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The air in the Undercity was heavy. Thick and acrid, it stuck in Caitlyn's throat with each inhale, settling like ash on her tongue.
She'd never gotten used to it. Even now, she had to fight back a coughing fit with a fist pressed tight to her lips. Hacking on what everyone else breathed just fine would be a nice way to out herself.
She walked with her head down and eyes forward. The streets were nearly empty at this hour, most of the food stalls lining the path long shut.
Still, her grip on the hood of her heavy cloak stayed tight.
The faint echo of cheering voices let her know she was nearly there. She quickened her pace.
It was hardly another minute before she reached it—the Pit.
It was unassuming on the outside, just a shadowy staircase leading underground. Slivers of watery blue light spilled out from behind a thick velvet curtain hanging over the entrance. A heavily pierced woman stood with her arms crossed in the dim glow, puffing on a cigarette.
Caitlyn hesitated.
It had been a huge risk, coming here. Already a Kiramman, Caitlyn had lost what little anonymity she'd had after being named war general of Piltover. There were dozens upon dozens of posters of her face plastered along every wall topside and bottom. Most in the Undercity were vandalized beyond recognition, but she seriously doubted that'd save her if someone caught a glimpse of her face.
She should have turned back. She knew that, and still, she'd given in.
Hadn't been able to control the gnawing at the back of her mind. The relentless curiosity, the hunger, to see Vi again with her own eyes. To know what had become of her since the last time they'd spoken, if you could even call what they'd done speaking.
She took half a second to decide.
Then, fingers tightening around the fabric of her hood, she tilted her face discreetly away from the woman and strode toward the door. Her pulse thudded like a drum in her neck. She stopped before the stairway, reached out to draw the curtain aside.
Thick, tattooed fingers wrapped around her wrist like a vice.
Caitlyn tensed, free hand immediately twitching toward the pistol holstered on her thigh. She let her hair fall over her face and glanced up warily through the loose strands.
The pierced woman peered down at her through a haze of cigarette smoke. Its smoldering ember reflected warm light off the silver in her face.
"You pay to enter."
Oh. Caitlyn blinked, face flushing mildly.
"Of course. Sorry."
The woman released her with a grunt, and Caitlyn quickly rummaged in her cloak pocket for her coin pouch. She hesitated, then dropped two into the woman's open palm. The woman grunted again, affirmatively this time. Close enough.
Caitlyn pushed forward through the curtain.
Inside, the air was dense. The narrow staircase led her further underground than she'd ever been. The roar of the crowd swelled as she went, echoing thunderously off the damp stone walls.
At the bottom of the stairs, she tilted her chin up as far as she dared to see the space. Her eyes widened. She hadn't been exactly sure what to expect from an underground fighting ring, but this place certainly seemed to fit the bill.
It was a cavernous, below ground colosseum. The arena was carved straight out of the stone, with high ceilings and a central pit that dipped further underground. Harsh overhead lights hung above the ring, illuminating the combatants in bruised shades of purple, red, blue.
There must have been hundreds of people packed into the makeshift stands. Though large, it was by no stretch large enough to accommodate them all. The crush of bodies was so dense it made Caitlyn immediately claustrophobic.
The air here was worse than before, stale and heavy and humid with a harsh cocktail of sweat and alcohol and shimmer smoke. Her head spun with it.
Sharp limbs jostled her from every direction as she began to pick her way through the throng of bodies. She shoved past some sort of betting ring, then through a tangle of drunks.
A stray hand tugged at her cloak and her hood slipped a fraction. Panic spiked sharp and electric in her chest. She yanked bodily away from touch, frantically tugging her hood back in to place.
Someone shouted after her angrily and she quickened her pace, heart beating too fast. She pressed toward the center of the noise, to the stone ledge above the pit.
To Vi.
Caitlyn hadn't looked for her, after it ended between them. She had tried to be good. Even though it still ached like a fresh wound; a knife she couldn't keep herself from twisting.
But in typical fashion, Vi had found her anyways.
It was nothing more than a conversation at the mess hall Caitlyn happened to overhear. Mindless chatter about rumors of an illegal pit fighting ring in the Undercity.
