Work Text:
The bed feels cold. Vi feels cold.
She’s aware that she could pull the covers tighter around her. Could get up and find something warmer to wear. Could leave the bedroom and look for Caitlyn to keep her company – it’s the middle of the night, she has every right to find her girlfriend and drag her to bed.
But none of these things will fix the problem. None of these things will truly make her feel any warmer right now. This cold is deeply settled into her bones. This cold is familiar, and heavy, and keeps her pinned to the bed, her legs curled as close to her chest as she can comfortably manage.
She supposes that she should be strong enough to will the feeling away – either fight it off or pretend that it doesn’t exist. Either confront it or run and hide. Courageous or cowardly, she should make a decision, instead of miserably lying in bed.
But she doesn’t feel strong enough to make the choice, either way.
She doesn't feel strong at all.
She doesn't feel like a fighter, or a soldier, or a leader, or a rebel, or a partner. She feels like a little girl. She wants her dad.
She feels guilty about it – about all of it. About wanting, and about curling up in the middle of the bed, surrounded by darkness like a frightened child, and about calling him dad at all.
She doesn't feel connected to anyone else right now. Not so intensely, at least. Her whole life has revolved around being a big sister, yet right now she feels less tied up in the expectations than she ever has. Time has passed – only a fragment, she knows – and yet Vi is yet to be able to even consider who she is now. Is she still a sister? When she had been questioned – are we still sisters? – the answer had been obvious.
Nothing will ever change that.
But now her sister is gone.
Now her little sister is gone.
Gone. Gone. Gone.
So who is she now? Is she still a big sister? Vi had a sister, and now her sister is gone – does that mean that Vi had been a sister and now she is not?
Now there is no drive, no expectation. She isn’t spending every waking moment thinking about how to help or protect her sister, because she isn’t there to need it. It only makes Vi feel smaller. So incredibly small – like the only other time in her life that she didn’t have a sister.
Then, she had her parents and-
And she had Vander.
Vi yearns for the times when it was just the two of them. Just her and Vander. The times when Powder still needed naps in the day, but Vi had grown out of it. When Vander would teach her card games, or they'd secretly share a snack while her sister slept. A moment that was just theirs.
Powder was the baby of the family, always, and she always will be.
But Vi was Vander’s first kid, and she thinks that means something.
Even before he'd taken them in, though the memories are hazy, and she doesn't like thinking about it often – doesn't want to accidentally misremember and lose the whole thing entirely. Back when he would babysit them while their parents were working. Thinking about it now, she kind of wonders how Vander had looked after the two of them without any help.
Back when Vander would pick her up and carry her whenever she wanted. Until Powder would whine about it, because it was something that Vi had that Powder didn't – only natural, Vi thinks now, they'd both been so little.
She just wanted to be like you.
She just looked up to you.
Vi would always drop to the ground with an easy smile and let her sister climb Vander like a monkey. She would sit on his shoulders for hours, if Vander let her. At the time, it was okay, because Vi knew that she would always get another chance, because time seemed endless, and Vander never said no.
But then she started to grow up. Spent more of her time learning how to protect her sister, spent more time learning to harden up, spent more time learning how unfair life was.
All she wants now is for Vander to pick her up like when she'd been little.
She hopes that he would let her rest her face in the crook of his neck and hold on tighter than necessary and maybe she would be the one to whine about it when Jinx inevitably follows her, looking for the same thing. Maybe if she's lucky, he won't put her down, and she'll fall asleep, and he'll carry her to bed.
Anxiety scratches at her chest fiercely. The cold creeps down her spine, freezes her bones, stabs at her heart.
No-
No, maybe not.
Maybe he just won't put her down at all. Maybe if she keeps him in her sights at all times, maybe if she weighs him down, if she's attached, if she doesn't let go – maybe he won't slip through her fingers.
She weeps, loud and real, snatching her pillow and hugging it close to her chest, like she once had with her stuffed rabbit.
