Chapter Text
You can no more win a war than you can win an earthquake.
—Jeannette Rankin
Caitlyn took cover behind a parapet as crossbow bolts shattered against the fortified surface. She chanced a glance through a gunhole, her left eye just barely healed enough to make out the ranks of Noxians still disembarking from their ships at the docks. It had been—what? Six? Eight months since Ambessa’s attempt to take the city with the aid of the hex-infused Viktor? She’d assumed Mel’s departure from Piltover to take her mother’s place in the clan would have prevented Noxian reprisals. She’d been wrong. Worse, she’d been a fool. Again.
This time they’d had more warning, at least. As Sheriff, Caitlyn had taken a proactive approach to protecting the city from external threats, and airship patrols had spotted the Noxian ships nearly a week in advance. They’d also constructed dedicated defensive structures in the wake of Ambessa and Viktor’s attack.
Under Caitlyn’s direction, they’d established better overlapping fields of fire for their Hextech cargo cranes-turned-cannons, and she’d drilled the Enforcers as part of her reforms to the organization into a more disciplined—if less lethal—force. But Ambessa had attacked with only a half-dozen ships or so, and almost took the city even before Viktor and his hex-creations had intervened. This time, there were near a hundred Noxian ships.
Caitlyn couldn’t help but surrender a moment to despair. The Noxians were making slow but steady progress. The first lines of defenses had fallen, the outermost ramparts overran by the weight of Noxian soldiers still streaming down the ramps of their ships. Every Noxian that fell was stepped over by four more. Every loss Caitlyn’s Enforcers and city volunteers suffered was irreplaceable. So, they’d fallen back to the sturdiest—final—line of ramparts, the only thing between the Noxians and the city.
Steeling herself, she exhaled in a controlled breath and shouldered her weapon, her rifle picking out a Noxian commander. The crack of her rifle was answered a moment later by his head snapping back. The commander fell, his subordinates sparring nary a glance as they advanced.
Caitlyn smelled smoke, pulled her rifle back behind cover, turned her head, and found the source. Rising from inside the city, inside the ramparts protecting the adjacent docks, smoke billowed. Flaming projectiles rained over the walls into the city from Noxian ships. Red Noxian uniforms flooded the inner defenses in the distance, the Enforcers there overwhelmed in the close-quarter press of melee.
They were being overrun everywhere, she realized, the inner defenses suddenly crumbling before her eyes. It should have been harder for the Noxians. She’d truly believed that she had prepared the city’s defenses for the possibility of one day facing a threat like the Noxians again. Caitlyn felt the despair seep deeper into her. How could she have failed to protect the city, yet again? She had prepared a contingency, just in case the new outer defenses failed, but it was a desperate measure: Fall back into the city, use the buildings for cover, sniper’s nests, crossfire ambushes. Force an invading enemy to fight door to door, make them pay for every inch they took with blood, every street and alleyway a deathtrap.
But the Noxians were holding at the inner rampart, not trying to break down the steel portcullis that guarded entry to the city itself. They simply waited, cheered as more fiery projectiles careened overhead into the city launched from their ships. She hadn’t considered that an enemy might be willing to simply raze the city entirely. She chastised herself for yet another failure to anticipate the Noxians’ strategy, just like when she had fallen for the decoy during the “Glorious Evolution”.
It didn’t make sense to her. Ambessa had wanted Hextech, conquest being her means to that end. This attack, Caitlyn had assumed, was a reprisal for her death—and a good excuse for Noxian warlords to seize what Ambess had failed to procure. Yet, the Noxians now seemed content to reduce the city to cinders. There would be nothing to salvage, the infrastructure to manufacture Hextech was directly under fire by the ships. And without Jayce or Viktor, creating new Hextech infrastructure from the ground up may be impossible—no one had succeeded in taking up their mantle thus far. She couldn’t figure out what the Noxians were after. Unless their motivation was truly just to wipe them out, a stubborn independent city blighting their expanding empire’s borders. Caitlyn rapped her head with her fist in frustration, gritting her teeth and setting her jaw stiff. Their motivation didn’t matter, she chided herself as more of the city rapidly went up in flames.
Caitlyn’s squad, looking to her while in cover to her sides, glanced anxiously at one another. Vi, at the end of the group, spoke reassuring words to them while Caitlyn tried to clear her mind, return her focus, and decide what to do.
“Fall back to the gate, we’ll set up in the buildings like we planned.” She did her best trying to exude confidence she didn’t feel.
The squad began falling back in good order. They had maintained their discipline, that was something at least. They still believed in her, she realized. Believed she would find a way, any way, to lead them to victory.
