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The Kiramman mansion is quiet.

It makes Vi uncomfortable. She’s not used to quiet. Growing up with siblings at the basement of a bar. Spending her nights listening to grunting and screams and the heavy boots of the Stillwater guards. The streets of Zaun after dark. It was always loud and crowded and comforting in the way it was all she knew. But the mansion feels void of life. Vi can hear branches of trees scraping the windows during windy nights, the grandfather clock echoing, footsteps of the personnel that seem to avoid her like the plague.

She doesn’t know what to do with herself in those first days. She hurts, in all ways one could possibly hurt. She tries not to think of Jinx, of Vander, of every single other person she lost. They lost. So many names that only mass graves could encompass them.  Her body has deteriorated, and she doesn’t have any strength to keep herself upright anymore.

One of the doctors visits her daily. Makes her take painkillers and patches up the worst of it. Burned and scraped skin makes her feel like her whole body is on fire. He reminds her to eat. And to not drink alcohol. And she listens, because she’s a stranger in this house, and in her own body.

Days and hours fuse with each other. Vi sits at Caitlyn’s bedside and watches her sleep, lips and eyebrows and fingertips twitching just enough for Vi to know she’s still alive, still fighting. When Tobias Kiramman shows up, they do not acknowledge each other. Like two ghosts wandering the same corridors.

The days Caitlyn spends asleep feel like a lifetime. Vi sits at her bedside, too scared to touch her. She’s patched up everywhere, her abdomen, her legs, her eye. There’s dried blood, scratches and chemical burns. Vi follows the rise and fall of her chest religiously, her only anchor to the present, to a present with the possibility of Caitlyn waking up.

And she does eventually wake up. That night Vi could not fall asleep, a few doors down the corridor, wide awake in the middle of the night. Caitlyn wakes up screaming, the hoarse, scratchy sound dying down by the time Vi rushes to see her. And she looks less alive than Vi has ever seen her before. Small in her huge bed, curled into herself, her hands covering her face, her legs drawn to her chest, her breath coming out fast and ragged.

Vi doesn’t know if Caitlyn knows she is there, or if she is still inside one of her nightmares. She places her knee on the bed, the mattress dipping slightly. Caitlyn’s head shifts, and she stares at Vi through one still vibrant eye.

“I’m here,” Vi whispers, waiting, trying to decipher Caitlyn’s expressions between the thick shadows.

Caitlyn does not talk. She extends an arm towards Vi, weak and shaky and so unlike her that Vi feels herself trembling. She crawls closer, holding Caitlyn into her arms, careful not to touch anything raw open again. She inhales the scent of metal and medicine and illness from the sheets and from Caitlyn herself, thinking that at least there is a single person she doesn’t have to mourn. And Caitlyn cries into the night and into her arms, quiet and muffled and secret, until they both somehow manage to fall asleep.

-

The first weeks are disorienting. Vi was used to Caitlyn’s quiet strength, her rigidness, her decisiveness and her resolve. The Caitlyn she sees now does not match this image. She refuses Vi’s help, but Vi helps her nonetheless, for the big and the small, the important and the embarrassing. Caitlyn bumps into the furniture of the house she has lived in for more than two decades. She gets vertigo so bad it brings her to her knees, heaving on the carpets. The wound between her abdomen and hips bleeds at random and her legs gives out on her.

Vi makes herself useful. Even with her own aches she helps as much as she can. Stays close when Caitlyn strays out of her bed. Helps her wash the filth out of her hair and change into fresh clothes, so painfully slow that she can see Caitlyn’s patience crumbling every time she winces in pain trying to make the simplest motion. She holds Caitlyn tight, even when her eye is watery and droopy from all the pain medication and she doesn’t seem to know where, or with who she is. She changes the sheets when Caitlyn bleeds out in the middle of the night and carries her to the washroom. Any comfort Vi has left to give is all kept for Caitlyn.

The doctors tell Caitlyn’s father that she is going to make a full recovery. No vital organs affected. Wounds, as grotesque as they appear, all superficial. They don’t say it outright, but Vi can hear the implication between the medical, sterilized words they speak to him, she is lucky she only lost one eye.

