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“So how could you believe me
When I say to you
That no one in my hollow heart
Holds a candle to
You”
-Dizzy
It was well past midnight, and Caitlyn’s room was dark and mostly silent except for the soft patter of rain droplets against the window. A steady drizzle had been falling over Piltover for days. Vi listened to it, half-drowsing in bed with her hands folded loosely over her midriff. The sound was soothing, in a way, unlike the rain that had rapped on the metal roof of her house growing up, keeping her and Powder awake all night. Her mother told them that the rain was louder in the lanes because it gained momentum on the long way down. It was also so acidic that they weren’t allowed to play outside until it had dried up, to avoid the chemical burns. Here, the storms were docile in comparison. As if on cue to wash the city clean, plump gray clouds had rolled in directly after the battle and hung around for longer than anyone was used to. Tobias had gotten into the habit of standing in front of the picture window in the foyer with his cup of tea every morning, grumbling that all the moisture was bad for his tuligonias. Whatever those were.
Vi didn’t mind it, though. In fact, she hoped that the clouds would linger until Cait opened her eyes again. Her eye. Just the one. She still wasn’t used to it. There was a lot she wasn’t used to yet, and it would all have to wait until after Cait woke up. At first, the doctor had kept her heavily sedated with a bright orange cocktail of drugs that Vi didn’t trust in the slightest. But then yesterday morning he’d opted to omit the next dose and declared she was healed enough to wake up on her own. To Vi’s dismay, the day had come and gone, and Cait remained steadfastly asleep. She and Tobias had fretted over it, but the doctor said it was normal. He also suggested Vi leave the room every once in a while for a change of scenery and some fresh air, but as usual, she just scowled at him.
She was content to stay right where she was, listening to Cait’s quiet breathing. She’d gotten into the habit of counting her breaths, the way Vander had taught her to count her own when she was anxious. Every so often there would be a hitch or a pause in the tempo, and Vi would snap out of her reverie to stare intently into Cait’s face, searching for any sign of imminent awakening. It was one of the only things that broke the monotony of the nights, where time practically stood still. Vi herself couldn’t sleep, not for anything, despite the exhaustion that saturated every cell in her body. Occasionally the sheer weight of her eyelids overwhelmed her capacities, and she dozed off. But never for very long.
Daytime at least offered the tasks necessitated by basic human existence. She would roll out of bed and do push-ups until her healing abdominal wound began to protest, and then she’d amble downstairs for breakfast. After forcing food down her gullet, she’d ask Tobias for the hundred and fiftieth time if there was anything she could do for him (there was not) and then spend about an hour wandering wraith-like through the corridors of the Kiramman mansion and sometimes out into the garden if there was a lull in the rain. When she decided she’d done her due diligence to “get a change of scenery,” she’d return to whatever idle occupation she’d assigned herself in Cait’s room. Her next project was cleaning and repairing her gauntlets, which had been thoughtfully returned to her by Steb the previous morning.
She’d also spent some time just exploring Cait’s room, having never had a chance to do so before. Admittedly, there wasn’t a whole lot to see. Or at least not much of interest. What Vi could never figure out was why rich people seemed to need so much space. It’s not as if they made good use of it for sparring or grappling or even poro-fighting. And everything was just so…impersonal. Despite the grandiosity of Cait’s bedroom, there was very little of actual substance and even less of her personality. It made Vi shudder to imagine growing up here. She’d take her tiny, cramped bedroom with Powder, chock full of trash, treasures, and trinkets over marble columns and chandeliers any day. The only way she could tell that it was Cait’s bedroom was from the various accolades decorating nearly every horizontal surface. Big gold trophies with heavy bases and placards that read things like: “Ms. Caitlyn Kiramman-Sharpshooter-9th Annual Piltover Blunderbuss Competition” and “Ms. Caitlyn Kiramman-Marksman First Class-Fifty Meter Rifle-Junior Enforcer Academy.” Everything else seemed to be present purely for the purpose of functionality: an ornate, solid wood desk littered with professional correspondence, several armoires full of more clothing than Vi had ever seen in one place, and a large bookshelf. Vi had examined this first, eager to see if there were any titles that piqued her interest, but to her disappointment it was nothing but textbooks and manuals all the way down.
A crack of lightning lanced across the sky, briefly casting the room in electric yellow light. Vi turned over and draped her arm across Cait’s waist, bracing for the thunderclap. When it came, it was loud enough to rattle the collection of empty water glasses on the bedside table. Cait stirred and rolled her head on the pillow, her forehead wrinkling as her mind fought her body’s instinct to awaken. Vi propped herself up on an elbow and grasped the sides of her face gently to keep her from distressing her bandage.
“Whoa, take it easy, cupcake,” she whispered, tense with the anticipation of finally seeing that tightly shut eye open and look at her again. But as usual, Cait settled down and her breathing returned to its previous rhythm. Vi flopped back down with a sigh.
She had to admit that she was relieved the medics had gotten to Cait so quickly after the battle was over and she’d never had the opportunity to see the full extent of the damage Ambessa had done. It would have split her sanity wide open to see Cait crumpled and bleeding on the ground at the base of the hex gates after what had happened to Vander and Powder. By the time Vi was able to drag her own beaten body out of the tower and onto the street, Cait had already been taken to the hospital. How Vi herself had gotten there she could not have said. The next memory she had constituted of waking up in a frothing rage under the swelter of overhead lights and yanking several tubes out of her arms. It had taken three orderlies and a doctor with a large syringe to wrangle her onto the gurney and back into oblivion.
When she woke up next she could tell that she was in the Kiramman mansion by the softness of the bed and the smell of furniture polish. Beside her, Mel Medarda was seated primly in a chair, both hands clasped over her knees and looking more gorgeous than anyone had any right to be at any time, much less under the circumstances.
“Welcome back,” she had intoned, watching with polite interest as Vi sat bolt upright and cranked her head around in all directions, pawing at her arms in case there were more tubes to be ripped out. “I thought you might prefer to convalesce at the Kiramman’s. Plus the hospital was starting to run out of space.”
Vi’s head jerked around at the word “Kiramman’s.” “Cait? Where is she?”
“Just down the hallway, but I-”
Vi was out of bed and out the door before Mel could finish. Once in the hallway, she gripped the doorframe until the vertigo passed and then started hobbling in the direction of Cait’s room as quickly as her defective body could carry her. When she got to the door she snatched it open without so much as a knock and barged in, ready to fight any number of people who dared to impede her- bare feet and hospital gown notwithstanding. To her surprise the room was empty except for the Kiramman’s personal physician, who was in the process of packing up his medical bag. He glanced up in surprise at her entry and squinted, pushing his glasses up on his face as Vi crossed the room to the side of Cait’s bed where she lay sedated.
