Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The arena is packed, and the noise of screaming fans is constant. Just under that cacophony is the heavy beating of music, and barely audible to even herself is Vi’s breathing. After years of being in the octagon, she’s learned to tune out the din; she doesn’t fight for the fame, and she doesn’t care what the people in the stands think of her performance. She fights because it’s the only time her blood sings and her mind isn’t racing with a million questions and doubts.

So, when she steps into the ring to the roar of an excited audience, she takes a few deep breaths, counting both her inhale and her exhale until she’s in a place of calm. The blinding lights and auditory chaos bleeds out around her focus. She watches her opponent enter the ring from the opposite side. He swaggers, lifting his arms to show off for his people. He’s going to be difficult. She’s seen his previous few fights, looped the videos until her eyes went bloodshot from staring, to figure out his weaknesses.

He’s going to be difficult, but she can win.

Despite his obvious strength—his biceps look like basketballs—the real danger of facing him is his speed. Usually, that’s her advantage. She doesn’t bulk up like some of her peers, instead working on cardio and stamina to give her a well-rounded approach to fighting. Originally a boxer, she knows her opponents usually expect her to prefer punches and lightning quick footwork. And usually, that’s what she does.

But as the referee draws them together to bump fists as preamble to the match, Vi reaffirms to herself that she chose right. She doesn’t want to find out which one of them can dance the fastest in the ring, so her strategy has been adjusted for this fight. Big and fast will mean his stamina can’t go forever. She needs to keep him at a distance, out of range from the pure brute force of his fists, which means relying on kicks.

She reaches up to adjust her mouth piece and settles into a flexible stance. Her heartrate spikes briefly, but she resumes counting her breaths as the referee backs away to safety and signals the start.

Her opponent lunges forward immediately, clearly hoping to create an initial opening and then tear her to pieces. He does this often, and she’s prepared enough to lithely dodge down and out of his bear-hug. As soon as she stable, she whips a punch toward his exposed ribs, but he twists suddenly to throw a backhand toward her face. Her knuckles skitter off his skin, but the blow doesn’t quite land. When she ducks her head to avoid the backhand, she loses track of his movement for a moment, just long enough for him to deliver a painful jab to the side of her head.

Her vision goes hazy for a moment, everything coated in a snowfield of distortion. Thankfully, he’s none too quiet in his approach, so she hears the heavy thud of his feet signaling his approach from her left. She creates more distance until the fuzz clears from her vision. He’s like an avalanche in his attack, always flooding toward her and taking up so much space. She understands the strategy; if she’s constantly playing defense, there’s no chance for her to launch an offense.

To stop him, she needs to make that space for herself to catch her breath and figure out a smart next move. Deciding it’s time to reveal one of her secrets, she slings a leg around and catches the back of his front-leading knee, knocking it to the side and throwing off his momentum.

He hits the mat with one knee and has to catch his balance. She seizes the opportunity to lob a furious series of punches at his head. One cracks his lip open, and blood stains his face, her bandaged knuckles, and the mat beneath them. He spits blood and uses his large body mass to tackle her to the ground. This is dangerous, as he can easily overpower her here. She jerks her fists up, using her forearms to protect her face from his onslaught.

Her arms are starting to go numb from the beating, and she has to change the flow of this if she’s going to earn her win. Her only remaining advantage in this position is her flexibility and smaller size, so she’s going to leverage this. His next blow comes fast, and she drops her guard for a split second, taking the punch to her cheek in order to grab his wrist and tug her body forward and around. She snakes around and pulls him into an arm bar, one that’s barely controlled, and he can still fling her around with his superior muscle mass.

Just as he’s about to knock her loose, the round ends, and they stagger apart from each other. Vi lands heavily in her corner, clinging to the fencing to stay upright while she waits for her water bottle. She needs to rinse her mouth and slurp down enough moisture to regain the energy to full turn this bout around.

“Easy, Vi,” Vander says, leaning against the ropes, her water bottle in his hand.

She grabs the bottle greedily and spits bloody water to the ground. “I’ve got this.”

“Stick to your strategy. Keep your distance.”

“That’s not working.” She eyes her opponent across the ring. She’s not sure how much stamina she has left, and it’s hard to tell if he’s even worn out in the slightest. No, if she’s going to win, she needs to do something decisive.

“I know what you’re thinkin, and it’s the wrong call.”

She shakes her head and mumbles around putting her mouth guard back into proper position, “I know what I’m doing.”

“He’s big. You can wear him down. Take it slow—“

She tunes him out. More than a coach, he’s basically her father, and out of all the people in the world, he’s the only one she’s usually willing to listen to. But not now. She’s going to win this, and she’s doing it her way.

As the second round is called to a start, she bounces on the balls of her feet and carefully measures the rise and fall of his chest, tracking the small flinches and tugs of his musculature to determine which fist will come for her first. They dance carefully around each other for the first fifteen seconds, him seeming more respectful of her power this time around. They each throw a few punches, dodging and countering back and forth, until she spots her opening. Lifting her back leg, she spins quickly to deliver a hard kick to take him down to the mat for a finishing blow. She packs all of her power into the kick, knowing with indubitable certainty that this kick will end the fight one way or another.

Her kick makes impact, there’s a blast of white hot pain, and then she’s on the ground, cradling her lower leg.

When she watches a video of the fight a few weeks later on her phone, she can see the exact moment her fibula and tibia both crack in half. The crowd is horrified by the way it looks like her right leg is a snap-bracelet as it follows an unnatural arc around her opponent’s leg. Her opponent flings himself at her only to have the referee grab his wrist and tug him back. The rest of the video is chaos as the on-site medical team rush into the ring. Hundreds of flashes go off as people capture the most mortifying moment of her life.

She doesn’t speak for the first few days after she wakes up in the hospital. She’s so incredibly angry that she’s afraid all that will come out is a scream. So, she sits in stony silence as a doctor tells her that they can fix her leg, but they do not recommend she return to mixed martial arts after healing. Her stoic façade lasts until the lights go out in the ward, and she’s on her own, when she can pull her pillow over her face and scream without disturbing anyone but the janitor mopping outside her room.

Her opponent visits her once while she’s waiting for the surgical intervention, when she’ll have a metal rod inserted along the fragments of bone. He’s a decent guy and apologizes for how the fight ended, and she can tell his guilt is genuine, if misplaced. But she’s stuck in bed with a career-ending injury, and he gets to just walk out and keep fighting. She says nothing to him, and he leaves.

After the surgery, she finds her voice again, albeit weak and raspy from disuse. She relies heavily on the opioids they offer her and insists on the maximum dose she can have at any given time. Her sister is always there, kicked back in an armchair with her dirty combat boots on the edge of her hospital bed, and she can barely take the disappointed looks Powder shoots her.

She also struggles to understand why Powder lets her yell and rage at her. She says the vilest things her mind can conjure, and Powder just accepts the abuse.

“You’re my sister, doy,” is all Powder will tell her. “Better me than the nurses. They don’t get paid enough to deal with your shit.”

A month later, she’s in a wheelchair, and Vander pushes her out of the hospital for the first time since the accident. There are a few journalists present who ask her how she feels and when, if ever, she thinks she’ll return to the sport. Vander handles them in a gentle but firm way, and she doesn’t have to show the public how little control she has over the rage brewing inside her. He’s never said, “I told you so,” but she hears it every time he looks at her.

She almost doesn’t bother going to her first physical therapy session, but Powder is relentlessly annoying about not sitting around her apartment and moping like a sad sack.

“I am a sad sack,” she growls.

But Powder just laughs. “You’ll be a mad sack if you can’t ever stand up again.”

Vi resists a little longer, but inevitably, she lets Powder take her in. She sits scowling in the waiting room of the facility, daring anyone to make eye contact with her for more than a brief moment. Most people immediately avert their gaze, but there’s a woman seated opposite with dark blue hair, piercing steel eyes, and one arm in a sling who doesn’t look away.

“It’s rude to stare,” Vi snaps.

“I could say the same to you,” the woman replies crisply. Her voice is prim and sharp, just like the ironed edges of her slacks and blouse.

“Yeah, well…” Vi folds her arms across her chest and huffs. She takes another moment to examine the woman, from her polished shoes to the lack of any hairs out of place. Vi wonders if there’s an alternate version of a doppelganger out there, except the exact opposite instead of a replication. If so, she’s just met hers.

“You’re that fighter, aren’t you?”

“Not anymore.”

The woman doesn’t respond to her bitterness. “I’m Caitlyn Kiramman.”

“Okay?”

“And I’m Powder,” Powder interjects. She has been fidgeting with a puzzle cube for the last few minutes, although Vi isn’t even sure she’s trying to solve the thing. In fact, the cube looks even more scrambled than when Powder picked it up. “Wouldja mind keepin’ an eye on my sister here? I gotta go.”

“Go?” Vi says at the same time as Caitlyn says, “What?”

“I don’t have stuff to do, but this is boring.” Powder stands, drops the cube into one of her over-sized pockets, and tosses Vi a mock salute. “I’ll be back in a few hours. Don’t break your other leg.”

“Fuck you,” Vi spits.

“You can’t just…” Caitlyn says, trailing off as Powder walks away anyway. She sighs and refocuses on Vi. “I’m here for my own appointment. I can’t really supervise you.”

“She knows. She’s just being a brat. I’m fine on my own, anyway. I don’t need a babysitter.”

“Is it your first time?”

Vi takes another look at Caitlyn, assesses the arm in a sling, and shrugs. “Yeah, I guess. Yours?”

“Second.”

“What happened?”

“I was shot.”

The casual nature of the statement throws Vi off balance momentarily. In her world, getting shot would be a massive thing, but Caitlyn seems perfectly at ease, like a bullet is merely par for the course of her life. Vi frowns and shakes her head.

“You’re kidding, right?”

“I have no reason to lie.”

“How’d that happen? No offense, but you don’t really seem like the sort of person to get in a gun fight.” Vi thinks about her brothers and the sorts of dirty dealings they’d gotten into during their teenage years. The fact that neither one had died while committing crimes spoke to some form of supernatural luck. She would have been right there with them, too, if she hadn’t fallen into mixed martial arts.

“If you come back next week, perhaps I’ll tell you.” Caitlyn smiles at her, eyes crinkling at the corners. A woman in a polo shirt emblazoned with the facility’s logo comes out from a back room and calls for Kiramman. Caitlyn stands without another word to Vi and enters her appointment.

When Powder returns ten minutes after the end of Vi’s session, she’s got an over-sized lollipop jutting out of her mouth and a bland expression that doesn’t show an iota of remorse for her cut-and-run act. Vi pushes her wheelchair forward with a dissatisfied grunt and ignores Powder’s questions about how soon she’ll be back on her feet again.

“So’d you get her number?”

Vi zones back in on Powder’s chattering and scoffs. “Who?”

“The chick in the lobby.”

“The receptionist?”

Powder groans and rolls her eyes. “No, dummy, the blue-haired one that was clearly into you.”

Vi hasn’t forgotten Caitlyn, but she doesn’t want to add fuel to Powder’s fire. “No, I didn’t get her number. I didn’t ask, and she didn’t offer.”

“Just because you’re all—“ Powder waves her hands at the wheelchair. “—doesn’t mean you can’t get some.”

“Powder.”

“Violet.”

Vi pushes her chair harder to roll faster. “She wasn’t into me. You’re delusional.”

“Then you should ask for her number next time, just to prove to me she’s not.”

“That’s dumb as hell.” She comes to a stop by Powder’s retro-style van. Rather than a depiction of a mystical wizard with an orb, the paint job is akin to neon graffiti. “Why should I set myself up for rejection?”

Powder goes to open the sliding door and engages the powerlift she jury-rigged herself shortly after Vi’s release from the hospital. Sometimes, it sparks too much for Vi’s comfort, but she trusts Powder’s inventions. Mostly.

“Blah blah blah,” Powder replies. “All I’m hearing is a whole lot of you not saying you’re not interested in her.”

Vi is tongue-tied for a moment. She pushes herself onto the lift and braces for the mechanical shift that will move her into the van. Thankfully, the buzz of the machine is a good enough excuse not to reply for a minute or two, and she’s recovered from being embarrassed.

“Didn’t seem relevant,” she says, feigning confidence and disinterest. “You already decided I was into her.”

“Uh-huh.” Powder secures her chair into place and then throws herself in the driver’s seat. “Then what’s the problem? Ask for her number. Being rejected won’t hurt, if that’s what you’re so sure will happen, because you’re so not into her.”

There’s no time to answer before Powder starts the engine, which also engages the stereo system. The pop music that blares out is much too loud to speak over, and Vi hunches in her chair, grouchy and feeling as though she’s very much so lost this battle.

Chapter Text

Vi’s not going to go back to physical therapy.

Or at least that’s the plan until Powder shows up on Friday morning with a grin and a sudden case of situational deafness. Vi fights like mad to stop her, but Powder forces her into the van.

“You’re never too old to get kidnapped,” she announces cheerfully, as if Vi isn’t hissing and spitting like a feral kitten. “All aboard the Magic School Bus, sis.”

And so Vi finds herself back in the lobby, incredibly grouchy and planning a series of accidents that could befall her lovely sister, when Caitlyn Kiramman takes a seat directly across from her. Vi remembers a moment too late that Powder has the wrong idea about this practical stranger and can’t stop her pest of a sibling from speaking.

“Hey, Kermit.”

Caitlyn looks absolutely befuddled and arches an eyebrow. “Are you referring to me?”

“That’s your name, ain’t it?”

“Kiramman.”

“Tomato, potato.” Powder rolls her eyes. “My sister here wants your number.”

Vi wants to melt into her chair. She hadn’t wanted to come back here, and now, she literally cannot come back in the future—not if she has to face Caitlyn ever again. She places a hand over the bridge of her nose and pushes on her eyes, trying not to lose her cool in public. When she looks up, she sees Caitlyn rifling through one of the waiting room magazines, pulling out a mail-in order form from between the pages, and jotting something down with an odd slowness, which she then hands to Powder.

Powder then proudly hands the form to Vi, who feels like she has entered a parallel universe where nothing makes sense. She stares down at the clumsily written digits and sputters, causing Powder to slap her unceremoniously on the back as if she were choking.

“You okay?”

“Powder—“

“You never introduced yourself, but you’re Violet Stillwater, correct?” Caitlyn leans in a bit, her eyes sparkling with interest. “I’m not much for contact sports myself, but you’ve been all over the news for years.”

“Yeah,” Vi confirms, trying to sink a little lower in her chair.

“I’ve seen clips of your fights. You move beautifully.”

Throughout her career, Vi has had numerous things said about her fighting—vicious, aggressive, dominant—but never something as gentle as beautiful. She’s flummoxed for a moment before summoning up a confused, “Thanks?”

“My friend is a big fan, actually. I’ve heard about nothing else since,” Caitlyn’s gaze lowers to Vi’s leg and then quickly dart back up, “the accident.”

Vi’s lower lip trembles, a spike of phantom pain hitting her rebuilt shin. Her fingers tighten on the armrests of her chair. She’s torn between saying something bitter and keeping her problems to herself. Powder, for once, saves her.

“Well, looks like you two have plenty to talk about. Enjoy the playdate.” Powder finger-guns at Caitlyn and then sends Vi a wink lacking in all subtlety. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

After Powder leaves, Caitlyn laughs softly, bringing her left hand to her mouth to cover her smile. “Why do I get the feeling there isn’t much your sister wouldn’t do?”

Vi watches the soft changes in Caitlyn’s expression, and her heartrate ticks up. So, maybe Powder isn’t completely off-base with her assumption of Vi’s attraction. She studies Caitlyn a bit closer again, from the proper posture to the clear polished, unchipped nails. Caitlyn uses a faint amount of makeup, just enough to accent her features, and Vi is drawn once more into her piercing gaze.

“Do you always have your sister pick up women for you?”

Vi snaps to attention once more and flushes, her chest turning a deep red with the stain creeping slowly up her neck. She’s going to kill Powder later. “Ahah, uh, no. That’s a first for me, actually. She definitely likes to do things without thinking them through.”

Cait’s gaze drifts lower once again, and Vi is struck by the sudden thought that impulsivity seems to run in her family. She shifts her chair back, angling herself so her broken leg is less on display.

“Did you honestly want to ask me out? Or was this some sort of sibling prank?”

The question comes out light-hearted, but there’s a downward turn to Caitlyn’s lips that Vi doesn’t like very much. She shakes her head. “She got it in her head that you were maybe into me and basically forced me to agree to ask for your number. And because she likes to see me suffer, she jumped the gun and asked you first.”

“Do you want to go on a date with me?”

Caitlyn is impressively blunt and straight-forward. Vi is much more used to a round-about means of sussing out attraction. She likes the build of flirtation, or she used to, when she was able to get out to clubs and mingle. There is something gratifying, though, about someone being so upfront about what they want.

“Yeah, I mean, you’re…” Vi looks for an appropriate word. Hot doesn’t seem like an appropriate selection, even though it’s the first word to jump to mind. “You’re attractive, and I still gotta find out how you got shot. I’d sorta like to see where this goes? If you are actually interested and not just avoiding confrontation. I had a girl do that once, just ‘cause she was afraid of what I’d do if she said no. I’m a fighter, but I’d never—“

“I wasn’t afraid of turning you down,” Caitlyn interrupts. “I had been hoping to see you outside of this lobby. I was aware of your sexuality, so there was a chance you’d be interested in me. When your sister asked, it seemed the path of least resistance.”

“So, you do wanna go out sometime?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, cool, cool. Definitely. I’ll text you later, then?”

“I look forward to it, Violet.”

“You can just call me Vi.”

“Cait.”

This time, when Vi sits in her appointment, she pays a little more attention. She nods along to the explanation of the first stage of her treatment plan. She’ll start with non-weight bearing stretches and exercises, and Vi prepares to blow through these easily. An hour later, she’s sweating, and the pain her leg is growing ever greater. When her session is over, she’s ready to pop several oxys and sleep for a few days.

“Don’t forget,” the therapist says on the way out, “if you don’t keep up the schedule, next session is just going to be harder. You’ll get out of this what you put in.”

Vi wipes the sweat from her forehead and rolls away with an exhausted wave of one hand. She’ll practice if she feels up to it. She ignores Powder’s teasing on the ride home and can only focus on trying to get comfortable once she’s in her apartment. Being tired only adds to the frustration of struggling to do basic things for herself. She wants to get her sweaty clothing off, but removing her shorts turns into a Thing, and she’s not calling Powder for help. She can do this by herself, damn it.

The chair is the problem, and since it’s too much effort and strain to stand up unassisted, she settles for dragging herself from the chair to her bed and then wiggling her shorts off her hips. Then she struggles back into her chair to roll to the bathroom where she keeps her meds, which she realizes she should have grabbed before attempting to disrobe. Then, when she gets back into bed with the pills, she reaches for a glass of water that isn’t there.

Tears prick at her eyes, but she’s not going to call Powder. She reaches for the chair again but in her haste, she’s not as careful as she should be. She hits the ground and howls at the fresh pain in her bad leg. She stares at her discarded shorts and cautiously reaches into the front left pocket, where she finds the scrap of paper with Caitlyn’s number on it.

Slowly, she punches in the numbers and taps out a sad little message.

VS: Uh hey its vi. U busy rn?

