Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“They’re catching up!”

“Just keep running!” Vi snapped over her shoulder.

The shouts of enforcers followed them as they sprinted through the surface slums. An indignant cry sounded as Vi clipped a merchant, sending his wares to the ground and nearly tripping up a cursing Mylo. Claggor threw the aggrieved vendor a hasty apology as he rushed past.

Their bag of treasures weighed her down. Her knuckles still throbbed from when she’d clocked an enforcer. Her chest ached as topside air slid a little too easily into her lungs, crisp and thin and not at all like home.

There was a sudden yelp of pain and Vi immediately skidded to a halt, the boys stumbling into one another as they just managed to avoid crashing into her. She spotted Powder curled up on the ground with screws and nails and Chomper scattered all around her.

“Come on, we don’t have time for this!”

“Shut it, Mylo,” Vi warned as she went back for her little sister, grabbing Chomper and tossing the makeshift bomb Claggor’s way. Powder’s face was in a tight grimace as she clutched her knee, which had torn in the fall and was bleeding. Her eyes filled with panic when she peered past Vi.

Vi twisted around in time to see an enforcer appear at the end of the alley, cutting them off.

Shit.

“That way,” Vi nodded to another path as she urged her sister to her feet and pulled her along. The enforcer barked after them before disappearing from view.

They were off route. It was fine—Vi just had to improvise a little. No sweat.

A low wall stood before them, blocking their path. Vi motioned for Claggor and he quickly readied himself at its base with threaded fingers, boosting her high enough to reach the top. Mylo quickly followed her lead and Vi turned to catch Powder’s outstretched arm next. Claggor came last, Vi and Mylo each taking his hands to haul him up.

They were already gone by the time the enforcers reached the wall.

“You know we would have lost them already if you hadn’t brought Powder!” Mylo panted.

“It wasn’t my fault!” Powder protested.

“Well it definitely wasn’t ours!”

“Focus!” Vi shot them her if-you-don’t-shut-up-right-now-I’m-going-to-kill-you look. Both, well-versed in that look, quieted immediately. “Come on, we’re almost to the fissures!”

She darted for the cover of an old building. “How are we going to get down?” Claggor said. “We don’t even know if there’s a path here.”

“We’ll find one. We always do. Just follow—”

Vi drove her heels hard into the floor, kicking up dust and stopping her momentum fast as she suddenly found herself staring down the barrel of a rifle. The others braked behind her, startled.

For a moment, nobody moved—save for their labored breaths.

Vi blinked. Her gaze flicked up, and just beyond the steel gray chamber were blue eyes staring fiercely back. Slowly, she raised her hands in a tense show of peace, a frown pulling her own features taut.

“You’re running from the enforcers? What for?” demanded an accent that screamed prim and proper Piltover. It betrayed the fraying hood and drab colors that made its speaker otherwise indistinguishable from any young trencher.

Vi lifted a challenging eyebrow. “Why? You one of them?” she said, though this girl couldn’t have been any older than Vi herself. How, though, was she armed like one?

The girl’s grip tightened on the rifle. “No. But enforcers catch criminals, do they not?”

Vi made a conscious effort not to lay a hand over her bag, stuffed to the seams with valuables. “Enforcers are the real criminals,” Mylo snapped from behind. “And what’s a Piltie doing this side of the river?”

The girl’s gaze shifted to him over Vi’s shoulder, though the weapon never strayed.

Faint voices reached Vi’s ears, steadily drawing closer. “Vi?” Claggor muttered under his breath, as if any louder would spook the strange girl into blowing her head clean off.

“I know,” Vi breathed. She dropped her hands. “You gonna use that thing, or what?”

The girl snapped her attention back to Vi. “W-What?” she stammered, faltering.

“Because I’ll tell you one thing—I’m really not in the mood to get beaten and arrested today. So, if you could do me a favor and put one right here?” Vi used a finger to gently tilt the rifle barrel up until it pointed directly between her eyes. At the girl’s bewildered stare, Vi took a step forward.

The girl took a step back.

Vi’s face darkened. “Look. We’re kind of in a hurry, obviously. So either pull the trigger or get out of my way.”

The barrel pressed uncomfortably into her skin. She had backed the girl into a wall. The weapon lightly trembled in the girl’s hands. Her wide eyes didn’t look so confident anymore.

The voices outside were dangerously close. “Vi,” Powder said this time, more urgent.

Vi’s heated glare held steady. Finally, she rolled her eyes with a sigh and briskly turned away from the girl holding a gun to her head, bolted past her siblings, and threw all her weight against the door.

It was old and rusty and it shrieked like hell as it gave, but it slammed soundly into its frame, rattling the entire structure. The lock slid into place and Vi exhaled, leaning against the door as she caught her breath.

“See?” she said. “We’re fine.”

An ear-splitting crack! echoed through the room. Vi became aware of a stinging pain in her forearm as red began to slowly seep into her wrist wrap. Golden sunlight spilled through the pinhole in the door that hadn’t been there previously.

For a moment, the ringing in her ears was the only sound in the room. “They’re shooting at us!” Mylo exclaimed, voice lilting at the end like a question.

Vi’s heart raced as she clutched her bleeding arm to her chest. The bullet that’d grazed her was buried in the dirt just a few feet away. “Okay, we—we’re leaving. Now. Find a way out.”

They filed into a huge chamber filled with forgotten machines and blast furnaces. Industrial buckets hung from pulley systems overhead. Much of the interior was collapsed and the floor shuddered ominously beneath their feet.

Vi could hear the enforcers trying to break down the front door.

“I think we’re in a steel mill,” Powder said.

Mylo scoffed. “How would you even know that?”

“Cause she’s smarter than you.” Claggor roughly smacked Mylo’s shoulder, making him flounder for balance.

“A place like this has to have a waste station that feeds deeper into the underground.” Powder briefly scanned the room before pointing to an opening in the wall that would let the buckets pass through. “Maybe there?”

“Good work, Pow,” Vi smiled. The youngest of the group beamed.

The doors were tragically still intact. So was the chain that shackled them shut. Mylo gave the doors a vicious kick, to no avail.

“Can you pick it?” Claggor asked him nervously.

Mylo suddenly looked uncomfortable. “I-I’d need time.”

“I can help.”

They all turned. The topsider girl stood a short distance away, not close enough to be threatening but close enough to not be ignored.

“You’re still here?” Mylo drawled. “What’s someone like you gonna—”

“What did you say?” Vi asked incredulously, cutting off Mylo as she shoved past him.

The rifle balanced in the crook of one arm. “You want to escape, yes?”

“You have a key or something?”

With practiced ease, the girl raised her rifle and pulled the trigger, making everyone jump. The chain noisily clattered to the floor.

Vi stared at the broken link, shot clean through. Then at the topsider. “Why?”

“Whatever your crime is, I can’t imagine it warrants being shot on sight.” The girl folded her rifle and looked away, unable to face her own crime. Stray strands of indigo hair escaped from beneath her hood. “You should go while you can.”

The others quickly pushed their way into the room, rattling their way down a set of rickety stairs. Vi, on the other hand, was stunned, and couldn’t for the life of her figure out why this girl would even care if they were killed. Zaunites died without justice every day.

She felt a tug and glanced down to see Powder pulling at her arm. Vi threw the girl one last quizzical look before following.

The thunderous sound of a gunshot split the air, firing off the walls. Vi heard a wet squelching sound and a choked gasp.

When she glanced back, the girl clutched at her stomach. Red blossomed beneath her hands, muddying her shirt. A look of surprise painted her features. Her gaze met Vi’s and she blinked, confused.

Vi darted forward just as the girl’s knees gave out, catching her and sinking to the ground. Shouts from enforcers sounded miles away.

She stared numbly, watching how the girl grimaced in silent agony through clenched teeth. Her eyes were clouded with pain, unfocused. Blood-coated fingers clung weakly to Vi’s arm, smearing glistening trails over her skin.

A bullet whizzing past her head was enough to shock her back into the moment.

“Violet!” Powder screeched. Vi looked up and was horrified to see the enforcers taking aim. She instinctively ducked and another shot narrowly missed, the gunfire echoing in her ears.

Vi threaded her arms under the girl’s shoulders. Mylo’s hand clamped down hard on her arm as he tried to wrench Vi towards safety, but Vi's embrace only tightened. He shouted something in her ear but it was lost in her panic.

Claggor leapt in front of them, pulled Chomper’s pin, and flung it as hard as he could. The small bomb bounced once, twice, then tumbled to a stop at the enforcers’ feet, mechanical jaw snapping wildly.

Nothing happened. The enforcers exchanged glances before once more raising their rifles.

A thunderous BOOM! shook the entire room as the enforcers were flung bodily to the floor in a violent shower of pink dust and paint. Vi flinched when the shockwave reached her.

“It worked!” Powder and Mylo exclaimed simultaneously—the latter a disbelieving inquiry. The enforcers scrambled blindly for their weapons, furiously attempting to scrub the thick paint off, and it would almost be comical if not for the girl bleeding out in Vi’s arms.

Vi felt the building quake and her heart rocketed into her throat. The shriek of folding metal gradually grew louder. The floor began to dip.

“Run!” Vi screamed. Claggor grabbed Powder and took the stairs two at a time. Vi shoved Mylo after them before he could get a chance to argue.

Last in line and bearing a passenger, Vi felt the stairs sink beneath her.

Then she was falling as the room bottomed out.

The devastating sound of a structure caving in on itself was nearly lost to the air rushing loudly past her ears. She hit something solid sooner than expected, the shock knocking the wind out of her harder than the actual impact as she was thrown from surface to surface.

It was like getting viciously punched over and over by an invisible opponent, except she had no means of protecting herself. The world spun dizzyingly fast.

Vi felt her entire skeleton rattle painfully as she finally rolled to a stop. Rain splattered against her face, making her blink.

A cloud of dust almost completely obscured what remained of the shredded steel mill, which still clung stubbornly to the cliffside high above. The “rain” turned out to be a pipe, severed in the collapse, spewing water into the open air.

Vi pressed a hand to her aching skull. “Sound off. Everyone okay?” She froze as her recollection caught up to her.

“I hate topside,” Mylo groaned shakily to himself nearby as he sat up, brushing mud and cement dust off his shirt. “And you know what? I take it back. This is the closest Powder’s ever come to killing us.” He glanced around and tilted his head. “Vi?”

Vi was too busy checking for the girl’s pulse to hear him. She wasn’t moving, and Vi feared the fall may have made things worse—if that were even possible at this point. The girl’s chest rose and fell in short jerks, and every breath sounded wet and choked.

She hastily unwrapped her hand and used the gauze to stanch the bleeding in the girl’s belly. Her fingers, slippery with blood, trembled as she tied the knots.

The others had gathered silently to watch.

Vi ran a bloodied hand through her hair, slicking back the damp strands that had fallen into her face. She handed Claggor the bag, pushed to her feet, and secured the girl over her shoulders.

“Well?” she said with false calm. “Let’s get home, then.”

None of them uttered a word as they headed for the Lanes.

The streets bustled with activity, but nobody batted an eye at the limp form draped across Vi’s shoulders. Accidents and tragedies were not uncommon in the undercity.

But everyone at the Last Drop knew Vander’s kids. When the four stepped inside the dingy bar, filthy and dripping and bearing a body, all attention fell on them.

Vi pointedly ignored the stares as she approached the bar.

Vander sensed the shift in the air. He turned around and his normally-stoic demeanor cracked like porcelain as he took in the scene laid out before him.

His eyes finally came to rest on Vi, and his voice was dangerously low. “What did you do?”

Those words were punishment enough.

Chapter Text

“Go back to your drinks. All of you.”

Vander’s gruff voice rang through the bar and the chatter of patrons gradually picked up again. Vi was frozen in place, trying to ignore the blood dribbling down her neck. She didn’t know what to do. Her siblings shuffled anxiously at her sides, similarly lost.

Their father leaned in closer. “Vi?”

Vi grimaced. “She was shot,” she answered quietly.

His brow climbed higher, no doubt imagining what they’d been up to. He gave a sharp jerk of his head. “Take this upstairs.”

None of them were very familiar with the garret above the bar. It was where Vander stored his ledgers for business and other shadier dealings—things that weren’t of any concern to the youth he housed. It was also cold and somewhat cramped, and these were the exact thoughts that ran through Vi’s mind as she pushed her way through the creaking door into the equally-creaky room.

The floorboards squeaked beneath their feet, most especially for Vander as he brought up the rear. The kids quickly parted to let him through and he swiped all the junk off the desk.

He gestured with a thumb. “Lay her there.”

The surface of the desk was just long enough to accommodate the girl’s frame as Vi set her down as gingerly as possible. Her hood had fallen to reveal a mess of hair that’d been hastily tied in the back, now escaping its binds. Her eyes were open, if only barely, but she seemed to be numb to her surroundings as pained whimpers slid past shivering lips.

Vi turned to Vander for guidance, but he’d busied himself with furiously writing something down.

“Here,” he said, swiftly tearing the page out of a book and thrusting the piece of paper into Powder’s hands. “Bring this to Benzo and tell him I’ll pay him back. Claggor, go with her. Mylo?”

Mylo jumped to attention, the other two already out the door. Vander fished through one of his pockets.

“I’ve some spirits locked away in the cellar. Bring me a bottle.” He tossed a jingling bundle of keys to Mylo, who scrambled to catch them before dashing out of the room.

Vi scoffed. “The illegal stuff?”

“You really want to go there?” Vander scowled as he unsheathed a thin knife and began sharpening it. He gestured with the blade. “Keep pressure on.”

Blood had already soaked through the wrappings. Vi pressed harder and the girl spasmed, clawing feebly as she tried to push her away. Vi tried not to notice how her face contorted with discomfort.

The rapid approach of clumsy footsteps alerted them to Mylo’s return long before he barreled through the door. He held up a grimy liquor bottle as he fought to catch his breath.

“Good work,” Vander praised the gangly boy as he took the bottle and led him back to the door. “Now keep your eyes peeled downstairs for me, would you?”

Before Mylo could get in a word, Vander locked him out. He snatched a pair of pliers off a shelf and dropped them next to the knife.

“You know why this stuff’s illegal?” he quizzed, uncorking the bottle with his teeth and bracing a hand beneath the girl’s neck. Vi shook her head. “Because it’ll put a grown man on his ass.”

Vander forced the bottle between the girl’s lips, supporting her just enough to let gravity do most of the work. Most of the liquor spilled down her chin as she spluttered, the once-clear liquid muddied from the blood pooling in her mouth.

He pulled a rag from his belt and wiped away the excess. Then he balled it up and shoved the wad between her teeth.

“Hold her down,” Vander said as he nudged Vi aside and slid the knife under the wrappings, swiftly severing them. Then he promptly tipped the bottle over the wound.

The girl’s eyes flew wide open as she jerked upright with a muffled cry, only making it halfway before Vi slapped her hands to her shoulders and shoved her back down.

“How about a warning?!” she snapped, using her weight to pin the writhing girl in place so she didn’t hurt herself.

“That was your warning.” Vander doused the knife and set the bottle aside. He pulled back the girl’s blood-soaked shirt just enough to reveal the hole in her belly. Vi had seen many gruesome injuries in her time—even sustained a few herself. She prided herself on having a strong stomach.

But she looked away just as Vander positioned the tip of his knife above the wound. “Is this safe?” she wondered aloud. Her voice shook as she said it.

There was a pause. “No.”

And then Vander went to work.

Vi could still hear the screams echoing in her ears.

Her knee bounced erratically as she sat in a chair tucked away in the corner, listening to Vander finish up beyond her peripheral. The operation had seemed to go on for an eternity, though in reality it’d been shockingly short.

Something clattered directly in front of her and she lifted her gaze to see a brass bullet roll to a stop on the table, its luster camouflaged from a thin coating of gore. Vander set down the bloody pliers next to it and settled himself in a chair across from her.

“That’s an enforcer’s bullet,” he said. “You want to tell me what happened?”

Vi wrung her hands together. The blood had since dried on her skin. “We were running a job up north.” A lump in her throat made it difficult to speak. “They shot at us.”

Vander’s frown deepened. “Why?”

“I don’t know. We were just . . . running. And she—” Vi nodded in the direction of the girl, mercifully unconscious on the desk. “—got caught in the crossfire. Guess they couldn’t tell us apart.”

The silence that followed made her uneasy. Vi glanced curiously at Vander and found him staring at the bullet, deep in thought.

Finally, he sighed. “What am I going to do with you?”

Vi’s hands clenched and she looked away. A low, mechanical hissing filled the silence as the esophilter mask amplified the girl’s wheezing breaths. The sound drew her eyes—and it turned out to be a mistake as Vi felt anger twist in her chest.

“It wasn’t supposed to go like this,” she said under her breath.

“I explicitly told you to leave topside alone.”

His words were ignored as Vi shot out of her chair. “I had a plan. We would have been fine.”

“Vi—”

“How was I supposed to predict this?!” she cried as she whirled on him. A frustrated growl slipped through clenched teeth as she drove her foot into the chair, sending it toppling noisily to the floor.

Vander watched her pace a few laps. “Get it out of your system?” he asked mildly.

Vi jerked to a stop in front of him with something nasty ready on her tongue. It died with a sputter. She collapsed into his chest as the burning in her eyes gave way to tears.

Hulking arms pulled her in tight. There wasn’t a place she felt safer. “Not so easy, is it, kiddo?” he said softly, his deep voice a comforting rumble.

Vi could only shake her head in answer. A hand rubbed at her back, coaxing her through it. He held her until she stopped shaking. Eventually, Vi pulled free to scrub the wetness from her eyes.

Vander caught her by the wrist. “What’s this?”

The strip of red along her forearm had long since stopped bleeding, but it was still angry and raw. “Bullet grazed me. It’s just a scratch,” she mumbled.

Her assurance did nothing to stop Vander from wetting his rag anew and dabbing at it. The burn made her flinch, but she didn’t pull away.

“I’m sorry,” Vi said quietly after a moment.

Vander gave her a look. “I think there’s someone who deserves that apology more than me.”

