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At first it was a proposal.
Not thaaaat kind.
Not yet. That one was incoming. Caitlyn was awaiting the delivery of a ring from a master jeweller in Ionia, a custom platinum band with diamonds owned by her family for generations. After the most wonderful year and a half with Vi, she plans to pop the question next month during what was becoming an annual winter getaway to a family cabin in the woods.
No, this was a different proposal, one that had initially intrigued her enough to at least listen to it and, then interested, dip her toe into the waters.
Or, more accurately, her left eye.
A few weeks of talks had, quickly, developed into weeks and weeks of tests, exams and questionnaires. On paper - and Caitlyn had been given a lot of paper to read and fill in - it seemed like a remarkable idea, a potentially revolutionary surgery that would see Caitlyn as one of the first to experience hextech integrated into the medical world in such a manner. She could have not just a functional eye once more, a perfect artificial match for her other, but an eye that could possibly be the base for further development and enhancements, a dream scenario for a markswomen like herself.
It sounded very exciting, it was easy for her to be swept away by it all.
Though…
Seemed like.
Potentially.
Could.
Possibly.
Scenario.
Those words now scream at her as she sits in a hospital bed in a gaudy gown and long compression socks. Her stomach is angry at her having not eaten anything in over fourteen hours.
A nurse is attaching electrodes to her chest.
Vi sits at her bedside, her stomach no doubt also protesting. She had insisted on also being nil-by-mouth in solidarity because, of course, Vi would do something like that, she knows Caitlyn enough to know Caitlyn is scared as fuck about a surgery. That’s why Vi is rambling about…something, anything, everything in an attempt to distract.
Caitlyn hasn’t heard a word since they started prepping her.
Prepping her for something so experimental, she’d been told that it might be the first of multiple procedures, that it might not even take at all.
‘At least you won’t need to hide behind that any longer.’
That statement was uttered to her only two days ago by her surgeon. She’d immediately exchanged looks with Vi after hearing it, wanting to ensure she’d heard correctly. Hide . Her milky left eye. That . An eyepatch that she now only adorned outside of home, one that she’d actually grown somewhat fond of.
Vi had definitely caught the same undertones of the statement, her hand instinctively balling into a fist before Caitlyn rested a hand on her thigh.
Yes, they had both heard that.
In a way, she was glad he had said it.
Hextech was marvelous, capable of great things and constantly being applied in bigger and better ways. Science and medicine, two important fields, were constantly collaborating into making life better and more manageable. Her surgery may well be revolutionary and, if so, she’d be an unnamed patient in a case study studied for years and years.
May .
If .
She’d gone home and spent the whole evening reading and rereading everything, eventually falling asleep, waking some time later in Vi’s arms as she’d carried her to bed.
Vi knew.
She wasn’t going to say anything because she also knew that Caitlyn knew that she knew. All she asked the following morning, surgery eve, was a vague, non-specific, ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Nervous.’
‘Yeah?’
‘It's...overwhelming.’
‘You can change your mind, it’s not too late.’
Except Caitlyn had shrugged it off then, continuing on with the day and fasting from the evening onwards in preparation for surgery, a surgery that would permanently remove that milky white eye in her left socket. They arrived at the hospital early as instructed, Vi carrying the overnight stay bag with one hand and holding Caitlyn’s hand with her other.
Check-in, change into gown, more paperwork.
She met with her anaesthesiologist, who asked more questions and listened to her chest.
Caitlyn didn’t need a stethoscope, she could literally hear her own heart racing.
Then it was more waiting before she was here, being prepped with time ticking.
‘You’ll just feel a little pinch, Miss Kiramman.’
Caitlyn nearly breaks Vi’s hand with how tightly she grips it as a cannula is inserted and secured.
‘Perfect,’ the nurse smiles. ‘Your anesthesiologist will be with you shortly to take you into surgery.’
The clock on the wall is so loud, there’s so little time left.
Caitlyn wants to rip her cannula right back out. ‘Vi.’
‘Yes babe?’
‘I don’t want to do this.’
‘The surgery?’ Vi asks, though she absolutely knows.
‘I don’t want it.’
‘Then don’t get it.’
‘Do I still have that option?’
‘Until you’re on that table, unconscious, I’m pretty sure you do,’ is Vi’s unflinching response. ‘Even then, if I knew you didn’t then I’d rescue you.’