She wants her dad.
She wonders if Jinx had ever felt the same. If she yearned for what they used to have, if she even remembered. She wonders if her sister ever felt this exact way, like she was still just a small child who needed to hold her dad's hand. Who wanted to be picked up and held safely. She must have.
She must have, because Vi wants it, desperately so.
And no matter what had changed about her sister, that never will. She will always be the little sister who follows in her big sister’s footsteps, who wants what her big sister wants.
Vi will never be able to ask her, because her sister is gone. Vi’s pillow is wet with her tears. Her blanket scrunched and bundled at her curled up legs. There isn’t any way that Vi can possibly go to sleep now.
Vander would tell her bedtime stories when she couldn't sleep.
He'd improvise, make them up on the spot, include her rabbit in the adventures. She can still hear his voice now, if she tries hard enough. There are other voices too – She can barely make out her mother's, and someone else, maybe her father or... She doesn't really know. Doesn't really know much of anything anymore, their faces blurry and their voices distant, and she worries that maybe Vander isn't even as clear in her memory as she hopes that he is. Perhaps they had all slipped away from her years ago.
When she was small – really small – he used to hold her up by her ankle, dangling her upside down until she was shrieking with laughter. Used to let her crawl into his bed when she had a nightmare, quietly crying, and craving comfort. She always woke up in her own bed, Powder sleeping beside her peacefully. He used to say it was okay when she would ask for things that she knew she was a little too old to want, he would always indulge her. Even when she was more than a little too old to want it.
Was it because he thought that she was jealous of the treatment that her younger sister got? That she wanted some of the same attention? Or that she was a broken little thing that he needed to comfort? Or that he didn’t think about it at all. That it was just okay. Nothing more.
Would he say the same thing to her now? If she asked, voice small and timid – would he still indulge her? If he was here, would he hug her close, envelop her in the same way that he had when she was small? Place her head on his chest so that she could listen to his heartbeat. Rub her back and talk softly, lulling her to sleep. Vi sobs roughly. Her throat hurts.
A quiet noise flows through the room, piercing through her cries. The door opens softly, the glow from the light in the hall spilling into the darkness of the bedroom, and in turn – into Vi’s spiralling mind.
“Vi?” Caitlyn’s voice softly calls into the dark.
Her girlfriend was more of an insomniac than her, often needing to be lured back to bed. Vi supposes that this is one way to do it.
It's stupid – it’s so incredibly stupid – but for a second, when the doorknob was twisting – Vi had hoped.
It must show on Vi’s face too, because Caitlyn has this expression on her features – softly illuminated from where she stands cautiously in the doorway – that isn't quite confusion and isn't quite knowing, but is sympathetic as hell.
Caitlyn takes slow, deliberately careful steps towards their bed, leaving the door wide open to provide some light, but otherwise not disturbing Vi’s environment. “I’m sorry.” She speaks, that beautiful smooth accent and that sharp intelligent mind, Vi almost doesn’t register the words themselves. Why would she apologise?
Still, Vi is unsure how to respond, and she tries her best to hold her breath, to stop herself from completely losing it once more. Tears continue to stream down her cheeks, and her throat hurts with emotion. Caitlyn sits on the edge of the bed, then slowly turns, lying on her side to mimic Vi – devoting all of her attention to Vi.
Vi’s breathing has become shallow in her attempt to just stop it, but it continues stuttering and her shoulders shake with the effort.
Caitlyn reaches a hand out to gently cradle her face. “Who were you expecting?” She asks, not in a malicious way, but curious. Caitlyn loves the solve, and here she must be puzzled. Vi feels wobbly, guilt ridden. She feels both open, vulnerable, completely see through – as well as completely, and entirely alone.
“Not expecting.” Vi whispers quickly, shaking her head, her voice coming out somewhat petulantly in her haste to fix things, even though she doesn’t mean it like that.