Maybe if we can tighten our defensive lines, she tried to reason with herself, if we can put enough manpower in a concentrated location at the city’s center, maybe we can save something of the city.
Caitlyn was faltering, but she refused to let it show. She watched Vi encouraging the Enforcers, telling them they weren’t out of the fight yet, letting them retreat first while she remained behind. She wouldn’t leave without Caitlyn, she knew. Caitlyn shouted for her over the noise of a building crumbling, fire ravaging it until it could no longer support its own weight. Vi glanced back her way. Caitlyn waved toward the city, at the retreating Enforcers, telling Vi they should fall back to join them. Vi glanced once more through the gunhole, Caitlyn seeing in her eyes that she desperately wanted to take the fight to them, her Hextech gauntlets useless from here. She would want to put them to use where they could do the most good. Caitlyn knew she’d get the chance soon enough. It would get close and ugly, and even more desperate once the Noxians broke through to the inside of the city.
She wanted to tell Vi to run instead. For Vi to escape the city. Wanted her to know something other than horror and violence for once in her life. Maybe Vi could try to find out if Caitlyn’s hunch was right, that Jinx might possibly be alive in some faraway land…
But she knew Vi would never abandon her, abandon the fight. Caitlyn wouldn’t have been able to, either. Vi loved her, as Caitlyn did her. A small warmth grew in her chest, a small measure of solace in the midst of the world crumbling around them.
So Caitlyn dug deep, wrenched from within her last ounce of courage, the last of her optimism. She allowed herself to believe that they might find a way to survive. She waved Vi toward her again, and Vi met her eye again and nodded, crouched low, and ran over to her, kneeling beside her.
“We’ll stop them inside the city. Just like you said,” Vi assured her. Her eyes told Caitlyn she believed it. Caitlyn forced a smile and nodded.
She placed a hand on Vi’s cheek. “Right.”
Vi placed a gauntleted hand on Caitlyn’s shoulder and gave her a nudge. Caitlyn turned and kept low as she beat a hasty retreat toward the steel portcullis into the city. Bolts rained over her, Vi slowing to unleash the shield from her Hextech gauntlets, the magical field stopping the bolts dead in the air.
Reaching the gate, Caitlyn turned, seeing Vi behind, and called to her, “We’re clear!”
Vi glanced, saw Caitlyn at the lever, and turned to run and join her. She kept her gauntlets over her head to protect herself as she ran, the shield dissipating.
Caitlyn made sure the last enforcer was indeed through, her hand on the release lever ready to drop the heavy steel portcullis and buy them time to regroup and organize the defense inside the city. Vi turned in from the rampart toward the entryway, crossbow bolts pinging and deflecting off her raised gauntlets when one, arcing in from a high angle, caught her in the right calf. Vi yelled in pain, stumbled, but kept her feet. Her hands faltered, shifting to maintain her balance. A crossbow bolt passed through the new gap between them and pierced her through the neck.
Vi dropped face-down in a heap, blood immediately pooling.
Caitlyn screamed. She left the gate behind, ran to her, dropped to her knees beside Vi, and turned her over. Vi’s eyes were glassy, darting wildly around, pupils in and out of focus, struggling until they locked in on Caitlyn’s. She tried to speak, but only air and blood bubbled out. The bolt’s head had entered the back-right of her neck, piercing through Vi’s throat in the front.
The battle raged on around them, the sounds of clashing metal and the harsh crackle of gunfire filling the air, but Caitlyn couldn’t focus on anything but the woman she loved—the woman she was losing. Vi lay on the ground, her breath shallow, her face pale. Blood soaked the front of her shirt, pooling beneath her in a sickening puddle. Caitlyn fumbled with her hands, they were shaking, and she tried to force them to obey her. Unsteadily, she pressed down on the wound, desperate to stop the bleeding, but the blood kept flowing—steady, relentless.
“Vi, stay with me, please,” Caitlyn pleaded, her voice breaking. Her own heartbeat thudded in her ears, drowning out the sounds of the chaos around them. She had felt the weight of the world on her before, now she only felt emptiness. The thick metal smell of blood filled her nose, it burned slightly.
“Hey, Cupcake,” Vi managed to whisper through a gurgle of blood. Caitlyn leaned closer, holding onto her voice like a lifeline.
“Vi, please don’t—I’ll get help. I can save you, just hang on,” Caitlyn choked out, fighting the lump in her throat. She didn’t want to believe what her eyes were telling her, didn’t want to accept the reality of it. Vi couldn’t die—not like this, not in her arms.
But Vi shook her head weakly, her hand released from the gauntlet, reached up, fingers brushing Caitlyn’s cheek. “You can’t save everyone,” she whispered, her voice thick with pain.