Vi couldn’t bring herself to look at the desk again. She thought back to the steel mill and the girl’s unexpected kindness. What came after. She focused on her arm wound to distract herself. “Where’d you learn how to put together a rebreather like that?”

“The mines.” Vander finished dressing her arm. “You’d be surprised what you can learn when the bosses up top don’t give a shit.”

“That gear doesn’t look like something Benzo discounts on.”

“Don’t sound so impressed. It’s coming out of your pocket.” His smirk was weighed down by a sadness he couldn’t hide. It fell before long. “She might not make it, Vi. Enforcer bullets are a tough recovery and the undercity’s no place for a sick topsider girl.”

The truth settled between them, heavy and cruel. Vi willed the breath in her throat to unstick itself as she attempted a calming exhale. “So what happens now?”

“Now, we wait.” Vander grabbed the enforcer bullet and sat it upright in front of her before standing. “In the meantime, you’ll keep an eye on her.”

Vi stared at the bullet as he walked past her to leave. The door slammed shut.

And Vi was left alone with a monument to her shattered pride.

Chapter Text

Vi jerked awake.

The scent of gunpowder and the stickiness of blood faded from her mind as her senses returned to the present. Her eyes immediately jumped to Vander’s desk, where the room’s only other occupant still had yet to budge a single inch.

The only thing that assured her the topsider girl was still alive was the sound of wheezing, stuttering exhales and the rhythmic clicking of valves.

With a wince, Vi straightened in her chair and rubbed at her aching neck. She had no memory of falling asleep. After everything, it hadn’t even felt possible. Now a heavy weariness had settled deep into her bones.

The smell of alcohol was still strong in the air, enough to make her nose wrinkle. The bucket of blood-soiled bandages shifted loudly as Vi’s foot bumped it, after which she gave it a deliberate kick to move it out of the way. Gingerly, she peeled back the girl’s shirt to check the dressings underneath.

Even in sleep, the topsider girl looked anything but peaceful. Her brow was perpetually creased in pain. Once in a while a muscle in her face would twitch, or she’d slightly stir as if in a restless dream.

And Vi found herself staring, trying to paint a picture of the stranger before her.

A long, lean frame and healthy skin that was distinctly soft—probably never missed a meal or worked a day in her life. The wound in her belly might just be the first imperfection to mark that clean canvas of hers.

“I bet you have a curfew,” Vi said aloud, brushing back sweat-soaked strands from a clammy forehead. She was impossibly pale, making the sunken skin around her eyes look all the sicklier. The rest of her face was veiled by the esophilter mask that allowed her to breathe easy.

Clean air was a luxury in the undercity, yet the Piltie’s fortune was boundless nonetheless. Vi found herself tugging on the straps to ensure the fit was snug and failed to muster the strength to be bitter about it.

Vi collapsed back into her chair, the sudden vibrations sending the nearby enforcer bullet rolling off the table. She snatched it out of the air before it had a chance to hit the floor.

The glow from the window caught its brassy surface as her fingers turned it over. Vi frowned. Even Piltover’s bullets looked expensive. In the end, Vander had extracted a warped hunk of metal. To be so wasteful while killing trenchers truly was the final middle finger.

“Would you take it back?” At the topsider girl’s silence, Vi sighed. “Guess I can’t be too surprised—no one topside ever sticks up for us. That’s how it goes.”

Her thumb smoothed idly over the lumpy deformities in the bullet’s surface before she squeezed her fingers around it in a fist. A cruel souvenir to keep the memory fresh in mind.

The creaking of the door startled Vi out of her thoughts. She expected Vander, though was only half surprised to spot blue hair and pale eyes peering through the crack instead.

Vi scowled. “Powder.”

“But Vi—”

“No.” She was already on her feet and shoving her sister back outside. “We’ve been over this.”

The door rattled as Powder stubbornly tried to force her way back in, but Vi held it firmly shut. “Why not?” came the somewhat muffled whine from the other side.

“Because I said so.”

“Vander lets you in.”

“Yeah, well, he also doesn’t let me out, so who’s really losing here?”

It got quiet behind the door. Vi almost assumed her sister had given up and left—until she heard the telltale sounds of tinkering.

“You better not be thinking about blowing up the door.”

“I’m not,” Powder cried indignantly. She sounded lower to the floor than before. “Just working on Zapper.”

Vi didn’t miss the forlorn air in her voice, but she refused to allow her sister to share any of her burden. Lowering herself to the ground, she leaned back against the door and imagined her sister mirroring her on the other side. “Zapper, huh?”

“She’ll flash bright enough to blind the enforcers.”

Vi nodded, wondering how Powder planned to test that theory. “I bet she will.”

A peaceful moment passed, until: “How long do you have to do this?”

“Until she wakes up.”

“When is she going to wake up?”

Vi stared glumly at the bullet in her hand and imagined her sister in the girl’s place. She hugged her knees to her chest. “You should go to bed, Powder.”

Powder had stopped working, leaving behind a tense silence. Even with only a thin barrier between them, Vi felt the loneliness seep back in. It carved a path for guilt to settle in her stomach like a burning ball of lead.

“Maybe if Mylo shuts up about his new toy,” Powder mumbled in quiet annoyance.

Vi almost didn’t hear her. She leaned towards the door with a curious frown. “What new toy?”

Mylo’s raucous cackling echoed through the empty taproom as he wildly waved around the rifle in his hands, so engrossed with himself he didn’t hear Vi descending the stairs.

He clumsily aimed at invisible enemies around the bar. “Be careful with that thing,” Claggor flinched when the barrel swung a little too close. He raised his broom in a vague display of warning. “Weren’t you gonna pawn it off?”

“Benzo wouldn’t take it. And relax, it’s not even loaded,” Mylo said cooly. He paused to fiddle with the weapon’s chamber. “At least, I don’t think it’s loaded. Hey, Vi, check it ou—"

The rifle clattered to the ground the moment Vi was in swatting distance. She gave Mylo a rough shove. “Are you stupid?”

“Woah, what the hell is your problem? I was just—” He reached down to pick it up but Vi beat him to it, kicking the rifle further out of reach.

“What part of lay low don’t you get?” she snapped, shoving him again—harder this time. “We just ran a job in Piltover and you’re hawking the Piltie’s iron around the Lanes? Where the fuck did you even get that?”

“She dropped it when the mill caved!” Mylo pushed her back, suddenly furious. “Besides, it’s your fault Vander took our haul. Way I see it, she owes us.”

“You have no idea what he had to do to her.”

“Guys,” Claggor tried, though neither paid him any mind. Powder appeared on the stairs, fiddling with Zapper as she silently watched the exchange with rapt interest.

Mylo’s eyes flashed viciously. “Well, you should have left her behind.”

Vi braced her hands against his chest and put all her weight into it, knocking her brother off balance. He hit the ground with a heavy thud. “You wouldn’t even be here if she hadn’t saved your sorry ass from the enforcers.”

Mylo jumped to his feet and charged. “And who got us cornered in the first place?!”

Vi dug her feet into the floor as he grappled at her middle. She steered him into a nearby table, sending him crashing to the floor along with a pair of chairs. Powder secretly pumped a fist.

“Vi—”

“Stay out of this, Clagg,” Vi warned him. Claggor—a head taller and twice her weight—wisely clicked his mouth shut. Mylo, being the family idiot, came up swinging.

Both were too preoccupied with the other to notice the front door open. Somewhere in their tangle of limbs Mylo caught her in the side of the mouth. Vi cracked her knuckles across his face and he dropped like a rock.

A steel-like grip clamped around her wrist. “That’s enough,” Vander barked. “Not on my clean floors. You want to beat the shit out of each other? Take it outside.”

Vi jerked her arm from his grasp and massaged her hand, dodging his gaze. Vander followed hers to where the rifle lay forgotten on the floor and moved to pick it up. He slowly turned it over in his hands, eyes hard with scrutiny.

In one fluid movement, he popped open the chamber and four bullets spilled out one by one, clattering onto the floor. “Off to bed. All of you.”

Claggor eyed his broom as he replaced one of the fallen chairs. “But I haven’t finished—”

Their father’s tone brokered no room for argument. Claggor sighed and shuffled towards the basement. Powder glanced at Vi before reluctantly following.

Mylo wiped the blood from his nose with a wince as the fresh cut under his eye too began to leak. Vi drew up to his side and held out a hand. He frowned at it, but after a moment of consideration, reached up and took it.

She pulled him to his feet and patted his shoulder apologetically. He peered uncertainly between her and Vander, looking like he wanted to say something, before shambling obediently after the others without a word.

“Don’t take it out on Mylo,” Vander said disapprovingly once they were alone, restacking the second chair himself. “He got you good, though.”

Vi pressed a hand to where her lip stung. Her fingers came back red. “He got lucky.”

Vander folded the rifle in on itself then headed behind the counter to pull out two glasses. He poured one for himself and gestured to the second. “How’s our girl?”

Vi climbed onto a stool and fidgeted with the glass, not feeling much appetite for anything. She just shook her head in answer.

Vander nodded sadly, not surprised. Like Vi, he didn’t sip his drink immediately, instead swirling the liquid around in the glass. His eyes were distant, deep in thought.

Something about it made Vi’s chest tighten. “What?” she demanded nervously.

“Her name’s Caitlyn.”

She straightened in alarm, a tangle of questions lodging in her throat as she struggled to figure out which one to ask first. Vander clacked the rifle down onto the bar before she could utter a single sound and gave the decorative symbol on the stock a tap with his finger.

“This is the crest for House Kiramman,” he explained. “The Kirammans, you might remember, have a daughter.”

Vi’s jaw fell slack.

If the bullet didn’t kill that girl, the irony would.

Vander leaned in close and dropped his voice, suddenly very serious. “Piltover will kick a fuss about this. If they find reason to tie your smash-and-grab with her disappearance—”

“Well, I didn’t shoot her!”

“It doesn’t matter. You know how it works—if she doesn’t wake up, it won’t be the enforcers who get the blame.”

The glass slammed loudly down onto the bar as Vi cursed—much tamer than what she wanted to do, which was hurtle it across the room. Silence stretched between them, which just made her feel worse. She buried her face into her hands.

“What’s the holdup?” she grumbled into her palms. Vander grunted curiously and she dropped her arms with a scowl. “You still haven’t lectured me for fucking up. Just get it over with already.”

One of his eyebrows climbed innocently. “What for? You seem to be doing a perfectly fine job beating yourself up on your own.”

That bone-deep weariness had returned in force. Her mouth was dry and she downed her drink. It was cold enough to shock a little feeling back into her body, but the sweetness stuck to her tongue like tar and made her stomach turn.

“What do we do . . . if she doesn’t wake up?” Vi asked in a small, tired voice. The word when was what she wanted to say, but it burned her tongue too much. She had a feeling he knew what she meant anyway.

For a long time, Vander didn’t say anything. “Well,” he shrugged. “I suppose we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”

The hard look in his eyes told her the conversation was over. Vi pushed her glass away and numbly slipped out of the stool. When she faltered at the stairs, Vander gave a nod—more an order than encouragement.

The hum of the lights faded as the stale ambience of the upstairs drowned it out. Dragging her feet, Vi pushed her way back through the office door.

And froze.

Blue eyes, wide open, locked with hers.

Chapter Text

Caitlyn felt like she couldn’t breathe.

That was her first instinct. Breathe. But every inhale drove a knife deeper and deeper into her abdomen.

Her heart beat impossibly fast. Dirt gathered under her nails as her fingers curled and scraped the hard surface beneath her. A smell registered—like dust and rusted iron. She inhaled and a mechanical hiss reached her ears.

Caitlyn forced her eyes open.

The sudden light nearly made her vomit. She shut them and waited for the nausea to pass before trying again.

At first, she couldn’t see much of anything. Just blurs of colors and shapes. The light, she realized as things came into focus, was artificial, shining through a large murky window.

Blinking away the fog, she blearily glanced around the room and made out corroded pipes and cluttered shelves obscuring crooked wooden walls. The hardness she laid on appeared to be a desk.

A spark of panic ignited somewhere beneath the haze.

This wasn’t home. This wasn’t familiarity of any kind. This definitely wasn’t Piltover.

Something clung to her face. Her hands moved to investigate and discovered solid metal, and as they roamed further, leather. She traced the weathered straps until her fingers found the buckle behind her head.

The strange mask dropped noisily onto the desk and Caitlyn immediately regretted it as the air stuck fast in her throat, thick enough to choke on. She crushed it back over her mouth and her ragged coughs eased back into sharp, shallow breaths as the stale air passed through grafted filters.

A soft click had her head turning to the door—the only one in the room. She realized, with mounting fear, that it was the sound of the handle turning. A dreadful creaking sounded from neglected hinges as it swung open.

Someone stood in the doorway—a girl who stared back, just as frozen as Caitlyn felt. “Holy shit,” came a young, breathless voice.

The mask slipped from Caitlyn’s grasp and clattered past her scrambling hands to the floor, out of reach. She stretched desperately, uselessly for it. The knife in her belly twisted until stars burst behind her eyes.

She had never felt something so painful.

Her hand flew to the source of her discomfort, and where she expected to feel skin, she instead felt something spongy and wet. Her trembling fingers came back sticky with glistening red.

A question died on her tongue as her sight darkened and the room listed to one side.

Strong hands stopped her fast before she could tumble over the edge. Caitlyn felt herself be righted until her back lay flat with the desk once more, a firm pressure pressing down on her shoulders.

“Don’t move,” came that voice again.

Caitlyn squirmed blindly. “Let go of me—”

“Don’t. Move,” the voice growled, a bite to each word. It was shaky—from what, Caitlyn couldn’t place. “Or you’ll make it worse.”

The black that’d crept along the edges of her vision gradually receded and everything slowly stopped spinning. Caitlyn blinked sluggishly up at the girl, who now leaned over her. “Who . . . who are you?” she rasped.  Speaking was like needles in her throat.

The girl seemed taken aback. “You don’t remember me?”

Caitlyn squinted up at her. Unkempt pink hair, shorn on one side, stood out first; then slate gray eyes. Her lip was freshly split.

But if there was any recognition to be had, it was smothered beneath the ache in Caitlyn’s skull. Before she could so much as shake her head no, thick warmth bubbled onto her tongue and she coughed to clear her airway.

Tiny specks of blood dotted pink-haired girl’s face, which had pulled taut in a grimace.

“Sorry,” Caitlyn mumbled.

The girl wiped the droplets away with the back of her hand. She looked more overwhelmed than angry. “Stay here. And stay still.” She made to move away before realizing something, then swiped the mask off the floor to press down over Caitlyn’s face.

Caitlyn immediately reached up to hold it in place, a thin sense of relief washing over her. She felt the other’s hand slide away.

“I’ll be right back.” Then pink-haired girl was gone.

Caitlyn didn’t watch her leave, instead letting her eyelids slip shut. It wasn’t long before she heard footsteps returning. She realized they were too heavy to belong to the girl.

When she glanced over, she was startled to find a hulking bear of a man. His gaze swept over her, sharp and severe. He had a rough face with a graying beard and his presence was like a field of gravity, pulling at the space around him until he seemed to fill it entirely.

This was the largest man she’d ever seen. Caitlyn felt just how small and vulnerable she truly was in that moment as he towered over her. He grabbed a nearby chair and sat down, closer to her level and close enough that she could smell the stench of tobacco and spirits wafting off him.

“Hello,” he greeted in a tone that was nothing but kind. The skin around his eyes crinkled from a warm smile as he held out a tin cup. “Thirsty?”

Despite the unexpected disposition, Caitlyn didn’t respond. She eyed the water suspiciously—and ravenously, suddenly very aware of how dry her mouth was.

“It’s not poison. Promise.”

Unable to resist, Caitlyn set her mask down. The liquid nearly sloshed over the sides as her quaking hands wrapped around the cup. The taste was different than what she was used to, and any other day she might choose to be skeptical, but once the water hit her lips she couldn’t stop.

The cup emptied far too soon but she didn’t have the courage to ask for more.

“You’re a tough one. Didn’t think you’d be rejoining us so soon,” the man mused once he’d retrieved it from her grasp. “Name’s Vander. How are you feeling?”

“Where am I?” Caitlyn croaked in a tiny voice, ignoring his question.

He didn’t appear to take offense as he answered, “You’re in the Lanes.”

“The Lanes? But that means—” The fissures. Her chest seized before she could get the words out.

“Easy,” Vander urged, pushing her back down with a gentleness that should be impossible for a man his size. He held the mask in place while she caught her breath. “You’re safe here. No one is going to hurt you.”

Pink-haired girl had since reappeared, though she lingered some distance away against the wall. She silently watched with crossed arms.

Vander pulled a cloth from his belt and dabbed at Caitlyn’s forehead, wiping away sweat and strands of hair that had plastered to her skin. “You had an accident.”

“I have to get home.” Her voice was slightly muffled by the mask. Vander shook his head.

“I’m afraid you’re not in much condition for travel.” His thumb brushed soothingly at her temple and his face softened with regret. Maybe even an apology. “You’ll be staying with us for a while. Vi here will take care of you.”

The pink-haired girl glared at the back of Vander’s head, mouth twisting like she might say something. But she swallowed whatever it was and directed her glower to the floor.

“I know you must have questions, but you’re best off resting now,” Vander said. “We’ll get you back on your feet in no time. I promise.”

Caitlyn did have questions, but as pain and exhaustion carved away at her awareness, she couldn’t recall a single one. She heard Vander say something over his shoulder—probably at the pink-haired girl behind him—but Caitlyn had already drifted too far.

The ceiling blurred as hot tears stung her eyes.

The undercity was never quiet, yet the taproom felt impossibly silent as Vi passed through its emptiness. Or maybe that was just her own confounded mind muting her surroundings.

The echoes of her footsteps dampened as she descended towards the cellar, then ceased entirely when she stopped in front of the door. Her hand rested on the handle, hesitating. She thumped her forehead against the door with a heaving sigh.

Shit.

Vi pushed into the room, immediately greeted by the warm glow of the chem lamp. Sure enough, Powder perked up from the lower bunk and Mylo and Claggor peeked out from their nook in the far wall.

“You’re back already?” her sister said brightly. For a long moment, Vi wasn’t sure what to say.