Hoping, though she doesn't say that. Of course she doesn’t say that. It feels bad enough to think it.
Caitlyn strokes her thumb along Vi’s cheek, possibly trying to catch her tears, but only succeeding in swiping them further across her face. There is a sympathetic twitch of her lips, before Caitlyn whispers back to her. “I'm sorry I wasn't who you wanted, anyhow.”
The words sound genuine, caring, and yet Vi starts getting that familiar tingly feeling of guilt all up her spine. Her eyes widen and her heart sinks, as she scrambles closer, hands reaching out to touch Caitlyn but never quite landing anywhere. “I don't want you to change.” She insists, desperately, with a slight wobble, her breathing coming out in quick, shallow bursts. She hadn’t meant for it to come off that way, she has to understand.
Caitlyn quietly shushes her, a crease forming between her eyebrows as her eye closes, and she shakes her head like she’s made a grave mistake. “I know, I know,” She starts to reassure, her thumb stroking Vi’s cheek faster. “That isn’t what I meant, baby.”
Vi shudders at the term of endearment, clinging to her pillow tightly once more for something to do with her restless hands. Caitlyn gives a little appreciative hum, a soft noise that has Vi’s eyes briefly fluttering closed.
“I see.” She observes. “My little Violet?” She lilts softly – though what would normally have Vi shyly smiling, only makes the lump in her throat harder to swallow over. She can hear Vander’s voice, calling her Violet, if she tries. She doesn’t know if she’s trying to hear him or if she’s trying to block it out. She doesn’t know which one hurts worse.
Puzzle half solved.
Vi whimpers, unable to stop herself. Caitlyn’s eye darts over her quickly, taking in what she can and guessing what she can not.
She has always been honest with Caitlyn – and what she doesn’t outright say, Caitlyn has always figured out herself. Including the regression. Vi assumes that it is only a matter of time before Caitlyn verbally confronts her about Vander. Figures out the piece of the puzzle that she is currently missing.
Vi doesn’t want to be big. Not a big sister, not a big kid, not a big deal. She just wants to be small again. She just wants her dad to give her a hug.
She wants her dad.
She wants to scream it. Scream it in the same way that Powder would scream when she was throwing a tantrum as a toddler – she wants to scream and stomp her feet and break something. Fight someone, or run far, far away. Do something with all of this emotion inside of her –
She wants her dad.
And yet, all that manages to come out of her is a pitiful little yelp, as her face scrunches and her eyesight becomes blurred over with tears, shaking her head almost shamefully as she falls down, down, down – the fall into regression coming harshly, her mind is overwhelmed.
Caitlyn gently pries the pillow from her grasp and pulls Vi close. Vi clings to her, howling cries into her shoulder. She’d never cried so loudly, not when she was young, not when she was hurt, not ever. She does now. It started after her sister was gone and it just hasn’t seemed to stop.
Caitlyn doesn’t say much, just trails her fingernails across Vi’s back slowly, and holds her close. When her cries quieten, and Vi is left sniffling against Caitlyn’s shoulder, she apologises. There is a slight embarrassment to the words, to the idea that she had broken down so loudly, Vi isn’t even familiar enough with it to have a meltdown correctly.
Caitlyn pulls her back just enough for them to see each other’s faces. “Don’t be sorry, sweetheart.” Then, when Vi feels lost – completely unsure of what she should or shouldn’t say; “Why don’t we go find a snack?” Caitlyn smiles softly.
Vi’s eyebrows furrow at the unexpected suggestion. Her eyes dart around, searching for the time – it was late before all of this – but Caitlyn just reaches over to scratch lightly at Vi’s scalp. “Neither of us are going to sleep easily. There’s no shame in a midnight snack. Especially after being so upset.” She says, convincing Vi in a matter of seconds. If Caitlyn says it’s a good idea, maybe it is. Truthfully, Vi wouldn’t mind leaving the bedroom – like maybe she can leave the overwhelming feelings and crying in a similar manner. A change of scenery might be what she needs.