If Tobias Kiramman sees Vi crying on Caitlyn’s bedside when his daughter is finally asleep, he doesn’t say a word about it. And when Vi hears him sobbing one early morning, curled into himself in the living room couch, she returns the kindness. They are no less strangers than the very first time they met each other, all those lifetimes ago, when she and Caitlyn barged in through the bedroom window.

-

“You are here,” Caitlyn mutters, small and quiet into her skin, awakening from a nightmare. The first actual words out of her mouth in so long.

“I am here,” Vi confirms, grateful for Caitlyn’s weight in her arms, warm, pulsing, alive. “You are okay, you are okay, Cait.”

Caitlyn’s head falls back on Vi’s arm on the pillows, three words taking everything out of her. Vi settles back on the bed, careful and observant, counting Caitlyn’s breaths, following the pulse in her veins. She doesn’t know much. Not about the world, or herself, and certainly not about medicine and recovery. But she knows Caitlyn is a fighter, and she will come back to her.

Eventually the doctors lessen the painkiller doses and Caitlyn starts becoming more lucid. Her brilliant eye clearer, her legs a little sturdier. Vi still hovers in the corners of her personal space, praying for Caitlyn’s full recovery, while simultaneously wondering what will happen when she stops being useful. There’s no place for her to go. Her childhood home is rubble, The Last Drop burned to the ground and the firelights have to take care of their own first. And Vi does not belong in the fancy Kiramman mansion. She does not know where she belongs.

They start holding actual conversations, sharing tea and watching the birds outside Caitlyn’s window. They fill the gaps for each other. They try to talk with facts, and not feelings, because neither has the capacity for more tears and sleepless nights.

Information is exchanged in fragments. Vi lies in Caitlyn’s childhood bedroom and tells her about Jinx and Vander. About Loris and the Zaunite fighters, the Noxian modified soldiers and the weird moments she felt like she was flying before everything went black.

Another day Caitlyn sits on her office chair, slowly trying to go through the stack of papers and letters waiting for her reply, approval or signature. She tells Vi about the failed explosion mechanism, Mel saving her life, Ambessa’s death, the dark clouds filling the sky. How she couldn’t feel any pain in her eye but could sense the wetness of the blood dripping down her cheeks. How she wishes she could do better, be better, fill everyone’s shoes.

Vi hugs her as tightly as they are allowed to hug each other without pain. She doesn’t try to change Caitlyn’s mind. She doesn’t make empty promises to fix things, because nothing can bring the dead back to them. She stays by Caitlyn’s side, her own wounds and dislodged joints and broken bones slowly healing by the day. She wishes she could do better too. Protect her sister, her father, Ekko, the Zaunites and Piltovians that fought next to her and left their last breaths alone and scared, in the middle of the battlefield. Her gauntlets were ultimately useless when it came to the people she loved. She tries to make peace with it, finally too tired of beating herself over everything wrong in or out of her grasp.

They spend hours wordlessly in that silent mansion. Caitlyn drafting letters and Vi reading books from the library. They hold each other in bed, trying to keep the night terrors away. They eat more soup than Vi ever remembers having access to, but it’s pretty much the only food Caitlyn can stomach alongside her medications. They move in tandem, following each other from room to room, a reminder that they are both alive. That there is something worth living for, even if it’s for each other.

Vi cannot get used to the silence, but she learns to tolerate it. Focuses on the crackling of the fireplace, keeping it burning while Caitlyn works on her papers. Watches the birds outside of the window from Caitlyn’s bedside when the doctors make their rounds, the visits briefer every day. She makes small, awkward, talk with Tobias and Caitlyn starts accepting the first visitors in an effort to fix as many wrongs as humanely possible.

-

“I need to go outside,” Caitlyn huffs, hair cascading down her shoulders. She is wearing the eyepatch she commissioned a bit after waking up, dark blue to match her uniform. “Would you care for a walk, Vi?”

