Chapter Text
In a shock to absolutely no-one. Vi is late.
She set her alarm early and ate her breakfast running down the stairs for no reason. Her uniform was laid out on her chair like it was the first day of school. Her lunch ready to go so early that her sandwich is definitely soggy. And yet, here she is, running fucking late.
It truly is the least shocking information, but she seethes all the same because she tried this time. She blames it on the patriarchy and being broke as shit. Mortifyingly, she left her flat on time with her bright ideas and borderline positive attitude all for it to smack her in the face before she's had her morning coffee. The universe has it out for her or something. Her coins fell through her fingers as she tried to get it in the toll machine quickly enough that she didn't miss the passing. Yet she ended up waiting, tapping her foot irritably as the barriers slowly came down. Heaven forbid a woman of twenty five had enough money to pay for things with notes.
Instead of complaining, (well, instead of complaining externally) Vi throws her lock around the back wheel of her motorbike and prays it’s enough to keep someone from stealing it. There’s no way she can afford to get another one, nor can she ride the tram daily without cutting into her non-existent funds. Isn't public transport meant to be cheap and appealing? Perhaps Piltover thought that letting the tram enter the slums was good enough karma for letting them live in ruin. Then, they whacked the prices up so the trenches didn't dare step on it. Wankers.
Vi sighs. Topsider's being wankers is not new.
Nor is hoping that if someone does go through with breaking the heavy duty chain on her bike, the fact that it’s a heap of fucking shit would deter them from taking it anywhere.
She thinks about siphoning out the petrol so they’d have to push the heavy thing uphill. But then she remembers. One, she’s fucking late and Sevika has been moody all week so she’ll definitely be on her arse about it. Two, the last time she siphoned petrol and then went to work, she vomited in front of a group of yoga women.
She still went back to one of their houses, but the whole affair was tainted. She couldn't tell if the woman tasted strange or if it was the lingering petrol in the back of her throat. And she couldn't, you know, ask.
The backdoor sticks when she goes to barrel through as it always does, but she’s too late to just chill out and pull it gently. Instead, she groans in frustration as she yanks once, twice, three times until it, and her shoulder, gives. The devil on her shoulder, the one with the infuriatingly posh voice, mocks her as she finally gets into the gym. “If you’d just taken a breath and calmed down, it would have worked just as well. Would it not?”
The intonation is off. Vi, thankfully, hasn’t seen her in years. She has tried her hardest to forget Caitlyn's voice, the hue of her hair, the gap in her teeth.
Somehow, Vi can’t remember what her mum sounds like, but her old best friend, probably the love of her life, definitely someone who she never expected to betray her's, voice sits at the back of her mind whenever she fucks up. Like a little annoying, pretty thing sitting with her knees together, back straight and a smirk as Vi tries and fails to be a functioning member of society. Vi can't even remember what touch feels like if it’s not laced with violence. But she can still feel the tips of Caitlyn’s fingers running down the back of her arm to calm her down.
God, fuck, pathetically she can’t remember the last time someone said anything nice to her. She can remember the way she felt when Caitlyn told her she loved her for the last time.
Vi wants to forget everything about her. Truly and honestly she does. Even if she has a voice note saved on her phone that she replays when she’s drunk out of her mind, or when she just can’t sleep because the lights are too bright, or when she hears a vague British accent.
So, yeah, whatever, she’d have a better chance of culling Caitlyn from her life once and for all if she didn’t religiously remind herself she exists every day of her miserable life.
It’s been too long (four years, five months and twenty three days) since Vi broke out of jail and saw Caitlyn had become the only thing she was truly terrified of. An enforcer. Lord, she could have been anything. Anyone, and she became the worst thing Piltover ever created. Someone Vi would have to avoid regardless, because of the aforementioned breaking out of jail. She should be over it. She shouldn’t dwell on the past. She has a half decent job, an apartment she can barely afford but it doesn’t let the rain in and she sees Powder and Ekko when she can.
Mainly though, she’s no longer trapped inside an eight foot by eight foot box all day every day.
But oh, how not having Caitlyn hurts harder than the warden’s baton ever could.
“You’re late,” Sevika grunts, all but shoving her into the training room. Usually, Vi would meet the clients in the waiting room and she would show them around before she started on their one on one training. Today, and everyday this week but Vi is desperate not to ask why, Sevika has had her panties in a twist, so she lets her push her around. Vi thinks it's some pretty chick with braids and gold skin, but her and Sevika aren't close like that so she doesn't ask.
“Hardly. It’s nine.”
“Nine fifteen and there’s a kid waiting for you. Mum has been waiting straight fucking backed since eight forty five and she’s got two to five sticks up her arse.”
