s hand rests on her shoulder.
“You don’t have to go anywhere yet. But what I want to show you is in the Lanes.”
Vi raises an eyebrow, searching Caitlyn’s gaze. She sees only love looking back at her, and she looks away.
“Alright, Cait.”
The walk to the Undercity helps clear Vi’s thoughts, she hesitates to admit, perhaps more than the cooking. She’s surprised by how little damage she sees left on the way down, watching repair crews lounge in the evening cool. She and Cait are shoulder to shoulder, in hooded coats. While she can tell they do get recognized, people seem to take the hint and keep their distance.
When they cross the bridge, it feels like a weight has been lifted off her shoulders. She knows that Zaun is not her home, not anymore. Cait is. But for all her posturing, she hasn’t learned how to feel completely comfortable in Piltover. Not yet. She wonders if she ever will. How big will the scar of the city’s past be, even if they can finish the work of healing?
They wander through the streets of Zaun and Vi lets Cait take the lead. She’s surprised the woman only gets lost once.
Cait nudges Vi gently, steering her toward a staircase. When they start to walk down, Cait’s hand misses the rail and she stumbles. Vi moves without thinking, grabbing her arm to steady her. Wordlessly, she lowers her grip to hold Cait’s hand and they walk together the rest of the way. She knows Cait doesn’t want to acknowledge it. The constant reminders of her sacrifice. The way she sometimes reaches for things and grasps only air. Or bumps against an object in a home she’s lived in for over two decades. Cait’s not ready to talk about it, but she never complains that Vi is a constant presence at her left side whenever they are together now.
Vi’s quiet thoughts of affection, of protection, shatter when she looks up and sees where Cait has taken her.
Murals loom on the wall before them. Tears well in the corners of Vi’s blue-grey eyes as she reaches her free hand out to touch the first, new painting. It’s Isha. Vi’s coat sleeve falls back to uncover her skin as she runs her fingers across the rim of the mining hat and she scolds herself for not wrapping her arms. She feels exposed.
“I don’t want to be here.”
“Wait, Vi. I think you should see--.” Cait’s voice cracks. Her eye shines with tears of her own, vision flickering all over Vi as she panics. “No, no, we can go home. I’m sorry. I was wrong.”
She pulls Vi’s hand back toward the top of the stairs, but the shorter woman doesn’t budge. She looks at Cait warily, dropping her hand and walking further down. Cait hesitates, then follows silently.
A painting of Sevika gazes at Isha, the smile so gentle she almost misses it. Groups of Zaunites stand together bravely, staring down the unseen enemy. The hands of their families rest on their shoulders. Vi’s eyes mist as they trace the living and the dead. It’s a shrine. The colors run together beautifully as they streak across the wall and Vi doesn’t want to look at what she knows comes next.
Seconds that feel like minutes pass before she lifts her gaze to take in the painting of her sister and her father. She prepares herself for the feeling of failure. Of seeing her family, without her. She remembers walking past it every night for weeks in a drunken daze.
When she finally looks up at the painting that had haunted her just months ago, it is Cait’s turn to steady her.
Her sister’s arm is still raised toward the sky, triumphant. Vander’s profile still rises over Jinx’s shoulder. But standing in the line of his gaze, a new piece has been added. This figure’s own raised fist cuts through the other side of the blue circle that enshrines Vander’s face. The fresher colors gleam in the evening light.
Vi’s breath catches in her throat as she stares at the painting of herself.
“Ekko didn’t paint it. I’ve been told it was more of a… communal effort.” Cait’s voice is gentle, cautious.
Vi sags into Caitlyn’s side. Her eyes flash back to her sister, to her father. It’s not right. She doesn’t deserve to be there. She shakes her head, loosening tears that run down her cheeks. “Why would they do that?”
Cait’s gaze rests lovingly on the painting and she squeezes Vi. She speaks softly, picking her words carefully. She’s entering territory she doesn’t have a right to be in, but the need to reassure her partner outweighs that worry. “I think that… your sister is their hero. Your father is their father.”
She pauses, chewing her lip as the thought further cements itself within her. “I think that you, Violet… you are their heart.”
You’ve got a good heart. Don’t ever lose it.
Despite it all, I can tell… You have a good heart.
Vi lowers herself down to sit against the railing and Cait follows her. Their hoods fall back as they look up at the paintings. Caitlyn lifts a hand to Vi’s cheek, wiping away tears. Vi leans into the touch, letting out a breath she feels like she’s been holding in forever.
When they finally begin to walk back up the stairs, someone is descending. Vi watches as the Zaunite child’s eyes drift from her face to the painting behind her. She sees recognition click in that curious little gaze and she steels herself for the questions she’s not prepared to answer.
They never come.
Her eyes widen as a tiny hand caresses her arm. The child smiles up at her, then dips her head against Vi in a half-hug before skipping down the staircase and into the streets of Zaun.