She nods, swiping her arm over her face to mop up the tears and snot, not able to shake the distinct wrongness in her movements, too jerky, too slow, too small. Caitlyn smiles encouragingly, and pushes herself up on the mattress, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed and patting the spot beside her, waiting patiently as Vi crawls close.
Once she has swung her own legs over the edge of the bed, Caitlyn leans forward to press a kiss to Vi’s cheek, then another, and then another – not stopping until Vi fails to stifle a quiet giggle and leans away.
“There’s my girl.” Caitlyn smiles, finally ceasing her attack. A mischievous glint dances in her eye. “Up for a race?” She lilts, competitive and cheeky, and even with Vi’s ever present grief – she has to admit that the question does spark some giddiness in her. She does have a lot of energy trapped in her body. The next words that Caitlyn speaks win her over; “I’ll go easy on you, baby.” She teases lightly, a little tilt of her head with the words.
Vi bites her bottom lip between her teeth with giddy anticipation. Caitlyn’s words do little to offend her, simply motivating her. Silently and slowly, she nods her head.
“Yeah?” Caitlyn smiles, with a twitch of her eyebrows. When they had first discussed her regression, Vi had assumed that Caitlyn would be the type of caregiver – or actually, just the type of person – who would shout a ‘don’t run in the hallway’ and get frustrated when messy art projects inevitably stray from the intended paper. She had come to learn that this assumption was entirely wrong. Vi nods again in confirmation.
Caitlyn’s smile widens, her legs shifting as she visibly pushes her feet firmly on the floor to gain more momentum for her take off. Vi holds her breath as she mimics the movement, pressing weight into her hands, that rest on the mattress. Caitlyn quietly speaks; “One…”
Vi’s fingers twitch with restless energy. Her shoulders begin creeping up to her ears. The blanket rustles as Caitlyn moves slightly.
“Two…”
Caitlyn visibly tries to stifle a laugh, both of them buzzing and charged and ready. Vi thinks that maybe, even if it’s only for a moment, she could probably run faster than the hexgates could speed an airship to another land, at their most efficient.
Caitlyn grins. “Thr-”
Vi runs.
Caitlyn shouts a complaint behind her, though Vi can tell by her tone of voice that she isn’t actually mad – and she can hear Caitlyn’s footsteps as she chases after her.
They run around furniture and through doorways and up and down stairs – a midnight snack would mean that they should go to the kitchen, but now that Vi has started running, and Caitlyn is yet to catch her, Vi feels inclined to see how long she can play this game for.
Her heart races with adrenaline, legs burning pleasantly and air whooshing past her ears. Her cheeks flush warmly as her blood rushes, though each breath she pulls into her lungs has a sharp chill to it. It’s addicting.
Having spent her early childhood in the Lanes, Vi is quick on her feet, and her progress isn’t hindered by dead ends or deceptively high steps – she is proud to admit that she has yet to even stub her toe while playing this particular game.
But Caitlyn is much more familiar with the house itself, and she’s faster than she looks.
And maybe Vi doesn’t mind it when Caitlyn catches her when they’re playing like this.
Defeat comes with a living room with two close exists into the hallway. Vi’s debating whether or not to go upstairs, when Caitlyn’s arms wrap around her middle – pinning her arms to her sides and all. “Gotcha!” Caitlyn calls, posh accent a bit rough around the edges as both of them are reduced to pants and ragged breathing. Caitlyn squeezes her arms around Vi, wriggling her side to side. Vi’s head hangs down, light giggles escaping from both of them.
The best part is that she could pull free from Caitlyn’s arms and start the game all over again – and she has, many times before. Caitlyn won’t stop her from doing it, she barely can, if Vi puts her mind to it.
But she doesn’t want to run from Caitlyn. The adrenaline had felt good, and she feels marginally lighter without the nervous, buzzing energy underneath her skin, but now she would prefer to stay close. She leans back ever so slightly into Caitlyn’s hold, a physical cue that she picks up on instantly.