“I do believe you’re supposed to be resting, young lady,” he grumped, snapping his bag shut. “In fact, you should be physically incapable of weight bearing. I may have dosed your analgesic too high.” He shot her a look of clear disapproval. “And the sedative too low,” he added under his breath.
Vi didn’t hear him. She was standing over Cait, staring down. Obscuring her left eye from cheek to forehead was a thick white bandage. “What’s wrong with her face?”
The doctor stuck his hand in his pocket, playing with the chain of his watch. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to disclose any private medical information with you without Master Kiramman present.”
A smoldering fire was building just behind Vi’s sternum. Through gritted teeth, she repeated, “look doc, I really need you to tell me what the fuck is wrong with her face.” He began to sputter, but luckily for him, Mel walked into the room behind them before he could formulate a reply.
“She lost her eye,” she told Vi flatly. Vi froze. A strangled groan tore free from somewhere deep inside her chest and she gripped the headboard to steady herself Mel approached her from behind, laying a hand gently on her back. “Dueling my mother. It was…” Mel trailed off, shaking her head. “Incredibly brave. One of the bravest things I’ve ever seen anyone do.”
Vi didn’t answer. She couldn’t. She screwed her eyes shut and held on doggedly in order to keep herself from sliding off the surface of Runeterra and into outer space. All she could think about was how she hadn’t been there.
“Ms. Kiramman really must be left alone to rest,” the doctor continued to implore from behind them. Hearing the feral growl Vi emitted in response, Mel gave her arm a light squeeze and whirled around.
“Doctor, I wonder if you wouldn’t mind looking at a cut I sustained on my arm,” she said, gesturing at the door and giving him a not-subtle shove toward it. “I want to make sure it’s healing properly.”
“Oh, well of course,” he blustered, still glaring at Vi as she frog-marched him away, “but Ms. Kiramman…” His protests trailed off as Mel wheeled him out the door and shut it behind her with a decisive thud.
Vi pried her fingers off the bed frame and reached down to touch Cait, as if to ensure she was corporeal. She ran her fingertips through her hair, laid the back of her hand over her forehead to check for heat, and brushed the pad of her thumb over her lips. Against her will, tears dripped off her face and splashed onto the plush bedspread.
“Don’t worry, Cait,” she had whispered as she pulled up the sheet and tucked it around her, “I’m not going anywhere.”
And for three long days and three even longer nights, she hadn’t. Thunder continued to rumble outside. She pulled herself up in a seated position and bent over to smooth back a few strands of Cait’s hair that had come loose in her somnolent thrashing. Vi had brushed and tied it back herself, knowing how she abhorred to appear disheveled. She would surely be aghast to learn upon waking of the various and sundry dignitaries, acquaintances, friends, family members, waitstaff, soldiers, enforcers, and assorted other Pilties that had trooped through the house to pay their respects until Vi insisted Tobias put a stop to it. She had already made a solemn promise to herself that she would never tease Cait about the fact that the chief justiciar had seen her in the pink and purple striped silk pajamas Vi had dressed her in before she got the lay of the land. Vi adjusted the blouse, which had gotten twisted around, and snorted when her eyes caught on the embroidery over the breast pocket: “Ms. Caitlyn Kiramman,” it proclaimed, in prissy italic text. What was that word Milo always used to describe the topsiders? Ostentatious, that was it.
Now fully awake and restless, Vi slid cat-like out of the bed, the soles of her feet landing soundlessly on the cold marble floor. She pulled her rumpled shirt over her head in case she took a fancy to rummage around in the icebox downstairs for leftovers, although it wouldn’t be the first time the Kiramman’s kitchen help had seen her in nothing but a binder and boxer shorts. She had a half-formed idea about using the remaining hours before sun-up to work on her gauntlets. Fixing the many electrical problems they had was out of the question, it would be too noisy, and anyway she didn’t know what she was doing. She would have to enlist Ekko’s help for that. But she could at least clean them. They were so caked in blood and sweat and filth that Steb had been unable to keep the revulsion off his face when he handed them to her. Vi figured if she could just find a headlamp of some kind in Tobias’s tool shed, she could use the partition in Cait’s room and scrub away behind it. The only problem was that she wasn’t completely sure what to use to clean them, but she thought she might have seen a weapons maintenance manual among Cait’s many dry and dusty tomes.
She lit a candle and carried it to the bookshelf on the far side of the room. Holding the light aloft and squinting, she ran her finger along the neatly stacked spines. Her lips moved as she read the titles: “Science & Magic: A Beginner’s Guide,” “Advanced Calculus for Engineering,” “Families of Piltover: A Genealogy.” Vi sniffed and rolled her eyes, crouching to investigate the next row. She was near the end and beginning to think she had hallucinated the maintenance manual when she came upon a book that was different than the rest. For one thing, it was much smaller, and for another, it had no title. Despite that, the top of the spine was heavily worn, as if it had been read many times. Intrigued, Vi tried to slide it out with a finger to take a closer look, but it wouldn’t budge. Frowning, she set the candle down she and grasped the book firmly, giving it a hard pull. It turned on its side at a ninety-degree angle, and from within came a loud click, followed by the whirring of turning gears. Vi stumbled back a few steps and watched, dumbfounded, as the entire bookshelf swung free of the wall and revealed a small hidden door with a nameplate on it. “Cait’s Room,” it declared, and below that, scrawled in marker with a childish hand: “Keep Out- Or Else.”
Vi manually shut her own jaw and looked back at the bed to see if the commotion had disturbed Cait, but the outline of her body was still. After briefly considering putting the bookshelf back in place and heeding the warning on the door, Vi crept forward and tried the knob. It was unlocked. The door opened with a light creak to a dark room within. She reached inside and felt along the wall until she found the sconce and turned the key. The light from the gas lamp lit up the space inside.
The room was small and cozy, but still at least twice the size of the bedroom she and Powder had shared. For as much as Cait’s formal outer bedroom lacked any vestige of her personality, this secret nook exploded with it. The color palette was similar but brighter, as if the saturation had been turned up. The purples, golds, and greens of the outer room were present but more vibrant- the shades a child might choose for herself, rather than the ones an adult would choose for her. The marble floor yielded to a soft, lavish carpet that Vi stepped onto eagerly, wiggling her bare toes. The walls were purple, but it was hard to tell as they were so thoroughly covered in posters and photographs. The centerpiece of the room was a well-worn gold armchair, holding court over an array of books and magazines, half-done craft projects, and other assorted juvenile detritus.