While she waits for a response, she pulls herself into a sitting position and pulls in several slow, deep breaths. If she hadn’t tried so hard at therapy, she’d have the energy to get herself into the chair no problem. At this rate, however, she’ll probably have to sleep on the floor. Thankfully, she’s got a pillow and blanket within arm’s reach.

CK: I’ll admit, I hadn’t expected you to reach out quite so soon, but I am available.

Vi nibbles on her lower lip. It’s stupid. She should just ask Powder. But her thumbs tap out the message anyway.

VS: I sort of fell down an i know ur arm is busted but

VS: Ne chance u could come get me off the floor?

VS: Totes fine if not i can call pow

VS: No pressure

VS: Sorry for even asking haha

CK: Send me your address.

Chapter Text

Vi waits as patiently as she can for her rescuer’s arrival. The pain in her leg is agony, but the bigger hurt is having to sit around helplessly. She didn’t fight her entire life just to become so dependent on others. Having Powder drive her around to appointments was initially a blow to her ego, but Pow insists it’s just paying her back for all the rides during high school, when Vi acted like her personal chauffeur. Framed like that, she had reluctantly accepted.

But in this moment, stuck on the floor and in pain, she hates herself. She helps other people. Other than fighting, that’s the driving force in her life. She’d long ago accepted that there were limits on her life, like losing her parents and being from the wrong neighborhood, but she had a healthy, strong body that she could use to help others out of similar pits.

She helps others; she doesn’t need help herself.

But there she languishes, waiting for this beautiful woman she wants to date to come and clean up her mess. Not off to the best start, she thinks as she picks at the hem of her shirt. Nothing says potential partner like falling out of bed and not being able to get back up again.

She hears a key in the front door and sighs with defeat. She’s grateful that Powder has a bad habit of forgetting her key, so there’s a spare permanently hidden just outside the complex for Caitlyn to find, but it’s just another reminder right now that someone is going to her aid. She listens to the door open and close, footsteps along the hallway, and the creak of her bedroom door moving.

“Vi?”

Vi tries to smile as she looks up but the expression is a little pathetic. “Thanks for coming. You really didn’t have to. I’m sorry to waste your time—“

“Quiet,” Caitlyn says, the command firm but gentle. “I’m on medical leave from work right now, so I wasn’t busy.”

This attracts Vi’s attention to the arm still in a sling. “I don’t want to make your injury worse.”

“And you won’t. We’ll be doing this together. My good arm and your good leg should get you back up again.”

Caitlyn sets the spare key on the dresser and approaches. She positions herself behind Vi, who leans forward to accommodate the intrusion. With a countdown from three, they lift together, and Vi finds herself back on the bed. She pulls herself up to lean on her pillows.

“Thanks for that.”

Caitlyn tucks a few strands of loose hair behind one ear. “This wasn’t exactly the invitation I expected when I gave you my phone number, but I’ve had worse first dates.”

Feeling humiliation creep up again, Vi shakes her head. “Don’t think of this like a date. I can do so much better—you deserve—“

“Just a joke.” Caitlyn smiles, revealing a slight spacing in her front teeth. “I’d enjoy spending time with you this afternoon, though, if you aren’t busy. Not a first date, perhaps, but an opportunity to hang out.”

“It usually takes at least a few dates before I take my pants off,” Vi jokes dryly. She strains to grab her shorts from the floor again; Caitlyn quickly offers her the garment and politely averts her gaze while Vi pulls them back on. Vi splits her pills into a smaller dose that will relieve the pain without knocking her out, silently mourning the two-day long nap she had planned. “Lemme do something real quick.”

She reaches for the wheelchair, which Cait pushes closer. Very careful this time not to end up back on the floor, Vi eases herself into the seat. With a gesture for Cait to follow her, she wheels herself to the kitchen. After her injury, Powder helped her place several cups and dishes on the counters to be within reach for Vi in the wheelchair. She snags a glass and heads to the fridge, which has an in-door faucet for drinking water. She slugs back the pain pill and sets the glass aside.

“Does it hurt badly still?”

Vi shakes her head. “Nah, doesn’t hurt at all, really, but just following the doc’s instructions. Something about how even if it doesn’t hurt, it’s still injured, and I’d risk further injury by not treating.”

The lie is smooth, but Caitlyn arches an eyebrow in such a way that Vi is pretty sure she’s about to get called out. Instead, Caitlyn nods and glances around. “Did you do a lot of cooking before?”

“No,” Vi admits with a small laugh. “Is it that obvious?”

“Your oven looks practically new.”

“I have a really particular diet, so it doesn’t make sense to make my own meals all the time. Vander, he’s my coach down at the gym, has meals prepped for me, and I just have to heat them up. Or I did.” Vi’s voice trembles slightly at the end, and she self-consciously adjusts her leg.

“I’m not much of a chef, either, but I love to bake. Perhaps I could make you something, sometime, if it isn’t going to destroy your diet.”

“I’m not on much of a diet these days,” Vi admits, a little embarrassed. Her body and the rituals she put into keeping it fit used to be a point of pride. “Sorta eating whatever take out I want. Vander says it’s okay, since my body needs it to heal.”

“Have you eaten today?”

“Protein bar for breakfast, nothing major.”

“And you just took some pain medication on a mostly empty stomach?”

Vi shrugs. “Works faster that way, right?”

Caitlyn leans against the counter and folds her arms over her chest. “There’s logic there, I can tell. It’s not good logic, but it’s there.”

“What would you suggest?”

“I’m going to guess you don’t have any ingredients just laying around here, right? So, choose something to order delivery, on me, and we can chat over a meal.”

“This is starting to sound more like a date,” Vi muses. “But I’m pretty under-dressed. I usually try pretty hard to impress my dates.”

“You don’t have to try. You already impress me.”

There’s something about the simplicity of Cait’s words that stop Vi’s usual instinct to avoid compliments with humorous retorts. “But I’m not doing anything special.”

“You don’t need to.”

“Flattery gets you everywhere,” Vi says slowly, her heart not really in the deflection. “I’m pretty bad at picking food. Pow always hates when it’s my turn. I don’t think this important decision should be mine. What d’you like to eat?”

“How about a surprise then. Just let me know if you have any allergies, and I’ll choose something I’m fairly sure you’ll like. If you don’t, then you can order whatever, and I’ll give it a try.”

“Okay, sure. I’m allergic to strawberries.”

“Noted.” Caitlyn pulls her phone out. “Give me a moment.”

While Caitlyn orders their food, Vi sneaks a onceover on her guest. She’s in laidback clothing now, but it still looks clean and ironed. She’s heard of business casual attire but not casual business. Still, the way the slacks cling to the other woman’s figure reveals a slim figure with soft curves rather than hard muscle. Her blouse has a few buttons undone near the neckline, exposing the divot of her clavicle and a hint of cleavage. Her hair is loose around her face, and she has to push it back behind her ears every few minutes.

“It’ll be forty minutes. I hope you can wait that long.”

“I wasn’t going to eat anything anyway,” Vi replies flippantly.

Cait’s expression twists, her eyebrows coming to a furrow and her mouth to something akin to a pout. “You need to take care of yourself.”

Why? Vi wants to ask. Her career is over, and her body is ruined. Instead, she shrugs, trying to maintain her façade of nonchalance. “I been doing fine so far, right? I’m not dead.”

“Is that really your baseline? Still technically alive?”

“Where I’m from, that’s actually a pretty big accomplishment.” Vi wheels herself into the adjusted living room, where the furniture is spaced out to accommodate her chair.

Cait follows behind and takes a seat on the couch. “Where are you from, then?”

“The Undercity, and not the good part. If you even believe there’s a good part.”

“I do.” Caitlyn makes herself comfortable, slipping a foot underneath her and leaning against the couch’s arm. “What was your family like?”

“You’ve met Powder. She’s a little… much sometimes, but I honestly don’t know what I’d do without her. She’s smart. Smarter than she wants to admit. If she admits it, she has to do something about it, and that’s too much for her right now. So, she just helps out at the gym when they need some new equipment or have a tech problem.”

“And your parents?”

Vi cringes and averts her eyes. She traces the edges of a picture hanging on the wall with her gaze, just to give herself something to look at. “They died a long time ago. It was just me and Powder for a while, until Vander took us in.”

“Your coach?”

“Yeah. I’d gotten into a fight over something stupid and was just flinging my fists everywhere. I didn’t have any training back then. I accidentally elbowed him as he tried to break up the fight. Gave him a black eye. Thought he would just turn me over to the authorities, but instead, he brought me to his gym, cleaned me up, and asked if I needed somewhere to stay.”

“That’s very kind.”

“I found out later that he was friends with my parents, and he’d actually been looking for me and Pow. It was an accident he found me, but it worked out, I think.” Vi clears her throat. “But that was a long time ago. What about you? What’s your story?”

“I assure you it’s much more boring. My parents are still alive and very much over-involved in my affairs. I was born in Piltover, and I’ve never moved away. There’s not a whole lot to tell.”

“And your arm?”

Caitlyn rubs her upper arm at the mention and shakes her head. “A stupid mistake, really.”

“That’s one way to refer to a gunshot wound, I guess.”

“I work in law enforcement, much to my mother’s chagrin. I was… overeager, I suppose, to prove myself and put myself in unnecessary danger.”

Before Vi can ask any further, the buzzer by her front door sounds, and Caitlyn stands quickly to go and fetch the food. When she returns, she doesn’t seem eager to return to the topic, so Vi lets it go.

Chapter Text

Cait brings dishes to the coffee table in the living room and serves a piping hot Ionian dish. The scent of spices is enough to make Vi’s stomach growl, and she realizes that in spite of her insistence earlier, she is actually hungry. She accepts Cait’s offering of a fork and napkin, and she waits politely for Cait to take a seat once more.

“So, Ionian food?”

“My dad used to make it a lot,” Cait explains, her soft smile once more taking over her face. “What I got you is called pork shun-lu. The flat noodles are made from rice, and they’re seasoned for half a day in special sweet pepper flakes. It was my favorite dish.”

Vi picks her plate up and greedily forks some into her mouth. She closes her eyes as the flavors explode on her tongue. They’re stronger than she’s used to; Vander’s provided diet didn’t come with much salt or other seasoning, and the food had been selected for nutritional value rather than taste. This meal is spicy and sweet, and she feels the warmth spreading from her tongue down her throat and into her belly.

“This is amazing. Seriously.”

“I also chose a dessert for you.” Cait reaches into the delivery bag and draws out what looks like a cupcake. “It’s made from red bean paste, so it’s sweet but not overly so. Then again, you strike me as the sort of person with a secret sweet tooth, so I chose one with a honey-based frosting.”

“Why haven’t I tried this before?” Vi pauses in her shoveling and blushes lightly. “I’m sorry. I probably look like a real disaster. I promise Vander taught me some manners.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying the food. I know it’s not for everyone.”

“What’d you get?”

“A vegetarian fried dish called pyo. It’s sort of a dumpling, with a very light, crispy skin.” Cait offers one across the coffee table, and Vi leans over to accept the pyo directly from Cait’s fingers. She catches the quiet sound of Cait’s sharp inhale and quickly draws back to dust the crumbs from her lips.

“Too forward?”

“No, not at all.” Cait tilts her head. “What do you think?”

Vi searches her mind for a suitable answer. Should she really voice aloud any of the thoughts she had about the moment between them, that her heart was hammering from the close contact or that she wanted badly to kiss the other woman? Is she ready to make herself that sort of vulnerable? She summons a lackluster, “Um…”

“Of the pyo,” Cait says gently. Her eyes sparkle, and Vi wonders just how much of her internal debate was readable from her shifting expression.

“Oh, yeah, right, yeah. It was good, but I think I like mine a little better.”

“I thought so. I also guessed you would prefer a dish with more meat than vegetables.”

“You make me sound like a child,” Vi complains, her tone light. “I like vegetables well enough.”

“I believe you.”

Vi huffs and puffs playfully before taking a few more bites and changing the subject. “So, is your dad from Ionia?”

“He came to Piltover as a little boy, and he’s done his best to teach me about his home. I’d love to visit someday and see where he initially grew up. I’m not great with the language, but I’m trying to learn so I can surprise him over the holidays.”

“Teach me something.”

Cait dusts her fingers on her napkin and taps her chin. Vi watches the way her lips purse in thought and wonders how soft they are. She imagines kissing them, and she’s suddenly uncomfortably warm. She shifts in her chair and tries not to draw attention to herself.

“Wu shuan nyo.”

Vi tries the syllables, butchering the rise and fall of the inflection, but Cait encourages her by repeating the phrase once more. The second attempt isn’t much better, but Cait looks pleased nonetheless. Vi repeats the short phrase a third time.

“So, what does that mean?”

Cait offers the dessert. “I like you.”

Vi nearly drops the offering but recovers in time. “You tryin’ to say something?”

“Yes.”

Straight to the point, Vi realizes, is the way Cait communicates best.  She nods and says, “Wuh shooan neeoh too.”

“Can I ask why you texted me rather than asking your sister for help?”

Vi’s grin falters. She takes a tentative bite of the red bean paste delicacy, getting a bit of frosting on her upper lip that she has to hastily wipe away while she chews. She’s not really sure what to say. The truth feels a little ridiculous, but there’s no lie that will make any more sense.

“I took care of her a lot when we were kids. It’s not her job to take care of me. I’m the big sister.” She grimaces. “Not that it’s your job to take care of me, either. I just… When I got injured, she saw I wasn’t invincible. And I know how much she worries. Her mental health has never been, like, super great, and I can’t be the reason she loses it. Does that make sense? So, when I needed help, I didn’t want her to think I couldn’t do anything by myself. She’d move herself into my apartment and insist on taking care of me all the time, and she’s got her own life that she already ignores too much as it is.”

“And Vander?”

Vi bites her lower lip. “He thinks I’ll be able to fight again someday. The first doctor told me I shouldn’t, but Vander thinks with enough physical therapy and a change in style, I could get back in the octagon.”

“That’s exciting.” Cait examines her expression and adds, “Isn’t it?”

“I’ll never fight again,” Vi says with lowered eyes. “And when he comes over, it just hurts to see him so hopeful, when I know it’s not happening.”

“According to whom?”

Vi looks up, finally, and meets Cait’s steady gaze. “That doctor?”

“So you won’t even try?”

“Well…”

“I watched more of your fights. You look so… so happy. So alive. I haven’t known you long, but I’ve never seen you look like that in any other context. I’m not sure I believe in fate or destiny or anything preordained, but it looked like you were born to fight.” Cait clears her throat. “I’d hate for you to lose that.”

“We’ll see, I guess…” Vi replies noncommittally. She can’t bring herself to acknowledge how much she loved the sport. There was nowhere else that her body finally felt right or where she felt in control of her world. She’s trying to keep a somewhat brave face on for Powder, but she feels so lost and unsure about who she’ll be after she heals.

“I apologize if I put any pressure on you,” Cait says after a moment. “You’re of course free to do what you see fit.”

“No, you’re fine. It’s nothing I haven’t thought already, to be honest.”

Cait gathers the dishes, brings them to the kitchen, and returns. “Well, I hate to eat and run, but I have an appointment in about an hour. I enjoyed this not-date, Vi, so I hope you’ll text again sometime. Did you need any help before I go?”

Vi shakes her head. “I should be fine. And next time, I promise my text won’t be to ask a favor.”

Cait comes close and kisses Vi on the cheek. “I look forward to it. Have a good afternoon.”

“You, too.” Vi watches her leave, eyes drifting down to the gentle sway of her hips. She only waits ten minutes before texting: I had a good time to. Thx for everything. Drive safe.

Cait barely waits a moment before replying with a winking smiley face.

Chapter Text

Caitlyn sits in the lobby and watches the flow of officers, attorneys, suspects, and people of interest. Turning off the analytical part of her mind just because she’s on leave is all but impossible, and she catches and commits to memory as many pieces of fragmented conversation as she can. Her leave will not last forever, and she wants to be as prepared as possible to return at full steam.

“Kiramman,” a voice to her left calls, loud enough to be heard over the constant din of law enforcement. She stands and approaches a stoic woman in a uniform that rivals her own garb in terms of pressing, cleanliness, and order.

“Sheriff Grayson,” Caitlyn greets, dipping her head respectfully.

Grayson looks her over and nods curtly. “Thank you for coming in.”

When the sheriff gestures for Caitlyn to follow her into a conference room, Caitlyn goes obediently. She sits down, and Grayson takes the seat directly across from her. For a long moment, Grayson just stares at her, and Caitlyn does her best to wait patiently.

“How is your p.t.?”

“It’s going well. I do the exercises daily, so I’m well on track to regain full use of my arm sometime this year.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Grayson shifts in her chair, leaning back and crossing her ankles. “Caitlyn, we need to prepare you for the hearing. I know you aren’t worried, but you should be.”

Cait grimaces. “I just need to tell the truth. I don’t know why you think that’s a bad plan. I wasn’t in the wrong.”

“I’m telling you this because I care. You have ruffled feathers here. There are those who would prefer you did not return to the force. One mistake. That’s all they need to justify removing you from active duty permanently.”

Caitlyn grits her teeth. “I wasn’t wrong.”

“I’m not saying you were.” Grayson taps a finger on the table between them, slow and rhythmic. Cait has always respected her experience and wisdom, but usually, Grayson is less opaque than this. She wishes Grayson would just say what’s going on, rather than waiting endlessly for Caitlyn to have some sort of epiphany.

“If I hadn’t stepped in, that child would have ended up trafficked.”

“I am not questioning your judgment or decision-making at that moment.”

“Then when? When have I ever stepped out of line?”

Grayson sighs deeply. “Caitlyn, I personally trained you because I saw a bit of myself in you. I understand your commitment to justice, but things aren’t as simple as you’d like them to be. I know this because it’s a lesson I also had to learn.”

“What are you talking about?”

“There’s a hierarchy, a chain of command, which you’ve circumvented on occasion, knowing full well that your family’s status would protect you from consequence.”

Cait’s cheeks flood with color. “I never–”

“You have. And I’ve overlooked it because I know your heart is in the right place, and in the past, nobody was injured.” Grayson leans forward, resting her elbows on the table and staring intently at Caitlyn. “There have always been whispers that you are unfit for duty, that you are only an officer because your mother paid your way. Other officers resent your attitude.”

“Sheriff, this isn’t–” Cait blusters; her eyes dart left and right as she searches her mind for answers that make sense. “I haven’t… I don’t…”

“I cannot protect you this time. Caitlyn, you killed someone.”

“Who was kidnapping a child!”

“To make matters worse, you were acting with complete disregard for your orders.” Grayson lifts a hand to cut off more of Caitlyn’s complaints. “I understand your thought process and why you made the choices you did. But you are extremely vulnerable right now. If you do not prepare adequately for their questions, you will end up with a desk job as a best case scenario or facing charges in the worst. I see your value as an officer, so I’d like to prevent either situation from coming to fruition.”

Caitlyn’s deflections die on her tongue. She fidgets and nods, averting her eyes. “What do I need to do?”

§-§-§

After leaving the station, Cait fishes her phone out of her pocket and checks the time. She’d spent over an hour with Sheriff Grayson, and her arm pain is flaring again. She’s not sure if this is psychosomatic, but she forces herself to focus on something else and push the ache to the furthest reaches of her mind.