Vi jolts from the armrest of the couch where she was lying pretending to read while watching Caitlyn work. They both know the doctors do not allow Caitlyn to step foot outside. Her vertigo is rarer now, but still unpredictable, and her balance is still off, especially when tired. Caitlyn asked Vi though, because she knows Vi would never be able to deny her anything. And so, they go for a walk.

The Kiramman gardens are beautiful. Vi never dared to step outside by herself before, and the view from the windows doesn’t do justice to the vibrant flowers and perfectly groomed bush thickets, statues scattered around them.

Her good arm holds onto Caitlyn’s waist, steadying her steps. They are slow to make it towards the middle of the garden, where a fountain is surrounded by stone benches. Caitlyn softly pulls on her arm, and they sit down, under grey clouds that bring promises of rain soon to come.

“You are not taking good enough care of yourself,” Caitlyn starts, looking towards the fountain. She’s lost weight and her cheeks are hollowed, the knuckles of her hand too pronounced into Vi’s grasp. “I need you now, more than ever, Violet.”

“You have me,” Vi says, as a matter of fact. As if she has anyone else to live for, to give her loyalty to. “In any way you’d want me.”

“If…” Caitlyn turns her head to look at her. Vi holds her gaze, unmoving by its intensity. “If we want to move forward, we have to be our best selves, physically and mentally.”

“Forward…” Vi tries the word. Time has been so distorted the past weeks. She knew it was moving forward but couldn’t imagine any kind of forward beyond the present moment she was living in. Because that forward means leaving things behind, means accepting that the only thing she has left of some people is memories. But what else is there to do, except move forward?

“Me, you, us, Piltover and Zaun, the governing bodies,” Caitlyn’s hair is undone, tickling Vi’s neck as it sways in the breeze. She is beautiful, Vi thinks. Beautiful and so, so alive. “I wish the world would stop and let us catch a breath, but you know this isn’t how this works. We have to keep moving. We have to make things right.”

“I don’t know how-,” Vi takes a deep, shaky breath. “I don’t know where my place is, Cait.”

Vi spots the small smile gracing Caitlyn’s lips for the briefest moment, before her head comes to rest on Vi’s shoulder. “Your place is next to me,” she says, her thumb rubbing Vi’s palm between them. “And mine is next to you. If you want it to be, I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Vi’s eyes shut, the last of her flight instinct leaving her body. If Caitlyn wants her here, she will have her. “Where do we start from, then?”

“I’ve been working on reorganising the enforcers,” Caitlyn noses into Vi’s hair, a tangled mess now that it has gotten so much longer. “This city has to be built up again, from the very start.”

-

At first Vi feels out of place, trailing half a step behind Caitlyn in the grand Piltovian homes, the governmental buildings and the once vibrant streets that are now slowly being rebuilt by the few capable people left to do manual work.

Caitlyn springs to action the same day the doctors allow her to start returning to normal activities, and only Vi knows there’s a pouch of painkillers tucked in the left breast pocket of her uniform. She makes tables and lists and countless little paper notes of her priorities, and pending work, and replies to letters to be drafted. Vi listens and tries to follow her train of thoughts. Anything Caitlyn shares with her, she will appreciate, and Caitlyn does share a lot.

It’s a shock when Caitlyn not only resigns from her council position, giving away the chair Kiramman matriarchs have held for generations, but even more when she advocates for Zaunites taking her place. There is disregard and scoffing, but no outright opposition.

“Are you sure about this?” Vi questions her, leaving the council building together right after the vote on Zaun’s independence is finalised. Too many details are to be smoothed out about the decision of two cities existing semi-independently under the same higher governing body are still on hold. “The council would benefit from your guidance at this time, wouldn’t it?”

“My voice can still be heard,” Caitlyn says, and truthfully, as head of one of the most influential houses – even if Vi knows close to nothing about Piltoverian politics, that much she understands –  she is still a major actor of the political scene, in or out of the formal council. “And my efforts are more needed, and best appreciated elsewhere.”