Apparently it was drawing sizable crowds, largely thanks to an undefeated champion of the ring. A brute of a woman with a tattoo on her cheek who called herself the Hound.
The enforcers hadn't said it was Vi. But the possibility burrowed its way into Caitlyn's mind like a parasite, hovering at the back of her thoughts for weeks, eating away at her until she gave in.
Now here she was, leaning over the side of the pit with bated breath.
Two stocky men were exchanging blows in the ring. One of them, the taller of the two, was decidedly in the lead. The shorter man staggered forward and swung, but his aim was too wide. The taller man sidestepped and countered with a knee to the sternum. His opponent crumpled, and the crowd roared.
Someone scrambled out into the ring to drag the short man's prone body away, trailing streaks of red in the dirt behind them. The champion spat onto the ground and waved his fists at the crowd. When he grinned, there was blood on his teeth.
Caitlyn grimaced, but something stirred beneath her disgust. Some hidden, unforgivable part of her that itched to see Vi in their place. The thought of it set warmth alight in her core.
Vi, effortlessly toppling anyone who stood against her with wrapped fists and bared teeth. Vi, grinning up at Caitlyn with blood in her mouth and streaked across her plush lips, blue eyes wild with intensity.
Caitlyn pushed the thought away and watched on.
Through the next uninteresting, pointless fight between two burly women. Then the next, and the next after that.
After the fifth round, Caitlyn turned and began to shove back through the crowd.
Her face burned hot with shame. She'd been stupid to come here, her own curiosity be damned, when obviously—
"And now, what you've all been waiting for! She's tough, she's mean, and careful—she bites!"
A rasping female voice on the overhead speakers cut through the rumble of the crowd. Caitlyn paused where she'd nearly reached the staircase.
"Give it up for your grand finale, your champion... the Hound of the Underground!
Caitlyn spun on her heel in an instant, anticipation relighting and prickling along her spine. She bullied her way back to the edge of the pit, recklessly uncaring of her cloak being tugged at by stray limbs.
She reached the stone barrier. Held her breath as the fighters walked out into the center of the ring.
It was a man and a woman. Caitlyn squinted, leaning as far forward as the railing would allow.
The woman below had her head tilted down, and Caitlyn was impossibly far up. But there was no mistaking her walk, the slope of her shoulders, the tension in her posture.
Caitlyn swallowed, mouth suddenly bone dry.
Vi had dyed her hair the color of an oil slick—Caitlyn noticed that first. She'd traded her cherry red leather jacket for a black one, and when she shrugged it off and tossed it toward the sidelines, Caitlyn saw the familiar expanse of tattoos along her back. There were new ones, or at least others she'd never seen, exposed by the few bandages Vi was wearing around her chest.
Vi tilted her head up toward her opponent. The barrel chested man ignored her, too busy waving at the jeering crowd despite the fact that it was clearly filled by Vi's—well, fans.
"Hound! Hound! Hound!"
"Tear him to pieces!"
"Kill him!"
Caitlyn dug her fingers into the stone railing. Fans. Vi had fans, now. She chewed her lip, an odd, possessive feeling rising in her. The thought of so many eyes on Vi, drinking in her beautiful, muscular figure, the powerful way she fought... it was wrong. Agitating. There was rapture in their voices, adoration, like Vi was theirs to covet. It made her almost nauseous.
Then the bell rang, and Caitlyn's discomfort was forgotten. Vi shot off in a blur of black and red. Her opponent swung a large fist at her head, but Vi was too fast. She ducked beneath the blow and came up from under, throwing a shoulder right into his unguarded sternum. He staggered, swung again, but Vi didn't let up.
Dodge, counter, strike, repeat. The man landed a few blows, each one sinking Caitlyn's heart a bit lower, but it was clear he was beat as soon as the fight began. Much quicker than the other rounds had ended, Vi sent him toppling to the ground.
She spat onto the dirt and thrust a fist into the air and Caitlyn felt warmth pooling rapidly in her stomach. Glistening with blood and sweat, Vi was radiant and dangerous under the harsh blue light. Caitlyn wanted to feel the heat of her, lick the taste of iron off her teeth.
The roar of the crowd grew deafening. Caitlyn hardly registered it as she watched Vi start for the sidelines. She was limping. It was hard to tell from so far up, of course, but it seemed like she was favoring her left side. Caitlyn felt her eyes narrow, concern sparking in her chest.