“A Piltie?” Vi groans. She knows better than most how a child has no choice where they come from. But by Janna. A Piltie? Vi can’t even whack them when they inevitably look down their nose at her even though she’ll be taller than them because it’s against the law and her morals or whatever. Fuck, prison made her soft as shit.
“A high paying one,” Sevika replies. She always charges Topsider’s through the roof in the hopes they fuck off. Sometimes, they’re just too damn rich and Sevika's pride isn't bigger than rent. “Figure it out.”
Vi takes a deep breath in her nose and tries to smile when she enters the training room. It doesn’t touch her cheeks. To be fair, she usually trains adults and she never smiles at them either. But kids are kids. Even if they’re stuck up and a little knobby.
“Hey, I’m Vi,” she says as she walks over to the bench and places her bag down. Her chest is puffed out, shoulders broad and then promptly deflates when she realises she’s trying to impress a child and that is horribly embarrassing. She can feel Caitlyn on her shoulder laughing in that non polite way she used to. Head thrown back with a snort. Heavens, how Vi loved that sound.
Still Caitlyn would laugh at her for trying and clearly failing, to impress a child.
As that child blanks her. Vi should have known Topsider's couldn’t be polite even on her turf. Their entire personality is pretending to be perfect, and this kid can't yelp out a hello? It grinds her gears that they have the nerve to come find a gym class in Zaun and then act as though they can't bear to actually interact with them.
Vi turns, a frown on her face but her body is as unaggressive as she can get it. Her fingers flex as she takes the child in.
They don't look much older than fourteen. Shaggy blue hair, darker than Powder’s and way too close in shade to someone she never wants to think about. A cold shudder runs through her body. This kid can’t be Cait’s. Vi saw Caitlyn last about four years ago. She would have known if she had a child. Caitlyn isn't old enough to have a near teen and the last Vi knew, she only liked women. She was behind bars for the worst part of five years, but she's sure technology hasn't advanced that much. Besides, the kid isn't wearing a miniature enforcer’s outfit and they don't look like they want to commit war crimes just from being here. (To be fair, Vi only ever saw Caitlyn in her enforcer’s outfit twice. Stupidly hot but she couldn't think about that through the tears and the screams. And Caitlyn loved coming to the Undercity. Well, she did, before she became someone Zaun wouldn't want here for love nor money.)
The kid's also dressed like a Zauntie. The shoes are clearly too big. Jeans that look like they’ve been patched up beyond repair, and a hoody thrown up and over their head.
They could be Vi at twelve. The scowl matches and everything.
“You okay, kid?”
“M’not a kid,” they grumble like a child. “I’m thirteen.”
“That’s a child.”
They groan again, brow so low it almost touches her nose. Vi smiles.
“What you here for?”
The child kicks the toe of their shoe against the lino. It squeaks and Vi wants to know why a Topsider has a child that looks like they haven’t seen new clothes this decade.
“She wants me to do some anger management.”
Vi hums. “Your mum?”
The kid glares. “She’s not my mum.”
“Uhuh. Got a name, kid?”
“M’not a kid,” they mumble again. “Alex.”
“Alex. Nice to meet you, I’m Vi.”
“Yeah, you said already.”
Vi laughs, hands in the air in surrender. “I’m sensing the need for these classes.”
Alex frowns some more. It’s kind of adorable. Vi is understanding why adults didn’t take her seriously as a teenager. Well, until she turned sixteen and got tossed in an adult prison, of course. She tries not to think about it. But Janna, was she young. She still had baby fat cheeks like Alex. The world is cruel to those they deem lesser.
“It’s this or therapy.”
“Oh, yeah?”
Alex hums. “I don’t like talking.”
“I can understand that. So, your not mum got you classes?”
Alex rolls their eyes. “She’s a foster placement.”
Vi frowns. “You don’t like her?” Vi and Powder had their fair share of foster placements before they got lucky as shit with Vander. A few that only did it for the money but weren't physically abusive, a couple she had to take Powder and run in the middle of the night with bruises on her arms.
“She’s a Piltie.”
There’s a hum of agreement as Vi brings the boxing gloves out her bag. “But a Piltie that’s trying to help? Or what’s her goal?”
Alex shrugs, their hood falling off their head. So young and angry, but the cutest chubby cheeks Vi has seen since Powder was a child. “She’s fine. I don’t get her. I need a dictionary for everything she says. But Lav likes her.”
“Lav?”
Alex walks a little closer, looking over the equipment. They do like talking. Vi wonders if those Topsider's even bothered asking the correct stuff.