They steady their breathing, and Caitlyn kisses Vi’s shoulder. “I think that’s enough running now, hm sweetheart?”
Vi nods her head in agreeance. Snack time sounded like a good idea to her.
Caitlyn is quick to slide her hand into Vi’s own, and they quietly but comfortably make their way to the kitchen. Exhaustion washes over Vi as she is sat down on one of the chairs at the kitchen bench. Her energy has been swiftly drained, and she barely even swings her legs back and forth.
“Any requests?” Caitlyn asks, moving smoothly around the bench and leaning forward on her elbows to come face to face with Vi. Vi shrugs one shoulder and tilts her head slightly, thinking it over. “Something sweet?” She settles on, a little hesitant.
Caitlyn smiles warmly. Knowingly. “Of course.” She indulges, and moves around the kitchen like she’s one with it – though Vi supposes that she has lived here for long enough that it makes sense.
They don’t speak much, but the silence is comfortable, and it makes the shared words and giggles feel somehow more special. Especially at such a time of day. A secret moment shared only by the two of them. Just theirs. They end up sitting across from one another, drinking hot chocolate and flinging biscuit crumbs at each other. Vi’s main goal is to flick a crumb into Caitlyn’s drink, but landing anywhere in her general direction is considered a win. Even with her injury, Caitlyn is an incredible shot, which unfortunately leads to several crumbs in Vi’s drink – and one bouncing off of her nose. They agree to call it a tie.
When the cups and plate have been empty for well over the ten minutes that they had agreed to leave after, Caitlyn finally sighs with a smile and nudges Vi’s foot with her own, under the bench. “I have a feeling it might be bedtime, hm?”
While sharing a cheeky midnight snack with Caitlyn has been a much better way to spend her time than if she had not, Vi must admit that lying down sounded heavenly. The thought alone is enough to drag her fist up to swipe at her eyes, as she nods in confirmation. Sleep had seemed impossible an hour ago, but the idea of cuddling with Caitlyn in bed has a distinct, sleepy pull to it. Suddenly the surface of the kitchen bench feels too hard against her arms.
By the time that Vi pulls her fist away and opens her bleary eyes, Caitlyn has moved the dishes to the sink to be dealt with in the morning. The walk to their bedroom seems like such a long journey, but Caitlyn leads her with a guiding hand on her back, and soon it doesn’t feel so eternal.
It’s all a bit of a blur to Vi as they stop in their bathroom – as Caitlyn insists that they brush their teeth, and Vi clean her face, and it all feels like too much responsibility to her, even as Caitlyn does most of the work, and makes it easier.
Vi can’t stop yawning by the time that they find themselves crawling back into bed, her blinks slow and her grip on consciousness slipping away with each passing minute.
Caitlyn’s arms are inviting, and Vi easily cuddles close, so incredibly comfortable and warm and real. She sighs deeply, and Caitlyn begins scratching lightly at her scalp, petting down her hair. Typically, a bedtime story would be in order around about now – though between getting a secretive midnight snack, and feeling like she will float away into sleep any minute now, she doubts that Caitlyn will read anything.
An alternative option presents itself as Caitlyn begins humming softly. It isn’t a tune that Vi recognises – perhaps something that Caitlyn’s mother had sung to her as a child. Regardless, the soothing, soft sound washes warmly over Vi like the blanket that she is cuddled under, lulling her into a dreamless sleep, held close by someone she loves dearly.
Perhaps the feeling – the deep cold in her bones – will never melt. Her frozen over grief and her ice cold want will always remain within her. Perhaps its company is simply unavoidable, should Vi continue to love her lost family so deeply, which she will. Perhaps she will never experience the same feeling that she had once felt years ago – no one will ever replicate her sister’s giddy giggling, or Vander’s comforting embrace.
But Vi loves what she does have, even if it is different.