How many of these fights had Vi been in? Caitlyn first heard about 'the Hound' weeks ago—there could've been close to a dozen matches since then, if not more.
Unease mounting in her chest, she turned and joined the wave of bodies moving toward the exit.
Maybe she could catch up to Vi outside, or around back if that's where the fighters left. Just to check in—not to reconcile, or even to talk, but to make sure she was okay. Physically, at least.
At the top of the stairs Caitlyn sidestepped the crowd and hurried into a nearby alleyway. The night air was blessedly cool, if still thick.
People scattered down different streets, taking the buzz of conversation with them.
Vi didn't show.
Half an hour passed. Caitlyn leaned against the wall of the alleyway with a frustrated sigh. She crossed her arms tight over her chest. There was only one entrance, she'd checked. Plus, she'd recognized some of the other fighters leaving out the front with the rest of the crowd.
So Vi was taking her time, but she would have to come out eventually. Fine. Caitlyn could wait.
And eventually, she did.
Caitlyn tensed at first, worried that Vi would somehow sense her across the street, huddled pitifully in the shadows. But Vi didn't so much as glance her direction as she ambled out of the stairway.
Caitlyn hesitated, heart pounding, then started toward her. One step. Two.
She stopped cold in her tracks when the curtain parted and a second slender figure slipped out of the stairway.
Vi wasn't alone.
The figure sidled up next to her, and Vi slung one casual, devastating arm around her waist. She was tall, all legs, dressed head to toe in black lace. Brunette. Pretty.
Vi glanced up at her and grinned. Caitlyn felt her stomach lurch sickeningly at the familiar slant of her mouth, more striking now with a smear of black lipstick.
Vi said something that made the girl laugh. The faint sound of it echoed down the empty street, sweet and plainly seductive. They turned a corner at the end of the street. Caitlyn stayed perfectly still, watched them go until they were swallowed by the darkness.
She inhaled. Forced herself to relax her jaw and unclench her fists. Red crescents dotted her palms where her fingernails had burrowed in hard enough to break skin.
She slunk out into the night, toward home, while blood pulsed white hot and bitter through her veins.
So there it was, then. Vi was fine—more than fine, going by the new girl. If she wanted to drown herself in her own misery and pit fighting and empty sex, that was none of Caitlyn's business.
Vi had made her choices. She could live with them.
But sleep evaded Caitlyn that night. She stared sightlessly at her satiny overhead canopy, scenes from the fight flashing through her mind.
Vi wincing as a fist collided with her stomach. Vi limping out of the ring.
Vi snarling at her opponent, lip curled and teeth bared, gaze burning with a ferocity that made Caitlyn dizzy with want.
She came twice on her own fingers thinking about that look. Her eyes were blue like the hottest part of a flame, burning Caitlyn up from the inside. She wanted those eyes on her again, wanted to feel their intensity, their heat. Wanted Vi to pin her to her mattress and fuck Caitlyn like she fought—hard, mean, ruthless.
She laid awake until the sun rose and bathed her room in warm light.
After the initial wave of anger and jealousy melted away, Caitlyn found herself wracked with worry for Vi. She cared, as much as she wished she didn't.
Vi was punishing herself. For what, Caitlyn could only guess. Vi had a tendency to blame herself for things that weren't her fault, something Caitlyn couldn't understand.
But whatever the reason, she knew Vi wouldn't stop. Not until it destroyed her.
The realization ate her alive. She hardly slept. Now that she knew where Vi was and how to reach her, the distance was too much to bear, an itch she couldn't scratch.
She lasted two weeks, in the end.
Vi was right where she'd left her, all leather and dark makeup at the center of the pit. Deadly and beautiful.
The second fight Caitlyn saw was even nastier than the first. Vi's opponent was a lithe, dark skinned woman who struck quick and hard. By the end of the match Vi was swaying heavily on her feet, blood dripping lazily down her chin from a busted lip. Caitlyn's knuckles were chalk white from gripping the stone barrier.
But she won. She staggered away while her fans chanted her out of the ring, chin held high.
"Hound! Hound! Hound!"