“Lavender. My kid sister,” they say, then, “It’s just me and her left. I do my best to protect her, you know. It's my job, but she’s attached now." There's an underlying hatred in their tone that Vi wishes she didn't understand. She wonders if this is what she sounded like when she used to beg for food or a place to stay when it rained so bad it hit the Undercity. Surely not. If she looked and sounded as broken as Alex, someone would have helped, right?
"So, I don’t know what to do when it all goes to shit. Usually, I just gotta make it through the night, get dinner and try get Lav to school. Now, she's going to be all heartbroken and stuff.”
“Why would it?”
Alex shrugs, lets Vi push their hoody sleeves up to wrap their wrists and hands. There’s healed scars over Alex's knuckles and Vi wants to make them go away. She wants to exist in a place where people protect children so they don’t end up marked and hardened by the time they turn a teenager. Alex should be worrying about a person at school they have a crush on, or what snack they want next. Not how to look after their little sister in an alleyway behind a brothel.
“This is our sixth foster placement," they say, cheeks blushing red. "Just never works out. We haven’t been on the streets in a few months. I’m - I’m not worried." Their shoulders and chest puff out and Vi wonders if this is how silly she looked early walking in. "I’ll protect her. I just - I'm good with my fists. What do I do when she's crying because she thought we'd ever get to stay somewhere for real?”
“Has this one lasted longer than all the others?”
“Yeah,” Alex sighs. They shuck their hoody off. Gangly arms and barely proportioned limbs come out of hiding. The frown stays permanent. “But Topsider's always find a way to screw us.”
Vi blinks, suddenly back to the last conversation she ever had with Caitlyn. Fuck, was she the epitome of Topside. Posh, influential like it was her birthright, rich as all hell. But Vi was smitten the moment they met at eight and she swore up and down that Caitlyn was different.
Not in the end, though. Not when it mattered.
She doesn’t want Alex to think that though. Even if it does all end the way it always does, she wants them to have a little hope. To enjoy it all while it lasts. Take them for everything they have. She wishes she enjoyed being with Vander while she had the chance. Instead of consistently waiting for the other shoe to drop. It didn't make it any easier when she went to prison, to not have enjoyed the time she had before that.
“It’s my fault, too,” Alex says a little while after Vi realises she never responded. “I’m too angry. Break things. I never listen to her.”
“You’re a kid,” Vi replies. “That’s what kids do.”
Alex hums. “Yeah, she says that too.”
Vi wants to protect Alex with everything she has and she's known them three minutes. From the Topsider who thinks it’s cute to take Undercity kids and parade them around like a charity project. From people who have made them think it’s normal for a thirteen year old to live on the street while looking after her sister.
She wants to protect them from everything she wishes she was protected from.
Vi's never learnt how to do that successfully. She does the only thing she knows how.
“Come on, wanna fight?”
Alex has no fighting skill, but the heart of someone with something to protect. Their fists hit their target. Harder than they need to if they don’t want nerve damage like Vi. There’s no hesitation in their throws, just sheer determination to keep fighting. Vi didn't strike them, of course. They were only ever hitting the pads on her own hands. But if she had, there’s no way Alex would have blocked a single one without using their face.
But they're determined, sweaty as hell and a little smelly. Vi hopes it annoys their Topsider foster to no end.
"Good job, kid."
Alex breathes out, trying to blow their sweaty fringe away from their forehead. There's no smile, but they don't tell her off for calling them a kid again.
"You gonna come back?" Vi asks. She wonders how to let Alex know that people here will look out for them without making it sound like they haven't done enough themselves. Like they haven't been asking and desperately trying to get people to help them and still ended up in their sixth foster placement.
Alex shrugs. "I need to ask, I guess."
"Do you want to come back?"
Alex shrugs again, but Vi's been Alex before. She knows what a quick glance up at her and then away means. Please don't make me beg if you're going to say no.
"I guess."
"I'll go talk to her," Vi says, helping Alex takes the gloves off. "You can keep the wraps. If you need to hit anything, that will make it better."
"Kay."
"Kay," Vi parrots back. Alex trails after her. "What's your foster mum called?"
Vi yanks the door open, ready for a fight with a snooty old woman. She stops so suddenly that Alex barrels into her back. Because sure, the woman in front of her is snooty as fuck, but heavens is she pretty. She's sitting rimrod straight in the uncomfy waiting room chairs, but Vi knows it takes her extra effort to ever slouch and she's so pretty. Her hair is pulled into a loose braid, like she let the purple haired child on her lap do it for her again and again while they waited. She's wearing a suit tailored to devastate anything in her path, and she's had Vi's heart since the day she met her.
Her eyes widen, mouth falling open a little to show off her tooth gap. Janna above, is she fucking pretty.
"Violet."
"Caitlyn," Alex says as she opens her arms for a running Lavender. "Caitlyn Kiramman."