Thankfully, there’s a small distraction waiting in her notifications. Violet has texted her a question about her taste in movies, and she replies that she’s partial to crime dramas and thrillers. She wonders what the other woman has spent the rest of the afternoon doing and remembers the comfort of sitting in her living room and talking about nothing important. Nibbling on her thumbnail, she heads to her car and settles in the driver’s seat.

Vi is a welcome distraction, and she toys with the idea of returning to the apartment. But that would be too clingy, and as much as she doesn’t want to return home to her parents’, she can’t avoid seeing them forever. With any luck, her mother will be busy, and she can confide in her father about her problems first. He’ll listen without judgment, even as she has to admit that maybe she’s made a mistake that she can’t simply apologize for.

Her mother on the other hand will use this as an excuse for Caitlyn to abandon law enforcement entirely. She can almost hear the older woman’s voice in her head, saying Perhaps retirement is for the best, darling. You’re too bright for that job, anyway. No, being an officer is not fit for Caitlyn’s intellect or position. She could pursue a legal degree, if she’s so set on being adjacent to the field, but simply being a grunt on the force is below her station.

But Caitlyn has seen enough of the attorneys with their clients to know that she’d never be content on that side of the table. She loves her job because of the actual, immediate impact she has on those she helps. She finds the truth and brings justice, and there’s nothing else she wants to do with her career.

Grayson’s quiet lecture has unsettled her, however, and she wonders if she’ll even have the opportunity to continue on.

Shaking her head, she awkwardly shifts gears and pulls out into traffic. The drive to her parents’ estate is routine, and she’s filled with relief at the sight of an empty parking spot next to her father’s low-profile sedan. The car fits him so well, she thinks fondly as she locks her own vehicle. It’s a classic car, well-maintained but not ostentatious.

As she steps inside, she hears her father in the kitchen and heads there to join him. He glances up from making noodles from scratch and smiles at her, revealing the slight gap in his front teeth that she shares.

“Would you like to roll some dough for me?”

She pushes her sleeves up and sets to work, listening to his chatter about his day. Eventually, he sets a hand on her wrist and gives her a knowing look.

“Would you like to talk about it, Caity?”

She shakes her head. “I don’t think so.”

“I know you’re in a tough spot right now, dear, but you’ll work it out. You always do.” The front door opens and closes, and he winks at her. “And don’t let your mom get you down. She loves you, too, even if she’s not great at saying it.”

The rest of the evening goes as abysmally as she feared it might, and she could have written the script for Cassandra Kiramman’s rant about her trouble at work. By the time she lays down in bed, she’s wound up with anxiety once more.

On a whim, she pulls her phone out and hovers a finger over Vi’s name. Vi had been considerate and open with her earlier, and she wonders what it would be like to open up to a real friend. Would it ease any of the mess inside her mind? Rather than call or text, she puts the phone back on the charger.

Vi has her own problems to deal with; she doesn’t need Caitlyn’s, too.

Chapter Text

Vi clenches her fists and strains to lift her right foot from the floor. The struggle to do something so easy makes her want to give up right then and there, but she tries to remember back when Vander first trained her to throw a proper punch. Her form had been terrible, and she was lucky she hadn’t shattered her thumb prior to his lesson. She forces herself to focus on how even learning that basic skill was a process, so she should be patient with herself.

What’s truly frustrating, though, is that she rationally understands this stuff, but she still feels like a failure. If she gets it, like in her mind really gets it, then why can’t her emotions figure it out at the same time? Why does it feel like every obstacle thrown up at her is the universe’s way of telling her to tap out?

After her second repetition of ten lifts, she grants herself a break. Sweat has broken out down her back and across her chest, and she’s upset with herself. Lifting her foot a bunch of times shouldn’t be such hard exertion that she’s sweating. Her body is working way too hard for something so simple.

A towel hits the back of her head.

“Stop being mean to yourself,” Powder says from her perch across the room. She has a book open in front of her and hasn’t looked up from the pages. “That’s my job, asshole.”

She grabs the towel and rubs her temples dry. “Yeah, well, you’ve been slacking.”

“Where’s the fun in punting a baby? Yeah, it might be a little funny, but if it can’t fight back, you just look like a dick.”

Vi grumbles and slowly starts a third repetition. The pain, however, is growing, and halfway through, she gives up for the afternoon. She can try again later, or maybe never. She hasn’t really decided which yet.

“Want a hand?” Powder closes her book and stands, reaching her hands out and wiggling her fingers. “Y’know it’ll help.”

“Just be gentle, okay?”

Powder pulls an ottoman over and props Vi’s busted leg on it. With a lot more care than she typically shows anything other than her inventions, she applies light pressure to all the areas that ache. Vi lets her head flop back.

There’s so much she wants to tell her sister but no words she can summon. The worst part is that she knows Powder will listen. Powder will hear her problems and make them her problems, too. She can all but hear Powder setting to work on a plan to get her back in the ring, maybe with a few cybernetic parts.

But this isn’t Powder’s battle. She closes her eyes tightly and waits for Powder to finish up.

“Ekko’s got a competition this weekend.”

She pries an eye open. “Yeah?”

“I keep tellin’ him he’s gotta add a machine gun to Clock 17, but the design ain’t too shabby. He likes his chances.”

“Where is it?”

Powder looks at her with feigned innocence. “What’s this? My sister actually interested in going somewhere that isn’t her living room?”

“Shut up.”

“It’s being held at the university sports center on Saturday.” Powder smirks. “You want a ride there? Or think you’ll still be pouting?”

“I haven’t been pouting.”

“Fine, moping.”

“Not that, either!”

Powder pulls out her best impression of a weeping clown, rubbing her fists over her eyes comically and frowning as deeply as her lips will allow. “Boo hoo, I got a booboo, and now, I’m too disabled to have fun.”

The teasing has cut a little too deep, and Vi bristles. She pulls her leg off the ottoman, ignoring the sharp stab of pain when her foot jars against the footrest of the wheelchair, and wheels herself away.

“You should go, Pow.”

“Vi–”

“Just go.”

She expects Powder to argue, but there’s just a still silence behind her for a long moment until Powder goes back to her book, packs up, and obeys. Vi feels a twinge of guilt, and she punches her hand against the coffee table. The pain is just different enough that she feels better, in a sick, stupid way. She punches again, cutting open one of her knuckles.

“You idiot,” she curses herself, bringing the knuckle to her mouth. Wheeling to the bathroom, she tugs the first aid kit from under the sink, swathes the cut in antiseptic, and wraps gauze around. She’s had this kind of injury too often throughout her life, and there are too many scars to count across her knuckles.

When her brain is too noisy, it just helps to punch the crap out of something. She can’t help that sometimes punching things as hard as she can results in minor damage to her body. As a teenager, she could justify it to herself as at least she wasn’t cutting, but now, as an adult, she sees it as the self-destruction and harm her aggression truly is. She thought she’d gotten past that part of herself, but there she sits, feeling like a child all over again.

Her phone rings from the kitchen, so she finishes patching herself up, tosses the first aid kit in the general direction of the cabinet, and pushes herself to the counter. She’s too late for the call, but there’s a message waiting for her.

“Hello, Vi. This is Caitlyn Kiramman. I received a rather strange text from an unknown number that I have to assume is your sister. The text said to call you about something happening on Saturday? You can return my call at your earliest convenience. Thank you.”

Vi massages her temples and calls back. As soon as Cait picks up, she says, “Yeah, I’m sorry about Powder. I don’t know how she even got your number.”

Cait sounds somewhat out of breath. “I had wondered.”

“I’ll tell her to leave you alone. She’s a pest.”

“I didn’t call to complain about that.”

Vi shifts the phone to her other ear and stares at her lap. “I heard the message. Uh, so this weekend, my sorta brother is competing in a robotics thing downtown. It’s a bunch of nerds, but it’s fun.”

“I see.”

“Yeah.”

“Sounds like a lovely time.”

“Oh.” Vi feels a little slow on the uptake but figures out her mistake quickly. “Would ya maybe want to go with me? Like, no pressure if it’s not your scene.”

“Have you noticed that you often assume I don’t want to be around you?”

Vi stutters for a moment. Then, she stops and thinks about it. “I guess I never thought about it?”

“I’ll accompany you this weekend if you agree to one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Stop assuming I won’t tell you if I don’t want to do something.”

“Not gonna lie, that might be hard for me.” Vi sighs. “But yeah, I’ll do my best.”

“What time? And where shall I meet you?”

Vi gives her the few details she knows and ends the call feeling like a jerk. She texts Powder a short apology about snapping, which never receives a response. Still, she knows the message has been read, and that’s usually about all she gets anyway.

Her knuckles twinge, and she decides she needs a new way to let off steam when she’s pissed. If she can’t got at a punching bag safely, then she can’t hurt her hands like that. The trouble is punching is really all she knows she likes. It’s been her life.

She looks around her apartment for an easy answer and finds nothing.

Chapter Text

“Collegiate Battle Robotics Tournament,” Caitlyn reads off a banner, one which also welcomes visitors to enter. She picks up an agenda listing the locations and times of different battles, but she doesn’t recognize any names among the fighters. She supposes she could have asked Vi what her “sorta” brother’s name is.

“Hey, Cait!” Vi calls to her from afar, rolling her wheelchair faster than is likely safe. A few pedestrians have to dodge out of the way lest their toes get crushed, but Vi appears indifferent to their suffering. “You’re here early!”

“As are you.”

“Well, Pow was insistent she needed to be here early to help Ekko with his set up, and she’s got the handicapable van.” Vi shrugs and rolls her eyes. “So, I got to sit in the lobby and practice being patient.”

“How did that go for you?”

“Not great, actually.”

“So is Ekko your sorta brother?”

“Sorta.”

“Any other sorta siblings I should know about?”

Vi laughs. “Got a couple of them. Vander had a soft spot for homeless kids, him and his buddy both ran like a halfway house for us. Got us all off the street at least. Went better for some of us than others. Ekko’s an egghead, so he got a scholarship. Pow should have gone with him…”

Caitlyn waits for the thought to finish, but Vi just trails off into silence. “Is Ekko competing today, then?”

Vi waves a hand and starts rolling through the lobby to the first door. In the middle of the room, a ring has been erected, large enough for a few robotic vacuum cleaners. Caitlyn realizes that these won’t be mech-sized competitors, and she’s glad she hadn’t asked earlier.

In the corner of the room, she spies Powder bent over, a screwdriver jammed crookedly in a back pocket. Beside her, a dark-skinned man with pale dreads pulled back in a top-knot has a soldering iron sizzling away. Ekko, she presumes. Vi calls for them and receives a rude gesture from Powder.

“C’mon, you have so much time before the first match. You can at least say hi.”

“Fine, fine.” Powder stands and does an elaborate bow that looks very off-balance. Ekko catches her elbow before she topples over.

“I’m Ekko,” he says, reaching out to shake hands before laughing and withdrawing. “Sorry, I’m probably all greased up.”

Cait tips her head in greeting. “Pleasure to meet you. You’re competing today?”

“Well, not me, the Clock is.” He gestures behind him, directing her attention to a small, round robot built out of the remnants of an old wall clock. Someone has used bright cyan paint to write the words “TIME TO DIE” around the circumference. “I just built her and programmed her for violence.”

The little robot is endearing, until she notices the sharp blades protruding from the base, protecting its little wheels.One side has a cowcatcher welded into place, and there’s a hatch on top that suggests something may pop out later.

“I look forward to seeing the fight,” Cait says. She originally agreed to come simply to spend time with Vi, but an honest interest in the combat is brewing. She hasn’t dabbled in robotics in many years, but her fingers tingle with the desire to participate.

“It should be good. His first match today is against his nemesis.”

Ekko rolls his eyes at Vi. “He’s not my nemesis.”

“Mortal enemy?” Powder suggests. “Eternal foe?”

“He’s just some guy that happens to think we’re competing.”

“Well, doy, this is a competition.” Powder lightly slaps the back of his head, a show of affection rather than a real attack.

“You know what I mean. He thinks we’re, me and him, in some sort of battle for supremacy. But it ain’t like that.” Ekko tugs on his earlobe and shifts his weight. “I’m here to tinker around and learn some stuff, maybe win a few bucks to buy more supplies, but him? He acts like this is life or death. Like it really matters.”

“He sounds intense.”

“He can be. He can also be really annoying.”

A moment later, the quiet of the room is completely disrupted by the door banging open and a small entourage entering. Cait looks, and at first, she doesn’t register who it is she’s staring at. Then, she smiles and takes a few steps forward to greet one of her oldest friends, whose hands are full of boxes.

“Let me help with that,” she says, taking the top few boxes, which gives the newcomer a clearer sight of her face.

He smiles back at her warmly. “Caitlyn, what are you doing here? I don’t remember inviting you.”

“Uh,” Vi interjects, rolling over. “Anyone wanna tell me what’s going on?”

Caitlyn pushes a few strands of hair behind her ear. “Vi, this is Jayce. He’s been a very close friend for nearly my whole life. I had no idea he’d be here.”

She’s aware of Vi wheeling back toward Powder and Ekko, but her attention is focused on Jayce. He steps aside, revealing two more people, one with a sour expression and a cane, the other brighter and smiling. Based on prior conversations with Jayce, she instantly places them as Viktor and Sky, his research partners.

“It’s so nice to put faces to your names. Jayce has told me so much about you both.”

Viktor moves past her, slinging what is obviously a heavy bag from his shoulder. He meets her gaze and dips his head. Sky is much friendly, gripping her shoulder in greeting and mentioning that she, too, has heard so much about Cait.

“How have you been? You haven’t responded to my texts, but I know how busy things can get. Your mother mentioned the investigation–”

“I’m fine,” Caitlyn interjects. “I’ve been in physical therapy for my arm. And to be honest, it’s been a refreshing break.”

“If you ever need to fill some of the empty hours, you’re always welcome in the lab. We’re doing some exciting research.”

Viktor clears his throat loudly and with purpose. “Jayce?”

“Oh, sorry. I should get to setting up. Would hate for the Hammer to disappoint.”

From across the room, Powder retches. “Dude, stop talking about your dick.”

“I wasn’t–”

“Ignore them, Jayce.” Viktor grabs his friend’s shoulder and pulls him toward their set up. “Focus.”

Caitlyn turns back to Powder and Ekko and notices a distinct lack of a wheelchair in the vicinity. Powder jerks a thumb at the door and says Vi went to get some fresh air. She leaves the room, glancing in both directions before deciding that Vi likely went back out the front. Her pace is unrushed, and she pauses a moment just outside the main entrance to tilt her face up toward the sun. The warmth on her cheeks feels delightful.

Her guess had been correct; Vi sits in her chair in a shaded corner. She’s frowning into the middle distance, and Cait’s stomach twists as she approaches.

“Enjoying the sunshine?”

“Yeah,” Vi replies. Her voice is short, not impolite but not the welcoming tones Cait had grown accustomed to.

“Is something wrong?”

Vi hesitates, gnawing on her lower lip. She tries to smile, fails, and returns to a hint of a frown. “Not with you, or anything. I’m sorry I’m a big bummer.”

“You’re not. What’s going on?”

“You all just care so damn much. You all fit.”

“And you don’t?”

Vi snorts. “Do I look like a nerd?”

“Maybe.”

“I don’t fit. Not here.” Vi cuts herself off, swallowing up the rest of her thoughts in silence.

“Where is this coming from?”

“Just… seeing you and Jayce, and even Powder and Ekko, and everyone being themselves and happy, and I’m just… I’m always on the outside, I guess. I don’t get this stuff. I show up for my family, but I don’t get it, and I can’t participate, and I just, I don’t know, I’d hoped that you’d be on the outside with me.” VI runs a hand through her hair, which tousles in the wind and tangles with her fingers.

“In my home, I’m the outsider,” Cait says quietly. “My parents have lofty ideals and live in a world of theory and politics. I’ve never wanted that, and they never understood. I care about the change I can make in the world with my own agency, and that sent me down a path they never bothered to learn more about. So, I don’t know exactly what you’re experiencing, but I think I can empathize. I know how isolating it can feel. How lonely. But you have a world you fit into, that’s yours, don’t you?”

Vi rubs at her eyes. “Not anymore, no.”

Chapter Text

Watching Caitlyn interact with Jayce had been a painful reminder that in spite of their sudden interest in one another, Vi is painfully, obviously distant from the world occupied by those around her. They have interests and lives to engage with, and she has nothing but her memories of better times. She can hear Powder scolding her for thinking like that, demanding she get her tits together and find something new. But her brain apparently isn’t in the business of making anything easy on her. She sees everyone happy and talking and just feels worse, which in turn makes her feel guilty for thinking negative thoughts like that. Nobody there deserves her sour thoughts.

So, she wheels herself outside to sit in the shade and mope where her toxic sadness can’t taint the excitement. When Caitlyn doesn’t immediately come out to join her, her brain tells her that she’s not that important. Cait is just busy with her friend, she tries to argue, but the little sparks and neurons in her brain don’t seem to care about being rational.

She looks at the bandages around her knuckles and thinks about how nice it might be to punch something harder, faster. Maybe actually break something this time. But before she can act on the impulsive thought, Caitlyn strides out, spots her, and hurries over. Relief floods through her, followed quickly by another bout of guilt for ruining the day.

Thankfully, Caitlyn doesn’t seem to see her as a bother, and she manages to rescue her low spirits. She follows Cait to an area with a bench so the taller woman can sit while they chat and while away the time until the first match.

“So, you know Ekko’s nemesis?”

“Jayce is the son of a close friend of my parents, so they decided we would make good playmates. He’s a very caring man, but Ekko isn’t wrong. Sometimes he can get a little intense. Once he gets an idea in his head, dissuading him can be pretty impossible.”

“Sounds like my sister.”

“Sounds like a lot of people,” Cait replies, eyeing her meaningfully. “It may be part of the human condition, unfortunately.”

“Wait, you’re human?” Vi musters a smirk. “I thought you were an angel.”

“What a line,” Cait deadpans. “Consider me thoroughly wooed.”

“That makes my job a lot easier. Phew.” She pantomimes wiping sweat from her brow.

“I didn’t say you should stop working for it.”

“No, no. I get it. I can get complacent and start taking you for granted. We can speed-run the relationship. Would tomorrow work for you to move in? That way we can get a cat by Tuesday, have a nasty fight on Thursday, and then break up in time for you to move home by Saturday.”

“To be honest, none of my relationships have ever reached that stage before. There’s always been reasons in the past not to pursue things after a certain point.”

Vi tilts her head, calculating. “What point is that?”

Cait’s jaw is tense, but she pushes through her discomfort. “One thing you’ll come to discover is that I am… a lot. I am highly focused, highly motivated. And many people would rather not come second to anything in their relationships.”

“Your career is first?”

“Justice is. While my career is a means to that end, yes, it takes priority in most cases.”

Vi shrugs. “I’ve given up a lot for my boxing. If Pow weren’t my sister, then we might not even have a relationship right now. The amount of times I chose training over being around her is… maybe a regret? I mean, she’s still my sister, and she’s never said it bothered her, but I… I should have done better by her.”

“She seems to love you quite a bit.”

“I don’t deserve it,” Vi says before her filter can catch up with her mouth. She flushes and shakes her head. “I mean, the way I treated her when we were kids, I would totally get if she hated my guts.”

“Well, luckily she doesn’t, so that’s a problem you don’t have to handle.”