Caitlyn thought the name suited her, in a way.
---
Tonight marked Caitlyn's fifth trip to the Undercity. She hovered anxiously in the alleyway she always waited in after a match, a dark blue cloak thrown over her shoulders.
It had been a bad round tonight. Maybe the worst Caitlyn had seen, though she was trying not to think of it that way.
Something had been off with Vi from the start. Her stance was poor, her movements sloppy. Too many times, she was caught wide open by her opponent.
She'd taken a particularly nasty right hook to the side of her head. Caitlyn had been nauseous watching her reel back, red spraying from her nose like a busted faucet.
But like every other time, she'd won. Raised a shaking fist and stumbled out of the ring.
Caitlyn shifted nervously as the seconds ticked by.
Vi was fine. She was always fine, no matter how bad the fight was. And soon, she'd emerge as she usually did—fists jammed into her pockets, limping slightly as she disappeared to wherever it was she went.
Alone too, probably. Caitlyn hadn't seen that tall brunette since after the first fight. She tried not to feel too pleased about it.
It was only another few minutes before Vi finally appeared. Caitlyn felt her shoulders sink with relief.
She didn't have more than a heartbeat to enjoy the feeling before Vi was lurching forward, expression twisted up in pain. She caught herself against the wall, head drooping to rest in one bandaged hand.
Concern flared in Caitlyn's chest. She watched Vi struggle to catch her breath, her entire body shuddering violently. She swayed once, twice, before taking an unsteady step forward.
And then she crumpled in on herself like a puppet with its strings cut, body slamming hard into the ground.
Caitlyn moved without thinking. Her footsteps echoed like gunshots in the empty alleyway but she didn't care, hardly noticed as her hood fell away from her face and left her exposed to the cool night air.
None of it mattered as she dropped to her knees beside Vi.
Even unconscious, her face was lined with pain, frighteningly pale against the dark smear of her soiled makeup. Caitlyn gathered her head off of the hard cobblestone with shaky hands and lifted it sideways into her lap. It lolled lifelessly against her thighs, but she felt a weak puff of air against her skin. Her shoulders sagged. Out cold, but breathing.
"Vi?" she whispered, hands hovering uselessly over her prone form.
No response.
She lowered trembling fingers to stroke sweat and blood damp hair away from Vi's forehead. Even in the dim light, she could see the myriad of old and new bruises marring her skin. A morbid watercolor in shades of sickly purple, yellow, blue.
Caitlyn felt sick.
"Vi, wake up," she said, louder this time.
Seconds trickled by like hours. Vi still didn't stir.
Caitlyn shook her hard, urgency bleeding into her tone.
"Wake up, Vi, you can't — I need you, I need you to wake up, alright? You have to try for me, you have to Vi, please? Can you hear me?"
Blue eyes cracked open a sliver and Caitlyn took her first breath in what felt like hours.
Vi made a soft, uncomprehending noise in her throat, her lashes fluttering. "Wha's... Cait?"
Caitlyn exhaled raggedly. Her fingers stilled against a purpling bruise on Vi's swollen cheek, and Vi pushed into the touch with a low, wounded sound. Caitlyn hushed her, opening her palm to let Vi burrow closer.
"Yes, I'm here, Vi, you're okay," Caitlyn breathed, cupping one side of her battered face.
She tried to ignore the part of her that sang at their closeness, but it was pointless. She had missed this. It was awful, Vi hurt this way, but this was what Caitlyn had laid awake at night craving for months. Even just the feeling of fingertips against skin and she felt like she could breathe again.
Vi's eyelids began to droop shut. Caitlyn shook her once more, tutting regretfully when she winced.
"I know, I know it hurts, but you need to stay awake," she soothed. "Can I do anything? Will you let me help you home?"
Vi blinked up at her, eyes glassy with exhaustion and pain. Caitlyn wasn't even sure she'd understood a word she'd said. But after a beat she pushed up onto her elbows, grunting with the effort.
Caitlyn put a hand on her arm to slow her. Vi shrugged her off, shaking her head jerkily as she tried to heave herself to her feet.
"M'fine. Don't need t'be taken home," she slurred, syllables running together like a drunk. Caitlyn's eyes darted up to her head injury. The skin around her temple had already turned a frightening shade of reddish-purple.