Eventually, her eyes rose to Powder’s. “Switch beds with me.”

The smile slipped from Powder’s face as she balked. “What? No.”

Vi didn’t have the energy to argue, but her gaze was intense enough to make her sister twitch. Powder opened her mouth to protest—and shut it immediately when the door opened behind Vi, signaling Vander’s entrance.

Powder’s eyes went wide. So did Claggor’s. Mylo’s jaw dropped. Vi cleared the remaining stairs and stood off to the side and Powder finally got the hint to move. Her little sister gathered her half-finished gadgets in her arms and unhappily climbed to what was normally Vi’s bunk.

By the time Vander drew near, Powder’s bed was empty. The topsider girl whimpered in pain as Vander lowered her onto the mattress. Her eyes were shut as she barely clung to consciousness, too exhausted to open them.

When Vander stood again, he turned to Vi—and only Vi.

“Still looking for something to prove?” Vander said frostily. He pointed to the lower bunk. “As far as you’re concerned, she’s one of yours now. You protect her. You provide for her. You treat her like one of them.”

He jerked his head at Powder and the boys, all of whom averted their gazes.

The lamp’s low light made the shadows on Vander’s face harsher. “And you don’t leave her side. Are we clear?”

Vi had long since become acquainted with the floor, but she forced herself to meet his eyes before silently nodding.

“Say hello to your new roommate,” Vander directed to the others. He placed a hand on Vi’s shoulder and leaned in close as he passed her by. “You got lucky. Don’t forget that.”

None of her siblings said a word after Vander was gone. Vi was grateful—she didn’t trust herself to respond kindly if they did. But the tension in the room was thick as trench fog and the three pairs of eyes on Vi still made her itch.

Vi stared at Caitlyn, who had finally slipped into an uneasy sleep. She tore her gaze away before clicking the lamp off.

Chapter Text

Time was a disorienting, agonizing, nauseating blur.

Caitlyn’s consciousness flitted in and out like an ebbing tide, so much so she couldn’t decipher dreams from the waking world. Sights and sounds and strangers melted together as they skirted the edge of her awareness like phantom sensations. Nothing ever quite came into focus.

Until everything did—with the crack of a gunshot.

Caitlyn realized her eyes were open and that she was staring at the ceiling. Or, she realized with dawning lucidity, the wooden slab that constituted the ceiling of whatever she laid on. Her head throbbed, but it paled in comparison to the pain in her belly as it returned in force.

For a long moment, Caitlyn remained motionless, listening to the hiss of the mask with each slow inhale. The little ornaments strung above her head caught the light, bespeckling her surroundings with their reflected color. She followed their path in an entranced daze to the wall at her flank to discover it covered in chalky drawings. Some of them depicted animals. Others were reminiscent of diagrams.

A rhythmic thumping sounded nearby. Caitlyn made to turn her head and winced at the tightness in her neck. Arduously shifting onto her side instead, Caitlyn found herself winded once she’d rolled onto her stomach. Such a simple movement left her completely drained. One arm hung loosely over the bed’s edge—she didn’t have the strength to pull it back up.

Pink-haired girl came into view, sprawled out over a battered sofa with one foot hanging off the backing. The thumping turned out to be a rubber ball smacking against her palm as she caught it before tossing it up into the air again.

It hadn’t been a dream after all.

Caitlyn savored a deep breath before loosening the respirator from her face. A strong musky scent entered her nose—a shocking reminder that the place she resided in wasn’t home. That she was in a den of strangers.

“Your name’s Violet.”

There was a pause as the girl’s arm faltered. Her face pinched with distaste. “Just Vi.” Viol—Vi—resumed tossing the ball, eyes never leaving the ceiling. “That’s the part you remember?”

“More than that,” Caitlyn said faintly. She felt so weak even speaking made her tired. “You’re a thief.”

Vi hummed, unbothered by the accusation. “How’d you deduce that?”

“You carried a bag. What the enforcers were really after, I imagine.”

“Wow. Nothing gets past you.”

Caitlyn found the energy to bristle at the snide comment but not enough to respond. She used the respirator to catch her breath, taking the opportunity to soak in her surroundings. Some sort of dingy basement—though it appeared quite lived in. Clothes hanging off pipes; sheets strung from metal tanks; trinkets of all sorts scattered on every available surface. Nothing like the clinical halls of her house in Piltover.

Caitlyn realized the thumping had stopped and found Vi studying her curiously. “Normally you would have passed back out by now,” she mused. “You’ve been kayoed for days.”

That spiked a note of panic in Caitlyn. “How many?”

Vi stood up and tossed the ball aside. It bounced once before rolling out of sight. “I don’t know. Maybe a couple? You need to eat and drink something.”

Caitlyn possessed no appetite whatsoever but the mention of drink brought a desperation all its own. She licked cracked lips with a swollen tongue and counted each second Vi was gone from the room.

A few minutes later that felt like an eternity brought Vi stomping back down the rickety wooden stairs, a bowl and flask in hand. She set both aside before gesturing to Caitlyn for permission. Caitlyn offered a timid nod.

Even with Vi’s help, it was excruciating returning to lying on her back. Caitlyn choked down a cry, minding her tongue so as to not bite it in half. The longer she was conscious the more aggressive the pain seemed to become.

But the only thing on her mind was the flask, which she pathetically reached for once situated. Vi swiftly handed it over. It was lukewarm and somehow the greatest thing Caitlyn ever tasted, and she quickly became grateful for the spout in her supine position.

“Woah, slow down,” Vi said suddenly, ripping the flask away before Caitlyn could empty it all at once. Some of the water splashed onto her chin and down her neck, relieving some of the feverish heat that lingered from sleep. “You’ll make yourself sick drinking that fast.”

Caitlyn made an inelegant grab for it, but Vi held the flask just out of reach. “Give it back,” Caitlyn pleaded.

“Promise to pace yourself?”

Caitlyn nodded, though she’d say anything for even a single drop more. Vi relented but did not relinquish the flask entirely, instead controlling the pace herself at which Caitlyn drank, much to Caitlyn’s immense displeasure.

It never seemed like enough, but eventually Caitlyn felt the edge of her thirst dull. She jerked with a start when she felt her shirt being lifted and slapped Vi’s hand away.

“Take it easy,” Vi said, sounding bored. “I have to check you’re not soaked through.”

The question of what that could possibly mean stuck in the back of Caitlyn’s throat until she glimpsed the hole in her shirt and the frightening amount of blood darkening it. She snapped her eyes shut, unwilling to perceive any more than that as she fought to stay calm.

Vi pulled Caitlyn’s shirt back into place, seemingly content with whatever she’d seen. “So, how much do you remember?”

Caitlyn huffed a few more slow breaths through her mask. Her voice quivered lightly when she spoke. “There were more of you. Two boys . . .” Caitlyn’s gaze wandered idly around the room, noting the signs of a shared living space. “Your brothers?”

“Not by blood,” Vi elaborated. Then, with the barest trace of humor, added, “Or by choice.”

Adoptive siblings? Caitlyn tucked that piece of information away. “And a little girl—your sister, I gather. You were looking to escape. The enforcers—”

She couldn’t finish that thought as the memory slammed into her with the force of a bullet. Caitlyn swallowed—or tried to. She sipped from the flask again to moisten her throat, using the pause to steady herself and shove down her nausea.

“I felt something punch me. Right here.” Caitlyn gestured to her midsection. “It didn’t hurt—only knocked the breath out of me. Then it was like my body just . . . shut down.”

Silence fell between them, thick and uncomfortable. Vi’s eyes were buried in her lap where her hands fidgeted. “Anything else?”

Blood. A lot of blood. Being so afraid. She remembered Vi holding her as everything began to fade away. Caitlyn shook her head. “Not really. It’s all very fuzzy.”

Vi seemed to relax. “Good,” she said, almost to herself, and Caitlyn didn’t have time to dwell on that before the bowl was being thrust into her space.

The smell was the first thing that hit her; something overwhelmingly pungent that burned her nostrils. Caitlyn wrinkled her nose—if she’d had no appetite before, she certainly didn’t now.

Vi’s features tightened with exasperation when Caitlyn pushed it back before so much as looking at the meal. “You have to eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You can’t just—”

“No,” Caitlyn snapped before tensing with a groan, the wound in her belly equally unkind. Vi blinked, taken aback. Caitlyn didn’t mean to be harsh, but talking so much left her enervated and the pain was unrelenting. She needed a break. “Please.”

A muscle in Vi’s jaw twitched but her face quickly smoothed into one of neutrality. “Okay,” she said evenly.

And that was that.

Caitlyn felt the thin mattress settle back into place as Vi’s weight disappeared. She couldn’t pretend she wasn’t relieved to be left alone, but there was a twinge of shame underneath that.

There would be time for gratitude later, Caitlyn decided.

Vi hated sitting still.

She stared bitterly at the impression left behind on the couch from being on her ass for days. If she planted herself back onto it so soon, she was going to lose her mind.

No, she thought, turning away and throwing her arms up to stretch. She’d had enough of sitting for now.

Her new roommate had already fallen back asleep, mouth hanging open like she’d been mid-conversation. Fatigue hindered her for now but Vi had a feeling this Caitlyn girl could talk a lot given the opportunity. Maybe she should try enjoying the peace while it lasted.

A soft noise sounded from Caitlyn, enough to have Vi thinking she’d been mistaken. But Caitlyn only twitched before resettling back into stillness, eyes never once opening. Her breathing was anything but easy.

Vi returned to the bunk’s side and moved the esophilter from Caitlyn’s hand to her face. The rise and fall of her chest slowed. Her body seemed to relax a little after that.

Caitlyn’s skin was still spotted with dirt here and there from their tumble into the trenches and its color had yet to fully return. A thin sheen of sweat clung to her, glistening in the cellar lamp’s light. Vi gave Caitlyn’s forehead an exploratory brush with the back of her hand and frowned when she found it to be warm.

Even in sleep, Caitlyn shied away from the touch. Her brow was tightly drawn and another unintelligible sound escaped her. Whatever dream she was having, it wasn’t a good one.

Vi grabbed the near-empty flask from the bunk and bounded up the stairs, eager for a change in scenery, however brief. The Last Drop was bustling with the evening crowd and Vi was able to slip up to the bar before Vander noticed.

Vander finished topping off a regular—who nodded to Vi in greeting before turning to rejoin his table. Her father grabbed a rag to wipe down the bar top when his eyes finally landed on her.

“And what do you think you’re doing out here?” he demanded mildly as he worked.

Vi made herself comfortable on a stool, undeterred by the soft warning in the undercurrents of his tone. She propped her chin on her fist and held his gaze without answering.

Vander smirked, then, amused and understanding. “She’s awake?”

“Was. Lasted a whopping five minutes.” Vi set the flask down in front of him. “She’s running a fever.”

Vander hummed thoughtfully, running the water until the flask overflowed. He screwed the cap on and handed it back. “I’ll see what kind of leads Ekko’s holding on to. There’re still one or two honest remedy dealers in the underground.”

There was a crackling buzz as the chemlight behind him, which had been dark for weeks from a leak, flickered on. Powder, who was perched on a pipe overhead, wiped stray fluids from her hands onto her pants. Her face was flush from exertion and smudged with grime.

“Attagirl. I think someone’s earned a break,” Vander praised. He held out his arms and Powder jumped, the bulk of his embrace engulfing her tiny body before setting her on the floor. Powder’s face lit up once she spotted Vi, who weakly smiled back. “We’re going to pay Little Man a visit.”

“We are?” Powder exclaimed in delighted surprise.

“What?” Mylo complained from where he’d suddenly appeared, a rag draped over his shoulder and an empty mug in each hand. His eye had swollen half shut since their fight. Powder skipped around the bar and stuck her tongue out at him.

“Claggor! Mind the bar, would you, son?”

“Yes, sir,” Claggor said, quickly abandoning his task and moving to take the barman’s place behind the counter.

"No skimming the tap while I'm out, kids. Hear me? I'll know."

A chorus of grumbled affirmatives answered him. Vander nodded and turned to follow Powder out the front door.

The angry clang of tin mugs on the bar yanked their attention to Mylo. “Ridiculous. Why does Powder get all the easy stuff?” he growled.

“You think you can fix all the broken crap around here?” Claggor grinned.

“Easy for her, I mean. Vander can’t find enough to keep her busy.”

“I think honest work’s a good look on you, Mylo,” Vi said wryly.

“Well, some of us have to actually work to make it up to Vander.”

“Feel free to switch jobs with me.”

Mylo curled his lip but didn’t respond, already bitter about being in the Piltie’s presence even a fraction of the time. He pushed the empty mugs towards Claggor, who set them aside with the rest of the dirty drinkware. “You know she’s just gonna rat on us when she gets back topside, right?”

Claggor leaned over the bar to flick Mylo upside the head. “Maybe not if you pay our interim princess homage.”

“As if. She cost us our payout,” Mylo sneered, swatting him away. He chuckled darkly. “Geez, isn’t that something? Even half dead, a topsider’s still screwing us over.”

Vi fought the urge to sigh, feeling a headache beginning to form. “How’s that shiner treating you, Mylo?”

“Great. How’s that fat lip?”

“Not as nice as your eye. Too bad my baby brother can’t punch for shit or I might actually have a story to tell.”

Claggor leaned towards Vi conspiratorially. “Mylo’s been telling anyone who asks that it came from scrapping with a pack of Slickjaws.”

Mylo scrambled to shove him. “You are such a snitch!”

A patron wandered up to the bar and Claggor straightened to attention with a rehearsed greeting, signaling the end to their short break—and their hushed conversation. Vi grabbed the flask of water and hopped down from her stool just as Mylo stepped away.

Mylo gave her an indignant glare over his shoulder and she brandished her middle finger as she headed for the cellar. He rolled his eyes with a scoff. Claggor shrugged at her unhelpfully.

It was going to be a long recovery, Vi thought.

Chapter Text

When Caitlyn next awoke, her disorientation had lessened.

The bed’s wooden frame rang familiar and the scent of the sheets and pillows beneath her solidified her bearings. Not quite a comfort, but something she might call safe for now. Her first instinct was to reach for the water flask and was delighted to find it refilled. She set her mask aside and forced herself to drink at a reasonable pace.

Caitlyn felt the itch of eyes on her. She glanced up to find Vi lounging lazily in the room’s single armchair, bowl in hand as she tore strips of meat between her teeth—and staring without an ounce of shame.

When it became clear the other girl was not going to break first, Caitlyn awkwardly looked elsewhere. Anywhere. She made note things had shifted around the room, suggesting a good deal of time had passed. How much, she had no idea. The windowless basement made it difficult to determine.

Vi’s eyes were like a brand on the side of her head and Caitlyn, unable to stand it any longer, huffed in growing annoyance. “What?”

“Who’s Jayce?”

Caitlyn was so startled by the pry she nearly jumped. An angry twist in her abdomen cruelly reminded her not to move so carelessly.

“You talk in your sleep,” Vi elaborated through a full mouth before Caitlyn had a chance to question it. “One of your high society friends?”

Caitlyn felt self-consciousness creeping up her neck in the form of heat. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

Vi shrugged and shoved the last of the food in her mouth, setting the emptied bowl onto the table and noisily sucking her fingers clean of grease—which Caitlyn found to be far more infuriating than a proper rejoinder. Vi wiped her hands on her pants and turned her attention to the soiled bandages on her forearm, already disinterested in the conversation.

Caitlyn watched her unwind them for a moment. “Are you . . . okay?” she ventured tentatively. Vi hadn’t quite finished pulling all the bandages off but the angry graze wound beneath was visible enough.

“You’re asking me that?” Vi asked, incredulous. “I think you’ve got bigger things to worry about. But thanks for the concern.”

“It was a genuine question.”

Vi just looked at her as she rewound her arm, an eyebrow cocked skeptically. Caitlyn sighed, choosing to focus her energy elsewhere. She felt warm and sticky and exhaustion still weighed her down, but she was restless from sleeping so much.

With a pained grunt, she pushed herself up onto her elbows. The slight movement had Vi watching her again with a vigilance that suggested Caitlyn was toeing some sort of invisible line. Caitlyn decided that that line wasn’t worth crossing and, instead of sitting up like she’d wanted, settled for leaning partially on her side to better face the room.

It only just dawned on her, as she got a better look, that the empty bowl sitting on the table was the one Vi had offered her earlier. The dregs of its previous contents were the only thing that remained. Caitlyn frowned in disbelief. “You ate the food you brought me?”

Vi looked at her like it was a stupid question. “I was hungry.”

For a moment, Caitlyn was stunned into silence. Not that she’d had any intentions to eat it, but. . . “You need to work on your bedside manner.”

Vi rolled her eyes. “Relax, princess. I’ll bring you something else.”

She bristled. “My name is Caitlyn.”

“I know.”

“And there’s no need. It’s just not exactly—” Her train of thought halted alongside the words in her throat. “You know what?”

Vi had since finished tying off her arm and now sat forward, elbows resting on her knees as she calmly held Caitlyn’s gaze. The pause caused the knot in Caitlyn’s stomach to tighten as she remembered how helpless she truly was.

Vi stood, reaching behind her chair and pulling out a bag as she did. A contemplative crease formed between her brow as she seemed to consider something. Whatever decision she came to, it brought her to Caitlyn’s side.

Caitlyn flinched as Vi held up the bag—just out of arm’s reach. But when the other girl made no further movements, Caitlyn peered cautiously at the satchel, recognizing the fine leather and sliver of firearm visible under the flap. She gasped.

And she suddenly felt very, very stupid.

“Is this your real plan?” Caitlyn demanded, proud of herself for keeping her voice as steady as she did. “Hold me hostage so you can ransom me to my family?”

Vi blinked, her face twisting with confusion. Then with anger. “What? What kind of people do you think we are?”

“I know you’re thieves. Is extortion much of a stretch?”

There was a heart-stopping second where Caitlyn suspected Vi might strike her as the other girl’s hands clenched into quivering fists. But then the satchel landed in Caitlyn’s lap. Vi turned away, running her hands through her hair with a loud sigh.