Vi wants to argue that it could actually happen any day, but she recognizes that this isn’t meant to be an argument. She looks up at the clouds, watching a bird coast toward the bell tower in the distance. Being a bird wouldn’t be too bad. She’d love to fly away from her problems.

“I’m sorry I got all pissy. I promise I’m not like that all the time.”

“No, you’ve shown yourself to be kind and considerate with me.” Cait stretches a hand out to squeeze Vi’s wrist. “And we can’t help the things that trigger our sensitivities.”

Vi redirects her attention to Cait’s face, noting the dappling light coming through the trees around them. Her blue eyes are like a calm lake, and Vi pushes her chair forward a few inches. When their knees brush against one another, she tries to build the courage up to ask for a kiss.

But the bell tower sounds, signaling the top of the hour. The competition is going to start soon, so they need to head inside. Vi withdraws, her chest stained red, and gestures for Caitlyn to take the lead back inside.

Caitlyn remains a moment longer, eyes fixed on Vi’s. They dart down momentarily to Vi’s lips and then back up, but she doesn’t comment on the aborted proximity. Instead, she dusts off her slacks and tucks her hands in her pockets as she walks.

“Is Powder in school with Ekko?”

“I’ve tried to get her to, but she says it’s too expensive, and it’s all pretty boring.”

“I suppose that’s valid, but if she hasn’t experienced a college-level course, how does she know it will be boring?”

“Kid’s a frickin’ genius. She’s probably smarter than most of the professors here.”

“It’s not necessarily about intelligence, though. Education is essential for building metacognition and critical thinking–”

“Listen, I’m sorry to be rude and interrupt, but you’re aimin’ at the wrong target. Me and Vander have tried for years to convince her. But it’s not her thing, and I think she gets pretty upset when it comes up now.”

“What does she do when she’s not chauffeuring you around?”

“The answer seems to be a revolving door of side hustles, random jobs, and new hobbies that she ends up ditching after a few weeks. To be honest, I don’t think she’s been interested in any one thing for more than a month before, and that was scambaiting. I think she liked that for the misery she caused to scammers.”

Caitlyn allows Vi to enter the sports hall before her but quickly comes to walk right beside the chair. “She seems to be multi-talented, then.”

“Yeah, too much so. I think that’s part of the problem. How do you settle on just one job when you’re interested in everything?”

By the time they re-enter the room, Ekko and Jayce have placed their respective robots in the ring. Powder has found a microphone somewhere, which doesn’t appear to be linked to any speaker system, but her volume is loud enough for all present to hear. A few others have crowded into the room, all pushing as close as possible to the circular arena.

“In this corner,” Powder crows, pulling the microphone close to her mouth, “we have the reigning champion–”

“That’s not true,” Ekko mutters to no effect.

“She may look tiny, but boy is she mighty! If you have small children, you may want to avert your eyes from the destruction she is about the cause! Weighing in at one point six kilograms, please put your hands together for the Clock 17!” She pauses for dramatic effect, which allows the gathered crowd to clap loudly and stomp their feet. “And in the other corner, the Hammer or whatever.”

“Biased reporting much?” Vi calls at her sister, but Powder ignores her as well.

Ekko taps on a keyboard, hits enter, and leans back. Across the ring, Jayce does the same. Between them, the robots whir to life.

Chapter Text

Around the ring, fans holler encouragement as the two gladiators whir to life. The Clock begins to spin faster and faster until the text on its side is a blur of cyan. Opposite, a square box with a hammer etched into the metal shifts forward. They bounce off each other with a visible spark and a hearty clang, the Hammer tilting hard but not falling over.

When they press against each other next, the front panel of the Hammer hinges out and up, and a small lip at the bottom snags on the bottom of the Clock. The Clock flies up and over, and the crowd oos with anticipation of an easy victory. The Clock wobbles for a second, and then the hatch on top springs open, allowing a stick to extend and push it back onto its wheels.

The small blades by the wheel extend suddenly and retract, over and over again, and the next time the Hammer comes in for an attack, its wheels take a fair amount of damage. The Clock picks up speed, spinning faster, with its blades pushing in and out, and goes on the offensive. The cowcatcher that whirls around smacks the Hammer over and over again until the metallic box pops open, allowing its signature hammer to fly out and slam on the protrusion. Despite being welded well into place, the cowcatcher bends dangerously low, its metal warped by the attack.

Vi glances up at Cait and can’t help but smile a little. Cait is watching the action closely, her eyes following the movement and her head tilting one way and then the other as if she can help the robots give just a little more oomph. Her hands lift and drop as well, mimicking the rise and fall of the battle.

It’s cute.

Vi returns her gaze to the battle, but her mind is still wrapped around Caitlyn. This feels like a little window into Caitlyn’s head, which Vi realizes she hasn’t really gotten before. So much of their time together has been Vi being upset or whinging. She hasn’t really gotten much out of Cait, who admittedly seems very comfortable focusing on others.

Vi is definitely struggling with her injury, but she hasn’t heard a real peep out of Caitlyn about her own. She shifts in her chair to get more comfortable and resolves to focus more on Caitlyn the next time they chat.

In the ring, the Hammer is wobbling on three wheels as it lines up another attack, and the Clock 17 has several heavy dents to its frame. The timer for the match is counting down with only fifteen seconds left. The Clock suddenly freezes, its wheels extending out to angle the main body in the air. From the undercarriage, a thin tube protrudes.

At five seconds to go, small paint pellets fly out of the tube, spattering the Hammer with neon pinks and blues. The Hammer tips sideways from the force of so many tiny projectiles, and as the counter hits zero, the last pellet sends the Hammer toppling onto its side.

Powder leaps to her feet and crows loudly. Ekko smiles but grabs her elbow to pull her back down. He whispers to her, and Vi bets he’s trying to get her to stop being such a bad winner. She assumes they’ve won, anyway. These competitions aren’t totally about disabling the opponent. There are points given for ingenuity, overall design, and robustness.

“Well, that was exciting,” Cait says, sounding somewhat breathless. “I can see why Jayce enjoys this.”

Vi finds Jayce standing at the side of the ring, his expression crestfallen. He doesn’t remain upset for long, however, and his lips start to move a little, perhaps as though he’s muttering to himself. She’s seen Powder do the same thing while cooking up new ideas, so she bets he’s already over the loss and starting to brainstorm how to win next time.

“There are more matches, if you’re interested in seeing them,” Vi offers. She’d prefer to head out about then, but she really enjoys how much Cait seems to be enjoying the day.

Cait beams down at her. “Maybe just a few more. If you don’t mind?”

“Oh, for sure,” Vi replies. Internally, she braces herself for several more hours of this. When Cait picks up her hand and laces their fingers, her weariness dissipates. She relaxes and watches while Ekko rescues the Clock from inside the ring.

§-§-§

Dusk falls over Piltover as Vi wheels herself out of the sports hall with Cait by her side. They’ve stayed much longer than predicted, but Vi is actually having a better time than expected. During some of the more boring matches, Caitlyn had started texting her funny comments about the events, as talking over the din of the crowd was difficult.

So, she’s adding to her list of things she knows about Caitlyn. She’s smart and has worked with robotics before. She’s also very funny, in a dry, sarcastic sort of way. And she never seems to forget Vi in the hubbub.

“Did you want a ride home?”

Vi shakes her head. “That’s nice of you to offer, but you probably don’t have enough space for the chair.”

“Does it fold up?”

“Uh, yeah, I think so.”

“We can put it in the trunk, then.” Cait hesitates. “Unless that would make you uncomfortable?”

“No, that’d be alright, I think.”

“I’ll let Powder know you’re taken care of then.” Caitlyn turns and quickly hurries back inside.

Vi waits patiently, trying to guess exactly what crude comment her sister will make at this revelation. She bets that by the end of the night, she’ll have a slew of text messages, teasing her or demanding the juicy details. When Caitlyn returns, she’s a little flushed and waves off the question about Powder.

“Your sister is an interesting person,” is all she’ll say about the matter.

Caitlyn’s car is a newer looking sedan with a hatch that opens at the press of a button. She pops over the passenger door and lets Vi grip onto her to make the transition from wheelchair to seat. The busted leg is hard to maneuver, but Caitlyn is way more patient than Vi wants to be. Once she’s settled, she watches through the side mirror as Caitlyn efficiently breaks the wheelchair down and stores it in the back.

“What?” Cait asks, sliding into the driver’s seat and fastening her seatbelt.

Vi shakes her head. “Just thinking that I don’t think there’s anything you can’t do.”

“You’d be surprised.”

Seeing this as an opportunity to finally learn more, Vi asks, “Oh yeah? Like what?”

Caitlyn doesn’t respond for a moment as she checks over her shoulder before merging into traffic. “Right now, I can’t write very well.”

“That doesn’t really count, does it? Once you’re healed up, you’ll have that back.”

“Maybe. Or maybe my handwriting will have changed. You never know how things will end up.”

“So, that’s your big flaw as a person?” Vi jokes. “Handwriting?”

“I wouldn’t say big…”

There’s a wall there, Vi realizes–something that Caitlyn must have created to keep everyone in her life at a certain distance. She’s very good at revealing a little bit of vulnerability without actually putting herself at risk. Vi wishes she were more like that, rather than all but carrying a sign around with her emotional status typed in bold.

She decides that she’s going to get past that wall, if she can. She wants to know Cait, more than the superficial version others get to see.

“I don’t want to go to physical therapy because I’m afraid of failing,” she says slowly. “If I just give up now, then I can’t fail.”

Caitlyn brings the car to a gentle halt at a red light. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because my big flaw as a person is I’m scared. I’m always scared that something is gonna happen to Powder, that I’m not gonna be good enough… When I was fighting, it finally felt like I was in control of the fear, like it couldn’t tear me down anymore.” Vi examines her hands, the knuckles still healing beneath the bandages. “I’m scared that I talk too much about myself, and you won’t want to be around me much more.”

“Vi…”

“So, I’m really trying to get to know you.” Vi looks up and into Cait’s eyes, which are unreadable. “It’s okay if you don’t want to share right now, or ever, or whatever, but just know I want to know, if and when you want to.”

Caitlyn seems about to answer when the car behind them honks, and she shifts the car forward through the green light.

Chapter Text

Caitlyn guides the car through the intersection, using traffic as a convenient example to not respond right away. She watches the approaching vehicles, glances in the rear view mirror, puts on the turn blinker, fiddles with the air conditioning, all while wondering why being open with someone is so unnatural to her.

Finally, Vi sighs a little and says, “Sorry if that like puts you on the spot. I don’t want to mess this up, so if that was like too much, just forget it, okay?”

“I do want to tell you.” Cait grips the steering wheel tightly. “I’m just not good at it.”

“I don’t expect perfect. I just want to know you. As much of you as you’ll give me.”

Rather than continue the drive to either of their homes, Caitlyn navigates to a small park and pulls into an empty spot facing the playground. Two kids, a boy and a girl, sprint around the pine chips and play structure. They take turns chasing back and forth until the boy trips on a shoelace and falls to the ground dramatically. The girl throws herself down next to him, and they spend the next few minutes making chip angels.

“My parents never explicitly said I had to be perfect,” Caitlyn starts. She sits very still, posture stiff and upright. “But I could tell, in the little looks and silent moments, that I wasn’t what they expected. I tried so hard to figure out what was wrong with me.”

Vi reaches across the distance to squeeze her knee. “Yeah?”

“I was fixated on being exactly right, and that didn’t endear me to others my age, which was fine by me. I didn’t need friends. I was too busy fixing what I thought were the problems about myself my parents didn’t like.”

“Was…” Vi hesitates and then tries again. “Was there actually anything wrong? Or was it just what you thought they thought?”

“As an adult, I can look back and see how my perception wasn’t reflective of reality, but at the time, I just knew I wasn’t right. No matter what. By the time I was a teenager, I had an obsession with control. I thought if I could just fully control myself, I could be what they wanted me to be.” She looks down at her hands. “I wasn’t healthy. And I couldn’t keep it going forever.”

“What happened?”

“When I was in high school, I confided in Jayce. He immediately told my parents, and I was forced into therapy. I needed it, but I hated him for a long time. I wasn’t set up well to be open with people in the first place, and since then, I’ve just… I haven’t let myself trust anyone. So, I want to talk to you, to tell you things, but I don’t have much practice.”

Vi sits for a few moments, breathing and watching her. “That’s a lot for one kid to deal with.”

“Yes, well… I have a few neuroses that could have been treated much earlier, but I’m beginning to suspect that the way that I am is the way I will be.”

Vi tilts her head. “Is that such a bad thing?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with the way you are now. You’re a good person.”

Cait thinks about the man she shot, the rules she broke, and the disappointment in Grayson’s face. She nibbles on her thumbnail and shakes her head. “I could be better. I can always be better.”

Vi opens and closes her mouth several times, as if she’s testing out different responses before settling on: “Well, yeah, we all can be better, but that doesn’t mean we can’t like where we’re at.”

Cait laughs. “I would love to suggest you listen to your own advice.”

“Listen, listen,” Vi says, lifting her hands in a placating manner. “This isn’t about me.”

The tension lingers in Cait’s shoulders as she works through having shared her secret with another living person. She feels somewhat emotionally tired, but when she sees Vi’s easy smile, she thinks she’ll be able to handle the recovery.

“I think you should really try at physical therapy,” she says finally. “You’re doing yourself a disservice if you don’t.”

“But–”

“Do you really want to live the rest of your life wondering what you could have had when you had the chance?”

“If I do, and that’s a big if, then you gotta do something for me.”

“Oh?”

“I actually try to regain use of my leg, and you try to like yourself more.”

“That’s not fair,” Cait retorts, but she smiles and extends her hand. “I can do that.”

Vi shakes but doesn’t let go. “Can I kiss you? Or is that like–”

Cait cuts her off by pulling her forward into an embrace. Their lips meet abruptly and then soften, Vi yielding to Cait’s initiative. Cait tangles her fingers in Vi’s hair and closes her eyes, determined to live in this moment as long as she can. She has so much to worry about, but everything stressful is so distant when Vi is pressed against her.

She draws back slightly and presses another smaller kiss to the side of Vi’s lips. When she looks up into Vi’s eyes, she notes how glazed they look. The pink-haired woman is flushed, and her lips are parted until she seems to snap back to the present and clears her throat.

“Right. Um. Yes.”

“For the record, you may kiss me whenever you’d like. I generally frown on overt displays of affection, but holding hands, small kisses, hugs–I like those very much.”

“Me, too,” Vi replies quickly.

“And perhaps this isn’t something that needs to be discussed, but I am not interested in seeing other people. I was hoping you would be amenable to making what we have monogamous.”

“You really like to have your ducks in a row, huh?”

“I value loyalty.”

“Yeah, I was going to make some jokes, but for real, I wasn’t planning on even looking at another woman even before this conversation.”

Cait restarts the car’s engine. “I think it’s best to have us both on the same page. I like you, Vi, and I think you like me, as well. I would like for us to be girlfriends.”

“So direct, damn. How am I supposed to be a dumb lesbian about this? I can’t go home and think about all the stuff you didn’t say and wonder if you’re flirting with me or just friendly, or if something is actually a date or just really good friends hanging out.” Vi sighs and shakes her head. “You’re really making it too easy for me to be gay.”

“I prefer that we keep communication open and honest.”

“Yeah, I can see that. I can dig it.”

“So, when we get you home, would you like any help with the exercises to prepare for physical therapy this week?”

Vi groans but nods. “Yeah, great. And I guess in return, I can tell you all the stuff I like about you, and you have to believe me. Otherwise, you’re breaking our deal, and I don’t have to try.”

“Very well.” Cait leans over to kiss Vi’s cheek once more before putting the car back into motion.

Chapter Text

Now that she’s committing to her therapy, Vi puts everything she has into each stretch and exercise. She lifts her foot until her muscles scream for rest, and then leans over to touch her toes until her nose plants against her knee. If she were alone, it might have been easier to slack off, but once a day, Caitlyn stops by her apartment with a take-out meal from some delicious eatery in the city or another and encourages her to keep going.

And to be honest, Vi wants to show off. She wants to be physically fit again so she can flex her arms or lift something heavy and make Caitlyn weak in the knees. Hell, she wants to be able to actually sweep the taller woman off her feet someday. That’s a real motivator, she finds, and all the more reason to work her ass off.

“You’re doing great,” Caitlyn says, sitting on the couch with her feet tucked under her. She has yet to sit normally in Vi’s home, but she seems so much more comfortable than in any other context Vi has seen so far. Her posture is still proper, but there’s no tension pushing her shoulders to her ears. She smiles more, too, and Vi lives to see the little gap in her teeth and the way her eyes light up. “Just one more set.”

Vi pushes through, her breath coming in hard gasps. “You owe me so many accepted and believed compliments.”

“I suppose it’s too late to change this little deal of ours.”

“Damn straight.” Vi grabs a nearby hand towel and wipes the back of her neck. She sweats a lot during these sessions, and sometimes, while she’s working, she’ll catch Caitlyn’s gaze drifting ever so slightly along her collarbone and farther south, presumably following the track of a bead of moisture. All the more reason to work hard. “So, yesterday, you had to hear all about how smart you are. What part of you today should I highlight?”

Caitlyn shifts slightly, her gaze more direct. “You know, all these times you’ve sung my praises, you’ve never once mentioned my body?”

“Uh…” Vi freezes, licks her lips, and then tries to find anything else in the room to pin her eyes on. It’s not that she doesn’t want to mention Cait’s physical features, just that it felt like a cop-out–like she’d be objectifying her girlfriend. So, yes, she’s avoided compliments that have nothing to do with who Caitlyn is. But there is a lot to lavish praise on, if she’s honest with herself.

“Tell me what you like about me.”

Vi only resists a moment longer before letting her gaze swing back to the couch. She watches Caitlyn settle against the cushions and swallows hard. Caitlyn always looks nice, but this afternoon, she’s got a silky-looking blouse that clings to the tops of her breasts like mountain snow before an avalanche. The navy color suits her and matches nicely with her gray slacks. She’s effortlessly beautiful, and Vi suddenly has too much to say about her looks.

“You’re hot,” is the only thing that escapes her lips at first, drawing a pleased little laugh out of Caitlyn. Then she flushes red and says, “What I mean is, you’ve got the best blue eyes I’ve ever seen, and you like look at me like you really see me. And your hair! Like, I don’t know what products you use, but it’s so long and shiny. I love your smile, too, especially when I can see your teeth. You don’t smile with teeth unless you’re comfortable, and I love that you do that all the time with me.

“And goddamn, I don’t know tall women are a thing for me, or if it’s just you, but it’s just hot, and then you wear those high-ass heels and you’re even taller?” Vi whistles. As her thoughts whirl about, she does her best to keep a level head. Still, thinking about Cait’s body awakens part of her that she usually keeps at bay. “And the heels? They really show off how good your legs look.”

After a moment, Caitlyn cocks an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize you were such a gentleman, Violet.”

She’s just trying to be respectful, but she shrugs and smiles. “There’s a lot to talk about.”

And then Caitlyn smoothly grips the hem of her blouse and pulls it over head, revealing a blue bra and an expanse of skin that makes Vi’s mouth water. “You really are dense, you know that?”

“What?”

Cait crosses the room and straddles Vi’s lap, which puts Vi’s face directly at chest level. “I’m trying to initiate an intimate moment, dear, and you’re too–too respectful to take the opportunity presented.”