The corners of Vi’s mouth creaked into a rusty smile. Astounded by her miraculous turn of fortune, she wandered inside to take a look around, leaving the door open a crack behind her. The nearest wall boasted an array of posters that all had the same assortment of characters: tough looking women in leather jackets holding guns or riding motorcycles. Vi didn’t recognize any of them- childhood in the lanes was mostly conducted outdoors, and television sets were a rare novelty. She was more interested in the photographs tacked up among them at random. In one, a very young Cait toted a smaller version of her current rifle, posing proudly in front of a target with a clustered grouping of shots on the bullseye. She beamed at the camera, the gap between her two recently acquired adult teeth on display. In another, an older Cait was standing with a group of friends in front of the ivy-covered façade of a fancy school. She was wearing a black robe and a tasseled mortarboard, a word Vi only knew because she’d found a very dusty one once in a box at Benzo’s shop. When she asked him what it was, he’d peered over the top of his spectacles apologetically and replied, “A mortarboard. Something you’ll never get to wear, dear girl.”
Vi’s eyes roamed, eager for more. She smoothed down the corner of a larger photo whose edge had started to curl up from age. It was of Cait and her parents. Cait was no older than two, and her parents looked equally fresh and young, dimples shining out from the same faces that now glowered down from the family portrait in the drawing room. In the center of the picture, a laughing, pudgy Caitlyn hugged a black and white dog while her parents looked on adoringly. Smiling, Vi pulled out the tack holding it to the wall and carried it over to the armchair, where there was a reading lamp. She switched it on and dropped down onto the cushion behind her. Shifting uncomfortably, she realized she was sitting on something and groped beneath her until she came up with a wrinkly blue sweatshirt. She gave it a light shake and then paused as Cait’s concentrated scent washed over her. What she could never figure out was how Cait always smelled so good. Was it like, perfume? Or just her soap, or…? Devoid of even a modicum of shame, Vi pulled the sweatshirt over her head. She stretched the hem out at the bottom and read the gold lettering upside down: “Piltover Prep Academy.”
Luxuriating in the softness of the sweatshirt, Vi scootched into the lap of the chair and laid back on the pillows. The ceiling was covered in small plastic stars that she knew glowed in the dark because the same ones had decorated her and Powder’s room. Their father had come home with them one night after a trip topside. She and Powder had gleefully plastered them to every available surface and delighted in turning off all the lights to admire their glow. Vi sank in deeper, letting herself get lost in the memory, until something caught the corner of her eye. Among the pillows there was a stuffed animal, so old and well-loved that it had lost all distinguishing features. Vi’s eyebrows shot up and she picked it up, setting it on her chest to look into its beady black eyes.
“Are you…a cat?” she posited, scrunching her nose up in consideration. “A…possum?” Suddenly inspired, she glanced down at the photograph she had set beside her. “Oh,” she said, deciding. “You’re a dog.” Looking to her left and right, as if to be sure that no one had snuck in to see what she was about to do, Vi hugged it against her cheek. The sensation of nostalgia it kindled inside of her was akin to a direct kick in the diaphragm. Vi set it back down and sat up abruptly, wiping her face with her sleeve.
Looking around for a more neutral object of her attention, she stood up and walked to the other side of the room to investigate a small desk. While the one in the main bedroom was dedicated entirely to the commander’s correspondence, this one was covered in colored pencils, chalk, watercolors, and piles of sketch pads and loose sheets of paper with drawings and doodles of all different subjects. Charmed, Vi selected a pile and immediately recognized a younger version of Cait’s father, one with less facial hair, sitting at a table with a dreamy look on his face over a cup of steaming tea. It was a tableau that Vi recognized, having seen the older and far more careworn version of it at meals for the last several days. The brisk, somewhat careless lines implied that he must be a frequent subject. Vi sifted through the rest, her suspicions confirmed when she discovered Tobias doing a variety of other mundane things: watering a garden, sleeping in a hammock on the veranda, waving from a window.
Cassandra, on the other hand, was more of a challenge to find. Vi thumbed through a pile of half-finished drawings until she found Cait’s rendition of her mother and pulled it loose. She held it at arms-length, assessing it for accuracy. It was uncanny. With a deft and exacting hand, she had captured her mother’s haughty aloofness so perfectly that Vi half-expected Cassandra to turn and face her with an arched eyebrow. Or a loaded shotgun.
Vi set it down on top of the pile, beside the one of Tobias and his tea. Did any photographs or drawings of her parents still exist? And if they did, who would have them? Almost everything she’d ever had was lost or destroyed or stolen. She expected Vander would have kept sentimental things like that, but he was gone. There was nothing left but her memories, and those were imperfect and fading. Curling her fingers around the edge of the desk, she squeezed until her forearms began to ache and then turned away, scanning the room for another distraction. Beside the desk was a simple set of drawers. Without giving much thought to what she was doing, she opened the top drawer. Inside was an unremarkable brown shoebox. Anticipating more artwork, Vi flipped the lid off the top. Within was a stack of letters in Cait’s perfect boilerplate handwriting, and at the top of the first one was Vi’s name. Her mind snapped back into her body like a taught rubber band. Hands shaking, Vi pulled the stack out and sank to the ground. She fanned out the letters in front of her, holding her breath. Sure enough, they were all addressed to her.
She exhaled, blowing her hair off her forehead, and leaned back against the wall. Surely it would be invasive to read them without asking. It was just that her name was on all of them. She pinched the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. At a loss, she reached out to the part of her mind that was Vander. “What do I do?” she asked. She could almost hear his chuckle.
“Well that’s a right pickle you’re in,” his voice mused, “your call, kiddo. As they say, ‘what has been seen cannot be unseen,’ but…” His shade shrugged. “They are addressed to you, after all.” Having been given all the permission she needed, she picked up a letter at random.
Dear Violet,
I’ve just got back from another council meeting and I could scream. Everyone is constantly arguing and nothing ever gets done. Ambessa makes all these promises, but when the time comes to deliver she always has some excuse. There was another incident yesterday near the courthouse, someone dropped a pipe bomb down one of the sewers and it exploded, and well, you can imagine what that was like. Thankfully no one was hurt, but things like that keep happening. It feels like they’re taunting me. Ambessa wants to crack down, but how can we do that if we still haven’t identified the perpetrators? I’m not going to jail innocent people. I wish I could talk to you. I need your advice. I try to imagine what you would say if you were here but it’s not the same. Obviously.
I miss you.