-

Reforming the enforcers takes time, and patience and resilience that Vi feels she does not have. She watches Caitlyn sit in meeting after meeting, with the higher ups left alive, with low grade enforcers who view changes in the body as something positive and with Zaunites who spit on her feet, unconvinced that peace can truly be an option.

Vi makes an effort to help bridge the gaps and ensure that no more people will be aimlessly thrown into prison, beaten up, or even killed. She visits the firelights with Caitlyn, and they talk about the community’s needs.

“We don’t need cops,” Ekko shrugs, “we need clear water, food, and hands to help us rebuild.”

And it would be so easy for Caitlyn to note the words down into her notebook and forget about them, get back to talking about new uniforms and rifles and evacuation plans the moment they crossed back the bridge from Zaun, but she doesn’t. They get back home, to the Kiramman mansion, that has started taking the form of a home for Vi, and they talk.

About the orphans begging for food at the sidewalks and the amputees that have no home to return to. The merchants that lost all of their stocks and lifehoods overnight. The neighbourhoods next to the polluted rivers with people that know they’ll fall sick in the second or third decades of their lives. Caitlyn listens, and she shows Vi her mother’s notes.

Cassandra was a meticulous woman, and it’s no mystery who Caitlyn took her brains after. Alongside the blueprints for the air vents to redirect gases from Zaun, there are various files with similar notes for the polluted rivers that seemingly never made it to any actualisation. It’s a starting point that Caitlyn and Vi work together on, two chairs in front of the screen, and forgotten cups of tea staining the mahogany desk.

-

From planning to any practical actions, it takes time and infinite patience. Hours of negotiations with the council and the enforcers and Zaunites. Vi wonders how many times Sevika has been about to sit up and throw her chair on any of the snobbish Piltovian councillors across her. Caitlyn pushes for a joint effort between Piltover and Zaun in order to combine manpower and technical expertise needed for everything from simple road construction to redirection of the rivers.

The Piltoverian families get possessive over their resources, afraid they will be distributed elsewhere, and the Zaunite labourers do not want to promise help that won’t be appreciated. Still, there is a small number of people that trust Caitlyn and her idealism, and miraculously Sevika convinces people from her own side to help. A few small groups form, with people from the two cities mixed. Caitlyn oversees everything herself, from planning and blueprints to actual manual labour.

When the Zaunites get their first salaries, and when Piltoverians realise the help offered to them is truly needed, more people start joining the effort. Vi herself, gone from Zaun for so long, is only vaguely familiar, but not trustworthy to most. She still acts as a messenger between Piltover and the various heads of the Zaunite groups. She delivers messages and helps with negotiations on prices and goods and fair distribution of the resources. She gives Caitlyn her opinions, and at some point, stops being surprised when they are not only noted, but voiced in the council and other meetings. The months pass fast, giving them no time to breath, no time to think, no time to truly look back at what they lost, but neither to what they have been achieving.

-

“Cait,” Vi sits on the couch softly, her eyes skimming through the papers strewn across the table in front of them. “You should get some sleep.”

“I am almost done here,” Caitlyn mutters, penning something down on the bottom of a piece of paper and signing.

“Is it about the kids?” Vi reads the few lines on the paper, the names, the ages; two brothers, three and five. She smiles, knowing that they are about to get a better chance at life, outside of the streets.

“Yes,” Caitlyn more nods than says, sealing the letter with wax. “I wouldn’t believe so many families would open their doors, but they did.” Vi watches her letting as breath out, her shoulders shrugging from exhaustion.

Vi gets closer, her thigh flush on Caitlyn’s. “I’m so proud of you,” she says, and hopes it can convey all the other unsaid words she doesn’t dare speak out loud. “For giving them better lives.”

Caitlyn has been working tirelessly, creating a small group of people to find and take care of all the orphans left after the war, or the ones that had existed before that. She had taken money out of her own estate to ensure their wellbeing, hosting them in one of the old schools of Piltover, all while writing letters and finding families and people willing to take them in. People from both cities eventually stepped up, especially when promised that financial help will be ensured for raising the kids. From Piltoverian widowers to older ladies who lost their own children at Zaun, almost every child would have somewhere to stay in the following months.