It’s a joke but it’s not. ‘Rescue me now.’
‘If you’re absolutely sure--.’
‘Absolutely.’
Vi stands and reaches for Caitlyn’s arm. She rips through the hospital bracelet with her teeth. ‘That…’ she wags a finger at the cannula. ‘I ain’t touching that though. I’ll go get someone.’
The nurse was understanding.
The surgeon was frustrated, with meagre efforts to hide it. ‘I think you should reconsider.'
'Why?'
'You could be able to see fully again.'
'Could,' she repeats. 'It's never been guaranteed.'
'Personally, I feel you are making a mistake.'
Caitlyn didn’t care. ‘There’s people who’d want or need this more than I do. Let them have this opportunity.’
‘They can’t afford it.’
Her brow rises. ‘That’s funny. I wasn’t paying for it.’
And she wasn’t, it was an exclusive freebie offered to her because of her family name. As was common with these sorts of things, the average person didn’t get these amazing opportunities. She did because she was a Kiramman, a member of the Piltover elite...now with a disfigurement that made her more reluctant to attend Piltover parties that she never really liked attending as it was.
It wasn’t that she cared about what some people thought, she just couldn’t be bothered having to avoid those people.
And people thought . Not all people, it was only certain folk that could barely hide their stares at her eye and her scars, as well as Vi’s tattoos and scars. Those certain folk were from the supposed highest echelons of society, but constantly proved themselves to actually be the lowest of the low.
Like the one that had put her forward for the surgery.
And his son, the surgeon, who finally lets his professionalism slip at her late call-off. ‘Do you want to keep looking like that?’
That . Again it was that. ‘Yes, I do.’
Fuck him, fuck them and fuck anyone that didn't like that .
She tugged at Vi's jacket. ‘Let’s go.’
At the next party, she was going to ditch the eyepatch and cling even more obnoxiously to tattooed arms.
Arms that, once they got home, she was cuddled up in, in the comfort of her own bed.
‘I can’t believe you bit through that wristband.’
‘I was saving you, freeing you from your shackles.’
‘Is that so?’ Caitlyn chuckles. ‘I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you managed that. You probably shouldn’t be doing that.’
‘If you ever need a bottle opener--.’
‘Then I’d buy a bottle opener.’
‘But I could--.’
‘No way.’
‘I can.’
‘Not doubting you at all, darling.’ She snuggles in that little bit more, the warmth of her love even more comforting after a morning spent in a cold hospital. ‘I just like your teeth.’
‘Thank you, I grew them myself.’
It’s less of a chuckle, more of a full belly laugh - and her belly is now full, they’d ordered more takeout than they could eat and ate until their bellies ached. ‘Thank you. For saving me.’
‘I will always save you.’ Vi’s finger dances down Caitlyn’s arm. ‘From whatever, wherever.’
‘I know. And I…’ She tails off, shaking her head.
‘Go on.’ A little squeeze, much gentler than the one Caitlyn gave Vi’s hand a few hours ago. ‘Talk, you know I’ll listen.’
One of the reasons why Caitlyn loves this woman is exactly that, she’s a listener.
Another reason why is because she’s made it easier to be a talker, something that Caitlyn had never been all that great at. At least not when it came to herself, otherwise she could yap on and on about anything else - useless airship knowledge, work, whatever. Feelings had always been harder.
Until Vi.
‘You are the reason why I backed out.’
‘Of the surgery?’
‘Yes, I…’ Caitlyn tilts her head up and finds kind eyes. ‘I never wanted it, not really. I know that now. Everything happened so quickly, I got swept up in it.’
Vi doesn’t say anything. She just listens.
‘It sounded good, it very well might be completely life changing for someone and I hope it is, I truly do. It’s just…when the surgeon made that comment, I realized why. Why me. Then I go home and read over everything and it seemed that it was more of a cosmetic thing with some potential to restore sight later on. And I…I don’t want to put myself through all of that, I don’t. I really don’t.’ Bruising, swelling and pain. She remembered that all too well from her first and so far only surgery on her eye following the injury. It was a lot. ‘Did you read all the documents too?’ She asks, giving permission for the greatest listener to speak.
‘I did.’
‘And?’