Vi doesn’t think she can turn any redder. “I thought–”

“No need for that,” Caitlyn whispers, her mouth warm and near Vi’s ear. “I’ll be more direct. I need you to kiss me, Vi.”

Vi leans up and captures Caitlyn’s lips in a soft kiss, which quickly heats up. Her tongue delves into Cait’s mouth, and Cait whimpers against her. With Caitlyn’s blouse abandoned, she has easy access to trail her fingertips along her back, fingers catching momentarily on the straps of her bra. She’s not bold enough to remove the garment, but the possibility floods her belly with warmth.

She shifts her mouth to press wet kisses to Cait’s jaw and down, loving how Cait tosses her head back. Even with her mouth staying active, she watches the woman seated on her lap as best she can, trying to treasure this time she gets to see Caitlyn coming undone, in ways very few other people have.

Her hands slide lower to grab Caitlyn’s hips, her grip a little tighter than necessary, but her bruising strength seems to drive Cait all the more wild. Caitlyn looks down at her with pupils blown dark and wide and then grips the hem of her tank top.

“Can I?”

Vi lifts her arms temporarily to allow the shirt to be yanked up and off, unashamed of her bare chest beneath. Her breasts are small and heavy with more muscle than fat, but Caitlyn doesn’t seem to care. She palms them both and pinches her fingers on Vi’s nipples, which harden immediately.

“Cait…”

“I knew you’d be gorgeous,” Cait whispers. “Perfect.”

“That’s your gig, babe,” Vi retorts. She’s fine with how her body looks, but it’s nowhere near as fit as she used to be before the fight. “You’re like… what’s more perfect than perfect?”

Caitlyn laughs, rolling Vi’s nipples in her fingers to evoke a heated groan. “I’m afraid you’ve fried your brain.”

“I didn’t do shit. You melted it, okay?” Vi attacks Cait’s neck and collar with renewed vigor, as if to prove how much she does love Cait’s body. Carefully, and with enough hesitation to allow Cait time to say no, she pulls one cup of Cait’s bra away, revealing a dusky nipple at the right height to pop straight into her mouth. She wastes no time.

Cait’s hands fly to her head, tangling in the long hair available on one side and scratching Vi’s scalp on the other. Vi bites down gently and drags her teeth across the pliant flesh in her mouth before swapping to the other breast and giving it the same treatment. There’s a symphony of noises coming from Cait that she wants to hear forever, and the tugging on her hair is doing it for her more than she ever expected. She tries to imagine going down on Cait and having her hair pulled, and her arousal spikes even higher.

She moves her mouth around, biting, licking, and kissing everywhere she can reach, daring only once to apply enough suction to leave a discrete mark. They haven’t talked about boundaries, yet, but she wants to respect that not everyone is cool with visible hickies. She takes her sweet time painting the canvas of Cait’s chest, and she’s rewarded at long last with another searing kiss.

But all good things must end, and regretfully, Cait draws back. She cups Vi’s cheek and beams down at her. “You’re amazing, you know that, right?”

“Right back at you, babe.”

Cait twists her lips. “I’m not a fan of babe. Once, I’ll let slide, but I don’t want it to become a thing.”

“You don’t like pet names?”

“I could be convinced to, but definitely not ‘babe.’”

Vi pulls her in for one last kiss. “I’ll come up with something. Kitten?”

She gets a light smack for her impudence. “Try again.”

Chapter Text

Caitlyn attends one more talk with the sheriff ahead of her questioning about the incident. She feels like she’s on trial, even though the district attorney long ago decided not to press charges against her given the circumstances. Her heart hammers with anxiety, and each step she takes weighs more and more until she’s barely moving.

Grayson assures her that as long as she sticks to what they talked about, she’ll be fine, but her mind races through all the possibilities, particularly the ones that end with her reputation in the garbage and her career essentially over.

Honestly, losing her job would not set her back financially. She could rebound from this and be none the worse off. But emotionally, being let go was tantamount to being fired. If she were asked to step down, she would have failed, and Caitlyn Kiramman never fails.

All she wants is to be alone somewhere so she can focus entirely on making sure she has the details precisely ordered in her mind the way she needs to say them. She needs to center herself and actually get some sleep–but she’s fairly sure that rest is going to be hard to find that evening.

Still, when Vi calls her half an hour into her brooding, she instinctively answers.

“Hey, honey-bunny.”

“No.”

“Hm, okay, I’ll mark that one off the list.” Vi takes a moment, probably to pretend to do just that. “How about sweetie?”

“Are you my father?”

“No, but I can try being your Daddy, if you want.”

“Violet.”

“Wait, are you my mother?”

Caitlyn rolls her eyes, feeling lighter in spite of herself. “Why are you calling?”

“Don’t really have a reason. Just sorta wanted to hear how your day is going. If that’s okay? You sound stressed.”

“I am,” she admits quietly. “I have this… this thing tomorrow afternoon. I’m very in my head about it all.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“Fair. Do you want me to leave you alone for now?”

“No.” The answer comes quickly, and Caitlyn realizes she’s spoken truly. She honestly doesn’t want Vi to stop talking to her, despite thinking she ought to be alone.

“I can tell you about my day, if you want.”

“Please.”

“Vander came by with Powder to see how my exercising is going. He didn’t get on me about fighting again, so that was hella nice. I think maybe Powder told him to knock it off. He said he was proud of my progress, which was weird but also nice? Like, I never thought he wasn’t proud of me, but hearing it was nice.”

“That sounds like a lovely morning.”

“It was until Powder decided she was making lunch. I’m not sure what she was trying to make, but the outcome definitely had a very smoky flavor. My apartment still smells like burning.”

“Would you like to come to my place for the evening? Escape the smell?”

There’s a moment of quiet. “I, uh, don’t think I can get there. Powder’s busy, and I’m not comfortable calling for a ride share.”

“I’ll come get you. It’s no bother.”

“Are you sure? If you’re already stressed out, I don’t want to make it worse. And then you’d have to drive me back again later tonight.”

“You won’t make anything worse, I promise.” Cait pushes hair behind her ear and smiles shyly. “And, if you wanted, you could stay the night.”

“Wow.”

“I have no expectations, mind you, but it would be nice to have a distraction. If you’d rather go home at the end, I will gladly drive you. I just wanted you to have options.”

“Um, yeah, I think that’d be cool.” Vi groans. “Please don’t think I’m lame.”

“I think you’re cute,” Cait replies.

“And you’re sweet, pookie.”

“No.”

“Off the list.” Vi laughs. “See you soon.”

§-§-§

Vi promptly makes herself at home, shifting from her wheelchair to the couch. She’s been more brazen lately and confident with moving her body around. Caitlyn is so pleased to see Vi nestled among her throw pillows. She brings a few drinks to the coffee table and settles in next to the other woman with a soft exhale.

“So, how can I help you relax?”

Caitlyn reaches for the remote and flips the television atop the entertainment center on. She changes the input to a movie streaming service and hands the remote to Vi.

“Find something to watch while I rub your back.”

“Wait, why rub my back? I’m s’posed to help you feel better, not the other way around.”

“I need something to keep my hands busy.” Cait stretches her fingers out. She’s restless, and she imagines that the repetitive motion of massaging Vi will help bring her mind some peace and quiet. As an additional bonus, she also gets proximity to the other woman, which also acts like a weighted blanket on her soul.

“I was gonna make a bad joke, but I’m too excited about a back rub. Just pretend I said something flirty about how to keep your hands busy.” 

Vi wiggles a little and turns a bit so her back is more accessible to Cait. She sorts through movies quickly and puts on an animated flick about dinosaurs that Cait has never heard of. She doesn’t pay much attention to the screen, though, so even as the movie progresses, she can’t say she’s picked up on any of the details.

She works her hand first along Vi’s shoulders. There’s a bunch of taut musculature there, and her neck is strong. Cait digs her fingers in deeply until she hears a slight hiss of pain from Vi, who follows up with a: “Itsa good hurt.” She turns her hand so her thumb can apply pressure at the juncture where Vi’s neck meets her shoulders, first one side and then the other, and the same pleased hiss escapes Vi.

Knowing she’s causing a mild amount of pain, she leans in after her hand moves on to press small kisses to the inflamed skin, hoping to soothe the damage. This causes a sharp inhale, and Vi’s fists bunch against her thighs. Cait continues, torturing and relieving in turn until Vi is a limp noodle in her lap.

“You should quit being an officer,” Vi murmurs, her eyes half-closed. “You’d make a killing as a masseuse.”

“Only for you,” she replies softly. She kisses the base of Vi’s neck and wraps her arm around Vi’s middle. “But I might need to think about a new job.”

Vi hesitates and then asks, “Why?”

“I’m under investigation. After I was injured, I returned fire. My attacker… he was pronounced dead on the scene once emergency services arrived.”

“Okay, but why a new job?”

Caitlyn buries her face in Vi’s back. It’s easier to talk about when she doesn’t have to face anyone. “There’s always an investigation when an officer uses a firearm, but the sheriff believes there are members of the force interested in removing me because I challenge their status quo.”

“What the hell?”

“If I don’t get through this interview tomorrow, I will very likely be facing charges.” Fear wells in Caitlyn’s stomach. She hasn’t let herself dwell on the possibility before, but now, her mind spirals.

“Is that why you asked me over? You think this is, what, like your last day as a free person?”

Cait shakes her head, pauses, and then nods. “Maybe? I thought I wanted to be alone, but then, you called. I realized that I didn’t want to be alone by myself. I wanted to be alone with you.”

Vi turns suddenly and pulls her into a tight hug. “Cait, whatever you need, I’m here. Do you need a character witness? An alibi? A distraction so you can make a getaway? Whatever it is, I’ll do it.”

“You’re very sweet, Vi, but that’s all very illegal. I just need you here, right now.”

“I’ll stay right here as long as you want, cupcake.”

Chapter Text

Vi wakes up slowly, feeling groggy and a bit out of place. The lighting isn’t what she’s used to, and she has to blink a few times before she remembers that she stayed over at Caitlyn’s for the evening. Sleeping in bed with Caitlyn had her heart pounding hard the night before, and her blood is practically singing when she rolls over and finds Caitlyn still sleeping peacefully beside her.

A quick glance at the alarm clock on Cait’s bedside table reveals it’s half past five in the morning, which is when she used to rise to start exercising. Even though she’s not on the same schedule, her internal routine has been hard to recalibrate. When she’s alone, it’s irritating to wake up like this. Right now, though, she takes the moment to soak in the moment. Cait asleep is adorable, and she reaches for her phone to take a quick picture for her wallpaper.

“G’back to sleep,” Cait whispers without opening her eyes. “Too early.”

Vi kisses her forehead and murmurs, “Shhh…”

“Mmm.” Cait opens an eye further. “D’you take a picture?”

“Don’t worry. It’s cute.”

“‘m always cute.”

“Can’t argue with that.” Vi brushes hair from Cait’s cheek. “Don’t let me keep you awake.”

“You’re warm.”

“You’re pretty observant in the morning, aren’t you?”

Caitlyn shifts forward to kiss her, and she eagerly accepts the affection, cupping Cait’s cheek with one hand. The other woman’s mouth is soft and pliant, and Vi sucks gently on her lower lip. Caitlyn moans and grabs her shirt, tangling a fist in the cotton fabric. Cautiously, Vi moves her hand to Cait’s hip, ferreting her fingers around the cloth barrier and lighting on taut skin.

When there are no objections, she explores the planes of Cait’s stomach, paying close attention to the way Cait twitches beneath her featherlight touch. She moves her mouth to Cait’s cheek and beyond, leaving a thorough trail of wet kisses along Cait’s sharp jawline.

“Mm, Vi…”

Vi moves her hand higher, finally brushing the underside of her breasts. Cait presses forward into her grasp, and Vi drags her fingers over the hardening peak. She nests her mouth below Cait’s ear.

“Is this okay?” She breathes in Cait’s scent, trying to commit every sensory detail to memory. This feels like the energy right before a referee calls the start to a match, precious and delicate and totally outside reality.

“Oh, Vi…” Caitlyn wraps her good arm around Vi’s neck and holds her close. “Please, don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” Vi replies, pulling back to make better eye contact. She could stare into those bright blue depths forever. “But I need to know what you want, what you don’t. How far you’re comfortable going.”

“I want you. As far as you want.” Caitlyn is almost trembling, and Vi isn’t sure she should continue. But she doesn’t want to pretend that she knows what Cait wants better than Cait herself.

Vi kisses her again and then shifts down her body. She has to shift her busted leg gingerly as she moves, but she wants to lavish attention on Cait’s breasts with her tongue. Cait drags her own top up to assist, and Vi nips her skin gently as a thank you. Caitlyn ruffles her hair fondly, and Vi spends a few minutes acquainting herself with Cait’s middle. She feels out every bump and ridge as the cool morning air pebbles Cait’s chest with gooseflesh, made all the colder by the moisture left behind by her tongue.

When Vi sends a tentative hand under the waistband of her pajama pants and panties, Cait stiffens considerably and breathes heavier. Vi hopes this is excitement rather than anxiety, so she stills her hand.

“Still okay?”

“Mmyes.” She presses her head back against the pillows, lip caught between her teeth. “Please.”

Relieved, Vi explores further. Caitlyn’s arousal has made her skin slick, and Vi eagerly finds her way to Cait’s clit. With the ample lubrication, her fingers might as well be on a slip-and-slide, and her first graze of the hardened nub draws a loud, strained cry from Cait. From there, Vi takes her time, teasing out a veritable symphony of noises that will live rent-free in her head for a lifetime. By the time she nudges her middle finger inside, Cait is on the verge of crying, her hand holding so hard to Vi’s shoulder that it hurts.

Vi takes her time, keeping a gentle pace alternating between pushing a finger deep inside and massaging Cait’s clit until her partner is crying out in short, breathy syllables, hinting at desperate words. Vi collects them all. As she pushes Caitlyn toward climax, she returns her mouth to Cait’s, resuming a passionate kiss in which she pours all her adoration.

Cait’s orgasm is long and rolling, her walls tightening wildly around Vi’s finger and her teeth biting down on Vi’s tongue almost too hard. Vi loves the abuse, the same way she loves the physical cost of fighting. It’s almost self-destructive, the way she craves the pain, toeing the line between the extremity of her limits and going too far. Usually, she can reign herself back in. Her leg is evidence of her imperfection, and she worries only momentarily that sex with Caitlyn will be another weakness.

She slowly draws her fingers out before bringing them to her mouth. Caitlyn whimpers as she cleans each digit with her tongue. She’s never been prone to addiction before, but this taste and these feelings already make her crave more.

Sadly, she’s burned through most of their morning, and there are only a few minutes before the alarm would ring. She sighs and flops down next to Caitlyn once more. “Are you ready to get up?”

Caitlyn laughs. “You truly know how to wake a girl up.”

“Nah, I bet I could do better.” Vi cuddles closer. “But I just wanted to start your day right. I know it’s gonna be stressful. Are you sure you don’t want me to come with?”

“I can do this,” Caitlyn replies. She wipes her forehead and then rests the back of her arm across her head. “But I wouldn’t mind seeing you afterward.”

“You know where I’ll be.”

“Thank you.” Cait hesitates like she wants to say more, but nothing else is forthcoming. She shakes her head, sits up, and slips out of bed. She stabilizes the wheelchair so Vi can transfer over and then heads to the bathroom to prepare for her day.

§-§-§

By noon, Vi is on her own again and feeling useless around the apartment. She’s already completed her daily exercise for therapy, which has become easy, and the boredom creeps in. She wants to text Cait to check in, but she doesn’t want to interrupt. She just needs to be patient.

Instead, she shoots Vander a message, and he responds quickly with a thumbs up to her request. An hour later, he knocks at her door and lets himself in.

“Didn’t think I’d be hearing from you,” he says, his face neutral but his eyes glinting with a mirth that belies his expression. “Least not about something like this.”

“Can you do it?”

He nods, jerking a thumb toward the rolling cart he dragged in behind him. “Shouldn’t take too long. I know you didn’t ask for an old man’s opinion, but this is a good step, kid.”

Vi rolls her eyes. “I just need something to do.”

“Yeah, I’m sure it has nothing to do with missing boxing.”

“Whatever.” Vi folds her arms over her chest and huffs. “I thought maybe on the wall in the bedroom.”

He brings his supplies, and she follows after. They bicker lightly about the exact location, and then he hefts a power drill to set the screws in place. Over the course of the next half hour, Vi feels like maybe she isn’t the huge disappointment to him that she thought she was.

He finishes the installation and goes to get a broom and dustpan to clean up the debris. Then, he gestures for her to roll closer.

“Give it a try.”

She takes a deep breath and lifts her hands. The speed bag hangs at her eye level while seated, and she’s done this a million times before. But there’s still anxiety holding her back. Vander touches her shoulder.

“Fear keeps us from what we really want. Vi, no matter what happens in the future, or what happened before, none of that matters. Maybe you fight again. Maybe you don’t. But I want you to make that call, kid, not fear.”

She swallows past the lump in her throat and throws her first punch.

Chapter Text

Vi doesn’t hear from Cait by the end of the day.

At the end of working hours, she shoots a quick text to check in and then sets her phone down, determined not to cling too much or be too demanding. But when evening falls, and the sun is long below the horizon, she sends another. Finally, she sends one right before bed.

She goes to sleep worried that something’s happened. She wakes every hour or so to check the phantom buzz of her phone, but the only text she gets is from Powder, who sends her a picture of a kitten in a wizard hat followed by three question marks and an exclamation mark at 3:48 am.

At half six, she drags herself through her morning routine and at just after seven, she calls. It goes to voicemail.

Endless horrible possibilities race through her mind. Cait in a car accident. Cait being mugged. Cait falling off a cliff. Cait hitting her head and getting amnesia. She knows that more than likely, Cait is merely tending to her own needs, and Vi is just a new friend, so she keeps her anxiety at bay with some breathing exercises.

For the first few days, the excuse is convincing enough. But on the morning of the third day of no contact, she realizes how stupid she’s being. She’s got no reason to believe anything at all has happened. In fact, it’s more likely than not that her being such a pest is why Caitlyn is avoiding her now. The interview about the incident probably went well, Caitlyn got her job back, and now there’s no reason to spend her time with Vi.

Vi wheels herself morosely over to the punching bag and does a few lackluster rounds. She wishes desperately to be back on her feet so she could go a few practice rounds in the ring. One of the reasons she loves MMA is it requires her entire focus. There’s no space for self-doubt in the ring, not unless she wants to eat fists for every meal.

There’s got to be a way to get into that mindset. She looks around her apartment, as if the idea is hiding behind the couch cushions. She’s at a loss, however. Prior to this moment, she’s never considered a hobby other than punching things. She’s never needed to.

The way she figures it, she can either sit around the apartment feeling bad about herself–not ideal–or she can go out and find something to occupy her time and her mind. Staying inside is tempting, she has to admit. She thinks back to the weeks after the injury, when it was safe and comfortable to marinate in her misery.

No, she doesn’t want to backslide into that territory. So, she makes her way out to the street and starts a journey down the block. Pushing her chair feels good, and after half a mile, her arms begin to feel the muscle use. She smiles genuinely, realizing that part of what she’s been missing is how it feels to truly push her body to its limits. She can’t reach the same heights as before, or maybe not in the same ways, but she can still refine the tool that is her body.