“I could never do this without you,” Caitlyn’s eye is tired. She rubs at it, and takes her eyepatch off the other, angry red lines left across her face. “I could never do even half of the things we are doing without you, Violet.”

“You give me too much credit, Cait,” Vi chuckles, not missing Caitlyn’s eyes wandering around her face, maybe looking for something. “I have no power; I just help wherever I am needed.”

“Vi…” Caitlyn’s arm lifts, the back of her hand caressing Vi’s cheek, soft, and warm and slow. Vi’s breath gets caught in her throat. “Do you think I am not watching you?” Vi frows her eyebrows, questioning, but Caitlyn continues. “Helping the laborers dig and lay foundations for the river dam, even if your arm isn’t fully healed. Crouching down to console a crying kid and picking her in your arms to bring her all the way to the orphanage yourself. Bringing warm meals to the enforcers freezing as they hold out their posts across the bridge. Do you really think that I don’t know what you are up to, or do you think I wouldn’t care or notice your kindness?”

Caitlyn’s hand is resting on her nape, Vi looking down at her lap, a little embarrassed to realize that as much as she trails behind Caitlyn’s every step, the reverse also seems to be true. “I am just doing what I can,” she feels Caitlyn’s eye on her, but doesn’t dare look back up. “Making myself useful.”

Caitlyn doesn’t reply. She traces her fingers across the short hair on Vi’s nape, crossing the top of her spine. The fireplace is dying down, the room getting cold and the colors fading into darkness. “Can I kiss you?” Caitlyn whispers then, her hand on Vi’s neck, pushing her head up to look back at her.

Vi freezes for a few moments. The embraces, physical support, and fleeting touches of comfort were the only intimacy they had allowed themselves in months, the state of their relationship uncertain, but too far down their mental list of priorities to be a matter of conversation. She has never wanted anything more than Caitlyn to kiss her, but she can’t find the words to say so. She lifts her head up and leans in, slowly, until Caitlyn meets her halfway.

It’s slow, sweet, a little awkward even, more fitting for a first kiss than their first kiss had been. Caitlyn’s lips are chapped, and Vi doesn’t even want to imagine how bad her own are, but she loses this and any other train of thoughts when Caitlyn peppers kisses across her lips, her cupid’s bow, the tip of her nose and her cheek.

It’s over fast, and there is no ragged breathing or glassy eyes. Caitlyn looks at her softly, still holding Vi’s face in her hands, and Vi realises that she isn’t the only one with unsaid words between them. They stay like this for a while, cuddling on the couch of the dark room until Tobias comes back from the hospital and comments on how cold it has gotten, urging them both to get some sleep, the clock on the wall signalling midnight a little after his arrival.

Vi has been given her own room, and bed, but she rarely uses them for more than storage of her belongings and the occasional midday nap she sometimes needs when Caitlyn is away. They climb the stairs to the second floor together, shutting the door behind them into Caitlyn’s room.

Vi thinks of what they are. Caitlyn sometimes introduces her to new people as her partner. Certainly, more than friends, but unsure if she can call them lovers. She knows that the lack of romantic or sexual intimacy during the past months is not a byproduct of lack of willingness, but rather one of their stress and priorities. And Vi understands that it was enough to hold each other and know they were alive, there was nothing more comforting, more grounding, more needed during the past months, than just this.

Caitlyn kissing her reminded Vi of the times before. Of craving Caitlyn like her neurons were flaring up, like she had been starving. She watches Caitlyn change into her night clothes, knowing she’s being watched back. Wonders where they are heading with their relationship, what Caitlyn wants out of it, of them. She is not naive enough to not admit to herself that there isn’t affection there. She can see it in Caitlyn’s eye, and in the way they giggle when their cold feet bump under the covers as they move to hold each other to sleep. How deep this affection runs, Vi does not know, and she is too afraid to call it love.