“You know how much that stupid gun is worth?” Vi said wearily. “I’d wager it’s more than all that junk we swiped put together.”

Stunned, Caitlyn watched Vi retreat to her spot in the middle of the room and sit with her back now facing her. Caitlyn opened the satchel and pulled the folded rifle into her hands, relieved to find the heirloom still in one piece and not currently exchanging hands in some undercity black market.

Its weight was a comfort, like reuniting with a good friend.

“I’m sorry,” Caitlyn said softly, clutching the rifle to her chest—her only reminder of home. “I’m . . . adjusting.”

Vi offered no sign to suggest she was listening. Caitlyn took a deep breath and tried a different approach.

“Jayce is an inventor,” she began. “My parents are his patrons and he’s my friend. Sometimes he comes down into the Lanes to buy equipment for his projects. I . . .” She thumbed nervously at her rifle. “I wanted to go with him, but he wouldn’t let me. So I followed him without his knowledge.”

That seemed enough to chip away at the icy wall between them, even if just slightly. Vi glanced over her shoulder, eyes hard but attentive.

“But I’ve never been across the bridge. I lost track of Jayce, got turned around . . . then I ran into you. Or, rather, you ran into me.” Caitlyn bit her lip, flushing with embarrassment at the memory. A snort drew her gaze back to Vi.

“Baby’s first rebellion?”

Caitlyn sniffed indignantly. “Hardly my first.”

That pulled a sincere chuckle from the other girl. The smile disappeared almost as quickly as it came. “Why would you want to come down here?”

Caitlyn shrugged and offered a tiny smile of her own. “I’ve always wanted to see the undercity.”

There was a flicker of doubt on Vi’s features but it passed as she accepted the answer. “You better keep that thing out of sight,” she said, nodding towards the rifle. “Lots of sticky fingers around here.”

“Least of all yours?” Caitlyn returned in jest.

Vi didn't seem to find it funny. “Range isn’t really my thing.”

Figuring she should quit while she was ahead, Caitlyn did as suggested and tucked her rifle against the wall at her side. Not the cuddliest thing, but she felt safer with it close.

The thudding of footsteps and ringing of muffled voices sounded from the door above the stairs.

“They don’t know,” Vi explained, her eyes having been drawn to the noise. She turned back to Caitlyn. “I won’t say anything if you don’t.”

Caitlyn subconsciously pressed her hand over the rifle’s iron crest. She tied the satchel shut tight, and with a fervent nod, whispered, “Thank you.”

Vi clocked the exact moment Mylo and Claggor realized Caitlyn was awake as their chatter completely ceased at the same time.

They were frozen on the cellar steps, both staring silently at Caitlyn, who nervously stared back. They had gotten used to sharing the space with a Piltie by now, but only one incapable of staying conscious for more than thirty seconds at a time. Another shift in the norm as far as they were concerned.

Vi waited for them to get over themselves, and when they didn’t, shot them both a look to encourage them along.

Mylo realized Vi was glaring daggers at them and resumed his descent first, chin held high despite his sullen frown. Claggor was suddenly very interested in the floor as he followed at his brother’s heels. They both passed up the sitting area in favor of retreating to their corner of the room, neither uttering a word.

The temperature in the room might as well have dropped. Uncomfortable with the tension, Caitlyn shrunk back down into the bed like it might help her disappear. Her attention seemed to be ensnared by the dark bruise under Mylo’s eye, only looking away to glance inquisitively at Vi. At the scabbed split in her lip specifically, Vi realized. But if Caitlyn had any questions, she kept them to herself.

Powder finally appeared, tardily bringing up the rear. She all but dragged her feet down the stairs, only stopping long enough to acknowledge Caitlyn before choosing to ignore her entirely. She threw herself facedown onto the empty couch across from Vi and sighed heavily.

“Busy day?” Vi asked, amused.

Her little sister only groaned in response, a drop of oil still smudged on her cheek. “This place is a dump.”

Vi caught Caitlyn watching Powder with a gentle smile on her face. If she felt any offense to being disregarded, she didn’t show it. “So, what’d you fix?” Vi quizzed.

Powder’s eyelids drooped, halfway to falling asleep. “Everything.”

“What would we do without you, Powder?”

Mylo scoffed. “Probably pull off better jobs.”

Vi noticed Powder stiffen. Claggor let out a tired exhale and muttered an almost imperceptible, “Hey, not now?”

“What? I’m right. You know I’m right. Vi knows I’m right. If clumsy little Powder hadn’t held us up, we wouldn’t be dealing with—”

“You wanna start this again?” Vi growled, suddenly in his face.

Mylo recoiled, having been so caught up in his rant he’d missed her leaving her seat. Claggor was poised to jump between them, but after a tense moment, Mylo withdrew.

“Whatever,” he muttered, knowing better than to press his luck a second time. “I’m going to bed.”

Mylo climbed into his nook above Claggor and disappeared behind the cover of a draped sheet, out of sight and out of mind.

The room returned to its thick silence. Vi pinched the bridge of her nose. Mylo was a tomorrow headache—today she just needed everyone to keep their shit together. It was the least painful way through this weird mess.

Powder hadn’t made a single sound through Mylo’s tantrum, which was unusual. She often jumped at the chance to fire back. But Powder only glanced up at Vi as she returned, eyes shining with guilt.

Vi passed up her usual seat in favor of joining Powder on the other couch. Powder crawled closer as soon as Vi was sat, pressing in close and dropping her head on Vi’s shoulder.

“Ignore him,” Vi said softly, wrapping her arm around her little sister. She used her thumb to wipe away the oil smudge. “What happened was my fault. Not yours.”

“I slowed us down,” Powder mumbled.

“And I made a bad call.” Vi sighed to herself, absently running her fingers through Powder’s hair. “Maybe more than one.”

Powder didn’t say anything more, but the familiar motion seemed to do the trick and she gradually relaxed. Her eyes slipped shut with a small exhale.

Caitlyn was no longer smiling. When Vi caught her gaze again, her face fell further, and with significant effort rolled onto her opposite side until only her back faced the room.

No doubt the wall was warmer company.

The lamp’s glow was soft—slowly fading with every hour as its fuel ran low.

Vi idly watched the chemicals burn in the bulb. The light was branded behind her eyelids as she squeezed them shut to blink the sleep out of her eyes. Claggor’s snoring carried from the boys’ corner and Mylo was mercifully silent.

Powder lay draped across her lap after crashing from another hard day at Vander’s behest, head cushioned by her thigh. Vi busied herself with unravelling her sister’s braid, combing the strands apart with her fingers as she did. She glanced cautiously at Caitlyn, who had hardly shifted an inch since turning away.

But Vi could tell she was still awake. She was too quiet. Caitlyn had, so far, not been a very sound sleeper.

Powder, dead to the world, didn’t so much as stir as Vi slipped out from under her. Vi took a moment to stretch out the sore muscles in her back before pulling her sister’s shoes off one at a time. Out of habit, she moved to scoop Powder into her arms—before remembering her sister’s bed was currently occupied.

Vi straightened, annoyed. The top bunk was too high to lift her sister into. She had a mind to shake Powder awake before ultimately deciding to let her continue sleeping. They were both stuck on the couch tonight, Vi guessed.

She padded towards the bunk and pulled Powder’s blanket from the upper. She idly toyed with it in her hands, using the pause to lean on the frame and peer into the lower.

Caitlyn didn’t react; not right away. She must have felt Vi’s gaze because she eventually looked back with a tight scowl. “Do I amuse you?”

Vi’s brow climbed higher in question.

“You keep staring at me. Like I’m an animal in a cage.”

“If this is a cage, I’m as much a prisoner as you are,” Vi deadpanned. Caitlyn’s frown deepened and she went back to glaring at the wall. “You should sleep.”

“I’m tired of sleeping,” Caitlyn muttered. Her voice was still hoarse from disuse and her breaths sounded rough and strained. The esophilter was in the same place she’d left it—near the edge of the bed—and Vi wasn’t oblivious to how she hadn’t worn it since the others entered the room.

“You’re sick and recovering from a shot to the gut. You don’t get better if you don’t rest.” Vi lightly tossed the esophilter and Caitlyn stiffened when it landed in front of her. “And put that stupid thing on. You sound like a sump scrapper.”

She didn’t wait around for Caitlyn’s response—or argument, most likely. Vi draped the blanket over Powder and moved to sit back down. The creaking of the bunk pulled her attention back and she straightened in alarm.

“What are you—”

“I’m just stretching my legs,” Caitlyn insisted, arms quivering as she struggled to sit herself upright. Her face was pinched in discomfort but she was clearly determined to follow through despite it.

Even from her short distance away, Vi could see the perspiration on Caitlyn’s skin from the exertion. “You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Vi sighed in exasperation and stepped forward, reaching for the trembling girl. “At least let me—”

“I can do it myself,” Caitlyn growled waspishly and Vi froze in place.

Oh, she was pissed.

Feeling oddly petrified, Vi could only watch as Caitlyn arduously drew her legs up and over the edge of the bed. Her breaths came in hard painful huffs and she looked ready to pass out any second.

“Okay, that’s good enough. Now lay back down.”

Caitlyn’s eyes were defiant as she leaned forward. “You may be their older sister, but you’re not mine. I can make my own—”

She let out a sudden agonized shriek the moment she tried putting weight on her feet. Vi darted forward instinctively, her immediate fear being that Caitlyn had torn her wound all anew—but she faltered when she realized Caitlyn wasn’t holding her stomach. She was holding her leg.

“What the hell is going on?” Mylo murmured groggily from the other side of the room. Claggor’s snoring had also stopped.

Caitlyn’s hands shook where they hovered around her ankle. Tears slipped from frantic eyes that jumped to Vi for help, but Vi didn’t know where to begin.

Powder was now wide awake and on her feet, one hand still clutching at the blanket in her disorientation. She blinked at Vi, confused, when Vi turned to her.

“Go get Vander.”

Vander was silent as he made his assessment.

He wasn’t the only one. No one said a word as they stood around where he knelt in front of the bunk with Caitlyn’s leg cradled gingerly in his hands. He had managed to remove her sock and roll her pants up.

Vi held back a grimace. Caitlyn’s skin, normally pale, had turned a deep, splotchy purple and was badly swollen. It reached partway up her foreleg but the worst of it centered at her foot and ankle. Vander gave the limb a slight experimental twist and Caitlyn winced.

“Does that hurt?” he asked her.

Caitlyn nodded, biting her lip to keep quiet. The tears had stopped but she was tensed like she might fall apart any moment.

“I doubt you’ve had much chance to earn this during your stay here.” Vander turned his head towards the rest of them. “Kids, how exactly did you escape into the trenches?”

Mylo swallowed and pretended to be focused on something else. Claggor dipped his head and picked at his fingers. Vi flinched, squeezing her eyes shut.

Powder shifted nervously from side to side. “With style,” she said in a small voice. Mylo smacked her lightly with the back of his hand and she thumped him back.

Vander let out a long breath and Vi knew that was a conversation waiting to happen. “Well, I won’t offend you by lying. You’re not using this leg any time soon.”

Caitlyn deflated, slumping against the bunk’s frame with a soft, defeated sigh. Vi might have the pleasure of telling her so if not for how down she looked about it, so she kept the gloating to herself.

With Vander, Caitlyn was much more pliable, and she didn’t show any signs of resistance when he helped her lay back down. Or maybe the fight had fully bled out with this fresh bad news. Either way, she slipped the esophilter on without complaint when Vander handed it to her. The hissing clicks filled the room once more.

Vi straightened when Vander rose to his feet, expecting some sort of lecture, but Vander just gave her a patient look and nodded towards the stairs. She brushed past her siblings who, with the excitement over, began to awkwardly shuffle back to their beds.

Vander shut the cellar door behind them. “She’s spry.”

“She’s stubborn,” Vi said unhappily, leaning against the wall and crossing her arms.

Her father chuckled lightly. “Reminds me of someone I know.”

Vi rolled her eyes at that.

“Listen—Benzo’s got a lead on some proper medicine, but it’ll be a few days. Should kill that fever. I’ll wrap that leg in the meantime but you gotta keep her off it. She should be resting.”

“You want to try telling her that?”

“Ah,” Vander shook his head with a small smile. “I think that’s your job, remember?”

Vi inhaled to say something scathing before releasing it in a slow exhale, realizing she was too tired to be angry. “Right,” she muttered.

“Right. Now, how much style are we talking, exactly?”

Chapter Text

Caitlyn was becoming well acquainted with the bunk wall.

She stared morosely at the chalky drawings, feeling more tired than ever. Yet, for once, sleep eluded her. She must have drifted off at some point but scarcely remembered waking up, let alone falling asleep. Time wasn’t of much value to her lately, anyway.

The events of the past days replayed in her mind like a looping record, but all they served to accomplish was sending her deeper into despair with every meticulous review. She could not help but wonder what she could have done differently to alter the outcome.

But being blindsided by an enforcer’s bullet was not a variable she knew how to work with.

Eventually the cramping in her side became too much to bear and Caitlyn stretched, mindful of the sting in her belly, before rolling onto her back. Her leg feeling heavier than the rest of her continued to be a surprising sensation. She peered down at the cursed thing—the cumbersome splint that caged her foot, swathed in stiff cloth to hold in place.

Experimenting, she wiggled her toes and felt a sharp throb even as the rest of the extremity refused to budge. Caitlyn heaved a sigh and let her head fall back onto the bed.

There was little point in dwelling on the past, she supposed. The damage was done. But for god’s sake, her luck could not possibly worsen further.

The last thing she expected to see when she opened her eyes again was another pair peering down at her.

Caitlyn blinked in surprise, but it quickly passed as she recognized the youngest of the four kids. Though her mood was sour she attempted a smile. “Hello.”

The little girl didn’t respond. She was perched upside down over the edge of the upper bunk, bright blue hair falling down around her face. Her braided ponytail dangled freely.

“Powder, was it?”

As if invoking her name flipped some kind of switch, Powder’s eyes narrowed slightly. Accusingly. “You’re in my bed.”

“Oh.” Caitlyn’s smile vanished as she was taken aback by the hostility in her tone. “Um. I’m sorry,” she said lamely.

Powder resumed her chilly silence. Caitlyn shifted uncomfortably and quickly glanced around the room for Vi, only to realize the room was empty besides them. She noticed Powder’s eyes shared a similar shade to the older girl—it was hard not to considering she wouldn’t stop staring.

Definitely sisters by blood.

Powder startled her again by suddenly dropping to the floor, twisting with the quick grace of someone who liked to climb things and knew how to fall. There was a mechanical monkey toy in her hands, its head bobbing on a spring.

“Can I see it?” Powder asked, all traces of previous aggression abruptly replaced with intense interest. Caitlyn frowned, confused.

“See what?”

“Where you got shot.”

Caitlyn gawked at the little girl’s blunt request and momentarily found herself too shocked to speak. The question brought bad memories shooting to the forefront of her mind again; as if a mind of its own, the wound in her belly stung just a little more.

The basement door swung open then, drawing both of their attention. Vi descended the stairs and Caitlyn actually felt relief seeing her.

“What are you still doing down here?” Vi demanded with little bite, slowing slightly once she’d spotted her sister. She carried a bowl in one hand. “Not your best work if you’re trying to hide.”

Powder shrugged innocently. “Just fixing Mr. Duddy.” She gave the toy’s key a few clockwise cranks and it promptly crashed its cymbals together. Caitlyn found its toothy grin a tad unsettling.

“Looks like you fixed him.” Vi stepped around Powder to hand Caitlyn the bowl, which held some new mystery meal. Caitlyn swiftly shook her head and Vi rolled her eyes but withdrew without argument. She shoved it into Powder’s hands instead, right next to the monkey.

Powder made a happy noise at her sudden good fortune. “Can I stay down here with you? It’s boring being with Vander all day.”

“Sorry, Pow-Pow, you know the deal. You three up there, me down here.” Vi gave her sister a light shove towards the stairs. “Now get out. He’s probably wondering where you are.”

Powder pouted and grumbled something too low to hear as she placed her chattering monkey down on the floor. She shot Caitlyn one last withering glance over her shoulder before bounding up the stairs and out of the basement.

Caitlyn watched the monkey toy march in a slow, noisy, clumsy line. “Your sister is . . . interesting.”

Vi looked at her briefly but didn’t say anything, but Caitlyn swore she caught the hard lines of a scowl before the other girl turned away. Maybe Vi wasn’t a morning person. Or night person. Honestly, she seemed pretty impatient regardless of time of day.

The monkey finally ran out of steam and fell over with a clatter. Caitlyn regarded the toy below her momentarily before reaching down to pick it up, ignoring how her belly protested the movement.

Vi was at her side so suddenly she gasped with a start. “Would you stop moving?”

Caitlyn flinched back fast enough to turn the sting into a piercing throb. Indignance, summoned by the sudden pain, erupted on her tongue. “What’s your problem?” she snapped.

Vi’s mouth twitched like she might bare her teeth. “My problem? Really?”

Not impatience, Caitlyn realized. Vi was angry. “Yes. Since something is so clearly chafing you.”

“You’re my problem, princess. And if you keep straining yourself, you’re gonna keep being my problem.”

Caitlyn pursed her lips—she could not stand the moniker. “It’s boring, you know. Being endlessly confined to a bed.”

“No shit.” Vi swiped the monkey off the floor and shoved it onto a shelf near the stairs. “But you have the easiest job in the world—just lay there and do nothing, which shouldn’t be hard for someone like you—”

“Someone like me—?”

“—so the sooner you start listening to me, the sooner you can go back to your ivory tower and we can forget about each other.”

Ah, so there’s the source of her frustration. But Caitlyn had no intention of apologizing for the night previous—if anything, she just felt more spiteful and sat up a little higher. “Maybe if you’d stop treating me like a helpless—”

“You are helpless. You can barely hold yourself up and you sure as hell can’t walk. Like it or not, that’s the arrangement. So when I tell you to stay put, you stay put. I tell you to lie down? You lie down.”

“I’m not a dog.”

“No,” Vi agreed coldly. “You’re a pain in my ass.”