Caitlyn’s breath hitched in her throat as Vi’s words hit her like a punch to the chest. She could feel the weight of her failures bearing down on her—her inability to protect the woman she loved, to save her from this, that she brought her into it. She clenched her jaw, refusing to let the tears fall, but they came anyway—silent and relentless.
“Vi, I—I don’t know how to do this without you. I can’t—I won’t—”
Vi’s gaze softened, a small smile curving her lips despite the pain. Her chest rose and fell with increasingly shallow, labored breaths, but Caitlyn still found strength in her gaze. “You’re strong, Cait. You’ve always been. Just… promise me you’ll keep fighting. For both of us.”
Caitlyn sobbed, her vision blurring as she held Vi’s hand tightly, as if the holding on could somehow keep her here, keep her alive. She could feel Vi slipping away, and with her, a part of herself.
“You can’t leave me,” Caitlyn choked out.
There was a pause as Vi struggled to produce audible words.
“...under your nails...” her voice was stifled by the blood, “...ing’s gonnna wash...” her hushed, barely audible voice trailed off.
Caitlyn’s hands shook as she held Vi, her chest tight. She cradled Vi’s head in her lap, pressing her forehead against her own. The world around her seemed to stop. The sounds of battle, the chaos of the moment, all faded into the background as she sat there, cradling Vi in her arms.
“Vi… Vi…” Caitlyn whispered, her voice breaking as she rocked gently, trying to find something—anything—to hold onto in the midst of the despair. But there was nothing. Only the painful silence that followed, the echo of Vi’s absence in every corner of her heart.
Vi’s head lolled, and Caitlyn screamed for help with carrying Vi inside. She felt a hand on her shoulder, pulling at her.
“It’s no use…” the voice said from behind. But Caitlyn was far away, kept her hold tight on Vi, the world around her shrinking away. Vi’s eyes rolled lazily to Caitlyn, who continued choking out desperate pleas for help. The hands kept pulling at Caitlyn—another pair joining in—and she felt herself being dragged away as she clawed and flailed, trying to get back to Vi.
“We need to get her help!” Caitlyn tried elbowing and twisting, trying to shake loose of them, but they held fast.
“She’s gone!” one of the Enforcers insisted.
Caitlyn could see Vi’s eyes, blank and expressionless, staring up at the sky. They were right.
Caitlyn’s vision darkened. Her lungs burned as she emptied them, vocal cords strained, screaming for them to let her bring Vi.
The portcullis dropped heavily between Caitlyn and Vi. Caitlyn knew right then and there it no longer mattered if the city fell or not. Nothing at all mattered anymore. If she lived a hundred years more, she would still never be okay again. Her chest tightened, her breath shallowed. She felt nauseous. Caitlyn felt the hands on her grow tighter, their grip refusing to let her go. Her vision darkened, felt herself go lightheaded—losing consciousness at the effort and strain against the Enforcers pulling her deeper into the city, her screams never quieting. Everything went dark…
…Her eyes opened—saw the walls of a house—hands were on her—pinning her down—she couldn’t breathe—tight—so tight—were they dragging her? Were they? She thought they were—but no—yes—she was—her chest—she couldn’t—no air—slowly—shallowly—her breath came in stuttered gasps, like the air was too thick to swallow—she felt like she was suffocating—she had to— Her heart pounded in her ears, louder, harder, like it was going to burst out of her chest—that would be fine with her—her head was spinning—she wanted it to stop—all of it—anything was better than this—the room tilted—she saw Vi’s body—far away—on the other side of steel—Vi’s body—no—no—no—
Breathe.
She tried, but her lungs wouldn’t listen—stiff—locked—her chest was a vise—a cage—and she couldn’t break out— Then—hands—still—pulling—or were they shaking?—Yes—shaking—
Gently.
Vi? No—not Vi—it was— “Cait,” a voice—soft, too soft—Vi? No—it wasn’t— “Cait, you’re safe, you’re safe, I’ve got you, Cait.” Vi’s face—Vi’s face was—close—too close—eyes wide, wet, scared—but she wasn’t real—she couldn’t be—this wasn’t real—she was imagining it—It didn’t make sense—this wasn’t real— “Please—please, Cait,” the voice again—wasn’t Vi—it was a man’s voice now—her father—his hands—gentle—rubbing her back, coaxing her breath to slow.
Caitlyn felt herself gasp for air, still choking on what wasn’t real, still struggling, still panicking—and she realized then—her hands—she felt her hands—no longer clenched, no longer trying to fight against the walls and the hands gripping her—but holding—holding—Caitlyn clung to it—this vision of Vi—her arms felt like they didn’t belong to her anymore—she couldn’t feel her fingers, her arms shaking violently—and then, at last, she broke.