She decides to try and travel two miles as fast as she can in the chair. Fishing her phone from her pocket, she selects the maps application and a timer, and then, she starts wheeling like she’s in a short distance race. Her shoulders burn, and sweat beads down her temples, and for the first time in months, she feels goddamn alive.

She rides that high for the rest of the day. Her body hurts in the best way, and when she goes to bed that night, she actually sleeps. She has no dreams, and when she wakes up sore, she’s excited. When Powder calls to ask about going to lunch, she’s actually awake, dressed, and ready to go–much to her sister’s surprise.

“Did you get into drugs?” Powder demands, arms folded as she stands beside her van. “You know you have to share.”

“I’m not on drugs, Pow. I’m just feeling good. Is that illegal now or something?”

“You banged her, didn’t you?”

“Powder!”

“Why else would you practically be skipping?” Powder glances at the wheelchair. “Well, not skipping. You know what I mean.”

“I basically ran a few miles yesterday. I wheel’d it.” Vi flexes her right arm, the bicep swelling proudly. “Check this shit!”

“You’ve always had baseballs there. Y’know what would really impress me?” Powder hurries her into the van and secures her chair. “If you had really well developed toe muscles. Like you could rip a phonebook in half with your grippers.”

“You really are a freak, you know that?”

“I wouldn’t be the only one if you’d just train those piggies.”

They eat lunch together, and Vi feels like she might be finding herself again. Maybe it isn’t fighting that defines her, but being athletic. And she can work her body in a million different ways other than stepping back into the octagon. When Powder drops her off at home afterward, she hugs Vi tightly.

“I’m glad you’re less of a bummer now.”

“Yeah, fuck you, too, sis.” She clings a little tighter for a moment longer before pushing Powder away. “Now go bother someone else.”

For the next few days, she starts her mornings off with a two mile “run,” and each day, she gets a little faster. She can breathe a little easier, too, and she’s starting to appreciate the scenery around her as she goes. She’s never really noticed the buildings around her neighborhood. It’s always just been the place she goes to crash, but there’s some nice architecture and a few little cafes and shops she wants to stop in at some point.

When she arrives back at her apartment on the seventh day of silence, she’s drenched in sweat and feeling amazing. She almost doesn’t notice the car at her curb or the woman leaning against her door. Cait looks small now, hunched and morose. Vi wipes the sweat from her eyes and tries to kickstart her brain again.

“Uh, hi?”

Cait peers up, and Vi can see how red-rimmed and glassy her eyes are. When she speaks, her voice is just barely louder than a raspy whisper. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah, sure.” Vi nudges her door open. “I was gonna wash up quick, if that’s okay. I’m a little dirty.”

Cait nods and sits on the couch, pressing her knees together and keeping her hands on her lap. “Don’t let me interrupt your day.”

“You aren’t.” Vi flushes. “I’m actually really glad to see you.”

“Even after…”

“Yeah. Just gimme a few, okay? Then we can talk.”

Vi leaves her there, looking like the shed skin of a snake. She spends a bit more time in the bathroom than necessary, although her bathing does take significantly longer than it used to anyway. But she takes her time to mentally prepare for whatever they were about to talk about. She’s not angry at Caitlyn for the silence, just at herself for assuming they were closer than they obviously were. Maybe she went too far that morning she’d touched Cait for the first time, and that had put her off.

After she’s as clean as she can get and there’s nothing left to delay her, she dresses in a fresh pair of gym shorts and a tank top, pulls herself back into the chair, and returns to the living room. She’s a little surprised that Caitlyn is still right there. She doesn’t look like she’s even breathed since Vi rolled away.

“You want something to drink?”

“Water, please.”

Vi fetches a glass, mind still whirring a mile a minute. She returns, hands the drink over, and then tries not to look too expectant. After a moment, she asks, “So, what brings you around?”

“I wanted to talk.”

“I got that much.”

Caitlyn’s body language is tight and closed-off, her eyes focused downward. She looks stiffer than the metal rod in Vi’s leg.

“I wanted first to apologize for how I haven’t been very responsive lately.”

That’s an understatement, and Vi nearly makes a snide remark. However, she senses this might not be the best choice, so she bites it back in favor of replying, “Don’t need to apologize. We all have our own shit. You don’t owe me anything.”

“I do. I owe you so much more than an apology, Vi, I just…” Cait reaches up and rubs her eyes. When she looks up, Vi can practically see the exhaustion dragging her shoulders down.

“Can I stop you for a second?”

Cait nods slowly. “Of course.”

“Scoot.” Vi shoos her, and she hesitantly scoots a few inches down the couch. Vi makes the awkward transition from chair to sofa and then slings an arm around Cait’s shoulders, pulling the taller woman flush to her.

Cait crumples against her, all the tension releasing from her system in a small, hiccuping sob. She clutches Vi’s tank and hides her face. For several minutes, Cait cries quietly, shoulders shaking. She sniffles eventually and apologizes yet again.

“What’s eating you? Is this about your work thing?”

“Yes.”

“You wanna tell me about it?”

“How are you being this nice to me?”

Vi shrugs. “It stung, yeah, but I figured you had a reason or whatever, and you’re your own person. I wasn’t ever angry at you. So why start now?”

Cait shakes her head. “You’re very weird, do you know that?”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that a few times now.” Vi sets a hand on her thigh. “So, you gonna keep changing the subject, or will you tell me what’s up?”

Chapter Text

Caitlyn wishes she’d been born with natural charisma, that she’d been raised to speak openly and honestly about her feelings. But the truth is, she learned nothing from her parents except to keep things private, show no weakness, and rely only on herself. So, as much as she wants to vent everything to Vi, she’s stuck yet again with a mess in her mind and no words.

“Let’s start small,” Vi offers. “Yes or no, your interview went well.”

“No.”

Vi nods. “Gotcha. Yes or no, you lost your job.”

“No.” She hesitates. “Yes? Maybe.”

“You might lose your job.”

“Yes.”

This proceeds for half an hour as Vi slowly narrows down the facts. Doing things this way is strange but comforting. Vi has removed the onus from her to elaborate, so she doesn’t have to get tripped up on how to say what she means.

“You feel good about yourself right now.”

She tries to keep her voice steady, but her breath hitches. “No.”

Vi clutches her close once more and holds her with an almost bruising tightness. The pressure is grounding, and Cait relaxes into the embrace. She inhales Vi’s scent, fresh and clean from the bathing, and presses her face once more into her tank. Vi lets her stay there for much longer than she expected, sitting in silence other than the roughness of her breathing and the occasional sniffle.

She finds her voice somewhere, buried deep. “I’m a Kiramman. I’m not supposed to fail.”

Vi’s grip doesn’t loosen as she leans closer to brush a soft kiss to her temple. “Maybe you should rethink what winning looks like. I definitely thought fighting was the thing for me, so my leg break was ruining my whole life. But like, I sorta found out that there’s other ways to feel good. I’ve been running? Or like the wheelchair version of running? A couple miles a day.”

“I’m so happy for you,” Cait manages to whisper.

“And I was thinking, like, maybe it isn’t fighting that makes me happy. Maybe it’s just feeling good in my body? Working out and getting strong, whatever form that takes.” Vi shrugs. “So, maybe you should think about why you wanted to be in law enforcement in the first place.”

Sad to break the embrace but wanting to take the question seriously, Cait sits back and taps her chin thoughtfully. This sort of discussion is emotionally safer than before, so finding the right words is much easier.

“I wanted to protect people and to serve justice.”

“And be real with me, is that what you ended up doing?”

“Well… sort of.” Cait shakes her head slowly. “Mostly, I think? At least, I tried to personally. Not all of my colleagues had the same ideals.”

“What do you mean?”

“For some, it just seemed like a paycheck. Others liked the power of the role. Only a few of us were there for peace keeping, in its truest meaning.”

Vi sits for a moment, ruminating. She runs her hand down Cait’s leg, pausing to squeeze her knee. “Have you ever thought about doing anything else that does the same sort of thing? Like maybe social work? Or maybe law?”

“My mother wishes I went into politics. She says I could shape the future into a more just vision that way. But I dreamed of the uniform since I was a child.”

“Sometimes dreams can change and that’s not bad. When I was a kid, I wanted to be a ninja. Not a whole lot of opportunities for that here, huh? I mean, I could have moved to Ionia and studied martial arts and maybe made it happen, but I think I ended up in an okay spot, don’t you?”

“Yes. You’re wonderful.” She loves seeing Vi light up at the praise and makes a mental note to offer positive feedback more often. “But I’m not ready to give up on this.”

“Do you feel ready to tell me more about what happened?”

Steeling herself, Cait nods. “The interview went poorly, but not because of anything I said or did. I think it was doomed to go this way from the start, regardless of what strings the sheriff pulled for me. They offered me two choices at the end. I could resign from my position voluntarily or I could accept a transfer to a desk job.”

“Wait, for real? I’ve seen the news before. Officers have killed people before, and they never get fired over it.”

“I’m struggling to determine if my emotions are coloring my view of reality or if there’s something more sinister at play.” Caitlyn finds a hangnail on her thumb and scratches at it. She focuses there so she doesn’t have to look up while she speaks. “The man I shot was involved in a child trafficking ring, one that has been operating out of Zaun for nearly a decade as far as I can tell. But nobody talks about it.”

“I didn’t even know kids were going missing,” Vi admits. “Vander was always really pushy about me and Powder staying close and telling him where we’d be and all, but I thought he was just taking the whole adoptive father thing seriously.”

“There’s only been one news article about the kidnappings, and the writer later detracted his statements. I believe someone with power and money is involved, and after my interview, I’m afraid someone with law enforcement is, too. But I just don’t know. Maybe I’m too close. Maybe I’m chasing shadows.”

“I don’t think you’re wrong. You’re thorough, cupcake. You’re dedicated and smart, and a million other great things. What I mean is you don’t seem like the kinda person who chases bullshit. If something feels wrong, I believe you.”

Something heavy lifts off Caitlyn’s chest, and she draws back to better look into Vi’s eyes. “You think I’m right?”

“One hundred percent. That shit’s fishy as hell.”

“This whole week, I thought I needed to be alone to deal with this, to make my decision about which option to select. I thought I was supposed to suffer by myself.” She shakes her head slowly. “But where would I be if I had just come to you in the first place?”

“Maybe you wouldn’t have been ready to talk about it. We could what-if last week to death if you wanted to, but I’d rather look at what we can do today and tomorrow and the day after that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Obviously, we can’t just let this go. I don’t care if you’re an officer or not. There’s no way in hell I want to let some skeezelord steal kids from Zaun just because some fat cats are okay with it.” There’s a fire burning in Vi’s eyes, and it’s catching Caitlyn’s spirits aflame again as well. “We’ll do this together, and find those assholes, and rip them some new assholes.”

“We won’t have back up.”

“Don’t care.”

“I might be wrong.”

“You aren’t.”

“You could get hurt.”

“I know.”

Caitlyn can’t think of any other warnings, and Vi is staring at her with such ferocity. She melts a little and leans in for a chaste kiss. Vi cups her cheeks, drawing her in closer. This is so much nicer than the pity she’d wallowed in for a week, and she’s never experienced this sort of support before. She wraps her arms around Vi’s neck and decides she's never letting go.

Chapter Text

Vi feels like there’s electricity in her blood as she holds Caitlyn close. She’s invigorated in an unfamiliar way, that still somehow seems comfortable. She’s not great at abstracts, where she can’t see the way forward or what she needs to do, but this is more concrete. Caitlyn has a problem, and she can help find the solution.

“So, what do you know?” She pauses and backtracks. “Well, first can you tell me what happened when you got shot? I know it’s probably not your favorite memory, but I think I should know.”

Caitlyn folds in against her, seeming so much smaller. “It was in the industrial district, at a bottling plant. I’d received a tip that the location served as a transfer point for trafficking. The likelihood of recovering a kidnapping victim drastically reduces after being moved, so I knew it was my best shot at finding the most recent child.”

“Were you alone?”

“The desk sergeant knew where I was. He… he had given me explicit orders not to go in.” Cait cringes, hiding her face in Vi’s chest. “But I caught sight of the child through a window, being pulled along by two captors. I couldn’t let him disappear.”

Vi strokes her back. “Obviously not. That’s crazy.”

“I disobeyed orders and entered the building alone. I found them in a garage, where one man had already entered and started a van. The other was about to load the child in the back when I drew my weapon and announced my presence. I couldn’t let the child be placed in the van, so I fired a warning shot. The driver spooked and sped off, leaving the man and child.

“The man drew his own weapon and fired at me. Either his aim wasn’t great or he wasn’t aiming to kill, but the bullet hit my right arm and became lodged in the humerus. I returned fire and unfortunately ended his life.”

“And the kid?”

“He was very upset but alive.”

Vi frowns. “So, I don’t get it. Why’d they give you a shitty ultimatum about maybe losing your job? You saved a kid, right?”

“Supposedly I have ruined a multi-year investigation into this trafficking ring. My actions alerted the ring to the involvement of law enforcement, and I have potentially endangered numerous other lives as now even our informants are too scared to talk.”

Caitlyn has thought over the facts again and again, and she’s painfully certain there was no investigation going on other than her own. The story she’s been fed just feels fictitious, like the details had been concocted just to paint her in a worse light. She knows in her heart that she made the right choice, but now, heavy doubts linger–did she throw everything away for one child?

Vi leans back in thought and shakes her head. Her hand remains around Cait’s back, fingers still tracing absentminded patterns against her shirt. “Nah, that’s bullshit.”

“Excuse me?”

“I can see you getting all up in your head about this. But what would have happened to that kid if you hadn’t done something?”

Cait swallows roughly. “He would have gone into a terrible system of abuse from which there is relatively no chance of escape.”

“Cait, you literally saved a kid from probably the worst case scenario. I’m sorry, but fuck this made up situation where there are other people who might get into danger because of what you did. I’d choose a real life kid over imaginary victims any day.”

Something large and weighty in Caitlyn’s chest cracks open and starts to dissolve. She stares at Vi for a few silent moments, processing what’s been said. Has she been thinking about this incorrectly? She’s been so wrapped up in the consequences for her career that she hasn’t stopped to think about the future she’s provided for the child she saved. Without her action, he wouldn’t have his family back. He might not have lived much longer, either.

Tears prick at her eyes, and she tries to keep from crying all over again. But Vi’s arms around her are strong and comforting, and she can’t help but sniffle and break down once more. Vi kisses the crown of her head over and over, and she weeps until she’s afraid she’s dehydrated her body’s entire supply of moisture.

“Lemme get you a glass of water,” Vi says, seeming to read her mind. “Just gimme a sec.”

She transfers herself back to her wheelchair with increasing grace and heads into the kitchen. Cait listens to the gentle clink of glass, the splash and flow of water in the sink, and the creak of weight moving back across the ground. Then, Vi is in front of her, offering her a drink. She accepts the glass and downs the entirety. Vi quietly repeats her mission, filling the cup once more and returning.

“I apologize. That was unbecoming–”

“You needed it,” Vi interrupts. “And I don’t think less of you for crying. D’you know how often I cry? A lot. Just not in front of people. Your body needs it sometimes. So, go ahead and cry. I’ve got tissues if you need ‘em.”

“It’s just you understand.” Cait sips the second glass of water much more slowly and keeps her eyes on Vi’s the whole time. “This whole time, everyone has been so focused on the negative consequences, I let myself forget about the child. The whole reason I interfered.”

“I think you’ve had too many people dripping poison in your ear.”

“And I ate it up.”

The defeat in her tone causes Vi to wheel closer. “Stop it. Beating yourself up isn’t going to fix anything. It just means you let them win.”

“I don’t know how to stop,” Cait admits.

“First step is to admit I’m right.”

Cait rolls her eyes. “Okay, you’re right.”

“Great. Since I’m right about everything, and you’ve admitted that, you can trust me when I say you did a great thing helping that kid. Now all we gotta do is put together the pieces for the bigger puzzle, stop the trafficking ring, and get you your job back. Easy, right?”

Vi grins as Caitlyn flops back on the sofa. Cait has to admit Vi’s logic isn’t complete nonsense, and she appreciates the simplicity. There’s little time to drown herself in doubt if she’s taking actionable steps forward. She stares at the ceiling until she can convince herself Vi is completely right.

“So, how much info did you get about the ring before and after that night?”

Cait straightens up, her brain finally catching on this new strand of conversation. Her doubts vanish as her strategic mind whirs into gear. “I have a file in my desk at work, but they were very insistent that I not access it after the incident.”

“Not that I’m suggesting breaking into a police station to get your work back, but…”

“I may have kept a copy of everything on a personal computer and in documents at my apartment.” Cait looks down at her hands, embarrassed. “Which is highly illegal.”

“Oh no! I’ve been a terrible influence on you.”

“Vi, this started before we met.”

“I’m just that potent.”

Recognizing the loosening of tension as Vi’s ultimate goal, Cait laughs lightly at Vi’s unsubtle wink. She decides there’s no harm in relying on Vi, or in believing she made the right choice at the warehouse. Pulling on Vi’s shirt to drag her forward, she rewards Vi with a searing kiss that derails any attempt they might have made to collect information and move forward.

§-§-§

Vi seems particularly devoted to her as they retire to the bedroom. As soon as she’s out of her chair and into the bed, she takes her time peeling Caitlyn out of her clothes. It’s a slow and methodical process, and Vi kisses each bit of skin revealed to her with something approaching reverence.

Cait lets her worship, although she still doesn’t think she’s worthy. She lays back and shifts only to help Vi remove her garments, such as lifting her hips to ease off her trousers and panties. Vi strips as well, but she’s much less careful with her own clothes, which end up in an untidy pile on the ground.

Vi slides against her, and Cait sinks into the feeling of bare skin on bare skin, the heat of Vi’s body warming her heart as well as her limbs. She holds Vi’s shoulders as they kiss, moving her hand up to rub the shaved half of her head and down to trace patterns on the expanse of her back. There is no rush to their coming together. After her own bouts of physical therapy, she's able to grip Vi's hip, a fact for which she's very grateful.

Cait lets Vi take control for the time being, feeling utterly selfish for needing this to recenter and rebuild herself. She wants to see herself through Vi’s eyes, see the strong and attractive woman she must look like. The way Vi seems to view her, she is more human.

Vi kisses her neck gently and ducks lower to nibble on her collarbone. She closes her eyes in response, mouth parting in a small sigh. She feels rather than sees Vi’s path down her body, and her spirit soars as Vi coaxes her through the gentlest orgasm of her life. She’s not sure what she’s done right to deserve Vi, but she never wants to lose her.

§-§-§

Vi stares at the ceiling for some time while Caitlyn sleeps beside her. She knows sex isn’t a miracle cure for Cait’s downtrodden feelings, but she doesn’t know what else will help at the moment. That said, Cait helped her decide to keep fighting to get back on her feet, and she needs desperately to repay this in kind.

She rolls onto her side so she can watch the even rise and fall of Cait’s chest. There’s something comforting about watching Cait rest. While awake, the taller woman is a true force to be reckoned with, and her face is constantly sharp and focused. Now, at rest, there are softer edges, and Vi feels privileged to see them.