Caitlyn’s rising temper only made her hotter and she felt a bead of sweat trickle from her brow. Her rasping voice cracked as her own patience finally shattered. “I didn’t ask to be anyone’s punishment!”

Her abdomen seized from rage and the wound burned, finally at its limit. Caitlyn doubled over with a sharp cry. She felt wetness under her hand as she clutched uselessly at her belly.

She waited for it to pass with tears in her eyes—from the pain or from her ire, she didn’t know. Maybe both. But she refused to let them spill again. She refused to give Vi the satisfaction a second time.

But Vi was strangely silent. Caitlyn felt a hand on her shoulder after a moment and she cracked her eyes open to find Vi hunched over her with a solemn frown. Vi slipped her arm around Caitlyn to relieve her of the effort of holding herself upright.

Caitlyn’s hand was pried away from her midsection with a gentleness she hadn’t thought the fissure girl capable of. Whatever was there made Vi’s frown deepen.

“Okay,” Vi breathed quietly, mostly to herself. Her tone had diminished from its previous anger, replaced with a sober sense of obligation. Not exactly softer, but no longer bearing an edge.

Caitlyn allowed Vi to ease her back down—if only because she wanted the pain to settle. The feverish heat under her skin seemed spurned on by the agitation, reducing her thoughts to puddles. She barely felt how the bed dipped when Vi sat on the edge, just at her side.

“Vander was gonna punish us anyway,” Vi explained calmly. She pulled out a small knife and idly turned it over in her hands as she talked. “And right now you need someone.”

Caitlyn swallowed with difficulty—the intensity of their brief argument had left her throat feeling raw. “I don’t want this,” she grumbled. “I don’t want to need someone.”

“Yeah, well, I’m sure you’re used to getting what you want but things work a little differently down here.” At Caitlyn’s scoff, Vi shrugged. “Quid pro quo, right? I kind of owe you anyway.”

“You’re alive. I’m alive. I’d call us even.”

“Maybe.” It sounded like a lie. Vi pointed with the knife towards the bloodied stain on Caitlyn’s stomach. “I haven’t done this with you awake yet. Just try to relax.”

With frayed nerves, Caitlyn watched as her shirt was peeled away from sweat-coated skin, just high enough to expose her midriff. The area was swaddled in bandages that squeezed and tightened with every inhale.

The unmistakable crimson tint of blood bloomed through the coarse material, but she was determined to not look away this time.

Vi slipped the knife under the topmost layer and carefully split the bandage in two. “Where’d you even get these clothes?” she asked while unraveling. “Stitching’s too neat to be undercity make.”

The loosening pressure had Caitlyn exhaling in relief. “From . . .” She was almost too embarrassed to answer. “I found them out on the street, actually. In Midtown. The owners had outgrown them, I think.”

Vi gave her a funny look. “Who’s the thief now?”

She flushed. “They were being discarded anyway.”

“Wow. Even your trash is better than what we have down here.”

Caitlyn didn’t know what to say to that so she didn’t say anything. She hissed sharply when Vi lifted the blood-soaked pad away, exposing the wound to the air. There was no avoiding it now.

She gathered her courage to finally see what had been done to her.

Oh, Caitlyn thought numbly as she peered down at the hole in her stomach. It was wide enough to stick her thumb in, if she so desired.

A sudden wave of dizziness had her head lolling back. Vi glanced at her. “You’re not weird about blood, are you?”

“Not really,” Caitlyn answered faintly. It really wasn’t bleeding all that much—just a slight occasional trickle that Vi would promptly wipe away.

Either way, the blood wasn’t the part that bothered her.

The skin around the wound was plagued with sickening shades of blues and purples. It was especially painful when Vi patted the wound dry and pressed down with a fresh pad. Caitlyn fisted the sheets and let out a strained whimper.

“How’d you know I’m the oldest?” Vi said suddenly to distract. Caitlyn eyed her blearily, confused, before remembering their bickering from last night. It was a fair question—Powder was obvious but both of the boys were bigger than Vi.

“Because you’re clearly no stranger to this,” Caitlyn answered.

Vi snorted. “Dressing bullet wounds?”

“Taking care of someone.”

Vi’s fingers stilled long enough for Caitlyn to notice. “Guess there really is nothing that gets past you,” she mumbled, tying off the new bandages. “How does that feel?”

“It’s tight.”

“It’s gotta be. You’ll get used to it.”

Caitlyn swallowed her annoyance before it could manifest as words she’d regret. She was growing really tired of being in constant discomfort. The whole ordeal had left her drenched with sweat—as if she hadn’t been perspiring enough to begin with. “Ugh,” she groaned. “I need a shower.”

“There’s a hose out back,” Vi said without missing a beat, eyes down as she pulled a rag from her belt. She let the joke linger on. And on. And on. Her face gave nothing away when she met Caitlyn’s gaze.

Was it a joke?

Then the rag was on Caitlyn’s forehead, having been wetted with the water from her flask. Not especially cool, but it sapped the worst of the heat away. It was a momentary diversion from the constricting pain and allowed her mind to drift, only to end up caught in the maelstrom of the past once more.

She wished she could lock those memories away forever.

“What would you have done differently?” Caitlyn heard herself ask.

The question took Vi by surprise. “You’ll drive yourself crazy thinking like that.”

“You don’t wonder?”

“Constantly.”

At least they had one thing in common. Vi worked her way down with the rag, pressing it along Caitlyn’s face and neck in turn.

“I'm sorry for causing so much friction in your family,” Caitlyn said after a moment.

“Don’t flatter yourself. Mylo and Powder are always at each other's throats.” Vi sighed. “Everyone’s a little stir crazy. Vander won’t let us out on the streets—not with the enforcers so trigger happy.”

Caitlyn’s heart sank. If the undercity kids weren’t allowed to leave, then she doubted her chances fared any better for the near future.

The rag was now on her arm as Vi wiped away the dirt and grime that still lingered on her skin from the mill. Her thoughts turned to her own family, and for a moment she pretended the warm hands tending to her belonged to her father. She yearned for the unfaltering strength of her mother’s voice.

But the hands on her were too small and calloused. The voice in her ear was too young, too rough.

Caitlyn suddenly snatched away from Vi’s grip, as if the touch alone left her burned.

“Did I hurt you?”

"No." A lump had formed in Caitlyn’s throat. “You didn’t. Now please go.”

Vi recoiled like Caitlyn had slapped her in the face. She just sat there in silence, using the rag to scrub Caitlyn’s blood from her own fingers as she processed the request.

“Whatever you say,” she eventually muttered. Then she was gone.

The aching knot tangling in Caitlyn’s chest pulled taut. Despite how hot she felt, she hugged her arms around herself.

The wall was there to greet her when she turned to it once more.

Chapter Text

Vi couldn’t decide if she preferred Caitlyn when she was conscious or unconscious.

On one hand, a conscious Caitlyn was a dice roll on if she wanted to be chummy or contentious, and the latter was becoming more frequent as her fever worsened. Vi was no stranger to ill-tempered topsiders, but being practically tethered to one at all times was getting old pretty fast.

On the other hand, Vi thought as she glanced over at a slack-jawed Caitlyn drooling all over Powder’s bed, it was kind of super dull not having that stimulation. Even if that stimulation occasionally involved having her head bitten off.

Vi tore a small strip of crag duck to chew on, if only out of boredom. She left the rest alone in a bowl off to the side and continued to wait. Caitlyn was going to have to eat soon. One way or another, Vi would have to find a way to get food in her.

Maybe she’d get lucky and Caitlyn will be too tired to object for once. A pliable Caitlyn was a nice thought. Wishful thinking, but nice.

That nice thought was shattered the moment Caitlyn shot up in bed with a sharp inhale.

Vi was already on her feet, startled out of her seat. Caitlyn heaved quick shuddering gasps, clawing at her belly like she’d been shot through a second time.

“Woah, easy, you might tear—”

The reaction happened so fast Vi would have missed it had she blinked. The rifle unfurled and snapped into position and Vi froze in place as a familiar picture painted itself before her.

Maybe leaving the stupid thing within arm’s reach wasn’t the best plan after all. Vi held her hands up and out—a gesture of peace and intent to move closer. “Hey, princess, put it down. You’re okay.”

Caitlyn’s eyes were wild, unfocused, as she stared at Vi, seeing through her instead of at her. The gun trembled in her white-knuckled grip but never strayed from its mark. Vi took a step closer, heart punching her ribs when Caitlyn flinched.

Subconsciously she knew she was in no real danger. The chamber was empty thanks to Vander. But the wicked maw of cold, lethal steel prodded at memories she’d rather let slumber.

The rifle stayed trained on her chest as she crossed the remaining distance, but Vi never heard the click of the trigger being pulled—even when she reached forward.

“You’re okay,” Vi repeated as she wrapped her fingers around the barrel and wrestled the weapon from Caitlyn’s grasp. It clattered on the floor as she tossed it aside, using the other arm to ward away Caitlyn’s panicked slapping before grabbing her wrists. “Wake up. Look at me.”

Caitlyn’s eyes were clenched shut, whimpering words of terror under her breath as she tried desperately to push Vi away. Vi pinned her down, clutching her face until her thrashing slowed. God, she was burning up.

“Caitlyn, look at me.”

Defeated, Caitlyn slowly cracked her eyes open, blinking up at her like she’d just noticed Vi for the first time. For a long moment, she didn’t move or speak, but her pupils slowly dilated as clarity returned to her gaze.

Vi sighed to herself and decided she liked it better when Caitlyn was unconscious. “It was just a dream, okay?”

The recognition that’d loosened Caitlyn's features was instantly replaced with something fiercely angry. “Easy for you to say,” she hissed, shoving at Vi with what little strength she had left until space breathed between them again. “Get off of me.”

“Hey, relax, I’m just trying to help,” Vi snapped as she happily obliged and straightened, stepping a respectful distance away.

“By putting your hands all over me?”

“Yeah. You were acting out a nightmare. Do you even know what you were doing?”

Caitlyn curled in on herself, a rawer emotion pulling her features taut. Her voice lost its bite as it shuddered and cracked. “Did I hurt you?”

“No. But you could have hurt yourself.” Vi scrubbed tiredly at her face, feeling some of her annoyance melt away. “What was it?”

Caitlyn’s eyes, sunken and rimmed with red, were a thousand miles away. “Does it matter?”

“Not really,” Vi admitted—maybe a tad cruelly. She wasn’t here to play shrink. Moving back to the table, she grabbed the bowl. “Unless you keep mistaking me for your monster, then we might have a problem.”

Caitlyn flinched at that but fell back into silence, refusing to answer. Vi could live with that. With luck, Caitlyn’s fever would break before she had a chance to lash out at any of the others. Vi wasn’t sure she would have kept her cool if it’d been anyone but her.

Vi returned to Caitlyn’s bedside. “Here. Might make you feel better.”

Caitlyn didn’t react, giving no indication of having heard her. She didn’t look up until Vi waved near her face, and when she did, she scowled unhappily at the offered meal and turned to face the wall. “Go away.”

“Just a few bites.”

“I’ve already told you—I’m really not hungry.”

“And I really don’t care.” Vi leaned down, bracing one hand on her knee to peer into the bunk. “It’s not a request.”

“You can’t make me.”

“Like hell I c—” Vi swallowed to extinguish her rapidly-burning fuse before she ended up doing something unreasonable—like shoving the food down Caitlyn’s throat herself. “I didn’t drag you back to the land of the living just so you can starve yourself out of it.”

Maybe it was the fever, or the pain of her stomach wound, or her prissy topside attitude, but something had Caitlyn on fire today. “There’s a lot of things you shouldn’t have done.”

The words were slurred in sickness but no less dull in their edge. Something in Vi finally snapped and it took all the restraint she could muster to keep control of her hands. She shoved the bowl into Caitlyn’s space. “Just take the damn—”

As soon as Vi made contact the girl whipped her arm back in response, hard enough to send Vi stumbling back with grease dripping down her front. Vi stared down at her soiled shirt before meeting Caitlyn’s gaze, who stared back at her with eyes that hardened with challenge, daring her to do something about it.

“I’m gonna get you back to Piltover in one piece,” Vi swore as she stiffly bent down and picked up the rifle. Caitlyn’s eyes widened as she finally realized it was no longer at her side. “And I’m gonna do it whether you want to help me or not.”

Vi tossed the rifle onto the couch, well out of Caitlyn’s reach, before stomping up the stairs. She’d figure out what to do with it later. Right now, she needed a time out before she ended up immediately breaking her own promise by breaking Caitlyn’s perfect face.

Some of the bar’s patrons gave Vi weird looks when she stormed into the taproom—including Powder, who was sat at the bar tinkering with one of her gadgets. She jumped when Vi slammed the bowl down on top of it.

“Hey, easy,” Vander grunted, shooting up from where he’d been crouched under the bar. “I just wiped the bar down.”

“She’s just so—” Vi was too angry to finish her thought, instead vocalizing it with a frustrated groan and a strangling gesture.

And if Caitlyn’s scrawny pale neck was what she had in mind at that moment, who could blame her?

Vander must have picked up on exactly what she was fantasizing about because the corners of his mouth twitched. “Trouble in paradise?”

If looks could kill, Vi would be an orphan twice over. “You think you’re so funny.”

He turned to Powder. “I am funny, aren’t I?”

Powder made a face. “You’re too old to be funny.”

"At least one of us is getting a kick out of this mess,” Vi said bitterly. “She’s driving me crazy.”

Vander chuckled. “Do you remember that time you climbed Old Hungry and it started raining? Fell and twisted your ankle? Stuck in bed for weeks. You were no saint either, kiddo.”

“I was twelve.”

“You were restless and in pain. Just like she is now.” He paused to pull out a bottle and pour it into an ice-filled glass, sliding the drink to a waiting guest. “How’s a harmless girl like that getting under your skin?”

Vi scoffed. Harmless. But she decided to keep Caitlyn’s incident with the rifle to herself. “I can’t get her to eat, Vander.”

“Considering the last thing she ate was a bullet, can’t say I’m too surprised.” Vander pulled out a rag and handed it to Vi to clean herself up with. Sensing no pending objection, Powder snatched up the bowl for herself. Vander gave Vi a thoughtful look. “Hey. Feel like stretching your legs?”

Vi paused wiping down her shirt to brandish a wary eyebrow, waiting for whatever punchline he had next up his sleeve. Instead she straightened in surprise when he tossed a bag onto the bar in front of her. She was almost too stunned to speak. Almost too hopeful to speak.

“Wait, are you serious?”

“Well, I suppose I could always have one of the boys—”

Vi ripped the bag away before he had a chance to reclaim it. “No, I’ll do it. But . . . really? You’re actually letting me leave?”

Vander shrugged. “Someone’s gotta do the rounds and I think you’ve earned a break.”

“What about Caitlyn?”

“Powder’s not busy.”

Powder glanced up at the sound of her name, cheeks bulging from a stuffed mouth. Her brow pinched together indignantly at Vander’s expectant smile. “I’m not feeding her,” she mumbled around her food.

“You don’t have to,” Vander sighed.

Vi tried to keep her growing excitement tamped down, as if the opportunity might slip away if she let it raise her spirits too high. She attempted to school her expression when Vander’s hand squeezed her shoulder to get her attention.

“No straying,” her father warned, suddenly serious. “No lollygagging. And you see trouble, you book your ass right back here. Understood?”

“Yeah. Yeah, you can count on me.” Vi slung the bag over her shoulder and met Powder’s sullen gaze. Her mood dimmed just for a second as the thought of Caitlyn threatening her little sister in some feverish fit flooded her mind.

But Vander was right. Caitlyn is harmless. And, currently, very unarmed. With luck, Caitlyn would sleep through her whole absence and Powder wouldn’t even have to interact with her.

Vi found herself hesitating and turning to Vander. “She’ll be okay?”

“She’s in good hands.” Vander nodded towards the front door. “Now hurry up before I change my mind.”

Powder rolled her eyes.

Vi waited until her back was turned before letting a grin split her face in two. Not having to share the same space with Caitlyn for a while was the best thing that's happened to her since they met.

Caitlyn had expected Vi to return by now.

Part of her anticipated it; waiting for the basement door to open again. The other part couldn’t help but bask in her momentary solitude. Vi’s presence was like a thorn in her cognizance—always there, digging into the back of her mind. She was there when Caitlyn fell asleep and there when she woke up. It might feel less chafing if the fissure girl wasn’t so abrasive.

Still, Caitlyn supposed her own behavior was out of line. Vi was trying to help, after all. She’d have to apologize once she got the chance.

The ghosts from Caitlyn’s dream still lingered at the forefront of her thoughts, their faces bearing the visage of an enforcer’s visor. The memory, however hazy, brought with it a piercing pain that haunted her like a phantom in and out of sleep. All she’d known was fear.

She didn’t want to imagine what she’d done to warrant Vi to react the way she had.

Her eyes swiveled to her rifle. She had no recollection of how it’d found its way to the floor. Now it lay unfolded and unattended on the sofa. It made her itch. Caitlyn couldn’t help but feel annoyed she had been separated from it. A weapon like that should be stashed safely in its satchel, especially around inexperienced, roguish children.

And it was hers, damn it.

Caitlyn pushed herself upright, hand lingering over her dressings as she subconsciously felt for any wetness as she moved. The sofa was only a short distance away. Practically nothing. She could retrieve her rifle and be back in bed before anyone was the wiser.

Twisting into a sitting position, Caitlyn moved her legs over the edge of the bed. The last time she’d tried this had brought a nasty surprise. She gripped the bunk’s frame and made sure to keep all her weight off her bad foot as she shakily pulled herself to a stand. It’d be awkward, but she would manage.

Caitlyn let go of the bunk and her leg instantly gave out.

Her arms were useless to break the fall, just as feeble as her knees. The floor punched the air from her lungs and her sudden agonized cry consumed what little remained, leaving her dizzy and gasping for breath on her belly.

The pain was crippling. All she could do was lie there, desperately yearning for it to pass quickly. It didn’t.

“Wow.”

The shock of another’s voice gave Caitlyn what she needed to crack her eyes open, spots still dancing in her vision. She squinted up at the stairs and found Powder gazing over the scene with calm nonchalance.