Her sobs came in jagged, broken breaths—tears burning her eyes—hot, burning—her chest convulsing under the weight of it all—too much, too much—the voice came into focus.
“It’s okay, Cait.”
Vi.
For a moment, everything else was silent. Vi’s voice—it was soft, but insistent. Caitlyn felt herself being rocked.
What was that? That sensation?
“We’ve got you. You’re safe. You’re here, Cait. You’re here, we’re here.” Caitlyn wanted to scream, but only a strangled, breathless wail escaped. She could barely breathe, but Vi was there, impossibly, holding her—her father’s hands warm on her back—everything was warm—everything was— Vi’s whisper was in her ear now, a steadying force—“I’ve got you, Cait. It’s okay. It’s okay. We’re here, you’re safe. It’s okay.” But Caitlyn could hardly hear her—her mind a blur—everything too much, everything too heavy—and yet, she could feel Vi—her grip—her warmth—her presence. It was real.
That sensation... relief.
Breath came to Caitlyn a little easier. She blinked, her vision adjusted, the interior looking slightly familiar now. She found Vi’s face in front of hers. It was her. She was certain. Vi continued rocking her gently.
“It’s okay, Cait. You’re safe. I’m safe. Everyone’s safe. I promise you’re okay, Cait.”
“Please dear, you’re okay, you don’t have to worry anymore,” her father’s voice said. Tobias was there, she realized. The other pair of hands, they continued rubbing her back gently.
Caitlyn realized she was still sobbing, gasping. Vi saw a glimmer of recognition in Caitlyn’s eyes, and pulled her in, hugged her, whispered to her. “I’ve got you Cait. We’ve got you. We’re here…”
Still heaving, Caitlyn’s arms refusing to remain still, floundered in discoordination. She felt out of control, her head a whirlwind. She couldn’t understand what they were saying, only that she knew who the voices belonged to. She realized her legs were kicking from under her bedsheets, kneeing at Vi’s back relentlessly, Vi refusing to let go as she held her closer. Snot and flem leaked from her nose and mouth, her breathing so heavily she wasn’t swallowing, coughing up the sputum pooling in her throat over the shoulder of Vi, leaking down the back of her shirt.
“Oh Caitlyn—Caitlyn, it’ll be okay, I promise you,” her father said, his voice cracking. He tried to keep his voice gentle, but fear and horror had crept in.
“That’s right,” Vi continued, “you’re okay, you’re safe. I promise.”
Caitlyn felt herself, without conscious thought, reach out and wrap her own arms around Vi.
“...V-Vi? Is it— is it really you?” She had to be sure.
Vi put her hands on Caitlyn’s cheeks, put her nose to Caitlyn’s, let her see her face, her eyes, smell her hair, and know that she was real. “Yes, I’m here Cait. It’s okay. You had another nightmare, but I’m here, right here for you.”
Caitlyn’s hyperventilation slowed, slightly, as she tried to grip Vi tightly, but felt no strength in her arms. She felt herself try to cry again, now in joyous relief, but found herself so out of breath that only a dry cough came. She buried her head into Vi’s shoulder, coughing where she could do nothing else.
“I— I thought—”
“It was just a dream—a bad, bad dream,” her father intoned, continuing to rub her back.
Vi tried to choke back her own tears, a singular sob betraying her. “You’re okay, we’re here,” Vi’s voice cracked, trying her best not to break down, herself.
Caitlyn finally took a ragged breath, her arms tightening around Vi’s neck as she pulled them in tighter. “I’m sorry,” she said, tears flowing freely again. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”
Vi cut her off. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” she said with as much assurance as she could put into her voice. “Nothing at all.”
“It all went wrong-” Caitlyn continued.
Vi whispered into her ear. “It’s all okay. Everything’s okay.”
Caitlyn’s mind raced, too many thoughts, too many emotions all at once. She couldn’t sort them, couldn’t process them. Couldn’t control them. She tried to compose herself. “I’m sorry, I just need a min-”
Tobias patted her back, while Vi kept her tight to her shoulder, rocking her again, speaking softly, “It’s okay, take all the time you need. There’s no rush. No rush at all. Take all the time you need.”
Caitlyn continued, murmuring, “I’m sorry,” over and over, feeling ashamed for reasons she didn’t quite understand. Vi continued to cradle her, rocking her in her arms, and gave her all the time she needed. Tobias never stopped rubbing Caitlyn’s back, his daughter his only concern in the world.