She wonders if she can recruit any of Vander’s connections to ask into the trafficking ring. He keeps his nose clean these days, but when he was a younger man, he had gotten into his fair share of trouble. He might know someone who knows something–anything–that will get Cait back in the saddle.

Feeling drowsy herself, she kisses the tip of Cait’s nose and gives into the call of a nap.

Chapter Text

“It’s been a while,” Vander says cheerfully as Vi wheels her way into the gym. He’s in a tracksuit and has a towel hanging casually around his neck, and the normalcy of it all helps bring Vi’s anxiety about being back there down. “Was wondering when you’d come ‘round.”

Vi pushes forward, trying to stay fully focused on her mission so she doesn’t get lost in any unnecessary feelings. She wants to help Cait’s progress, not feel bad about her situation. Any torturous emotions she’s having about not being back on her feet but being in the gym are shoved aside for another day. She’s here on business, not pleasure.

“Wish I could say I was here to have it out with the bag,” she replies.

“Not just yet, eh?”

“Could we talk for a minute? Maybe somewhere private?” She glances around at the various figures using the space. Nobody is paying particular attention to them, but she’s never been too good at spotting when she’s being followed or if someone is listening too closely.

He leads her to his office and kicks the door shut after she rolls inside. When he sits down at his desk, he releases a large sigh and folds his hands over his gut. He’s slowing down a bit, she realizes with a tinge of regret. She’s seen him as this unimpeachable mountain of a man for so long, she sometimes forgets he’s human just like her.

“What’s up, pink?”

She refocuses yet again. “I had a couple of questions. Sorta about me and Powder’s childhood, I guess, but also sorta still stuff happening now.”

He says nothing and pulls open a desk drawer to pull out a pipe. He takes several minutes to pack tobacco and light up, and Vi waits patiently, aware that there’s no rushing his process. Finally, he sucks in deeply and lets the smoke curl out his nostrils. He puffs a few times and then nods.

“Shoot.”

“Do you know anything about kids going missing?”

“Always been a risk in Zaun,” he replies. She’s known him long enough to understand he’s being honest if not forthcoming. “Happens every day, to my understanding.”

“More or less than it happens other places?”

“I couldn’t say.”

“See, I remember when me and Pow were kids, you were real strict about knowing where we were, who we were with, and when we were coming home. Like, more than what I remember mom and dad doing.”

He sighs and taps his ash. “Out with it, pink. We could dance around this for days.”

“What do you know about the child trafficking ring in Zaun?”

“I know it happens. I know I couldn’t let it happen to you two kids, not after I promised your parents I’d make sure you turned out okay.” 

“You know there’s a trafficking ring? Like serious organization in place to take kids out of Zaun and funnel them the fuck knows where?”

He averts his eyes. “I’m not proud to admit it, but yes. I’m aware.”

“You’re not part of it, right?”

“Vi,” he says immediately, tone sharp and offended.

She lifts her hands to placate him. “I just don’t get why you’d know about it and then do nothing, unless you were involved somehow.”

“I done a lot in my life I’m not proud of. But kids? You don’t fuck with kids and sleep well at night. At least I never could.” He sighs and shakes his head. “But the people who do? Mean and powerful. You don’t put yourself in their way if you can help it. I used to fight back, but once I had you kids, I couldn’t risk it.”

“Who’s behind it. I need a name. Somewhere to start. Please, Vander.”

“I can’t send you into a pit of vipers, Vi.”

“I won’t be alone. And someone needs to stop them. It’s kids. No kid deserves to get taken from their home and then…” She trails off, not really sure what awaits a kid that gets trafficked. Nothing good, she assumes. Some form of assault, surely, or servitude. “I can’t just sit back and let this happen now that I know.”

After considering her serious expression for several agonizing seconds, he lets out a heavy exhale and nods. He digs into his desk drawer and pulls out a business card, which he hands to her.

“Call her. She knows more than I ever did. Tell her I sent you, and maybe she’ll talk.”

She looks at the little black card with its delicate, lacy red writing. The outline of a naked woman in the corner makes her arch an eyebrow. “Really, Vander? Someone with a stripclub?”

“None of that nonsense when you meet her. She runs the place, and everyone needs a job, kid. Don’t look down on them for what they do.”

“I don’t,” she replies quickly. “Just didn’t expect you to be acquainted with the ladies of the night.”

He turns ruddy and huffs. “We’re old friends. I’m not a client. Not that I have to justify myself to you.”

“No, you really do. Did you meet before or after she opened her little business?”

“Out, kid. I have people to train.” He points to the doorway and serves up a look of pure parental command.

She flicks him a lazy salute and wheels her way out.

§-§-§

Caitlyn has an entertaining reaction when Vi hands the business card over–she turns bright red and sputters. Vi laughs, as if she wasn’t initially off-balance as well.

“Vander says she probably has info we’ll be interested in. But we have to be careful.” Vi takes the card back and flips it between her fingers. “He seemed scared, and he’s not afraid of much. Whatever’s going on, I think it’s big.”

“If I’m right, and there are those in my department with connections to the ring, then it’s probably even bigger than you think.”

“I’m with you as far as you take this,” Vi promises. “But we might need back up.”

“I’m working on that. If we can get enough information, I have people who will listen. I just… I need proof. Because nobody believes my word right now.”

“Except me.”

Cait gently slaps her thigh. “You don’t count.”

“Ouch. Is it because I’m a cripple or because I’m gay?”

“Violet!”

“It was just a question.” Vi grins toothily.

Chapter Text

Before they can begin seriously investigating, Vi realizes she still has to make it to her physical therapy appointment. The thought drains a little of her enthusiasm, but she goes anyway. Powder is bubbling over with new ideas for the battle bots, and listening to her sister talk is a pretty good way to keep herself distracted and not hyper-fixating on the trafficking ring.

Even better is when she starts the appointment and the therapist announces they’re going to start working on partial-weight-bearing exercises, which means she’s one step–pun intended–closer to being back on her feet. She’s practically vibrating as the therapist hands her a pair of crutches that she is tentatively allowed to use as long as she’s not in pain, and as long as she promises to use the chair still as needed.

When she wobbles out to see Powder on her own two feet, Powder leaps up and cheers, startling the otherwise quiet lobby. Others join in, and Vi flushes with pride that she’s gotten this far. This little taste of public support feels somehow bigger and better than the crowd of hundreds all screaming her name when she’s in the ring. Maybe the crowds used to feel like this, too, before she took her power for granted. She hobbles out to the van and puts herself inside with no help. Powder packs the wheelchair up, still, but she’s free for the time being.

“What are you going to do now that you can reach the sink on your own?” Powder teases. “Maybe it’s time to learn to cook.”

“Maybe it’s time to kick your ass.”

“I don’t think ass kicking is a partial weight bearing activity.”

“It is if you just come a little closer and hold still.”

Powder sticks her tongue out. “Think I’ll pass.”

After a moment, Vi shrugs. “Maybe learning to cook wouldn’t kill me. I mean, everyone’s gotta eat.”

“Just don’t set your apartment on fire. You still wouldn’t be able to get down the fire escape fast enough. You’re already flaming enough without being toasted.”

Vi smiles and laughs. “It just feels good to stand up on my own. I never really thought about it before, but fuck, just this being so mobile without bumping into shit or needing help…”

“Don’t get too far ahead of yourself, gimpy. You still can’t drive yourself anywhere, and ten bucks says you can only gimp so far before you get all sad and tired.”

“Can’t I just have this one thing?”

“All or nothing, baby.” Powder veers into traffic with a laugh. “Come back when you really can kick my ass.”

§-§-§

The apartment feels very cold and empty when Caitlyn enters. She’s not sure when home began to feel strange to her like this, although she can make an educated guess. For most of her life, home was a physical location where she stored her belongings and could retreat from the public spotlight thrust on her by her lineage. Now, she’s less certain. Home is more of a person, and that person is somewhere else at the moment.

She wonders if proposing they live together would be moving too fast. While it’s true that she feels very strongly about Vi, she also realizes that her style of attachment can be overwhelming. Childhood friends certainly expressed that the way she cared about them was too much, and she doesn’t remember many of them sticking around. Even with years of therapy, she doesn’t quite understand what’s wrong with her fervor. She respects that others don’t appreciate the attention, but she can’t fathom why.

As she gathers her files and packs them into a satchel, she lets her mind wander further down that path. Her heart has a switch; over the years, that switch has become harder to turn on, but once it does, she cares deeply and unfailingly. Her therapist tells her this all-or-nothing approach isn’t exactly emotionally healthy, but that’s just the way she is, and she hasn’t yet figured out a mechanism to control it. For as hard as it is to turn the switch on, it is so much easier to turn it off, which her therapist calls rejection sensitivity.

Having names for everything has always helped sort her mind out into neat little categories, but as far as she can tell, there is no easy fix to what’s so different about how she processes the world. Until now, she’s been fine with her relative isolation. But now that she has Vi, she’s afraid that her eccentricities will come between them.

Vi likes her, yes, but Vi hasn’t seen how single-minded she is, how demanding, how unyielding. She hasn’t been unreasonable yet or petulant. But it’s just a matter of time, and then will Vi still look at her the same way?

She’s working hard to keep the illusion of control so that Vi doesn’t have to look beneath the surface, but her grip is slipping. Confiding in Vi about her workplace incident and her emotional outpouring was a risk she hadn’t meant to take, and rather than feel comforted by Vi’s response, she’s on edge for the first sign that Vi doesn’t want to be there anymore.

Her phone buzzes. She opens the screen and looks at the picture of Vi balancing on crutches, tongue out, smirking. The accompanying text reads: Guess whose outta the chair! She smiles fondly, even as her heart clenches.

She wonders if Vi will still want her around as much now that she’s regaining her independence. Without the wheelchair, Vi won’t need her the same way anymore. She texts back words of encouragement before grabbing a change of clothes and heading back to Vi’s apartment with her materials.

§-§-§

Vi paces back and forth in the living room, not out of anxiety or need but for the sheer joy of being able to use her feet again. Her muscles are fatigued as heck, but she refuses to plop down just yet. She’s going to push this as far as she can for as long as she can, despite Powder telling her every few minutes to just sit down already.

She’s forced to the couch when Caitlyn returns, sees her up and about, and almost has a conniption. Cait insists that she not overdo it and possibly set her progress back. Does she want to land back in the chair for even longer? No? Then sit down right now. And Vi does, with a little grunt of dissatisfaction that is all but inaudible over Powder’s cackles.

“So, you won’t listen to me, but Stretch over there says it once, and you’re a perfectly trained pup.” Powder clutches her belly and wipes away a fake tear. “I always knew you were gay, sis, but this is too much.”

Vi frowns and tosses a couch pillow at her. “Shut up, Pow. Wanna talk about Ekko for a bit?”

The pillow comes flying back with twice the speed. “Fuck you!”

“Children,” Caitlyn interrupts. “I can tell we’re in high spirits, but I would like to present my findings.”

“Is it okay if she stays?” Vi gestures toward Powder. “She’s a good resource, even if she sucks.”

“That’s fine, but I’d prefer everything stay among the three of us, at least for now.”

“Who would I even tell?” Powder looks around.

“Ekko.”

“Pshhh, who?”

“Serious time, Pow,” Vi says quietly. “Please.”

“Ugh, whatever, yeah fine.”

Caitlyn takes a deep breath and pulls out the first document. “I became curious several years ago when the case of a missing child came across my desk. This was when I was a fresh recruit, and this sort of case was often given to newbies because nobody actually expected results.

“This frustrated me then–and frankly frustrates me now. If a child from Zaun goes missing, the case is immediately deemed low priority and handed to someone lacking in experience and resources to truly make any difference whatsoever.

“But I digress. I was handed the case for Thomas Gotchi, seven year old male, last seen walking home from school. Mother reported no change in behavior or routine prior to the disappearance and no reason Thomas would have run away from home. Despite this, I was heavily encouraged to label the case a runaway and divert no further resources.

“Publicly, I conceded. But I wrote his name down and went to visit his mother on my own time. She provided me with further details, and I was able to acquire footage from the security cameras of several businesses along the path he took to and from school. I can estimate the time and place he would have gone missing, and I recorded the license plates of all vehicles caught on camera. Without Enforcer resources, I was unable to do much more digging than that, but I do still have all my records.

“What was more interesting at the time is that Thomas’s mother mentioned that he was just the latest disappearance from his school, which had lost eight children under the age of ten in the past four years. She provided me with as many names as she could remember, and I dug through old newspapers to find the rest. There were more than she remembered, going back farther than the ones she knew of.”

Vi leans forward and snags a file folder, flipping through the pages with hardened eyes. “And they’re all runaways, huh?”

“Per the Enforcers’ database, yes.” Cait shakes her head. “While there may be one or two genuine runaways, I don’t believe that’s the case for the majority of cases. Too many of them sound just like Thomas, with no reason to leave. Additionally, Thomas was coming home from school. He likely had books and homework in his backpack but very little by way of means to survive on his own. His mother said he received pocket change to buy sweets on the weekends, but he wouldn’t have had access to money. I presume very few of the other missing children would have funds or supplies either.”

“Why are they being taken?” Powder sounds angry, even as her face remains relatively blank. “What’s the point of stealin’ Zaun kiddies off the streets?”

“I don’t have conclusive proof. I was so close to answers, but then, I was shot and pulled off the case. I’m hoping you can help me find something in all of this,” she gestures to the piles of papers and folders, “that will get us going in the right direction again.”

“And Pow, we can’t let the Enforcers know about this.”

“I don’t talk to pigs,” Powder shoots back before sending a half-hearted smile at Caitlyn. “Except you, I guess. But mostly ACAB.”

“At this point, I have to agree. I thought I could work within the system to provide justice, but I fear the system is more broken than the injustice they say they’re combatting.”

Powder cracks her knuckles. “Let’s get going.”

Chapter Text

The work Caitlyn has compiled is dense and thorough. Reading is not Vi’s favorite pastime, and she balks at the idea of spending endless hours poring over pages, but she does her best to sit quietly with the two blue-haired women, even as her knee starts to bounce and her mind flies far, far away.

After what feels like three hours–although a glance at the time on her phone reveals that no, in actuality, only three minutes have passed–Vi can’t take much more. Thankfully, Cait is not ignorant to her struggle and waves her toward the kitchen without looking up from her papers.

“Can you be trusted to order lunch?”

“Hell yeah,” Vi claims. “Just call me Chef Vi.”

“Order lunch,” Powder asserts. “Order, not make. If you cause a fire…”

“You’re one to talk, Pow. I seem to remember you–”

“Ah-ah! We’re talking about you, not me.”

Vi grabs her crutches and stands with a flourish, aware of her two-person audience. One hopes she will fall on her face, and the other is rooting for her success. She loves them both. She stumbles a step at the thought and flushes red. Thankfully, nobody can see her face as she hurries away.

In the kitchen, she leans against the counter to take weight off her busted leg and then pulls her phone out to scroll through delivery options. After a moment, her eyes lift from the screen to watch Caitlyn and her sister work. They’re good together, each with a vastly different energy but a mirror image of commitment to the cause. They could probably topple the whole trafficking ring without her help.

That thought makes her frown, and she looks back at her phone. She’s getting more useful every day with the physical therapy, so maybe they don’t need her right now, but as soon as there’s a face to punch, they’ll be knocking at her door. Well, metaphorically. They’re clearly already in her living room.

Selecting a restaurant specializing in comfort food, she chooses a wide variety of options so they can pick and choose between dishes. She places the order and sets the phone down, once more returning her attention to the living room just in time to see Powder toss a folder haphazardly off the table. Caitlyn doesn’t say a word, just picks it back up, resettles the paperwork within, and files it away properly.

If she goes back over, she’ll just be interrupting their flow. She hobbles instead to the bedroom, where Powder has left her wheelchair. Settling into it, she wheels to the speed bag and sets about a blistering pace.

§-§-§

In the living room, Caitlyn feels like she’s getting nothing done. She’s seen all this information before, and reading the same words over and over again isn’t giving her fresh insight. In fact, all she’s getting is frustrated. She wishes Vi were still in the living room, but she isn’t blind to how Vi hates sitting still. This is likely a nightmare scenario for the athlete.

She glances furtively at Powder, who is upside down on the couch, her legs kicked over the back and her head near the floor. The younger woman knocks her ankles together thoughtfully and nibbles on the tip of one of her braids. She reads fast, flipping through pages and then tossing them aside carelessly. Cait wonders what she’s thinking but per her own processes, decides not to interrupt preemptively. There’s nothing worse than having a thought disrupted by someone else.

Eventually, Powder spits her braid out and rolls slightly to the side. “Have you ever noticed how many of these kids come from a pretty similar area?”

Caitlyn frowns. “I mean, I know they’re all from Zaun.”

“You got a map of Zaun?”

Wordlessly, Caitlyn roots through her files and unfolds a map of the lower city. Powder pulls a bright turquoise pen from one of her many pockets and begins circling locations. Each one, she explains, is the home of one of the kidnapped children. Her next set of circles details where each child was taken. Then, Powder makes her stand on the couch beside her and look down.

“How did I miss this?”

“You don’t know Zaun. The street names mean nothing if you haven’t walked ‘em every day for years on end.”

What she sees before her is a definite cluster of locations. “This means that this ring must have connections to this area in particular. I doubt the ring is centralized here, but whoever is responsible for acquiring the children is familiar with these neighborhoods. This is their hunting ground.”

“Hell yeah it is.” Powder hesitates and then says, “Hell no it is, I guess. Like excitement about making progress but rage about what’s happening?”

“Do you know anything about the area?”

“Me and Vi were born around there. I don’t remember much, but maybe she does?”

“Before Vander took you in?”

“She told you about that? Wow, she must be super into you.”

Cait flushes with pleasure but maintains a cool outward facade. “I hope so. I’m rather fond of her myself.”

“Ugh, you’re both gross.” Powder grins. “I’m glad Vi has a chance to be disgusting. She was so down on herself after the fight, I thought she was going to drown in self-pity. Had me seriously worried what she might do, y’know?”

“It got that bad?”

“Before we ran into you, I wasn’t sure she’d bounce back. She loves hard, but that just means she hurts hard, too. I didn’t know what to do to snap her out of the funk.” Powder shrugs and tucks her hands in her pockets. “And then suddenly you’re there, and she cares about being alive again.”

“I–”

“You don’t need to say anything about it. I just wanted to thank you for saving her from herself.” Powder clears her throat and gestures at the map. “Enough of the sappy shit. We should try and get a better idea of the people who frequent the neighborhood. The kidnapper has to be someone who’s basically a fixture there.”

It takes a moment for Caitlyn to shrug off their conversation and refocus. “That would make sense. Might also explain why these kids go with the kidnapper in the first place. If it’s someone they trust, why wouldn’t they?”

“So, we’re looking for some pillar of the community. Great. I bet everyone’s gonna be super happy when we start sniffing around. It’s Zaun, so you know they’ll already be pissed at outsiders coming around, and then add in that we’re probably gonna point the finger at, like, beloved church leader and father of four.”

Further conversation gets cut off by the arrival of food. Vi wheels herself to the front door, and Cait notices the sheen of sweat that suggests what she’s gotten up to in the meantime. Accepting four bags of steaming food onto her lap, Vi scoots into the living room and cocks an eyebrow.

“You two wanna clear a space for the food or what?”