“How long have you been standing there?” Caitlyn demanded, a surprising amount of strength to her voice despite the circumstances. Maybe the ignominy had shocked just the barest hint of life back into her infirm body.

“Long enough to watch you talk yourself into a bad idea. And then eat it.”

Caitlyn dropped her head back onto the ground with a frustrated groan, grimacing at the sharp aches shooting through her abdomen and up her leg. “Just go get Vi.”

“No can do,” Powder hummed, taking each stair one at a time with little lax swings of her legs. She ambled towards Caitlyn but pivoted last second, climbing up onto the table to sit cross-legged and peer down at her on the floor. “She’s gone.”

“What do you mean gone?”

“Vander sent her on an errand in the Lanes.”

“But . . . I thought no one was allowed to leave.”

“Me too. So now I’m stuck down here with you,” Powder groused, face twisting in a sulk. “You look like shit, by the way.”

Caitlyn frowned to herself. This girl was more brutally honest than her sister. Caitlyn supposed she could respect that, in a way. “Okay. Then can you help me up?”

Her impatience turned to alarm when she realized Powder’s attention had zeroed in on the rifle just to the side. She waited for Powder to recognize the crest on the stock, heart racing in her chest, but the young girl gave no indication. Her eyes were wide with eager intrigue, like a new toy had just landed in her lap.

“W-Wait, careful with that!” Caitlyn exclaimed when Powder pulled it into her hands, but she might as well have not spoken at all for how much consideration her words were given.

Powder’s grip was sloppy, lacking confidence for where to position her hands, but once she’d struck an acceptable balance she leveled the firearm at an invisible target on the wall and squinted down the sights. She inhaled and held a breath.

Caitlyn flinched at the click! of the firing pin striking an empty chamber. “You shouldn’t do that unless you intend to fire,” she chastised nervously. “It’s dangerous.”

Powder lowered the rifle with an unconcerned shrug. “It doesn’t have any ammo.”

This was no surprise to Caitlyn—she had checked the first chance she got, just to be safe. “Still. It’s always best to assume. Can you please give it back?”

“If you can take it from me, sure.”

Caitlyn faltered, feeling her anxiety crushed under a sudden wave of disbelief. “What?”

Powder held the rifle up and gave it a little shake, beckoning.

“You shouldn’t be goading me to strain myself,” Caitlyn scoffed.

“Then you shouldn’t have gotten out of bed. But you want this back, right? That’s why you got up in the first place? So come get it.”

Oh, this girl was an imp—so unlike her no-nonsense older sister. If not for the resemblance Caitlyn would have never guessed they were related.

And she was just out of reach.

Shoving the damp strands that’d fallen into her face out of the way, Caitlyn reached out and clawed at the floor, arduously dragging herself forward. Her arms shook as she braced them beneath her, raising just high enough to reach the table’s edge.

It hurt, and it was probably the hardest thing she’d had to do in some time, and her bad leg was useless as it dragged behind her, but Caitlyn finally hauled herself to Powder’s level, worming her way onto the table’s surface in a way that was most undignified. But she didn’t care.

Caitlyn expected Powder to do something childish, like move the rifle out of reach or kick her back onto the floor for laughs, but Powder barely reacted when Caitlyn stole it from her grasp. The table creaked under their combined weight.

Powder just smiled after her hands were emptied, thoroughly entertained. “Not bad. Didn’t think you’d pull it off.”

Despite the exhaustion and pain, Caitlyn felt a surge of pride. “Thank you,” she heard herself say with surprising sincerity. She sat up to mirror Powder’s posture and felt drained just looking at the bunk bed. How could something so close might as well be on the other end of a chasm? “Though I don’t think I can manage a return trip.”

She was so hot. The fever was bad enough on its own but exerting herself had left her sweltering. Her breaths came in hard rasps and she futilely swiped at her forehead with the back of her hand.

“Are you hot?” Powder asked, noting her discomfort. She watched Caitlyn finger at her collar as she desperately tried to encourage some air under her shirt. “You can take your clothes off if you need. I don’t mind.”

Caitlyn nearly fell off the table. If she wasn’t flushed from crown to heel already she’d most certainly be after a suggestion like that. And so casual, too. “Oh, no, it’s—it’s fine. I’m not really used to . . . having an audience?”

Powder cocked her head with a confused frown, not catching her meaning. Of course she wouldn’t—she shared a room with three others. Modesty was probably a foreign concept.

“Besides, I’ve been in these clothes for so long,” Caitlyn continued rambling, averting her gaze to focus on the rifle cradled in her hands, “I don’t think I could stand putting them back on. Not without a good wash, anyway.”

Powder looked her up and down. “You can borrow some of Vi’s. You look like you’d fit.”

“I . . . something tells me she wouldn’t appreciate that.”

“She told me to look after you.” Powder uncrossed her legs and hopped down from the table to go rummage around in a corner. “I’m looking after you.”

Caitlyn, having learned her lesson about trying to convince Powder to change her mind, just sighed in resignation.

Chapter Text

The thick, vaporous air of the Lanes never tasted so good.

Vi had to make a conscious effort not to skip like an elated child through the bustling streets. The market was as lively as always and no one paid her any mind as she weaved through colorful crowds, invisible in a sea of incurious bodies. It didn’t take long for her to diverge from the beaten path. Vander had told her to stretch her legs, hadn’t he? So he shouldn’t mind if she took the scenic route.

The upper stories were like an industrial puzzle she never tired of solving. Her footing was sure as ever as she raced over crags and catwalks, the dusty wind making her eyes water. She nearly barreled into a few older kids loitering in the shadows cast by chem signs, their sneers zeroing in on her bag. Vi encouraged them to try their luck—because the only thing missing from her perfect day was a fight—but one of them muttered something about the Hound to the others and they moved on, to her disappointment.

An otherwise uneventful journey brought Vi to Benzo’s all too quickly despite her efforts. But she was in a good mood, so she didn’t really mind, especially after the run had shaken loose some of the restless energy that’d been stuck in her bones. She shouldered her way into the dusty shop.

Benzo himself was sat at his usual place behind the counter, so engrossed in his appraising of curios he didn’t react to Vi’s entrance—until the bag landed in front of him, causing him to jump and scatter his wares.

“What do you think—” He jerked to attention with outrage in his eyes, but it shifted to astonishment before softening with exasperated affection. “Well, well. The warden finally let you out of your cage, pup?”

“For now,” Vi said, picking up a trinket that’d fallen on the floor and setting it back on the counter. “Vander asked me to run the rounds.”

Benzo took her bag. “Been expecting him to come collect for a few days now.” He turned to feel along the back wall, pounding his fist against the false panel to knock it loose and reveal a safe sitting snug in the recess. “Must be a lot of excitement at the Drop to keep his hands tied, eh?”

“How about we cut the crap, Benzo?”

The stocky merchant belted out a cackle. “You’re gonna put your old man in an early grave one of these days with the trouble you bring home. Imagine my surprise when Mylo dropped that kind of iron on my counter. That reminds me—” He reached into one of his belt pouches and pulled out a small vial. “This is for you.”

Vi caught the vial when he tossed it to her and held it up to the light. The glass was smudged with oily fingerprints and the liquid inside was a thick, murky green. She uncorked it for an experimental sniff and nearly threw up her lunch. “How much do I owe you?” she asked through a strained voice.

“It’s already paid for.”

“By who?”

“By you, ya punk. Or is your memory getting shorter?”

Oh. Right. Vi sighed and replaced the stopper before pocketing the vial. “Not a bad haul though, huh?”

“For Vander’s sake, I’m not going to humor that with an honest answer.” The safe clanked shut and locked with a mechanical rattle. Benzo dropped the bag back onto the counter and patted the now-bulging pouch. “Let’s just say our transaction is ongoing. Anything you might need for your new friend during her stay, come back here.”

Vi shouldered the bag, acclimating to its greater heft. She started when a small sack landed on the counter with a surprisingly solid thunk, a thin cord tying its throat shut tight. “What’s this?”

“Your cut. Try not to spend it all in one place.” At her bewildered stare, Benzo scratched at his whiskered chops and shrugged. “A job’s a job, right? Even with all the . . . extra baggage. You know.”

Stunned, Vi tested the weight of the sack in her palm, listening to the shifting of cogs within. It wasn’t anywhere near the payout she could have received if not for Caitlyn, but considering she hadn’t expected to be rewarded with anything besides Caitlyn after the catastrophe in the mill, it might as well be a fortune.

Vi chuckled in shocked delight. “It guess it is.”

Benzo leaned in closer, voice lowered for effect. “And maybe keep this part between us, hmm?”

At his wink, her smile grew wider. “Thanks, Benzo. And tell Ekko thanks for the draught.”

“Tell him yourself. He’s around here somewhere.”

Vi stepped outside, taking a moment to tighten the bag’s strap snug across her chest now that she had something worth taking. Shuffling footsteps rounded the corner of the shop, prompting Vi to glance up and spot snowy curls.

“Hey, Little Man,” she greeted.

The packages in Ekko’s arms nearly slipped from his grasp as he gasped in surprise, but he quickly smoothed his expression into something more teasing. “Heard you were all grounded.” Despite the playful jab, his grin stretched from ear to ear.

“Yup. Need some help with that?”

“Nah.” Ekko deposited the load on his disk runner with a relieved exhale, wiping his hands together to rid them of dust. He curled them into fists and punched harmlessly against her arm. “Gonna show me something new today?”

“Not today, kid. Vander only let me out of the dungeon long enough to make his usual trades. Thanks for this, by the way.” Vi held the vial up for him to see.

“Dealer said that’ll burn even sump sickness out of you.”

The chemical sting that still lingered in her nose made her believe it wholeheartedly. Something hanging off his belt caught her eye. “What’s that?”

“This?” Ekko unlatched it and held it up, giving the device a quick spin. “Some kind of fancy socket wrench, I think. Claggor gave it to me when he was here pawning to Benzo. I never even knew the Pilties had so many toys.”

“Yeah, well, we had to shake the enforcers for all that junk. Speaking of which, keep an eye out for blue coats in the Lanes for me, would you?”

Ekko sniffed and muttered quietly to himself, “The guild better keep their dogs above ground.”

Vi, who’d already turned to depart, froze in place. The boy cowed nervously, petrified beneath the ferocity of her glare as he realized he’d given himself away.

Ekko yelped as he was forcibly dragged behind the shop with Vi’s fingers clamped like steel in his collar. She tossed his back to the wall—not hard enough to hurt, but enough to show she meant business—and pressed her hand to the wall above his head to box him in.

“How much did Powder tell you?” Vi demanded, towering over the young boy.

Ekko blinked owlishly up at her, eyes wide as saucers. A nervous smile revealed his teeth. “Um. Not everything?”

It took Vi only a few seconds to deduce his meaning. She stepped back to claw her hands down her face. Of course Ekko—the nosiest kid she knew—would have listened in on Vander and Benzo the moment the opportunity presented itself. And why wouldn’t he when she and her siblings had just dropped the shiniest haul he’d ever seen into Benzo’s hands? “I thought Benzo told you to stop spying on his deals,” Vi groaned through her fingers.

“He did, but it’s not like he has to know.” Ekko winced. “You won’t tell him, will you?”

“Ekko, I’m serious, this is not a joke. Do you understand the kind of heat this would bring the underground? I’ve been busting my ass to fix it quietly.” Vi grabbed his shoulders, forcing him to meet her eyes. “You can’t tell anyone who she is. Not even Powder.”

Ekko scoffed and crossed his arms. “I can keep a secret, Vi.”

He was also one of the worst liars she knew. She could only hope the gravity of the situation was enough to keep his mouth shut.

“So, who all knows then?” he wondered as she released him.

“Just me, Vander, and Benzo.” She scowled. “And you, apparently.”

Ekko beamed. His smile vanished when Vi suddenly snatched his shiny new wrench and tossed it deeper into the alley. “Hey!”

Vi watched him scramble to retrieve it as she marched in the opposite direction. “If I find out you squealed to anyone, I’ll toss you in the sump!”

He put on his best serious face and saluted her in earnest.

“You really built these?”

“Yep,” Powder answered. She was sat behind Caitlyn, both sitting cross-legged on the sofa as Powder ran a wiry brush through Caitlyn’s hair, unknotting an age’s worth of neglect. Caitlyn was not quite so helpless she couldn’t groom herself, but Powder had insisted. It felt kind of nice, so Caitlyn didn’t object.

She felt so much better now that she was out of those sweat-soaked rags. Vi’s clothes were loose; the fissure girl broader in the shoulders and in need of a fuller range of motion. A notable and foreign change from the more fitting attire Caitlyn was used to back home—but, most importantly, they allowed her skin to actually breathe.

They also smelled a little musty and overwhelmingly of Vi herself but Caitlyn couldn’t care less. She was just relieved to feel a bit cleaner while the basement air sapped the worst of the fever’s heat away.

Caitlyn fixated on the small device in her hand, turning it over to take in all the crude mechanical details. A new perspective of the room had freshened Caitlyn’s perception, allowing her to see things anew—including the dusty toolbox situated at the foot of the bunk bed. It was covered in the same colorful drawings that adorned the object she held. “So, how do you play with it?”

The brushing stopped as Powder paused. “Play?”

“Is there a way to turn it on?” The monkey toy had had a clear crank, but this was a bit more amorphous in its design. Caitlyn fiddled with the device for a moment and found success in twisting the top in a clockwise manner. It rattled down like a ticking timepiece.

There was a curious beat of silence behind her. “That’s a bomb.”

Caitlyn snorted in amusement, but when she peered over her shoulder she realized Powder wasn’t smiling. The device trembled violently in her hands and Caitlyn gasped, dropping it in a sudden panic.

It hit the floor and rolled to a stop under the table before letting out a harmless wheeze of expelled air. “Relax,” Powder sighed, resuming her brushing. “That one doesn’t work. It’s an old design from forever ago.”

“And what inspires this . . . particular pursuit?”

“I’m no good at fighting.” There was dejectedness in her voice now. “Not like the others. So I make things to do the fighting for me.”

But Caitlyn felt a different sadness. “Why do you want to fight at all?”

“I don’t like fighting, but Vi won’t let me tag along unless I can keep up. She’s strong, and Claggor’s big, and Mylo’s sneaky.” Powder exhaled sharply, frustrated. “I hate being the weak one.”

Caitlyn’s gaze returned to the device lying beneath the table. There were three more like it strung up just above her bed—hopefully also just as defunct. Something she’d originally thought to be a collection of strange ornaments.

“I don’t think not being good at fighting makes you weak,” Caitlyn offered. “Just means your strengths lie elsewhere. Maybe your sister’s favored pastime isn’t what you—ow!”

“Sorry,” Powder apologized, though Caitlyn could hear the smile in her voice. She wasn’t sorry at all. Readjusting her grip, Powder worked more carefully through a particularly stubborn snag.

Caitlyn sighed. “If you didn’t have to worry so much about . . . fighting, what would you build instead?”

Silence fell between them as Powder contemplated the question. Caitlyn snuck a glance over her shoulder to see Powder peering pensively at her rifle, which lay folded on the table just to the side.

“If I had some time with that, I bet I could build something just like it,” Powder said, a mischievous edge to her words.

That was . . . not quite the answer Caitlyn had hoped for. “Are you only interested in creating weapons?”

“Well, what’s stronger than a weapon?”

The conviction in the young girl’s voice made Caitlyn’s heart sink.

“Haven’t seen you around for a bit. What have you been up to?”

“Eh, Vander’s got us on a tight leash,” Vi said vaguely, lounging upside-down on Babette’s chaise. “Botched a job.”

“One of mine?”

“Nah. Chased a rumor floating around the Promenade. Not something on Vander’s radar.”

The yordle shook her head with a chuckle, long ears lightly shivering with the motion. The scratching of her pen was a gentle constant as she scribbled in her booklet. “Then that leash must be very tight.”

“You have no idea.”

The lamp light bloomed in the soft haze that always permeated the brothel, the sweet scent of hookah smoke heavy in the air. Soft music and the occasional giggling of courtesans floated down the hall. A place of secrets and sanctuary.

Mulling over what Ekko had said, she decided to cast her line. “So what’s the word?”

“Some interesting chatter from the northern patrons—an upper city girl gone missing.”

Vi inhaled so sharply she nearly choked. That was easy, she thought bitterly as she cleared her throat. “That so?” Feigning simple intrigue, Vi righted herself and sat with her arms on her knees, maintaining an outward display of neutrality despite her heart firing away in her chest. “Missing how?”

“I’d tell you if I knew, but no one’s got any clear details. Only that this girl up and vanished into thin air one day and has a big enough name for it to have caught the attention of half the city.” Babette sighed sadly. “What a world, huh? Zaun kids go missing on the regular and they don’t bat an eye.”

Vi shouldn’t be surprised—Caitlyn’s absence wasn’t going to go unnoticed for very long. Being stuck in the bubble that was the Last Drop’s cellar had a way of instilling a false sense of security. “Do you think we might see trouble down here?”

Babette glanced up with a hum. Vi forced her leg to stop bouncing before the madam could pick up on her nerves. “Hard to say. With luck, they’ll keep their drama on their side of the river. But when are we ever lucky?” She finished writing and set aside her pen. “Here you go, sweetheart.”

Vi stood and took the small, unmarked booklet Babette held out to her. She flipped through the pages, quickly scanning the most recent rumors and potential marks. When she reached the end all too soon, she frowned and flipped through it again. “This is all you got?”

“Had you asked me a week ago, my answer might be different,” Babette shrugged. “But today, yes. All the buzz topside has got everyone nervous. People tend to clutch their purses closer to their chests when the border tightens. Tell Vander I wish I had better news.”

Damn Kiramman girl.

“Appreciate it as always, Babs,” Vi said honestly, stashing the booklet in her bag and pulling out a handful of coin in exchange. Babette took the payment with an appreciative nod. “Can you do me a favor and keep Vander updated on the border?”

“If my girls hear anything, I’ll have them pass it on to Sevika.”

“Thanks. See you around.”

“Say hi to the kids for me,” Babette called after Vi as she headed for the door. “And make sure Mylo’s being nice to his little sister!”