Vi's expression scrunched up with discomfort as she forced herself upright. Caitlyn stood with her, arms poised to catch her if she fell. She swayed as if she might, muscular legs trembling with the effort of rising.
"Vi, just—please, let me." Caitlyn took a cautious step toward her. "You're hurt. Let me help."
Vi scoffed. "Don't need t'be helped." She shrunk back as Caitlyn stepped forward. She blinked hard, eyes clearing slightly to level Caitlyn with a hard look. "Don't need your help."
The words stung. Caitlyn felt herself mouth twist into a bitter frown even as she took another step forward.
"How do you expect you'll get home, then? You can hardly stand. Will you crawl?"
Vi took another step back, nearly tripping over her own feet. "If I have to."
Another step forward. Caitlyn sighed sharp through her nose, exasperated. "Violet—"
"No, don't you—you... why're you even here? You can't stand me, right? Can't stomach me?" Vi spat, voice suddenly thick with emotion. She backed away further. "You left me, you fucking promised n'then you left me, and now you're here and you won't leave me the fuck alone—"
Vi stopped short when her back hit the stone wall of the alleyway. She looked at Caitlyn, then down at her feet, shaking her head mutely. She was trembling all over. Her breathing had turned to short, rough pants. Hyperventilating, Caitlyn realized with a sharp pang of guilt.
She closed the short distance between them. Vi recoiled, both hands coming up to clutch at her head. She smelled of sweat and alcohol, muddling the earthy, leather scent she always wore.
Caitlyn slowly took her hands. When Vi didn't stop her, she pried them gently away from her head, bringing them to rest instead against her chest. She took an exaggerated breath.
"Follow me. Breathe," she murmured.
Vi choked on a sob. Her expression crumpled and she shook her head again, black hair flopping into her face.
Her wrists twitched like she might try to pull away. Caitlyn tightened her grip on them and crowded Vi in closer against the wall.
Vi glared up at her, but it was weak. Her gaze was glassy with tears.
When Caitlyn's grip didn't budge, Vi's struggling puttered out. After a few moments, the rise and fall of their chests began to match.
Once her breathing had mostly evened out, Caitlyn lifted one hand away from her wrists to cup her face.
"Do you live close by?"
Vi stayed stubborn and silent. Caitlyn stared back evenly.
Seconds passed in silence. When Vi said nothing, Caitlyn began to stroke her bruised cheek gently with her thumb. Vi's lashes instantly fluttered at the touch. Caitlyn felt her just barely sink into her palm.
"Vi. Let me help you," she implored softly. Her other hand traced soothing patterns along the backs of Vi's bruised knuckles, still held tightly against her chest. "Please?"
Vi studied her through half lidded eyes. She was breathing deeply now, perfectly still and slumped against the wall. There was hurt in her expression, distrust and anger swirling in her gaze. Mostly, though, she looked tired.
"Do you live close by?" Caitlyn asked again.
Vi nodded.
"Which direction?"
Vi jerked her chin to the left. "Down that street. Not far," she croaked.
Caitlyn hummed, pleased. She trailed the hand on Vi's face down to rest against the side of her throat and pet the tender skin there. Vi's breath hitched softly. Caitlyn could feel her pulse rabbiting against her open palm.
"Once you feel ready, I'm going to take you home. I want you leaning your weight on me while we walk, and when we get there I'm going to come inside and see if you need stitches anywhere. Alright?"
Vi blinked slowly. She tilted her head down toward her feet, but not before Caitlyn saw her pupils swallowing the blue of her irises.
Vi cleared her throat. "Let's go, then. M'ready," she mumbled.
She pushed off the wall abruptly, shoving bodily into Caitlyn's chest. One arm snaked around her slender waist and tugged her close.
Caitlyn felt her mouth go dry. She looped an arm around Vi's broad shoulders, turning her face away to hide the warmth rushing to her cheeks.
Vi led them down a narrow alleyway. It was slow going with her limp. More than once, they had to stop to let her catch her breath.
They didn't speak. Caitlyn hardly let herself breathe, afraid of shattering the fragile peace.
Vi had been right. Caitlyn had left her, abandoned her in the tunnels under Zaun.