-

Memories come and go in waves when she has a moment to herself. Sometimes they are painful flashes, and other times they feel like old, worn-out blankets covering her. Vi, after those first months of willing herself to not feel, finally starts letting them wash over her. It is a slow process. She visits old, familiar places at Zaun. She lights up a candle and burns a folded paper with her sister’s name. 

“We have to live on,” Ekko leans on her, the both of them perched up on the roof of the treehouse. “In the ways they would want us to.”

“Do you believe they are watching over us?” Vi holds back her tears instinctively, although Ekko is the last person she would be embarrassed to cry in front of. “From…wherever they are.” She never believed in the afterlife, but she wishes she did. A chance for her loved ones to be happy at last, and a chance for her to see them again.

“Maybe they are,” Ekko smiles, “but even if they aren’t, we will always carry them with us.”

Children are playing with a ball underneath the tree, some of the firelights watching them, or chatting with each other. There is the smell of food wafting from somewhere in the treehouse, and a tiny, clear stream of water comes in through a large pipe. One of the very first of the new waterlines of Zaun.

Ekko and his team have been working on soil fertilizers and possible crops they can use to feed Zaun. An idea that once would have been a foolish dream, that now seems like a faraway possibility. With clean water and help from Piltovian scholars, they have been experimenting with the soil properties in ways Vi does not really understand, but the tilt in Ekko’s voice is more than enough to convince her that things are moving towards the right direction.

-

She spends a lot of the time on the bridges too, the ones that remained standing after the war. Some of the enforcers remember her, and she would even tentatively think they respect her. They share warm drinks with her at the end of their shifts and talk about their ideas and needs. New coats above their uniforms to last the upcoming winter, shorter shifts when the new recruits get officially employed in the force, all along with the promise that their children will be blessed enough to see them grow old. The promise of long-standing peace for both sides of the bridge.

It’s one of those days, Vi returning from one of the bridges, the norther one, the wind whipping her face, that she feels her scattered thoughts trying to form a memory. Maybe because on her way back she saw a woman singing to the baby sleeping in her arms, or maybe because a little band was playing at the newly build square close to the house, or because of no reason at all.

The house is quiet and warm, and she sheds her coat and thick uniform shirt when she steps inside, finding that the fire is burning in the study, Caitlyn holed up in her office space. They exchange a small greeting, and Vi pours herself a drink, sitting in front of the low table right in front of the fireplace.

She remembers the tiny fireplace at her old home. Her father keeping the fire burning with the twigs and wood scraps they would find around. How they would all huddle to sleep together in front of it during the coldest days of winter, in a mess of limbs and covers. Her father had a smiling face, despite the deep lines along his forehead, or the cuts and bruises from working in the fissures. His voice was deep and gravely and Vi remembers his coughing, almost comforting because she knew that he was home.

Her mother’s voice was sweet, loving, her face features still soft even after all the hardships Vi was never old enough to know about. She worked long hours, letting Vi and Powder to fend for themselves, but she would always be back in the evening, to put them to bed, and to sing a lullaby. The sisters never cared that they only had a single bed, or that they would wake up to an empty house. In the undercity, they had more than most others already. Their mother would kiss their foreheads and sing, only getting up after they were both lulled to sleep.

Vi does not remember the words, but she remembers the melody, and she hums to herself, trying to not let go of that single memory of her mother, putting them to sleep, safe and sound. She wonders if it’s a Zaunite song that maybe she can find in some book, or ask someone about, or if their mother thought of it herself, its words lost forever in time.

“Is that...singing?” Caitlyn appears in her peripheral, tired but not shaky from exhaustion as she is some nights. She takes a seat on the low table, next to Vi.

“Just a song my mother used to sing for us,” Vi looks at the fire, wondering what her mother would think of Caitlyn. She would love her, as she did everyone.

Caitlyn lets a few beats pass between them, leaning on Vi’s shoulder. The lines on her face are taunt, and Vi knows she has been overly stressed the past days, trying to work out how they can make use of the Hex Gates now that Hextech is no more, if they should shut them down, or repurpose them for storage, or leave them intact in case they are ever needed again.