“Got five reminders on me at all times,” Vi smiled half-heartedly, brandishing her fist and knocking it into her palm. With a final wave she pushed through the curtains to leave.

She waited until she was out of earshot before cursing viciously.

“You don’t have to do this.”

“Do you not like it?” Powder asked hesitantly.

Caitlyn shook her head, only realizing how foolish the gesture was when she felt the half-finished tress slip from Powder’s fingers. “Sorry,” Caitlyn grimaced at the girl’s small noise of disappointment. “I don’t dislike it, it’s just . . .”

“We can stop if you’re tired.”

Caitlyn was tired, but she was far from ready to return to . . . that moment . . . in her dreams just yet. Her aching body could withstand consciousness a little longer. “No, I’m fine. This is just new to me. I’ve never had my hair braided before.”

“Really? Ever?”

“I don’t have siblings to practice on me. And vice versa, I suppose.”

Powder gave it another try, pulling Caitlyn’s freshly brushed strands into small bundles and twisting them together. They were nothing like Powder’s single, practical braid—rather, Powder seemed determined to keep Caitlyn’s as thin as possible to draw the activity out. “Vi never lets me braid her hair.”

“Oh.” It was suddenly obvious why Powder was so enthusiastic to interact with her in this way. “Why not?”

Powder shrugged. She tied off a braid and started a new one. “She prefers to hit things. But sometimes I do it to Mylo.”

“He lets you?”

“No. I wait until he’s asleep.”

Caitlyn chuckled. They fell into a comfortable silence as Powder worked. Caitlyn blinked hard, determined to stay awake. She idly picked at her fingernails—they were starting to get long. Her mother would not be pleased to see them chewed off so she refrained.

“So,” Caitlyn began tentatively, “your sister likes hitting things. Any other charming aspects of her character I should know about?”

“Nope. That’s about all she’s got.” A beat passed before Powder hummed thoughtfully. “Well, she’s super bossy too.”

Caitlyn’s lips quirked up at the corners. “I’m afraid I’m quite familiar with that side of her already.”

“And she can get really mad. Like, real mad. You should see it—then she really likes hitting things.”

Lovely. A hubristic renegade, a penchant for getting into fights, and a volatile temper. Vi was piecing together to be a truly shining role model, Caitlyn mused. How her younger siblings had found themselves tangled up on the wrong side of the law was quite the mystery.

“And she’s pretty mad you won’t eat anything.”

Caitlyn frowned. “Did she put you up to this?”

“No. Doesn’t matter to me. Starve if you want—probably get my bed back faster that way.”

Her mouth suddenly felt dry.

Powder eagerly started up another braid.

Vi kept her head down as she walked.

She’d traded coin and shaken hands with the last of Vander’s guys and now her job was done. Topside’s agitation might still be murky on the details but the news had spread like gutter plague through the Lanes. They all had their own cute theories. But one thing’s certain—Babette was right. Business is going to hurt for a while.

Vander would take care of it. He always did.

It pained her how messy this whole situation was. If it was just her having to suffer through a simple punishment, fine, whatever. She deserved it. Now the whole of the underground might feel it too.

Vi chanced a glance skywards, peering as high up the fissures as she could. No streaks of green or flashes of masks as far as she could see. The Firelights were the canary in the coal mine for when the Lanes are in trouble—if they weren’t buzzing around, then things were still quiet.

The crowds thinned. It was getting late. Still, she dragged her feet. This part of the market was heady with the smells of sizzling foods. Any other day she might risk a lecture and stop at one of the many stalls, but now she held little appetite.

Vi couldn’t help but fantasize how Caitlyn might react to some real undercity grub. Probably nothing like the fancy banquets she was used to with perfectly arranged dishes and too much cutlery. The mental image of Piltover’s perfect princess recoiling from a Jericho special was enough to bring a faint smile to her face.

Distracted, she bumped into a body moving the opposite way. It wasn’t until she felt fingers brush intently at her clasp did she realize it wasn’t an accident. Vi quickly shoved the would-be thief away before he had a chance to snatch her bag. The trembling man averted his gaze and staggered on, in search of another sucker to pay for his next fix.

This was why she ideally ran Vander’s rounds with at least Mylo, or preferably Claggor. Vi pulled her hood tighter and stepped just off the main thoroughfare. The less rovers she had to worry about, the better.

She turned the corner and nearly ran into another one.

The blue with gold trim and polished boots were enough to make her freeze in place. The smooth mechanical puff of a top-grade respirator chilled her to her very core. Vi’s eyes climbed higher, finding the shadowed gaze peering sternly down at her from beneath a sleek helmet.

Shit.

This is it, was all Vi managed to think. The gig is up.

The enforcer gave her a stiff once-over before stepping around her and continuing on.

For a long moment, Vi couldn’t breathe. She finally wrangled her senses together and sagged in relief, panting like she’d just run the Entresol beat. Blood still roared in her ears but Vi twisted around to watch the enforcer march down the alley. Unthreatened by her, they did not look back.

On one hand, she hadn’t been cuffed and hauled topside for the robbery, so that’s good. But on the other hand, there’s a goddamn enforcer in the Lanes.

Vi whipped her head around, searching wildly for more. The alley was otherwise empty.

Why were they alone? Enforcers didn’t come into the Lanes solo. They always moved in pairs, if not squads, and they always came armed to the teeth. This single officer carried only a pistol on their belt.

Still, even the dead broke drifters would think twice about messing with a lone enforcer.

Curious, Vi followed them at a distance, mindful of the weight of her steps lest the clinking bag give her away. They steered cleared of the market streets so they weren’t looking to intimidate trenchers by drawing attention to the uniform. What their objective was, Vi mused as she watched them keep one eye on their surroundings, she couldn’t tell.

Deciding she’d seen enough, Vi split in the other direction before she had a chance to get caught. She didn’t slow down until she’d reached the Last Drop.

A sneering Mylo was there to greet her as soon as she walked in. “Where have you been? Vander’s not happ—”

His voice muffled as Vi pressed her whole hand to his face and pushed him out of the way. She beelined for the bar where Vander was drying a mug. Just as her brother warned, he didn’t look thrilled once he’d spotted her.

But before he could express any words of discontent at her time management, Vi dropped the heavy bag down directly in front of him with a noisy clatter. “Enforcer in the Lanes,” Vi said seriously.

The shift in Vander’s face was immediate. “How many?”

“Just one.” At his bewildered frown, she shrugged in equal confusion. “Lurking around Benzo’s neighborhood.”

Something flickered across Vander’s face but he schooled it just as quickly. He nodded and stepped around the bar, taking the bag with him. “You did good. Go on and save your sister.” He leaned closer to her level, his words for her ears only. “And for your girl, stick with less solids for now. It’ll be easier for her stomach.”

Vander clapped her shoulder on his way to the stairs. He stopped long enough to mutter to Claggor and Vi caught something about closing early today. She ran her hand through her hair, brushing back the errant strands that’d fallen in her face during her rush home.

The cogs in her pocket suddenly felt much heavier.

“Powder, have you ever seen the academy in Piltover?”

“Only from a distance. Why?”

“I’ve been thinking,” Caitlyn ventured, “they have a recruitment program and host workshops all the time to encourage potential students through the door. Someone like you might benefit from something like that, if you’re interested?”

Powder’s face scrunched in a pensive frown. Boredom had since claimed her and she now lay sprawled across the opposite sofa, hands behind her head as she stared at the ceiling. It was a familiar sight—endearingly similar to how her sister would be any other day.

“Mmm. Nah.”

Caitlyn faltered, certain she had misheard. She lifted her head off the sofa’s arm and said, “No? Are you certain?”

“Yep.”

“But imagine what you could build with proper instruction—”

“I don’t need some snobby Piltie school.” Powder turned to peer at her suspiciously. “Why do you care, anyway?”

“Because someone as creative as you deserves better resources than just scraps."

“Ha,” Powder said, speaking it aloud over an actual laugh. “All you topsiders think your shiny city is so special. Well, me and my scraps aren’t interested in being your good deed for the day.” She rolled onto her side and propped her chin in her hand. “You want to really help me out? Quit being a mule so things can go back to normal.”

After a long moment of being too stunned to speak, Caitlyn worked her mouth closed again as she gathered her thoughts. She wasn’t sure she’d ever figure out how to navigate around this child. “Just . . . thought I’d offer.”

Powder hummed noncommittally, looking bored with the conversation.

The basement door swung open soon after, drawing both of their attentions. Vi landed on the first step and stiffened at the sight of an empty bed. Her stormy gaze slowly drifted to take in the rest of the room, a muscle in her jaw twitching as it tightened.

Drained in all possible ways, Caitlyn dropped her head back down with a weary sigh.

Powder threw her hands up with an impatient “Finally!” before shooting to her feet and racing for the exit. Vi caught Powder by the arm before the younger sister could escape. They shared a long look—an entire conversation without a single word spoken. Powder put on her best innocent face and shrugged before worming her way out of Vi’s grasp and disappearing.

They were alone again and Caitlyn wasn’t sure she was comforted by the fact or disappointed. Powder had left her quite dazed.

Face pulled into a disapproving scowl, Vi descended the remaining stairs. Caitlyn recalled each of Vi’s rules and figured she’d probably broken every single one in an afternoon. If Vi needed a reason to start hitting things she was sure she’d given her plenty.

But Vi didn’t look angry. Just tired. Definitely annoyed. Caitlyn scrambled to sit upright and found the task nearly impossible in her weakened state. Vi faltered long enough to do a double take.

“Are those my clothes?”

Caitlyn glanced down at her borrowed attire, having nearly forgotten who they belonged to. She heard Vi grumble her sister’s name under her breath like a curse and flinched. “If it’s really too much trouble . . .”

Her discarded clothes were piled together near Powder’s toolbox. Vi shook her head and sighed loudly. “Whatever. Just don’t bleed all over them.”

A nod—as if Caitlyn could control such a thing. But then she remembered spilling onto the floor and decided she did have some control. “How were your errands?” she asked awkwardly, if only to fill the silence.

There was something troubled in Vi’s eyes, but before Caitlyn had a chance to question it, Vi suddenly reached out and gently flicked one of her braids. “Good look on you,” she deadpanned in lieu of an answer.

Caitlyn flushed. Or maybe it was from the fever. She subconsciously brushed her hair—and the braid—behind her ear. “Powder mentioned you don’t partake.”

“And now you know why.” Her gaze softened slightly, almost imperceptibly. “But thanks for humoring her.”

Caitlyn nodded, knowing there was a very small possibility she'd ever repeat the gesture.

Vi held out her hand and Caitlyn took it with a small sigh. She expected Vi to pull her to her feet and support her weight—she did not anticipate Vi wrapping her arm across her shoulders so she could haul Caitlyn into the air.

This time Caitlyn knew the fever couldn’t be blamed for the heat crawling up her neck. Vi had an arm braced against her back and under her knees as she carried her the few steps towards the bunk. It wasn’t comfortable, but it was far less painful than attempting the trip herself, and she didn’t realize just how exhausted she was until she was back on familiar sheets.

To her surprise, Vi sat down on the bed with her. The front of her shirt was still stained with the faded reminder of their earlier quarrel.

“I didn't mean to lash out earlier,” Caitlyn said apologetically. "There's no excuse for it, but still."

Vi waved her off—water under the bridge. “Forget it. But if you want to make it up to me,” she reached into her pocket, “you can take this.”

Caitlyn peered curiously at the glass vial Vi held up for her to see. It was full of a thick liquid that was almost iridescent in the glow of the hanging gems. Before she could ask, Vi pushed it into her hands.

“Don’t smell it,” Vi warned her when she made to do just that. “And you’re gonna want to knock it back in one go, but you’ll feel a hell of a lot better once you do. Trust me.”

Did she trust her like that?

Not really. But Powder’s previous words oozed like a fresh scab among her foggy thoughts. Caitlyn fidgeted with the bottle, her stomach churning. “One condition? Allow me to escape this bed once in a while?”

The corner of Vi’s lips twitched into a smirk. “Once that fever breaks, I’ll take you wherever you want.”

Chapter Text

To Caitlyn’s credit, she handled the medicine pretty well.

She knocked it back like a champ and threatened to heave it all up for only a few minutes. Not bad for a picky girl who had yet to stomach any real food.

Then a miracle happened. She immediately wanted something to eat—if only to get the taste out of her mouth. Vi was more than happy to oblige. Following Vander’s advice, she gave Caitlyn a tame carcass broth to nurse at her own pace.

Caitlyn finished the whole thing in record time. Afterwards she promptly passed out and hadn’t moved since.

Vi stretched out on the couch with a yawn, grimacing at the twinge in her spine. Her legs were sore from running the Lanes and her back ached from hauling Vander’s collections all day. But it was a good pain—one she’d missed and readily welcomed.

The cellar door opened and Vi didn’t need to look up to recognize Mylo’s slinking gait. He slipped into the room with sweeping arms, lifting his chin at Vi in wordless greeting before stopping by the bunk. He braced his hands on his knees to peer in.

“She finally kick it?” he wondered aloud, as if Caitlyn wasn’t inches away dead asleep. Not that it mattered—not even the blaring of Piltover’s klaxon could wake her.

Vi scowled. “Don’t you have work to do?”

“Only once Vander notices I’m gone.”

Much to her disappointment, Mylo moved over to the couch where she lay, having come down here with the sole aim of bothering her. She sat up with a weary groan as he leaned onto the backing.

“Has he mentioned anything weird about the streets?” Vi asked before Mylo had a chance to speak.

Mylo clicked his mouth shut and gave her a weird look. “No? Why would he?” He leaned in obnoxiously close, nearly balancing on his belly. “Where did you go, Vi? What’d you see?”

He grunted in annoyance when she braced her hand against his forehead to push him out of her space. “Vander just asked me to run the rounds. It’s not a big deal.”

“Then why were you acting weird?”

“I wasn’t acting weird.” Mylo narrowed his gaze and Vi sighed. “I just . . . spotted an enforcer in the Lanes.”

“An enforcer?”

“Yeah, Mylo, we pretty much kidnapped a Piltie. We’re gonna see a patrol or two down here.” She kept the part about the officer’s strange departure from protocol to herself, as well as the rumors spilling from topside—he’d hear about the latter soon enough on his own, anyway. Vi jabbed a finger into his chest. “And we’ll see a lot more if you don’t keep your mouth shut.”

Mylo stepped away with his hands in the air. “Hey, I know the drill. Outside of this room the princess doesn’t exist.”

Vi nodded. Her nerves were just giving him a hard time. She trusted her brothers to stay in line. Powder, too.

“Hey,” Mylo began, a smidge more serious. Seriousness never suited him—it didn’t fit his face. “You’d tell us if we were in trouble, right?”

“Of course I would.” And it was only half a lie. They weren’t in trouble—but that didn’t mean he needed to worry about what kind of trouble it would be if they were. “We’re fine, promise. Now leave me alone.”

“Whatever you say.” Mylo pointed at Caitlyn. “Get your girlfriend on her feet soon, yeah? Tired of her Piltie stink in this room.”

“Smells a hell of a lot better than you, sump breath. Prettier too.”

He branded his crooked teeth in a grin as he headed back up the stairs. “You saw Little Man, right?” One glance at Vi’s face made him snicker. “He knows, doesn’t he?”

“You know Ekko. Eavesdropping little shit.”

The door opened again, nearly knocking Mylo off his feet. Claggor stuck his head in and frowned at their younger brother.

“You—”

“I’m coming!” Mylo groaned, rolling his eyes and pushing Claggor out of the way. “What, I can’t take a break once in a while?”

Their arguing turned muffled as the door shut behind them. But now that Vi was up she didn’t really feel like laying back down.

A day in the streets had really spoiled her.

Caitlyn thought she was done waking up ravenously thirsty, but her mouth was as arid as a wasteland.

She blindly reached for her water flask, eyes too heavy to open. It was in the same spot it always was—nestled against the bunk wall—but it clinked against something when she went to raise it to her lips. The respirator was on, she realized before swiftly removing it, cracking her eyelids open just long enough to do so.

The sight before her made her pause. “What are you doing?”

Vi fixed Caitlyn with a mildly surprised look as she caught her breath. Maybe she hadn’t expected to have an audience. “What’s it look like?” She brought her fists back up and resumed striking empty space, rhythmically shifting her weight from foot to foot between flurries.

“It looks like you’re having a disagreement with the dust in the air.”

Vi wiped at her forehead with the back of her hand. “You’re not the only one bored out of their mind.”

Caitlyn didn’t quite see the entertainment value in whatever Vi was doing so she chalked it up as being another undercity thing she didn’t understand. It was quite a hypnotic display, though. Vi moved with a surprising amount of grace despite the tautness of her body, eyes intensely focused on some invisible target in front of her. Her shoulders and hips twisted in unison with every movement, arms like coiled springs. Caitlyn found herself transfixed.

“You’re quite handsome, you know.”

Vi nearly lost her balance on a swing as she stumbled. “What?”

“I said—”

“No, I heard you.” Vi stared at her like she’d grown a second head. “A little forward, don’t you think?”

Caitlyn blinked, confused. “What do you mean?”

Vi inhaled to respond but clamped her mouth shut with an inquisitive frown. She suddenly reached forward and took Caitlyn’s chin in hand, holding her still as she pressed the other to her forehead. The furrow in her brow deepened and she used a thumb to tug at Caitlyn’s eyelid.

After a few tense seconds, Vi released her and pulled back with a roll of her eyes. “Go back to sleep.”

Caitlyn, who released the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, grumbled in protest. “I don’t want to.”

“You’re blitzed off the meds. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

That wasn’t true—she felt fine. A little dizzy and very thirsty, but otherwise fine. Vi turned away and scrubbed a hand down her face. Caitlyn tracked a bead of sweat crawling down her neck before disappearing into her neckline.

It took her a moment to realize nothing more was coming out of her flask. She popped it out of her mouth and turned it over with a disappointed whine.

Hearing the sound, Vi glanced over her shoulder and swiped the flask from Caitlyn’s hand before she could even ask. “Just hang on,” she muttered with a short gesture.