The guilt weighed heavily on her in the days after. But now, seeing where Vi had ended up? It was drowning her. A relentless tide of regret.
An apology stuck in her throat as they walked the winding, cobbled streets. She couldn't get the words out. She wasn't sure what good they would even do, if Vi was as angry as she seemed. And in a way, she thought it would be selfish. To thrust her guilt on Vi while she was at her lowest. To help her, and expect forgiveness in return.
It could wait. She'd say it later, if she ever got the chance.
---
They ended up in a cramped neighborhood that looked halfway to abandoned. Each home was built on a high platform, with shoddy wooden staircases leading up to the doorway.
Vi guided Caitlyn left and jerked her chin toward one of the narrow staircases. She mumbled something inaudible under her breath.
Caitlyn glanced down at her. "What'd you say?"
Vi shook her head silently. Her eyes twisted shut in pain, a crease forming between her brows. Her shoulders shook as she struggled again to catch her breath.
Caitlyn frowned with concern. She steered them toward the staircase Vi had gestured toward. "We're almost there. It's this one, isn't it?"
Vi didn't respond. She was leaning all of her weight on Caitlyn now, body trembling against her side.
Then all at once, she went limp.
Caitlyn caught her before she could hit the ground, swiftly moving to hook her free arm around her back and pull her upright.
"Vi? Vi!" she hissed, shaking her roughly.
Vi was unresponsive. Her head lolled forward onto Caitlyn's shoulder, heavy and sticky with sweat. Caitlyn felt her breath coming in short puffs against her neck.
The space where Vi was pressed against her front quickly began to grow damp. Caitlyn glanced down to find a dark stain on the front of her cloak, spreading rapidly from Vi's bandaged torso.
Her heart sunk like a stone in her chest. "Vi, you're bleeding—how long have you been bleeding, shit—"
The blood was pooling onto the ground between them now. Caitlyn cursed under her breath to no one as she scooped Vi into her arms with a grunt, suddenly grateful for all of Ambessa's strength training.
She climbed the stairs as quickly as she could without jostling Vi's body. She had no idea how deep the wound was, or how long it had been there. She racked her brain—she hadn't noticed Vi bleeding earlier. Then again, she'd been distracted by the head wound, and the lighting had been poor.
She reached the top of the stairs and unceremoniously kicked the door in.
Vi was stirring in her arms now, pained whimpers escaping her lips. Caitlyn hushed her, gut wrenching in sympathy.
"I'm here, Vi, darling, don't worry," she soothed, fighting to hide the tremor in her voice.
She surveyed the room. It was tiny, with just enough room for a bed shoved into one corner and a mirror beside a punching bag hanging from the ceiling in the other. Empty bottles littered nearly every inch of the floor. Caitlyn stepped awkwardly around them as she made for the bed.
She eased Vi onto the mattress gently. Vi still groaned in pain as the bed dipped beneath them. Caitlyn looped one arm around her waist to keep her sitting upright while she stripped her of her leather jacket, and when it was off she tossed it to the side and carefully laid Vi down.
There was no light to speak of in the little room, just a dim glow from the window above the bed. It illuminated the space enough to make out the dark stain on Vi's torso.
Caitlyn pressed her fingertips lightly to the wound. The bandages around the center of her abdomen were soaked to the touch. She grit her teeth against her mounting panic and tugged at the end of the first bandage to undo it, but stopped short when Vi whimpered.
Caitlyn glanced up at her. Vi met her gaze with shuttered eyes. She was pale, from blood loss or pain or both. Her skin shone with sweat.
"It hurts," she breathed, barely above a whisper like it was embarrassing to admit.
Caitlyn's heart squeezed. She took one of Vi's hands in her own and interlaced their fingers, squeezed Vi's clammy palm.
"I know, love. I know it hurts, I'm sorry," she whispered. "But I have to take them off. I'll be as gentle as I can, alright?"
Vi held her gaze a second longer, then gave a weak nod. She closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the mattress. Her hands fisted at the sheets as Caitlyn pulled away and set about unwinding the bandages, her fingers deft and quick from practice.