-Caitlyn
Dear Violet,
It’s quite late and I’m finally back in my room. We had to put down another riot in the square today. The people have taken to wearing blue, painting themselves blue, and using so much blue spray paint I’ve been forced to outlaw its sale but of course they still find more. Your sister has evolved into some sort of folk hero even though no one has seen her in weeks. At first I didn’t understand it- why would they want to worship a murderer? I told myself that they just hate us and everything we stand for, but I know that’s just the line I’ve been hearing my whole life. I go out on every patrol I can, and I keep the enforcers mostly in check. The ones who are directly under my supervision, anyway. But I see how the others are influenced by Ambessa’s soldiers. We have a job to do- restore peace to the streets of Piltover- but it cannot come at the cost of even greater violence against desperate people who just want a better life for themselves. I try to have this conversation with Ambessa but she just smirks at me and calls me naïve in that backhanded way she has. During the riot today a man was arrested for stealing bread from a shop. As he was being reprimanded, he spat at Maddie, and she hauled off and punched him. He just knelt there with blood dripping down his face and the look he gave her was chilling. It reminded me so much of you.
I just wish I felt like I was doing the right thing.
I miss you.
-Caitlyn
Dear Vi,
Unfortunately I am quite drunk. I had an obligation to attend to tonight, some fancy dinner-you’d have hated it. Everyone is so sycophantic with me now. It’s all the most boring small talk-hasn’t it been unseasonably hot outside, your mother was such an icon, have you tried the tart… Always followed by some not-so-subtle request for a favor. And I hate to say this because I know she means well, but Maddie’s company does tend to get a bit grating after a while. I’m hiding in my nook right now and I can hear her outside the door making a fuss because she doesn’t know where I am. Tonight I played a little game where I imagined you were my date instead of her and I tried to think of all the funny things you would say about certain people and how much you would roll your eyes. I can’t picture you in a dress at all so I thought you might wear a tuxedo.
(Beside this line on the margin was a doodle of Cait in a dress and Vi in a tux. Cait had drawn hearts over her own eyes.)
Well, it’s after midnight now and I suppose I need to go to bed. I have to wake up horribly early and I just know that Maddie will be wanting to “cuddle.” She’s so clingy when she’s had a few drinks, I can’t stand it. I said your name in bed the other night and she pouted for three days.
That was cruel. Did I mention I’m drunk?
I miss you so much.
--Cait
Dear Violet,
I was out patrolling today with one of the teams and I saw someone who looked just like you. Her hair wasn’t quite the right shade, but she had your walk. This is embarrassing, but we were in the middle of detaining a suspect and when I saw her, I accidentally dropped the flex-cuffs and the subject took off. I apologized and made up some excuse about thinking I saw Jinx’s accomplice. The sad thing is, I could tell none of them believed me. They all had this look like they felt sorry for me. And well, I can tell why. When I got home just now I saw myself in the mirror for the first time in weeks and I hardly recognize myself. I’ve lost weight because I barely eat. I certainly don’t sleep. Last night I think I drifted off for almost an hour and spent the whole time in a horrible nightmare. I dreamed that I was back in the undercity and I was searching for you. That’s nothing new, I have that dream all the time. Except this time I found you, but you looked different. You looked…gray. Almost translucent. When I tried to grab your hand, to take you back with me, I couldn’t get a hold of it. You just stared at me and didn’t say anything. The more I tried to get to you, the dimmer you got. I asked a stranger passing by to help me, but he said he couldn’t see anyone. I said, “it’s Violet, can’t you see it’s Violet?” and he said, “Violet? I’ve never heard of anyone by that name.” And then I woke up.
I’m sorry, I don’t know why I told you that.
-Caitlyn
Vi set the letter down and sat up straight, rolling her head on her neck to loosen up some of the gathering pressure. She didn’t quite know what she had expected, but it wasn’t this. The two of them had been apart for months, and during that time, Vi hadn’t thought much about what Cait might be doing or feeling. In fact, she’d taken great pains not to think about it, to the detriment of her liver and most of the rest of her body. Try as she had, and she had tried mightily, she couldn’t scrub away the last image she had of Cait’s face. She could still feel the searing pain of the butt of her rifle, could still smell the choking, chemical smell of the gray, could still hear the clang of Cait’s boot heels on the metal ladder. Vi had watched from her knees as Cait climbed up, up, and away from her, never once looking back. No, Vi had to admit to herself, during those long months of separation, she could not honestly say that she had given a second thought to how Cait might be feeling. Because she thought she knew.
Struck by an idea, Vi gathered up the stack of letters and began rifling through them, her eyes skimming the contents. She knew right away when she landed on what she was looking for. The paper wasn’t as crisp as the others, and Cait’s handwriting was noticeably messier. There were also telltale splotches scattered over it, obscuring letters and sometimes whole words. Vi peeled it away from the rest and started to read it, chewing her bottom lip.
Dear Violet,
I don’t know why I’m writing this, because it’s not as if you’ll ever read it, but I don’t know what else to do. I’m afraid I’ll never see you again. Everything is upside down and I would give anything in the world to be able to talk to you. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I don’t know what I was thinking. I was just so angry and I made the worst decision of my life. I haven’t slept in days because every time I close my eyes I see your face and it tears me apart.
I don’t want to be the commander. I don’t want to be allied with Noxus. I never asked for this. I just wanted justice for my mother. Well, that’s not true. I wanted revenge. I thought if I killed Jinx it might mend this hole in my chest, but I failed and its only gotten bigger. I’m afraid of it. The emptiness. I’m afraid I’ll fall into it and I don’t know what kind of person I’ll be on the other side.
Violet, wherever you are, I want you to know that I am so sorry. I should never have gone down into Zaun, I should never have insisted you come with me. You didn’t have to stand by me, and yet you did. All you asked in return is that I make you a promise, and then I broke it. I abandoned you. I struck you! I don’t deserve your forgiveness. I don’t deserve to ever see you again. I hope you hate me. I deserve that too. But since I’ll never get the chance now to say it in person, I want you to know that I love you. I would do anything to tell you that. I would do anything to make it up to you.
I am so sorry.
-Caitlyn
Vi lowered the letter and sat back against the wall, drawing her knees up to her chest. She put one hand over her eyes to try and steady her emotions. Cait’s anger at herself, her loneliness, her despondency- it was all too familiar. Who could have guessed that the entire time she was destroying herself in the worst part of the undercity that Caitlyn was up here doing the same? Their methods were different, but the outcome was essentially identical. Vi too had become a version of herself she no longer recognized: reeking of alcohol, smeared with black paint, hands so swollen and bruised that she couldn’t close them into a fist in the morning. She’d walk into the ring every night not caring if she lived or died, drink herself to sleep, and do it all again the next day. She had felt as if her life had been drained of its worth. And in the end, whose fault was that? Vi crumpled the letter in her fist and lowered her forehead to her knees.
“Violet?”
Vi sat bolt upright and cocked her head to one side, not believing.
“…Violet?”