Chapter Text

The food distracts them for half an hour, until Vi notices the map cast aside to the floor. Her eyes narrow, her head tilts to the side, like she’s a confused dog. Caitlyn notices and waits patiently for the pieces to come together. Powder, however, interrupts immediately.

“You got something knocking around your noggin?”

Vi presents her with a rude gesture. “What’s with all the circles?”

“Places related to the disappearances.” Caitlyn straightens the map out so Vi can see better. “Does anything strike you? Do you recognize the area?”

Poking at a cross street, Vi says, “Pretty sure that’s where our house was, before our parents died.”

“Do you remember anything about being there?”

“Some? Like I wasn’t super little or anything, so I remember my neighborhood friends and where we’d go to get ice cream in the summers.” Vi rubs the back of her neck, her mouth dipping into something approaching a frown. “To be honest, I tried really hard to forget all of that. It hurt to think about when we were happy. For a lotta years. And it didn’t help me any to think about that stuff when I was trying to keep us alive. And then Vander moved us out of that area. Come to think of it, he really didn’t want me even visiting my old friends.”

“Maybe it’s time to go visit that contact of his,” Caitlyn suggests quietly. “I can go alone. There’s no need for you–”

“Of course I’m going with you.”

“You two crazy kids go for it.” Powder points toward the door and dips her head in that direction. “I’m gonna hit up some of my connections–”

“Powder, please don’t tell anyone–”

“Oh, Stretch, your doubt hurts.” Powder clutches her heart. “Have a little faith. We Zaunites are pretty good at keeping secrets. And blowing shit up. But not blowing up secrets. Get it?”

“Thank you for helping.” Caitlyn sets her hand on Powder’s shoulder, and the younger woman looks temporarily flummoxed.

The moment passes quickly, and Powder grins widely. Vi can tell she’s more affected than she’s letting on because she, too, is overwhelmed by Caitlyn’s upfront nature and willingness to be open emotionally. Caitlyn is drastically different from their upbringing, and Vi’s only just getting used to–and appreciative of–this way of doing things.

“Yeah, whatever. See ya, Stretch, and don’t break yourself again, dickhead.”

“Love you, too, asshat.” Vi swings a soft punch in Powder’s direction, but the younger woman is already hop-skip-jumping to the front door and then out of sight. The door shuts hard, and one of the pictures on the wall tilts crookedly. Vi shakes her head and turns her attention back to Cait. “You sure you’re ready to go to a house of ill repute?”

“You think I’ve never visited one?”

Vi snorts. “Cait, I’m willing to bet my entire life savings that you haven’t been nearer than three blocks to one.”

Cait turns a tantalizing shade of pink. “I’ll have you know that I haven’t spent my entire life sheltered.”

“Just most of it, yeah?” Vi offers a smile to let Cait know that she means no harm. “Just leave your expectations at the door. And don’t forget that we don’t have a full police force as back up. So, follow my lead, yeah?”

Cait’s jaw tightens, but she nods. “Of course.”

§-§-§

Babette’s is an innocuous enough looking building from the outside. There are no flashing neon lights, no thudding bass vibrating into the streets. The only tell that something more interesting might be going on inside is the presence of a burly guy leaning near the front door to what looks like a mid-scale apartment building. The guy isn’t dressed like a doorman; rather, he sports a leather jacket with a few spikes lining the collar and a pair of dark, reflective sunglasses that hide his gaze from passersby.

Vi crutches up to the door and winks at him, but she can’t tell if he sees the gesture or responds at all. He barely shifts his weight, which she takes as a good sign that she’s not unwelcome there. Cait, on the other hand, attracts his attention. His head slowly swivels to follow her up to the door, and his muscles bunch and flex visibly under the leather.

“Easy, big guy,” Vi says, keeping her voice light. “She’s with me.”

His muscles do not relax, but his head turns back toward the street. Vi grabs Cait’s wrist and pulls her more quickly inside, which is no easy feat when also handling a set of crutches. Cait stutters half a complaint but swallows her words down at the sight of the reception desk. The woman leaning there is scantily clad with dusky makeup and eyes only for Vi.

“Haven’t seen you before,” the woman drawls, her voice low and raspy.

“Haven’t been around here for a long time,” Vi replies. She’s used to being flirted with, and she makes sure her biceps are on display as she comes to rest on the desk as well. The woman’s gaze is not subtle as it drops down her body and then back up to her face.

“Lotta girls in here would love to make your acquaintance–”

“Excuse me.” Cait steps closer, bristling. “We’re here on business.”

The woman clicks her tongue against her teeth. “We don’t talk to cops.”

Vi looks at Cait for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, her posture relaxes again. “Don’t worry about this one. Used to be on the force, got fired for actually trying to protect people. She’s with me now, but she hasn’t been trained right yet.”

The implication turns Cait red while the other woman laughs and pretends to wipe away a tear.

“Might want to think about using a muzzle.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Horrifyingly, Cait imagines Vi standing over her, with a muzzle in one hand and a leash in the other. The image itself wouldn’t normally fluster her, but the shot of heat that plunges deep in her belly is more than enough to make her want to never speak again.

“So, you looking for a third?”

“Actually, I’m hoping to talk to Babette, if she’s around. She and my dad go way back, and he told me to stop by and say hi for him.” Vi waits a moment and then adds, “You can tell her Vander’s kid is here.”

The woman straightens and sighs. “I suppose I couldn’t be that lucky, huh?”

“Maybe next time,” Vi replies and then grunts as Cait stumbles against her in what could appear to an outsider as an accident. She’s off-balance just long enough to lose track of the bent of the conversation, and Cait helpfully gets her displaced crutch back under her armpit.

“Gimme a sec. I’ll see if she’ll talk to you.”

Vi turns to Cait in the interim and rubs the back of her neck. “Listen, I’m sorry–”

“For what?” Cait steps a little closer, putting herself right in Vi’s personal space. “You can’t help if others see what I do.”

“Uh…”

Cait kisses her neck, forcing her to flush with color this time, and bites down just hard enough to leave a mark. “Just remember that you’re not single.”

Vi is still struggling to find words as the woman reappears and hands them a set of keys. “Top floor. Elevator is at the corner there.”

Chapter Text

The office on the top floor looks much more like a business space than Cait expects. The space is neat, clean, and well-lit, and the short woman behind the mahogany desk looks like any other tired manager she’s ever seen. The woman eyes them silently before standing and tottering out to give Vi a hug. She comes up to Vi’s waist, and Vi looks a little confused as she returns the embrace.

“Sorry to bother you–”

“You probably don’t remember me, but I used to babysit you when you were only about as tall as me.” She turns and offers Cait her hand. “Babette, proprietress.”

“Caitlyn,” she replies.

Vi stares at Babette a moment longer before her face relaxes with realization. “Betty?”

“So you do remember!”

“You fed me chicken nuggets shaped like dinosaurs and snuck me candy before bed.”

Babette looks pleased as she sits back at her desk. “I’m glad to hear Vander took you in after your parents passed.”

“Speaking of, he said you might know some important information.” Vi tilts her head toward Cait. “Cait used to be an enforcer, but she got nix’d for looking into something the higher ups didn’t want her snooping around.”

Babette’s expression remains carefully neutral. “What sort of thing would that be? And how would I know anything about it?”

This is becoming a pattern when dealing with the older adults in her life. Vi sighs and decides there’s no better option than to be upfront. “Child trafficking.”

“Ah.”

Caitlyn narrows her eyes and leans forward. “What do you know?”

“Too much, but also not enough.” Babette sags backward, her face aging several years in a heartbeat. She rubs her fingers against her temples. “You know the Barons?”

Vi nods, but Cait frowns.

“Don’t they work for Silco?”

“Yes and no. Publicly, they work for him, but under the surface, it’s more complicated. He keeps them in line, but even he knows he can’t control them entirely. He relies on their support, so he can’t police them very hard. And they need his Shimmer, so they don’t abuse his leniency beyond reason.”

“Wait.” Cait lifts a hand, her brows dipping into a furrow and her lips twitching into a frown. “You mean the industrialist? That’s the Silco you’re talking about? He deals in Shimmer?”

Both Babette and Vi glance at her, Babette incredulously and Vi with something approaching empathy.

“He produces, distributes, and controls every ounce of Shimmer that moves through the Twin Cities.”

Vi nods. “It’s just sort of common knowledge down here. Vander told me that before Silco, there was a bunch of gang violence and fighting. So, when Silco took over and things got more peaceful, everyone just sorta agreed it was for the best.”

“The Barons are on the fringes,” Babette clarifies for Cait’s benefit. “They handle the more distasteful parts of Zaun’s underbelly.”

“If this is so well-known, then why haven’t they been arrested?” Cait looks flummoxed, and Vi almost feels bad.

Vi says, “Better the fuckheads you know than the ones you don’t.”

“I suppose…”

“You want to know more about those kids? Start with the Barons. That’s the best lead I can give you.” Babette shakes her head. “I’ve wished for years that someone could stop them. You know they come after Zaun’s children because they’re vulnerable, unprotected. They wouldn’t get away with this in Piltover.”

Cait bristles with hostile energy, and Vi hopes she doesn’t self-destruct in the process of seeking justice. The worry gnaws at her through the rest of the conversation and all the way back to her apartment. Her leg is aching fiercely when they enter the living room, so she collapses onto the couch, even as she keeps her eye on Cait’s tense posture.

“You doing okay?”

Cait paces, her hands curling and uncurling between steps. “Why do so few people care?”

Her first instinct is to answer sarcastically, and she nearly does. But she realizes that Cait is strung pretty tight at the moment, and she bets saying something stupid might push her over the edge. Instead, she thinks about her words for probably the first time in her life.

“Because admitting there’s a problem means you have to fix it,” she says slowly. “And fixing problems takes time and money and effort. Rich people don’t stay rich by spending any of that shit. They sit on their hoards and feel safe that it won’t happen to them.”

“Is that what you think of me?”

“Nah, you’re a poor person who happened to get born lucky.”

The look Cait shoots her is incredulous but light. Some of the tension bleeds away. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“You act like a normal person,” Vi clarifies. “You give a shit. How many people you grow up with that can I say the same about?”

“Not… very many…”

“There you go. You’re, like, spiritually a poor person.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah, but right, too.”

“How is it you seem to know how to bring me back?” Cait drops onto the couch next to her and nuzzles close. “I felt so–distant isn’t the right word, but it’s close enough I suppose. Detached from myself.”

“It’s not like I do it on purpose.”

“What are we supposed to do, Vi? From the sounds of things, this child trafficking ring is run by very dangerous, very powerful people.”

“I happen to be both of those things, too.” Vi smirks, and Cait bats at her shoulder. “But yeah, it’s not going to be easy. But I was thinking about something earlier with Babette. She’s not the only one tired of the kids going missing. I bet the whole community is angry.”

“I would be surprised if they weren’t.”

“The Barons are bad and all, but there’s only so many of them.” Vi hesitates. “And there’s a lot more just normal Zaunites than criminals.”

“We can’t endanger civilians…”

“Right, I know, but maybe we could make their jobs tougher? I’m just saying that maybe justice doesn’t always look like the bad guys behind bars.”

Cait’s world tilts momentarily on its axis. “The people doing this to children deserve to face charges–”

“Yeah, they do. But what are the chances that even if we bring all sorts of evidence forward, your old boss would do anything about it?”

“She would.”

“Like she was able to protect you?”

“She tried–”

“I’m not saying she’s a shitty person. Just that there’s a limit to what she can do.”

“So what are you suggesting?”

“We nail down the pattern, how they’re grabbing kids in plain view, middle of the day. We make it impossible for another kid to go missing without someone seeing. We figure out where they’re going and find a way to make getting kids from Zaun the worst decision they’ve ever made.”

Cait frowns but doesn’t outright dismiss the idea. She bites her lower lip. “Can I think about it?”

“Yeah. Of course.” Vi lets her head flop back. “Just don’t think too long.”

Chapter Text

“A Zaun problem deserves a Zaun solution,” Caitlyn announces to the ceiling. Vi is half-asleep next to her in bed, but rest isn’t coming easy for the taller woman. In her mind bum-tumbles a problem or two. Her life is devoted to justice for everyone, but the system is falling apart with every passing day. Well, she supposes the system has been in ruins for years, but she’s just now learning to look past the shiny veneer. She learns some new horror, and her faith crumbles more. So, maybe Vi is right. Maybe an extrajudicial answer is right for the situation.

“Mmhmm,” Vi mumbles, pressing her face deeper into her pillow.

Caitlyn rolls onto her side, slowly enough to ease her injured arm into position, and watches her girlfriend’s relaxed expression. She’s watched Vi grow from a sullen victim into a vibrant fighter once more, and she wonders if Vi has noticed any remarkable change in her. She doesn’t feel very different–perhaps a little angrier than before, more jaded.

She lifts her hand and gently trails her fingers along Vi’s cheek and jaw. Vi’s eyes flutter open briefly, and she smiles sleepily. Her hand comes up to grab Cait’s, interlacing their fingers and squeezing. Cait lets her hold on.

Eventually, she drifts to sleep, as evidenced by the surprise of opening her eyes to gentle sunlight filtering through the blinds. Vi is awake now, still holding her hand. She yawns and runs her free hand through her sleep-mussed hair.

“Sleep good?”

“I suppose. I feel like I blinked, but I’m not very rested.” She sits up, loosing her fingers from Vi’s and drawing back the covers. “I’ve too much on my mind, I’m afraid.”

“Sorry about that.”

“In the time that you’ve known me, do you think I’ve changed?”

She glances at Vi, who’s mid-stretch, her arms pulled high overhead with her belly exposed. Vi drops her arms and purses her lips in thought.

“Whattaya mean?”

“You’ve brightened considerably since our first meeting, become more of yourself. But I don’t know if I’m any different than I was months ago.”

“Cupcake, you don’t need to change. I like the way you are.”

Change is inherently necessary, she wants to reply, but she swallows down the words. She isn’t verbalizing her concerns properly, but she doesn’t know how else to explain the stagnation spoiling deep in her gut.

“Thank you,” she replies, deciding to change the subject. “I believe we should move forward with your idea regarding the Barons and the kidnappings. Historically, law enforcement has been misused in Zaun, and it will likely be much more efficient to go a separate route.”

“Yeah?” Vi’s face brightens. “You think?”

“I tried my way, and it got us here. Let’s try yours.”

Vi kisses her softly. “I’ll try not to make you regret it.”

“Too late,” Cait teases.

§-§-§

The walk through Zaun’s neighborhoods feels oddly nostalgic, although Vi doesn’t really have any memories from when they lived around here. In spite of this, she’s pretty at home on the broken sidewalks, with their tiny, vivacious weeds poking up through every crack. She’s even more content that she’s actually walking, albeit a little clumsily on the crutches still. If she could be holding Cait’s hand, that would be perfect, but she has to clutch the crutches unless she wants very sore armpits.

“Hard to believe this is the sort of place where children just get grabbed off the street,” Cait says quietly. Her eyes scan the houses around them, which are a bit worn-down but homey. Some yards have abandoned toys scattered around, while others feature impressive vegetable gardens. The only difference between this neighborhood and the one she grew up in is the lack of obvious displays of wealth.

“If it looked like the sort of place that happened, I don’t think people would bring their kids there,” Vi replies, hoping her joke comes across as just that.

“I suppose you’re right, of course. Are we far from the location of the most recent abduction?”

“Another few blocks. Not too far from the elementary school, actually. We could probably stop by there and talk to some teachers, if you think that’s useful.”

“I think today we should just canvas the area, see if there are any businesses or homes that have working cameras that watch the streets. It’ll be helpful if we can start to establish familiarity with the locals, what cars they drive. If the kidnapper is truly one of the people, we won’t get anywhere looking for something or someone that stands out.”

“Why do I get the feeling this is going to be a long and boring process?”

Caitlyn sighs. “Unfortunately, that’s what good police work is.”

“Most of your coworkers seem to think it’s roughing people up.”

“Well, their assumptions are incorrect.” Caitlyn grimaces. “I worry about conditions now that I’m not there. How many more people will get hurt? How many more cases will get ignored? How many mothers will never see their children again?”

Vi stops moving forward and tugs Caitlyn into a tight hug, which Cait sinks gratefully into. She hides her face in Vi’s shoulder. The crutch pushes awkwardly against her, but they both ignore the inconvenience.

“We’re going to figure this out, and we’re going to stop it. I promise, Cait.”

“I want to believe that.”

“Just trust me, for now.” Vi nods her head toward the end of the street. “One step at a time.”

They continue their slow journey, and Vi helps her focus on taking down important details, like which homes have doorbell cameras, any areas that look particularly busy, and if anyone takes an interest in what they’re doing.

When they reach the nearby school, Vi checks to make sure the school day is over before approaching the main office to see if anyone is still around. She finds a receptionist behind the main desk who looks frazzled, stressed, and like he’s lost something very important.

“You okay?”

The man looks up, glasses perched atop his mop of frizzy hair. “Been better, gotta say.”

“You need some help?”

“I’ve just misplaced my glasses, yet again.” Vi very obviously directs her attention up, and he lifts a hand to the crown of his head. He flushes when he touches the frames. “Thanks. What can I do for you?”

Vi hesitates. She hasn’t thought this far ahead in her plan, yet. Luckily, Caitlyn hangs on her arm and beams at him.

“My girlfriend and I are looking at buying a house in this neighborhood, and we wanted to check out the schools. I mean, we don’t have kids, yet, but it won’t be long.”

Vi flushes bright red and nods along. “Would you recommend it? Living here, I mean? Is it safe for kids?”

“I mean, everywhere has problems, but I guess this isn’t a terrible place to start a family. People around here are big on community, so if you like a lot of get togethers, bake sales, and block parties, you’re in the right neighborhood. Schools are about as good as any other. We don’t have a ton of funding, of course, but nobody in Zaun does. Our teachers seem to run on coffee and little thank you notes from the parents.” He realizes he’s said quite a bit and laughs awkwardly. “So, long story short, I’d move here if I could afford a house.”

“I was reading the other day that some kids have been going missing from Zaun,” Vi replies, trying to be subtle with mixed success. “We were worried, but you know news media. They’ll make anything sound awful to sell ad space.”

“What security measures do you have to keep your students safe?”

“I can assure you the school is very safe. We take protecting our student body very seriously. But as you can imagine, I can’t give you details about this all.” He looks a little suspiciously at them. “You’re not future kidnappers, right? I’m not letting the wolf among the sheep?”

Vi laughs, startled but pleased by his diligence even if it’s currently misplaced. “No. I left my career of kidnapping behind when I left Ionia.”

He laughs back and then pauses, “Just a joke?”

“Just a joke.”

Caitlyn shakes her head. “Vi, you’re making this impossible.”

“He thought it was funny.”

“I did.”

The conversation winds down after he confirms they do have cameras that face the street as well as coverage of the back entrances and loading dock where the food deliveries come in. Caitlyn grits her teeth as they leave, frustrated that her leaving the police force means she doesn’t have access to the same level of city-sanctioned authority. She can’t demand to see the cameras or the footage, and she doubts a school would willingly or easily give that up.

“It’s somewhere to start,” Vi assures her. “We’re making progress. And isn’t it better than sitting at a desk and thinking about saving kids? Actually being on the street and making it happen?”

The tension bleeds from her, and she sighs. “You’re right.”

“Aren’t I always?”

She rolls her eyes. “Yes, dear.”