Soon Vi's torso was bare. There was a gash a few inches long curving from the top of her abdomen down toward her hip. Caitlyn leaned closer to study the wound. It wasn't as deep as she had feared—if anything, it looked like an old wound that had half healed before being reopened.
She glanced up at Vi. "Did you have stitches here?"
Vi made an affirmative noise. Caitlyn tutted, ghosting a hand along her side.
"I suppose it didn't occur to you not to fight while injured," she huffed under her breath, perturbed by Vi's lack of self-preservation. Still, she felt the knot of tension in her chest loosen. Old stitches were far less life threatening than the fresh wound she'd imagined.
She balled the bloodied bandages up and discarded them onto the floor to deal with later. Then she stood and glanced around the room.
"Do you have anything to restitch the wound?"
Vi hummed. "Drawer by mirror. Bandages there, n'stuff," she croaked.
Caitlyn nodded and made for the mirror. As promised she found a needle and thread, along with a fresh roll of white bandages. She grabbed a mostly clean looking rag as well, for the blood.
She glanced over her shoulder. Vi was eyeing her from the bed with an intense, inscrutable look. It made Caitlyn's skin prickle. She stalked back toward her, arms laden with supplies. After a moment's consideration, she plucked a half full glass bottle from the mess of alcohol littering the window sill.
She gave it a sniff and wrinkled her nose at the strong aroma. It would work for a hasty disinfectant.
Vi hissed behind grit teeth when Caitlyn splashed a generous amount over her wound. She murmured an apology, dabbing gently around the gash with the rag. She paused, then handed the bottle to Vi before she could think better of it.
"For the pain."
Vi mumbled her thanks and took a deep swig. Caitlyn watched a bead of amber liquid slip out the corner of her mouth and track down her chin, her bobbing throat. She flushed and looked away.
Caitlyn worked in silence, save for an occasional soft apology when the needle pierced skin. She could feel Vi's heavy gaze on her like a brand the entire time. She tried hard to pretend she didn't notice. Tried even harder not to remember the last time they were in this position.
Vi laid out on a bed just like this one in that shack deep in the fissures. Caitlyn tending to her wounds with gentle hands. Inches between them, like they were the only two people left in the world.
Back before all this ugly history between them. When there was still a chance they might be something. Anything, really, but strangers to each other. Like now.
Caitlyn blinked hard, shook herself out of the memory. She swallowed. It was a pointless train of thought.
She finished stitching the wound and set her supplies aside. "There," she murmured, glancing up at Vi. "How's it feel?"
Vi propped herself up onto her elbows with a stifled grunt. She craned her neck to regard Caitlyn's work on her torso.
"Fine. Better, I guess," she croaked. She took another deep pull from her bottle and wiped roughly at her mouth.
"Thanks," she added after a pause. She glanced up at Caitlyn. "You didn't have to."
"Yes, I did," Caitlyn said immediately. "I wanted to, Vi, I... it was the least I could do."
Vi titled her head. She regarded Caitlyn through her lashes, gaze searching.
Caitlyn quickly turned away. Heat rose on her cheeks, a hundred other words dancing on the tip of her tongue. She swallowed them all and busied her hands with the fresh roll of bandages.
She cleared her throat. "Could you sit up for me, please?"
Vi nodded and carefully eased herself upright. Caitlyn scooted closer. She reached out to help, and this time Vi didn't flinch away. She let Caitlyn arrange her limbs before winding the clean white bandages around her midsection.
Vi was pliant, almost docile now with pain and exhaustion and maybe the alcohol. Her makeup-smeared eyelids drooped heavily and she swayed forward unconsciously as Caitlyn went round and round her torso.
By the time she was done, Vi was half asleep and leaning heavily against her side. Her chin had come to rest heavily on Caitlyn's shoulder.
Caitlyn let her linger for longer than she needed to after she finished. She studied the ink decorating her back, ghosting her fingertips along each design and trying to commit their shapes to memory.
Eventually, she roused her gently. "I'm done. You should lie back down."
Vi made a soft, sleepy noise. She lifted her chin from Caitlyn's shoulder and pulled away just far enough to look up at her. Pale doe eyes met hers and Caitlyn's heart leapt to her throat. She stared back, fingers twitching involuntarily where they rested against the small of Vi's back.
Vi blinked slowly. She wet her lips.