She sprang to her feet, knocking over the entire set of drawers on her way up, and was across the room and to the door in three strides. She wrenched it open and threw herself out into the main bedroom, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the dimness. It was marginally brighter than it had been earlier. The clouds were clearing, and a furtive moon peeked out from between them. It permeated the room with a faint yellow glow and Vi could just make out Cait’s silhouette, sitting up in bed.
“Cait!” Vi stumbled forward and dove onto the bed. Sheer, mind-numbing relief made her careless, and she failed to arrest her momentum as she threw her arms around Cait’s neck. She made an “oof” sound as she landed on the pillows with Vi on top of her.
“Sorry, did I hurt you?” Vi let go and scrambled backward, but Cait grabbed her by the arm.
“No, come back,” she said, her voice raspy with disuse. She clutched the back of Vi’s neck in her hand. “I was worried when I woke up and you weren’t here.”
“I’m here,” Vi assured her, pressing their heads together. Cait’s body relaxed slightly but her arms remained wrapped around her as if a strong wind might sweep through the room and blow her away.
“What happened?” Cait asked after a few seconds had passed. “Is everything…is everyone okay?”
Vi untangled herself and shifted onto one hip. She stared at Cait like she was apparition and if she so much as blinked, she’d disappear. “Everything is okay, the battle is over and the city is safe.” She avoided the second half of the question, banking on her being too out of it to notice.
Cait’s hand wandered up to touch her bandage gingerly. “How long have I been asleep?”
“A few days.”
“Days!” She lurched upright. “I need to call a council meeting, I have to-”
Vi put a restraining arm around her waist. “Cupcake, I promise everything out there is fine. Plus you might have noticed that it’s the middle of the night.” Cait glanced outside, to confirm for herself the truth of that statement. Vi attempted to change the subject. “You must be thirsty. Can I get you something to eat or drink?”
“I’m fine,” Cait said shortly, tugging futilely at Vi’s arm. “It might not be too early to call Shoola, she’s a morning person-”
“Cait.”
She let go of Vi’s arm with a frustrated sigh. “Okay, sure, but you don’t have to-”
“Just stay here, I’ll be right back.” Vi vaulted out of the bed, took the stairs two at a time, and returned with a glass of water and some crackers. Despite her haste, she found Cait slipping out of the bathroom and climbing back into bed. “You should have waited for me,” she admonished as Cait took the glass from her and drained it like it was an elixir of the gods.
She nibbled the corner of a cracker and shrugged. “I really do feel fine.” Vi raised an eyebrow. Cait pretended not to notice. “Have you been here this whole time?”
Vi settled in across from her. “Of course.”
“You didn’t have to do that.”
Vi waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it, Tobias and I have been having a ball.”
Cait paused with a cracker halfway to her mouth. “Is he alright?”
“Oh yeah. Just a little, you know- on edge. He started reupholstering all the drawing room furniture by hand so that’s been good for him.”
Vi was able to make out the flash of Cait’s smile in the gloom. “I’m glad.” She took another bite, thoughtful. “I don’t remember much. Except Maddie-” Her lip curled and she shook her head. “And Ambessa.” She bit the name off at the end. “We fought her. Mel and I.”
“Yeah, you did. Mel told me all about it. She said you were amazing.”
Cait snorted. “That’s generous. I would have died in the first thirty seconds if it weren’t for her.”
“She said you fought like a deranged mongoose.” Cait swiped at her. Vi dodged. “Her words, not mine.”
Cait tapped her cheek below the bandage. “And…this?” Vi deflated. She took Cait’s hand and shook her head. Cait nodded, absorbing her loss with a set jaw. She lifted her chin and said in a steely tone, “then I’m grateful Grayson taught me to shoot with both.”
For the first time in her life Vi understood what it meant to swoon. An image of the gun-toting little girl in the photograph flashed through her mind and she grinned. “Plus I bet you’d look super hot in an eyepatch.”
“Yes, because that’s what matters,” Cait replied, giving her a playful jab in the ribs.
“Does it hurt?”
“Not really. It’s a little itchy. I wish I could take the bandage off.” Her eyebrow sprang up. “Wait-have you seen it?”
“Oh yeah, lots of times.”
Cait stiffened. “And?” she prompted, her voice strung tight.
Vi tilted her head, not understanding the question. “And what?”
“Well…is it ugly?”
Vi stared at her in dismay. “Of course it’s not ugly! Dr…uh…what’s his name, again?”
“You’ve been interacting with the man for days, and you still don’t know what his name is?” Vi shrugged, unapologetic. Cait lifted her eye to the ceiling. “Dr. Amed.”
“Right,” Vi said, snapping her fingers as if this rang a bell. It didn’t. “He said he was able to save your eyelid and if you wanted, you could get a glass eye to fill out the socket. With it closed he said it would look basically normal except for the scar.”
Cait pursed her lips. It was clear that she wasn’t quite as reassured by the prospect of a prosthetic eyeball as Vi would have been. She had given it a lot of thought and decided she’d want one with a skull and crossbones on it. “Do you…” Cait began, but trailed off, biting her lip. Her eye flicked up and met Vi’s, then looked away again.
Vi leaned forward. “Do I what?”
“Do you still think I’m beautiful?”
One night in the pit Vi had watched as a minotaur, aptly named Horn, had gored his opponent through the gut. It was the closest approximation she could make to the way the question made her feel. She tapped the side of Cait’s face to get her to look up. “Are you kidding? I think you’re more beautiful now than ever.”
She gave Vi a skeptical look. “I won’t pretend to understand how that’s possible.”
“Because it’s a reminder of how brave you are, and that’s one of my favorite things about you.”
Cait softened incrementally. “That’s how I feel about you, too.”
“I’m not brave, I’m just stupid,” Vi scoffed.
Giggling, Cait gave her a light shove in the chest. Vi made a show of falling backward, then coiled up and flipped herself around. She dove forward and hugged Cait around the middle, taking care not to put pressure on either of their many healing wounds. Cait ran her fingertips through Vi’s much-too-long hair. “You can be both, you know.”
Vi pulled up the hem of Cait’s pajama top and turned her face so it was flush with her abdomen. “I’m perfectly positioned to tickle you,” she threatened, her voice muffled.
Cait squirmed and closed her fist. “You better not.”
“Yes, Commander,” Vi replied, brushing her lips over Cait’s bare skin. Cait gave her a hair a decisive yank. Vi yelped and rolled over on her back. She looked at Cait upside-down, opening her mouth to retort.
“Where did you find that sweatshirt?”
Vi’s teeth clicked shut. She glanced down, frowning, and patted herself like she didn’t know what she was wearing. “Oh, uh, I’m not sure, I-”
“In my secret room, maybe?” Cait’s voice was icy.