“Are you still in this fight, Violet?” Caitlyn asks in the warm air between them, soft, like she always is with Vi.

Vi gives her a smile. She does not know what exactly Caitlyn is talking about. The reforming of the enforcers, or the large-scale construction all across their cities, or the social relations that will take years if not decades to smooth out. She does not ask, because whatever it is, she knows that she won’t be backing down from Caitlyn’s side.

“I’m the dirt under your nails, Cupcake,” she grins, nuzzling into Caitlyn’s side. Her heart feels full, almost happy. “You’re never gonna clean me out.”

Caitlyn’s breath slows, like she’s relieved, and Vi does not want to believe that in her mind there was the chance Vi would ever leave her. If there is, she will make sure to dispel it through the only way she knows, by staying.

So they sit there, in the crowded small table in front of the fireplace and Vi keeps humming when Caitlyn steals a gulp of her whiskey, in the comforting quietness of the house Vi feels she could almost call her home.

-

Things eventually calm down enough for Vi to settle into some sort of routine with Caitlyn. They are both early risers, although Vi could stay in bed forever, given the chance, and given that Caitlyn would be there too.  They take their breakfast together, a chance to brief each other on the day’s activities. Sometimes Tobias joins them before he leaves for the hospital, and other times the mailman interrupts them with a fresh stack of letters.

There is comfort in knowing each other’s whereabouts before starting on the days they can’t spend together. Vi has accepted a position training new recruits on hand-to-hand combat, so she spends most of her mornings in the central enforcer station, while Caitlyn is diving her time between numerous projects at once. Vi watches her work herself to the bone, kicking out previously corrupt high-profile officials, interrogate anyone with possible ties to Noxus, and still make time to oversee the rebuilding herself and talk to the people. Sometimes they meet in the enforcer station for a small lunch, but most days they see each other at home, late into the evening.

It soon becomes Vi’s favourite part of the day. The way Caitlyn’s eye lights up when they see each other, and how she greets Vi with a kiss before asking about her day. They laze on the couch, holding each other’s hands, Vi playing with Caitlyn’s hair, or Caitlyn scraping her nails on that little part of Vi’s nape that feels so good. Vi never thought she could have that, the peace, the domesticity, the assurance that her person is safe, that Caitlyn will return home to her, every single evening. She basks in the warmth of the feeling, while simultaneously trying to convince herself to not get used to it.

She knows good things rarely last. She knows letting her guard down will only end up hurting more in the end. She knows that life is the most unpredictable the moment it becomes stable. Yet she yearns for it, for Caitlyn’s evening kisses and her left side of the bed. For the sweet release of stress when she hits the dummies, not to protect or to hurt, but just to burn her energy after a day at the station. For the greetings of the people she sees in her new daily life; the recruits and the upper ups in the station, the enforcers on the bridges she takes cigarettes and warm drinks to, the labourers working on the dam she helps when her shifts are over. A community being built brick by brick, from the very start.

-

“I have not had the chance to thank you enough for taking care of my daughter,” Tobias finds her in the lounge room of Caitlyn’s study, his daughter not yet home. Vi startles, not used to seeing him outside the main living room of the house or the dining room, his own bedroom at the other side of the mansion. She moves to stand up, but he waves for her to sit back down on the armchair she was occupying, taking a seat in the other one himself. “I have not been as hospitable to you as I should have, and the apology is long overdue, Violet.”

“It’s-“ Vi starts, staring at him perplexed. Dressed in black slacks and a black shirt, Vi isn’t sure if he just came back, or if he is on his way to the hospital. She does have a feeling he doesn’t sleep as much as he should. “You had your own shit to go through,” she settles on saying. The kindness in his eyes is the same one reflected in Caitlyn’s under the sunlight or in front of the burning fire.

“I am glad she had you,” he takes a shaky breath, crow’s feet tense as he rubs his eyes. “When I couldn’t step up to help her as I should.”