“Did I offend you?” Caitlyn blurted before Vi could get very far. Vi’s head lolled back onto her shoulders as she sighed loudly.

“Depends. Do you hit on all the girls who wait on you hand and foot?”

“It was just an observation,” Caitlyn insisted. Surely she wasn’t the first one to make it? It was plain as day. Her mind drifted like a cloud from one thought to another. “Actually, I don’t get to interact with many others my age. You’re kind of a first.”

Vi grunted impatiently. “Lucky me.” Faint curiosity held her in place a moment longer. “What about that friend of yours—Jay?”

“Jayce,” Caitlyn corrected, the name coming out a slurred yawn as she nestled back down into the sheets. They felt really nice today. “And he’s almost ten years my senior.”

Her eyes closed before she even finished speaking. She was asleep before Vi made it up the stairs.

The room was dark the next time Caitlyn opened her eyes.

Her tongue was still sandpaper but she felt more like herself—the fog in her head was mostly gone and she could breathe easier. But she was freezing. Without the feverish heat warding away every chill, the cellar’s air was no longer a mercy on her skin—now it was just tortuously cold.

Caitlyn reached for the flask’s usual place and found it full. It shook in her grasp as she brought it to her lips, nearly draining the whole thing before setting it back down. Her arms slid to encircle herself, pulling her legs in as tightly as she could bear before disturbing her injuries.

Snores drifted over from the corner where the boys slept. Caitlyn tried to control the noisy chattering of her teeth, wishing more than anything for the embrace of her warm bed back home. She had no idea how she was going to get any more sleep like this.

A sudden soft weight landing on her side made her head jerk up with a start. Caitlyn blinked blearily down her body at the patchy blanket pooling halfway off her hip. She twisted a little more in time to see Vi retreating back to her usual spot on the sofa.

“How can you stand this?” Caitlyn half-whispered as she fumbled to stretch the blanket over the rest of her. It was old, worn, and not very soft, but it was her favorite thing in the world at the moment.

Vi, with her bare arms and shirt even looser than hers, shrugged like it was some big mystery. “I don’t know. It’s almost like I live here.”

Caitlyn realized it was indeed a stupid question and quickly averted her gaze. “Well. Thank you,” she mumbled.

Vi stretched over the sofa and picked up the book that was spread face down on the table, resuming where she’d left off.

Caitlyn tried not to grimace at the improper handling. “Oh, you read?”

Somehow Vi was even less enthused by this question and she eyed Caitlyn with clear exasperation over the pages, expression made harsher by the shadows cast by the nearby lamp. “Do you think I’m stupid?”

“No, of course not.” Caitlyn burrowed deeper into her blanket, wishing it’d swallow her up. Maybe she should just stop talking. “It didn’t even cross my mind. You just strike me as someone who . . .”

Prefers hitting things. But Caitlyn clamped her mouth shut before her foot could shove any deeper. Vi rolled her eyes and shifted lower so that the book blocked her view of Caitlyn.

And Caitlyn, for all her time spent awake, realized she’d never seen Vi sleep.

There was a muffled crash.

“You okay in there?” Vi call through the door, straining to hear if she needed to come to the rescue. Part of her itched to do just that without waiting for an answer—because she was getting really damn tired of patching this girl up.

For a moment, only the continuous stream of running water answered her. “I’m fine,” Caitlyn eventually said back, voice small but with no shortage of frustration.

It didn’t sound like Caitlyn herself had fallen, so she must have knocked something over. Relaxing, Vi settled back against the wall, posted like the Piltie’s personal security detail. Her siblings watched from across the taproom with varying levels of amusement on their faces but all three of them immediately resumed their chores as soon as she glanced their way.

This was so stupid.

But Vi was not one to go back on her word, and there was no better reason to let Caitlyn out of bed than a chance to properly clean up.

Except that Caitlyn was vehemently against Vi helping in any capacity when using the facilities past getting her there. It was the one thing Vi didn’t press on—because she sure as hell wasn’t eager about the idea either. But it also meant Caitlyn took for-fucking-ever for even the simplest tasks, let alone a shower. Vi even dragged a chair in for her.

But hearing Caitlyn’s initial shocked yelped through the door made the whole thing worth it.

Eventually Vi heard the water stop and, after a painfully long wait, Caitlyn finally emerged, still slightly damp but redressed. Her silky hair fell like an indigo curtain onto the towel draped across her shoulders. All of Powder’s braids were gone.

“No hot water whatsoever is just barbaric,” Caitlyn growled through her shivering, making no effort to hide just how infuriated she was. It was the most alert and alive Vi had seen her yet.

Rather than take offense—because the look on Caitlyn’s face was reward enough—Vi just shrugged. “You'll get used to it.”

A moment passed where Caitlyn looked like she might explode but her focus shifted to maintaining her balance on one foot. Vi could see she’d done a decent job at keeping her splint dry. Vi moved to lift her into her arms but Caitlyn stopped her with a hand on her chest. “Don’t,” Caitlyn said sternly, refusing to let go of the doorframe. “Please, not again.”

“You don’t learn, do you?” Vi said, brushing Caitlyn’s hand away. “It’s like you’re allergic to healing.”

The indignation in Caitlyn’s eyes melted to discomfort, her gaze flicking towards the taproom where the others worked. “Do you have any idea,” Caitlyn whispered, biting through each word with her teeth, “how humiliating this is? I can’t even go to the washroom on my own. Spare me this one dignity.”

“Are you crazy? I’m not letting you walk.”

Caitlyn threw down the gauntlet the moment she reached past Vi to brace herself against the wall. “You’re not letting me do anything. You are my peer—not some grand authority. Move aside.”

Vi watched her shimmy clumsily along the wall for a few paces. Caitlyn flinched every time her bad foot touched the floor even for the briefest of seconds, but she was too stubborn to slow, let alone stop. “If that leg sets badly, you’ll have a limp, and then you’ll be closer kin with us trencher trash than your folks back home. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”

“Brute,” Caitlyn hissed venomously under her breath. The exertion and pain were already straining her ability to speak.

With calculated patience, Vi rolled her shoulder and waited for Caitlyn to shift her weight into the next step. “Yeah, well—”

She surged forward and kicked Caitlyn’s leg out from under her, catching and flipping her on the fall in what was probably the smoothest grapple she’d ever made. Vander would be proud.

“—your chariot awaits, sweetheart.”

“Vi!” Caitlyn shrieked. “Put me down!”

Vi ignored Caitlyn’s furious pounding against her back as she swiftly marched towards the cellar, one arm holding Caitlyn in place over her shoulder. Her siblings at least had the courtesy to wait until she’d made it down the stairs before breaking into hollering laughter.

Caitlyn, thoroughly humbled, had stopped her angry squirming by the time Vi stepped into the cellar. She was completely red in the face and wouldn’t look Vi in the eye.

“What’s your deal today?” Vi snapped as soon as her hands were free. “Since when do you give a shit what a couple of trenchers think?”

Caitlyn pulled the blanket around her shoulders and dropped her gaze into her lap. “What does them being trenchers have to do with it?” she asked quietly.

“Well, you’ll get better, eventually go home, and then never think about us again. Like all topsiders do.”

A humorless smile tugged at the corners of Caitlyn’s lips and Vi swore she saw a single tear escape the corner of her eye, but Caitlyn wiped it away in a flash. Vi wasn’t sure what to think anymore, a bit thrown by this sudden shift in emotion.

Caitlyn’s voice was paper thin. “I was just really looking forward to a hot shower.”

Chapter Text

The constant clicking was starting to drive Vi insane.

She fumed, having long since given up trying to retain a paragraph after reading it countless times. Now the book sat folded in her lap with her thumb bookmarking the page while Caitlyn played with her rifle.

Unfurl, aim, cock, fold. Unfurl, aim, cock, fold. Click! Click! Click! Over and over and over like they were steps to a dance that wasn’t already perfect. Occasionally, Caitlyn would break up the routine by inspecting the mechanisms for dirt or whatever.

It was a mistake giving her the rifle back. Yeah, it was unloaded, and yes, Caitlyn was clearly well trained to handle it, and of course, she was no longer so delirious she couldn’t tell night from day. But Vi hadn’t accounted for boredom.

Caitlyn snapped it back into place against her shoulder and squinted down the sights towards the other end of the room. Her hair was tied back using one of Powder’s elastics and Vi realized she hadn’t seen it that way since she brought Caitlyn to Vander. She almost forgot what it was like to see Caitlyn’s whole face.

She also noted Caitlyn’s finger never moved anywhere close to the trigger for even a second.

“Can you bring me something to eat?”

Vi blinked. Caitlyn was looking her way now. She had that sullen pout she gets whenever she needs to ask for something.

“You don’t have to look so guilty every time, you know,” Vi reminded her, noticing that finally, finally Caitlyn was storing her rifle away in its bag. “Just pretend I’m one of your hundred wait staff from home.”

Caitlyn’s expression twisted into a confused blend of mirthful and miffed. “Is that what you think my home is like?”

Vi shrugged as she set her book aside, imagining rows of butlers in pressed suits lined up in some solid gold foyer waiting diligently to serve the Kiramman girl’s every impulse. She made sure to dip in a reverent bow at Caitlyn’s bedside before heading up the stairs, which made Caitlyn’s face darken with displeasure.

“Everything okay?” Vander asked Vi once she walked out of the kitchen—his routine check-in.

“I should be asking you that. Any news?”

“You let me worry about the streets, kiddo.” His insistence was gentle but firm. Vi tried to get a read on him but if anything was wrong she couldn’t decipher it through his face. He finished refilling a patron’s glass and set the bottle aside to give her his full attention. “She must be doing alright, huh?”

Vi pursed her lips at the steaming bowl of soup in her hand. “You ever think about what might happen when we get her back topside? What’s stopping her from selling us down the river?”

“Now where’s this coming from?”

“I don’t know. It feels so far away now, but it’ll happen eventually, right?”

“I have a good feeling this girl’s no rat. Besides—she had the heart to help you once before. Why should she change her mind?”

Vi clicked her tongue. “She got to know me?”

He laughed—a deep belly laugh only a man of his size could manage. “And that’s why I’m not worried. Now quit stalling and beat it.”

His focus shifted back to the bar, leaving Vi feeling irked and a little chastised. She just wished he wasn’t so tickled by it all. Her eyes swiveled to the bottle he’d left out and she swiped it before he had a chance to react.

“Hey,” Vander called after her, disapproving. “That better not be empty when I come down to get it later.”

Vi raised the bottle to her forehead in mock salute before disappearing down the stairs.

She found Caitlyn sitting at the edge of the bunk with her bad leg hanging free and the other tucked in. A hand poked around her belly like she couldn’t find a comfortable place to rest it.

“Don’t mess with it so much,” Vi said as she pushed the bowl into Caitlyn’s hands to occupy them.

Caitlyn frowned but didn’t say anything, giving the barest nod of acknowledgement. Vi returned to the couch and yanked out the bottle’s cork with her teeth. Caitlyn stopped blowing the steam off her soup long enough to shoot her a double take.

“Vander lets you drink?” she asked incredulously.

“Hell no,” Vi answered before taking a long swig, grimacing at the burn in her throat. It was anything but smooth going down but it warmed her insides pleasantly.

Caitlyn’s eyes were wide when Vi pulled the bottle away with a loud exhale. They somehow widened further when Vi held it out in offering, giving it a little shake to entice her.

“I’m . . . okay. Thank you,” Caitlyn answered with a slight recoil. Vi shrugged and knocked back another mouthful. More for her, then.

With that awkward exchange settled between them, Caitlyn seemed content to focus on her meal. Vi half expected Caitlyn to complain about a lack of silverware again but she brought the bowl to her lips and slurped with surprising vigor. She made a pleased noise.

“This is quite good.” She chewed slowly, relishing the taste. Her fingers picked out a brownish-gray lump and held it up. “What is this?”

“Scuttle meat.”

Caitlyn hummed in a way that told Vi she had no idea what a scuttler was. “It’s very savory. Where do you get it?”

“Usually from the dumpster outside.”

All of the liquid in Caitlyn’s mouth suddenly exploded from her lips.

Vi bit back a smile. “You are so gullible, you know that?”

Caitlyn coughed to clear her airway, her cheeks painted a brilliant red. She wiped the excess dripping down her chin. “I can never tell when any of you are joking.”

“There’s vendors all over the Lanes. This stuff comes from just down the street.” Vi let the barest hint of a smirk show through. “Still think I’m cute?”

Caitlyn was quiet. Vi was certain she’d forgotten about her intoxicated slip of the tongue, then—

“’Cute’ is not the word I used,” Caitlyn said suddenly. She held Vi’s gaze and inclined her chin, her poise and pride in a choke hold. “And for the record, ‘cute’ is not a word I’d use to describe you. Ever.”

“So you do remember.”

“Fuck off.”

Vi was thankful Caitlyn chose to look away in that moment because she couldn’t fight a grin any longer. The foul word slid off Caitlyn’s accented tongue like polished brass. She didn’t think Pilties even knew how to swear. Mystery solved!

The silence that descended upon the room was a delightful change of pace. Vi reveled in it, nursing her bottle a little longer until her muscles began to relax and her thoughts started drifting unmoored. Serenity finally restored, Vi traded bottle for book.

Caitlyn made a disgruntled noise. “You should use a bookmark. You’ll . . .” She trailed off when Vi glared at her, then dipped her head and cleared her throat. “Um. It’s bad for the spine.”

Vi decided not to humor that with a response. She lowered her gaze again and found the place on the page where she’d left off.

“What are you reading?”

For fuck’s sake.

All of Vi’s worst fears were being realized—unhindered by sick or pain, Caitlyn was a talker. “Uh,” Vi stammered, trying not to let her irritation sully her otherwise good mood. She turned the book over to peek the cover. “Ruination Dressed in Red.”

“I’ve heard of that title. The author’s Piltovan, I think. I didn’t realize you had books like that down here.”

“We don’t.” Instead of humoring the confused frown on Caitlyn’s face, Vi preferred to wait for her to put the pieces together herself. Caitlyn scrutinized the book’s unblemished, pristine hardcover; expression changing to pensive, then suspicious, then accusatory.

“You . . . stole a book.”

“We stole several, actually,” Vi corrected helpfully. Since peace and quiet was a bust, she clapped the book shut and tossed it back onto the table. It made a sizable whump! and jostled the liquor bottle enough to slosh its contents. “Surprised?”

“It’s just . . .” Caitlyn was almost tongue-tied. If that’s all it took to shut her up, Vi would have admitted to swiping books ages ago. “It’s not something I imagined would have value to you. Monetarily, I mean.”

“They don’t. But Clagg likes them.”

Caitlyn worked her jaw, eyes flicking around as she mulled over this information and what to do with it. Her fingers fidgeted with the now-empty soup bowl. “So, what else did you take?”

There it is. Vi had a feeling Caitlyn would eventually pick at the subject. “Straight down to bedrock, then. Does it even matter?”

“I suppose not. Your spoils were well worth it in the end regardless, I’m sure.”

“Maybe with better luck.”  Feeling playful, Vi reached into her pocket and dug out a single cog. She flipped it into the air with a flick of her thumb and trapped it in her fist, laying back on the couch with an arm behind her head. “So far, we’ve spent it all on you. Kind of a poetic justice if you think about it. You topsiders tend to get the last laugh.”

Caitlyn’s frown deepened. She watched the small metal coin skillfully roll between Vi’s fingers as Vi entertained herself, the chem lamp’s light catching on its dull surface.

“Where did you go?”

“Am I under arrest, officer?” Vi asked drily.

Caitlyn sighed and rubbed a hand over her eyes. Maybe it was the drink in her system or the promise of irritating Caitlyn further, but Vi decided to play ball and capitulated of her own accord after a moment's pause.

“Bluewind Court.”

“What?” Caitlyn exclaimed—because that was the district her own family resided in. “That’s not—surely you’re joking? The enforcer presence there is too great.”

“Yeah, around the residences.” A sly smile ghosted across Vi’s lips. “Not so much around the workshops. There’s a way into anything if you climb high enough, and you Pilties never look up.”

Caitlyn trembled like she might combust. “Those are hardworking artificers.”

“Hardworking?” Vi scoffed. “Hard work is breaking your back cutting stones. Hard work is losing feeling in your fingers. Hard work is factory smog. You don’t know what hard work is.”

“I know it doesn’t look like thievery.”

“You don’t know shit.” Vi recalled that day—the workshop they’d sacked and all the shiny equipment laying around collecting dust. All the fancy tools they hadn’t known existed. “Families like yours have all these inventors on their dime making your gilded lives even better. And when their stupid toys go missing? They just get new ones. It doesn’t matter.”

“It’s wrong,” Caitlyn finally snapped. Vi met her gaze and was taken aback by the ferocity she found there. “And to put yourself and your siblings needlessly at risk . . . for what, a few coins?”

Vi clenched the cog tightly in her fist. This conversation was no longer fun. “You have no idea what difference a few coins makes down here.”

“You almost got them killed for it.”

“You think I don’t know that?!” Vi snarled as she shot to her feet. The alcohol was no longer a pleasant buzz in her head but rather a fuel for her burning temper. Caitlyn recoiled in shock—she had never heard Vi raise her voice. “And I have to sit in here every day with you to remind me. So can you do me a favor? Take that silver spoon out of your mouth and shove it up your ass.”

The cog clinked loudly on the table as Vi flung it down. It bounced once, twice, spinning like a top before rolling off the table and clattering onto the floor near Caitlyn’s hanging foot. She stared at it with parted lips, utterly frozen.

With a deep sigh, Vi dropped onto the couch, this time with her back to Caitlyn. “Piltover was a mistake,” she admitted, calmer, drained. “I was an idiot to think the enforcers would treat us any better than animals.”

Her fingers itched for something but the book was no longer appealing.

“It was a misunderstanding,” Caitlyn insisted softly after a long pause. “It must have been.”

Vi chuckled darkly to herself. “Misunderstanding. Right.” She reached for the bottle. “It’s funny. You have more in common with my parents than I do now.”

“I do? What?”

“Gunned down by enforcers.”

Caitlyn finally stopped talking.