Vi grimaced. “I was hoping you wouldn’t notice.”
Cait gestured at the other side of the room. “The bookcase is wide open.”
“Right. True.” Cait crossed her arms and waited. “I kinda just…stumbled across it?”
“Did you?”
“Mm hmm.”
“And did you also stumble across the sign that says, ‘keep out, or else’?”
Vi hedged. She extended her arm overhead and slid her hand under Cait’s blouse. “Yeah, I’m looking forward to finding out what ‘or else’ means.”
Not sidetracked in the slightest, Cait seized Vi’s wrist and squeezed. Vi winced at the pressure. More than three days living as a vegetable and her grip strength was no worse for wear. “What were you doing in there?”
“Just…looking around.”
Cait’s nails dug into the flesh of Vi’s forearm. Vi made a tiny “eep” noise. “And stealing sweatshirts.”
“Finders-keepers?”
Unable to keep the amusement off her face, Cait let go of Vi and scooted down, turning over so she was on her stomach. Her hair was mussed, having escaped the bonds of the hair tie Vi had wrestled into it. It lay over her forehead and cheeks, silver in the moonlight. She propped her head up on one hand and looked at Vi. In the far distance thunder rumbled as the storm continued to drift away. “What else did you find?” she asked. The sternness was gone from her voice, replaced by something a bit more tentative.
Vi reached out and twirled a strand of Cait’s hair around her fingers, thinking. “I didn’t know you were an artist,” she offered, taking note of her reaction. She tucked the strand behind her ear. Cait shivered. “A good one.”
“Do you think so?”
There was enough light now for Vi to see Cait’s face clearly. She found she had to make a deliberate effort to maintain her attention on the subject at hand and not just gawk. “Oh yeah, you’re amazing. I really liked the ones you did of your parents.”
“Hm. I forgot how much I used to draw my dad. He was easy. My mother, on the other hand…I could never get her right.”
“I don’t agree. I thought she looked just as scary as she did in real life.”
Cait tipped her head. “Well, thank you.”
Vi set her face in her hand, squishing her own cheek. “I didn’t draw much as a kid. That was more of Powder’s thing. I was too busy punching stuff and getting in trouble.” Vi’s mind wandered away, thinking about Vander. “Was it your dad’s idea to build you a secret room?”
“Yes. How did you guess?”
“Vander was the one who built ours. He wanted us to have somewhere to go so we would stop annoying him.”
Cait sniffed. “Dad built mine so I had somewhere to escape my mother. He drew up the plans himself and then waited until she was away one weekend to have it built. He told me to use the space however I liked and that no one would ever intrude on me in there.” She narrowed her eye at Vi. “Until now.”
“I maintain my innocence. It was an accident.”
“Yes, we’ve been through this, you ‘accidentally’ pawed through all of my personal belongings, and the sweatshirt ambushed you.”
“It sort of did, actually.”
Cait inserted one chilly hand under Vi’s shirt and pinched her in the soft spot between her ribcage and hip. Vi squealed and flopped onto her back.
“Who’s positioned most advantageously for tickling now?” Cait mocked her as she writhed around.
“Mercy!” Vi pled, raising her hands. Reveling in her triumph but willing to be benevolent, Cait kissed her smugly on the sternum and laid her head down on top of it.
“Your heart is beating fast,” she remarked, her head rising and falling with Vi’s breaths.
“Yeah, because you just assaulted me with ice cube hands.”
Cait shot her that cocky expression she liked. Her heart palpitated. “Well, what else did you find?”
Vi considered, keeping her face carefully blank. “What’s the stuffed doggie’s name?”
“Beatrice.” Cait rested her chin on Vi’s chest. “My grandmother got her for me when I was three.”
“I had a bunny named Ralph.”
Cait perked up. “Do you still have him, too?” she asked. Then her face fell. “That’s a dumb question. I’m sorry.”
“It’s not dumb,” Vi said, but there was a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. She put her arms behind her head and stared up at the canopy. “I gave him to Powder.” Her sister’s name came out of her mouth with no particular difficulty, but it had an unexpected and immediate effect on her body. The hair on the back of her neck stood up and her hands closed into tight fists. She became too aware of her own pulse, and a wave of heat ran over her from the top of her head to the soles of her feet. From experience, she could say that none of this was a good sign.
Noticing her reaction, Cait sat up and watched her with a look of deep consternation. Vi tried to loosen her hands and muster a smile of reassurance, but she was no longer in control of her own faculties. She could tell Cait was saying something, but she couldn’t hear what it was over the roaring in her ears. She stopped trying to resist and turned over onto her side, curling up in a fetal position. On the periphery of her awareness she could feel Cait’s worried hands caressing her, but it made no difference. The tension in her body gathered until she was wound as tightly as one of Ekko’s watches. Except she wasn’t a watch. She was a grenade.
Powder was gone. And it was her fault.
“Violet,” came Cait’s voice from somewhere in the far distance. “Vi. Violet. Please look at me. Try to come back.”
Vi peeled her eyelids apart and looked at Cait through a haze of moisture. She’d been waterboarded in prison on several occasions. This felt similar, but worse. At least torture ended in unconsciousness. “I failed her,” she choked out. She couldn’t stand the way Cait was looking at her. She didn’t deserve to be regarded with such kindness and concern. “We faced Vander together.” Her eyes snapped shut again and her upper lip curled away from her teeth. Speaking his name felt like swallowing hot glass. “No- not Vander. Warwick. He was too powerful. We weren’t gonna make it. But then Powder, she-” The memory of that moment, finally free of its bonds, marauded through her like a rabid animal. She barely heard the sound of the bomb going off, her ears too full of her own anguished screams.
“She what, Vi?” Cait prompted. Vi had forgotten she was there. “What happened?”
“She sacrificed herself. To save me.” She snarled the last word and bowed her head in shame.
Cait stopped rubbing her arm. “That’s what happened? Jinx-Powder- died to save you? But you think you failed her?”
Taken aback, Vi screwed her face up and slammed one of her fists into the mattress. “I did fail her!”
“I don’t understand. Does she not have agency?”
“She-” Vi gave her head a brisk shake. “What?”
“You say you failed her but that’s not what happened at all, is it? You were fighting- you didn’t fail. I know you. You fight until there’s nothing left. Failing is giving up. You never give up.”
Vi clutched two handfuls of her own hair and pulled. “No! I should have-”
Cait placed a hand over Vi’s mouth, cutting her off mid-protest. Her eyes bulged in indignation, but Cait did not relent. “Stop it. I hate that you speak to yourself like this. Listen to me, Violet. You did not fail your sister. You were in an impossible situation and she sacrificed herself to save you because that is what she wanted to do.” The intensity of Cait’s gaze, now concentrated in one eye, was withering. “It’s the choice she made,” Cait continued, enunciating each word, “and now you have to find a way to live with it that doesn’t involve blaming yourself.” The fight ran out of Vi and she slumped. Cait removed her hand and used the back of it to wipe away the tears on her cheeks.