"It's good to see you, Cait."
Caitlyn felt her core stir. The world narrowed to Vi's plump bottom lip where it was caught between her teeth.
"It's good to see you, too. So good, Vi, I—" she stopped herself, unsure how much she should admit. Unsure what Vi would be willing to hear.
But Vi just peered up at her, expression soft and hazy and open. Caitlyn took a breath.
"I haven't stopped thinking about you," she whispered.
Vi hummed. She looked down at her lap, then back at Caitlyn again.
"But you left me."
Caitlyn felt her chest tighten painfully.
"I know," she breathed. "I wish... you have to know that if I could go back, I—"
"I know," Vi interrupted. She shrugged, lowered her eyes. "Doesn't matter now, though. We can't go back."
A fresh wave of guilt crested in Caitlyn's chest. She ran her fingertips up along Vi's spine, a silent apology.
"But you have to know that I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Vi," she whispered.
Vi wouldn't look at her still, but she nodded.
"I know."
Vi parted her lips like she might say more. But then she shook her head slightly, scooting further back into the bed, and Caitlyn knew the conversation was over.
She stood and took the used medical supplies back to their drawer. Vi struggled to kick her boots off behind her, movements jerky and uncoordinated. Caitlyn almost offered to help but thought better of it. She knew herself. If she got in close again, she wouldn't leave.
Once everything was put away Caitlyn made for the door. She paused with her fingers on the handle and glanced over her shoulder.
"Vi, I want to—"
"Listen, Cait—"
Caitlyn stopped abruptly. Her lips quirked into something like a smile. "Sorry. You first."
Vi wouldn't quite meet her eyes. "I was just going to say—um. I don't know. It's pretty late."
She trailed off, worrying her lip between her teeth. Caitlyn cocked her head, and the tips of Vi's ears turned pink.
"I'm sure I can find my way home, if that's what you're worried about."
Vi shook her head jerkily. "No, I know you can, I mean—what I mean is you shouldn't walk back so late," she muttered. She finally met Caitlyn's eyes then, adding, "It's a rough part of town."
Caitlyn blinked. She felt her own face start to burn hot.
"Oh," she said dumbly.
Vi rubbed at her neck and glanced away again, embarrassment flashing across her features. In the dim light her eyes shone with something soft and fragile.
"You don't have to, I know this place isn't... I don't know. Just thought it'd be nice to offer."
"I'll stay. Of course I'll stay," Caitlyn said in a rush.
She pulled her hand away from the doorknob like it'd burned her, stepped closer to the bed.
Vi watched with heavy eyes as she shrugged off her cloak and draped it over the mirror, then kicked off her shoes. She turned toward the bed. Vi pulled back the sheet and scooted toward the wall—an invitation.
Caitlyn's heart thudded in her chest. It wasn't the first time they'd shared a bed. They'd shared Caitlyn's, when Vi was lying low at the Kiramman estate.
Still, though.
She shuffled forward and settled down beside Vi. The mattress was cramped for one person, so there was no hope of creating distance between two. Thighs, arms, calves touched beneath the sheets. Each point of contact pulsed with warmth.
The bed creaked as Vi tossed and turned. She faced the wall, but Caitlyn could feel body heat radiating off of her, could hear the soft sounds of her struggling to get comfortable. After a while, the room was silent except their breathing.
"G'night," Vi said suddenly, voice soft and raspy like she was already mostly asleep.
Caitlyn's hands ached to reach out and touch. She tucked them against herself and closed her eyes.
"Goodnight, Vi."
—-
Hours later, in the buttery light of dawn, Caitlyn woke with strong arms wrapped around her waist and Vi's face tucked into her chest.
She peeled herself away from Vi's warmth, careful not to rouse her. The separation felt like a physical pain in her chest.
Vi didn't stir when she stroked her sleep-mussed hair. Her features were so soft like this. Lax and open, free of any burdens. Beautiful. Caitlyn stared until she had committed each one to memory. The slightly crooked bridge of her nose. The slant of her plump lips. The slope of her high cheekbones, shadowed by long lashes.
She stayed until the pale light filtering through the dirty window turned to shades of orange.
When she left it was with her thick blue cloak wrapped around her, hood pulled up tight over her face.