‘I came to a similar conclusion as you. That, what they were telling you, wasn’t exactly what those studies were saying.’
‘And you think it’s because--.’
‘Yes. And fuck ‘em, you don’t need that for that reason, you’re beautiful already.’
And that…that was why Caitlyn had changed her mind. That unwavering love of a woman who meant what she said because Caitlyn felt beautiful when Vi said it. It made those godawful parties manageable because each and every stare from those people could be countered by one look from Vi.
A look that made Caitlyn feel responsible for hanging all the stars in the sky.
The custom diamond platinum ring would never be enough, not even those stars or the moon would be. ‘You know it’s funny because I have this woman. She liked me before I lost my eye,’ Caitlyn smiles. ‘She definitely liked me, the things she did to me.’
‘Oh? Do I know this woman?’
‘Maybe,’ Caitlyn continues. ‘She’s about five-eight, pinkish-red hair.. Tattoos, the most outrageously strong and sexy muscles. Very cute, especially with messy hair.’
‘She sounds quite the character.’
‘She is.’
‘What about this woman?’
‘She loves me,’ Caitlyn smiles. ‘For who I am. Even with what I lost. She’s never made me feel like I’m any less, even when I was bloody terrified of looking in a mirror.’ It was Vi who sat with her when she first looked, it was only Vi that had even made that feel possible. ‘I’m okay like this. Happy. Thanks to her.’ She rests her head back down on Vi’s chest. ‘She’s you, by the way.’
‘Eh, I’m five-ten.’
‘No, you are not.’
‘Five-nine. Never five-eight.’
‘Our height difference says otherwise.’
‘Because someone wears fucking heels.’
‘Rarely.’
‘I’m not talking about those pointy fucking ones. I mean your boots. They have heels.’
‘And this affects your height, how?’
Vi sighs. ‘Compromise on five-nine?’
‘No.’
‘Damn. Fine. Stick.’
‘I will.’
‘Okay, well. I’m sure your mystery five-eight hottie is proud of you for making that decision earlier.’
‘I hope she is,’ Caitlyn says, despite knowing Vi absolutely was. Another reason why she loves Vi, she was never shy about saying she was proud of her.
All those trophies lined a shelf in Caitlyn’s bedroom, yet never once had anyone said they were proud of her for them. Instead all she’d hear after winning each one were warnings about complacency.
‘She is,’ Vi confirms before breaking character. ‘I am. Today and every day.’
‘I know.’ Once more Caitlyn looks up and, once more, sees it. That look. The look of absolute love, one she was grateful she was able to still see. ‘It’s…different. It’ll always be different, an adjustment. Sometimes I’m still adjusting to little things. But it’s manageable, some days I forget about it completely. I can still shoot, I can still work, I can still appreciate just how incredibly beautiful you are - though I would be lying if I said I wasn’t aggrieved I didn’t have two eyes to see you.’ Two eyes…two hundred eyes…no amount would be enough to truly bask in Vi’s beauty.
‘And the cute tattooed short girl?’
‘Or aggrieved I can’t properly roll my eyes at you.’
‘I am not five-eight.’
‘You bloody are.’
‘I’m bloody am not.’
The bloody in the tragic attempt of Caitlyn’s accent had to be retaliated against.
‘No, no don’t!’
Big, strong Vi was, tragically, ticklish. ‘Apologise.’
‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Cait!’ Tragically, very ticklish, her body convulsing under the siege. ‘Baby, please!’ Vi lets go of Caitlyn and rolls onto her stomach, assuming a still very weak defensive position. ‘Caaaaait.’
‘And admit.’ Hooking a leg over, Caitlyn straddles Vi, trapping her.
‘Admit…what?’
‘You’re five-eight.’ Caitlyn zeroes on a back she exposes by pushing up a black tank.
‘Vander didn’t raise a…liar. Cait, c'mon...show mercy!’
‘And yet you’re claiming you’re five-ten?’ Fingers work at Vi’s spine.
It’s enough. ‘Okay I’m five-eight, no more!’
‘Thank you.’ She doesn’t dismount though, instead leaning down to plant her lips on Vi’s shoulder. ‘That wasn’t difficult now, was it?’
‘For you? No. For me?’ Horrendous.’
Caitlyn laughs before kissing again and again, over and over. ‘This better?’
‘Much better.’