“All I ever wanted to do was protect her.” Vi’s chest heaved with the effort it took to keep herself from dissolving into sobs.
“I know, baby,” Cait replied, her voice tender. “But all Powder ever wanted to do was protect you, too. It’s time that you let her.”
She scooped Vi into the crook of her arm just as she lost all semblance of control. Vi hated crying. It was unquestionably the worst thing human physiology had to offer. The sheer vulnerability of it was sickening- the emotional equivalent of evisceration. She waited for Cait to tire of it or recoil at the theatrics, but she just held her tighter. She whispered things in Vi’s ear as she soaked the front of her shirt- sweet things that no one had ever said to her before. Gradually the time between convulsions lengthened and she settled down, her taut muscles springing loose one at a time until she was limp. The peace of the moment was only broken when she became aware that she was lying in a puddle. She dragged her head off Cait’s chest and blotted at the spot with the sleeve of her sweatshirt.
“It’s alright,” Cait said, sitting up, “I hate this top, anyway.” She unbuttoned the blouse and tossed it on the floor. Underneath she wore a plain black tank top, which Vi thought suited her much better. She leaned over and fished around in the drawer of her bedside table until she came up with a handful of tissues, which she handed to Vi. Mopping her face, she was grateful that she was in shadow and Cait was the one facing the window.
“Thanks,” Vi said, when she felt capable of speech.
Cait crawled over and sat directly in front of her, so her bent knees bracketed Vi’s sides. She tipped their foreheads together. “I wish you weren’t so hard on yourself.”
“I think I’ll need some time to work on that one.”
“I’ll help you,” Cait replied in a low voice. Her eye flickered down to Vi’s mouth. She hesitated for a moment and then bent forward and kissed her. Vi’s heart, already under duress, clunked to a halt and then restarted with a kick, like one of Benzo’s junkers. They lingered there for a moment and then parted, the separation of their lips making a soft noise. Vi looked at Cait without a coherent thought in her head. The color of her eye in the moonlight, her messy hair, the expression she was wearing- it healed something in Vi, just to look at her.
“You’re perfect.”
Cait’s eye glittered and she started to smile, but then her face fell. “Well, that’s not true.” She shuddered like a ghost had passed through her. “I have a lot to think about, too. From before. I made a lot of…bad decisions.”
Vi used the pad of her thumb to smooth out the wrinkle that had formed on the bridge of Cait’s nose. She wasn’t the only one being tortured by her own brain. “Cait, I have to tell you something.”
Her head snapped up. “What is it?”
“I found the letters you wrote to me in your room.” Cait sucked in a sharp breath. “I know, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have read them.”
She caught her bottom lip in her teeth and shook her head. “No, I understand,” she said, resigned. “How could I expect you to resist something with your name all over it?”
“Yeah, it is a bit predictable, huh?”
The corner of Cait’s mouth twitched, but the stricken look in her eye remained. “How much did you read?”
“Um,” Vi fiddled with the corner of the bedsheet. “Enough to get the gist.”
“That I was an angry, self-absorbed, revenge-obsessed monster?”
Vi’s face twisted in alarm. She looked out at the open bookcase door and then back at Cait. “Are we talking about the same letters? Because I didn’t get that at all.” Cait shrugged and crossed her arms, refusing to make eye contact. Vi tried a different tack. “Would you say that about me?”
“Why would I ever say that about you?” she snapped.
Vi shrugged back. “You don’t know what I was doing while we were apart.”
“You became a ruthless dictator who ruled Piltover with an iron fist?”
“No, I became a violent drunk idiot who beat people half to death every night.” There was a minute slackening of Cait’s rigid glower, so Vi powered on. “I didn’t bring up the letters so you could beat yourself up over them. I brought them up because I wanted you to know that I understand.” Vi paused to collect her thoughts. She tugged one of Cait’s hands free from her crossed arms and held it in both of hers, palm up. They were long and elegant, smooth and fine-boned. Underneath, Vi’s hands were square and rough, covered in scars and abrasions. On the surface, they were as different as they could be. Vander always told her that if she ever wanted to get a sense of someone’s character, she should look at their hands. For the first time, she questioned his wisdom. “When I look back at that time I don’t recognize myself at all. Every decision I made was bad.”
Cait curled her fingers around Vi’s. “You were in pain.”
“So were you.”
“It’s different.”
Vi leaned forward until their noses were almost touching. “How?”
“You never would have left me,” Cait replied, so quietly that despite their proximity, Vi almost didn’t hear her.
Vi shut her eyes and in her mind, she opened them in her jailcell at Stillwater. She could feel the frigid cement underneath her, could see her breath rising in white plumes in front of her face, could hear the distance clank of chains and shackles. She curled her hands into fists on the gritty floor and screamed until the guards came and silenced her. A split-second decision, made out of anger and desperation, caused her to abandon the only person she had left. She would spend years regretting it, but that regret hadn’t changed anything. Vi opened her eyes, back in the room, and looked at the one person who understood her.
“It doesn’t matter what I would have done. All I care about now is that we’re together.” There was so much more she wanted to say but couldn’t. It was all stuck in her chest, tangled up in the molten slag heap that was all that remained of her heart. She scraped it all together as best as she could and reconstructed it into something simpler. “Cait, I love you.”
“You do?” she asked, her voice shaky. “After everything that’s happened?”
For once, Vi made no effort to hide what she was feeling. “Isn’t it obvious?”
Cait lunged forward, grabbing the front of Vi’s shirt in both hands. She kissed her so hard her teeth caught Vi’s lower lip-she could taste the metallic tang of blood. Embarrassed, Cait released her and backed off, stammering, “Sorry, did I-” but Vi crushed their mouths back together. A mixture of relief and desperation flooded her as she pulled Cait into her lap and kissed her just below her bandage, on the angle of her jaw, and down the side of her neck. She was on her way back up toward her mouth but before she could capture it, Cait drew back again. Her cheeks and chest were splotchy, and when she spoke, her voice shook. “I love you, too, Violet.” Hearing her say it out loud resurrected something in Vi that she had presumed to be long dead. She felt a bone-deep ache to freeze the moment and live in it forever. Months ago she’d asked something of Cait that she now understood to be impossible- no one could promise they wouldn’t change. But what if that didn’t have to be a bad thing? What if it was something they could do together?
“Are you sure you want to be stuck with me?” Vi asked. She tried to keep her tone playful, but it came out with painful sincerity.
One blue eye blazed down at her like the hottest part of a fire. Cait placed the pad of her thumb over the cut on Vi’s lip. “Maybe you’re the one stuck with me,” she suggested, pressing forward. She watched Vi’s eyes widen with satisfaction and then pulled her shirt off to complete the effect.
“I hope so,” Vi replied, drawing Cait’s nipple into her mouth. Cait groaned and leaned her forearms onto the headboard. Taking advantage of the space between their bodies, Vi slid one hand between them and trailed her fingers up along the inside of Cait’s thigh until she felt the material of her shorts. She turned her hand over and cupped her palm against the spot where they were damp and sticking to her. Cait’s back arched. With one hand she dragged Vi’s head up by the hair and kissed her with an open mouth. With the other she pulled her own shorts out of the way, grasped Vi by the wrist, and pushed her fingers inside her. Vi gasped and rolled her head back against the bed frame with an audible thunk.
Fighting a grin, Cait wrapped both arms around Vi’s neck and rubbed the back of her head. “Are you alright, love?” she asked, her voice rough as she ground herself down against the heel of Vi’s hand.
“Never better.” The truth was that it was all she could do to remain conscious and not simply levitate free of her mortal coil. She collected herself and stroked the soft tissue until she found a spot with a slightly different texture and focused all her attention on it. Cait’s smile disappeared and she rolled her hips forward. Vi followed her movement, letting her fingers sink deeper with each pass. When Cait’s legs began to tremble and she could no longer hold herself up, she pressed her face to the side of Vi’s neck, her breaths short and hot in her ear.
“Vi-”
The sharp bite of Cait’s teeth on the side of her neck caused her to lose her rhythm for a moment, but she recovered and curled her fingers in tandem with the pulsations that soaked her hand to the wrist. When it was over, Cait collapsed in a boneless heap on Vi’s chest. Melting back into the pillows, Vi hugged her tightly, feeling the type of euphoria normally only induced by hard drugs. She pressed her nose to the top of Cait’s head and breathed in. Despite the ache between her legs, her sleepless nights caught up to her all at once and her eyelids began to droop. She had just begun to drift off in a haze of warm fuzzies when the sound of birds chirping outside the window tickled the edge of her awareness. She heaved one eye open and peered out. The sun was already halfway over the horizon. Yawning, she pushed herself up onto her forearms.
“Cupcake?”
“Mm?”
“I think we should probably get up. It’ll be morning soon.” The only sign of life that came from Cait was a tiny shake of her head. Feeling somewhat smug, Vi rolled to the side and deposited her on the mattress, eliciting a feeble peep of protest. “I have to close the bookcase or your dad is gonna have some awkward questions.” Vi stretched her arms overhead, relishing the way the joints in her back popped. She swung her legs off the side of the bed, but before her feet could hit the floor, she was being snatched backward by the collar of her shirt.
“No,” said Cait. The drowsiness had disappeared from her voice. Bemused, Vi turned, reaching a hand up to free herself.
“Cait-” Vi’s protest was sheared off by the pressure of Cait’s lips. She broke away and tried again. “I’m serious, we really need to-” this time she was interrupted by Cait’s tongue in her mouth “-get it together.” Cait wound a hand into the hair on the back of Vi’s head and pulled.
“Stop talking.” Vi pressed her lips together obediently and reached out to dab at a speck of her own blood that had gotten on Cait’s upper lip. Cait caught Vi’s hand, very deliberately put her finger in her mouth, and sucked the end of it without breaking eye contact. Incapacitated, Vi allowed herself to be pushed back against the mattress and divested of her shirt and boxer shorts without a word of objection. Cait straddled one of her legs and looked down at her. “Good girl.” Smirking at the look this precipitated on Vi’s face, she pinned one of her arms over her head, and then the other. Leaning down, she ran her tongue over the tattoo on Vi’s neck until she reached her ear. “Do you like that?”
The best Vi could do was a weak “uh huh.” Cait licked her earlobe. She jumped and tried to free her hands, but Cait held fast.
“You’re not very good at lying still, are you?”
“Not really,” Vi huffed through clenched teeth.
“Hm. Well, we can change that.” Cait kissed her and at the same time leaned her weight into the thigh she had wedged between Vi’s legs. She dragged it up slowly. Vi whimpered into her open mouth. “Do you want to know a secret?” Every roll of her pelvis contained a little more force than the last. The top of her leg was so slick it was necessary to maintain the required amount of friction. “I thought about doing this nearly every night we were apart.”
Tremors began to rake Vi from head to foot. “Cait-”
“I had trouble sleeping, so I would lie awake and fantasize about what it would feel like-” she grazed her teeth against the soft spot behind Vi’s ear “-for you to fuck me.” Vi ripped her hands free and squeezed the top of both of Cait’s hips hard enough to bruise. Cait hissed between her teeth but didn’t stop. Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “But I had no idea you’d make me come that hard.” With that, Vi lost her tenuous grasp on reality and a lifetime’s worth of accumulated tension dissipated in an instant. She wrapped her arms around Cait’s back and held on as hard as she could to keep herself from shaking apart into her into her constituent atoms. After an indeterminate amount of time had passed, her arms fell lifelessly to her sides and she cracked her eyes open. Cait was watching her, wistful. Bright sunlight streamed into the room, highlighting previously indiscernible imperfections on her face: a cut above her eyebrow, a bruise on her cheek. Her bandage badly needed changing- a small spot of blood had appeared in the middle as a result of her medically unapproved exertions. Aware of her scrutiny, Cait dipped her head and looked up at Vi through her eyelashes. “What?”
Vi brushed a few strands of sweaty hair off Cait’s forehead. “You’re so beautiful.” The gap in Cait’s teeth appeared and made Vi’s heart feel like it had been dropped down a mine shaft. Despite her best effort to keep it contained, she yawned.
“I thought you said we had to get up,” Cait teased, stroking her cheek with her knuckles.
“I thought you said you needed to call a council meeting.”
Cait turned her head and squinted at the window. Fluffy pink and white clouds had shouldered their way in and the sounds of people starting their day carried up from the street below. “I think they can manage without us for another hour or two, don’t you?”
The corner of Vi’s mouth curled. “Whatever you say, Commander.”
Cait sat up on her knees, pulling the heavy bed curtains shut around them. It reminded Vi of a cocoon. A crack let in just enough light to see by. Settling down beside her, Cait opened her arms. Vi peeled her heavy body off the bed and crawled into them, collapsing. There was an unfamiliar feeling in her chest, warm and almost buoyant. It was nice.
“Go to sleep, Violet. I’ll be here when you wake up,” Cait said, pressing her lips to the top of her head. With that, Vi let go, and drifted off.