Vi learnt at some point that Tobias patched both her and Caitlyn up right after the war. She remembers his sobs coming from the living room when she would be awake sometimes in the middle of the night. How he stares at his wife’s portrait, blinking his eyes.  How he worked tirelessly, to ensure that as many people, from Piltover and Zaun both, could survive their injuries in the days after the war.

“You did what you could,” Vi says, kindly. He is a quiet man, soft spoken, appearing even meek to the untrained eye. Vi knows though, that just like his daughter, he loves violently. “Caitlyn knows it, and I know it too. I am grateful for all you have done for me, and for her.” She watches a small smile grace his face. “And for letting me stay here.”

Tobias’ eyebrows furrow at the last statement and he shakes his head. “It is the least we could do for you,” he says, pushing himself off the armchair, signalling the conversation is over. He leaves the room, Vi looking at the now empty soace. A weight off her chest, knowing that this was his way of saying that they’re good, that he accepts her position next to his daughter, and the various implications of it.

-

It’s not needed to help each other bathe anymore, wounds not much more than raised red scars and dull pains, but they sometimes still do, when there is a bit more time to be spared than just for a quick shower. They undress each other, letting eyes wander, and Vi would be more self conscious about all the off colour slashes and patches if not for the way Caitlyn’s eye soften as her fingers trace Vi’s skin slowly, lovingly.

Caitlyn has a variety of soaps and lotions and sponges that Vi doesn’t know how to use. She picks what smells the best while Caitlyn prepares the bathtub for them, warm water bubbling almost to its brink. With clean water being sparse, showers were rare in the undercity, let alone this kind of pampering. One more thing that Vi has to convince herself she is deserving of.

They take turns washing each other’s hair, Vi is almost ready to fall asleep with the way Caitlyn massages her scalp and leans in to press a kiss on the crown of her head. It smells of lavender and other herbs Vi is not familiar with, and when it’s her turn to wash Caitlyn, she gives her a foam beard first, their giggles resonating on the walls of the warm, humid room.

“Your hair has gotten longer,” Caitlyn muses, drying Vi’s hair herself. She always complains that Vi doesn’t dry herself sufficiently enough, and will get sick because of it. “Do you like it that way?” She threads her fingers through the locks, slightly curling after their bath, and Vi leans into her touch. “Or you would prefer a haircut?”

Vi always chopped her hair short. It was the easiest way to keep it relatively clean, out of her way when fighting, and even safe from the horrible lice waves that Stillwater went through every few months. Now it has gotten longer to the point that combing through can feel like a chore, although Caitlyn very obviously enjoys caressing through it. “Maybe a little trim is in order,” she shrugs, touching the growing strands on the side she usually kept shaved.

“A day out will do us good,” Caitlyn starts dressing herself, handing Vi clothes from the drawer of nightwear they share. “Maybe shop for some clothes as well?”

Vi considers the proposal. With little daily expenses in her life, much of her salary goes into savings, and rarely on the meals Caitlyn sometimes lets her pay for. Most of her old clothes are worn out at this point, and although she is usually in her uniform, she realizes it would probably feel good to get a couple clean sets to have at hand.

“It’s a date then, Cupcake,” she grins, relishing in the chuckle escaping Caitlyn’s mouth.

-

Caitlyn’s initial plan, Vi learns, is to visit the Kiramman family tailor (because of course they have one), and commission clothing for her. Thankfully Vi catches on fast enough to veto that and convinces Caitlyn to go for their shopping at Zaun. She would do a lot for Caitlyn, but certainly not get into Piltovian stuffy clothes. That’s where she draws the line.

That’s how they find themselves in a dingy little shop, somewhere on the furthest side from the bridges and borders between the two cities. Caitlyn walks around, touching the fabrics, the leather and the spikes while Vi occupies herself in the crowded changing room with the clothes she has picked.

A couple of new pairs of ripped jeans, a pair of cargo pants and a few tops make it to the shortlist. There is a mirror, and Vi stares at herself, in the vest she has been trying, a washed red, bold on top of the white shirt she’s wearing underneath. She peeks from the curtains.

“Cait, what do you say?” She grabs Caitlyn’s attention, watching her turn towards the changing room, a leather belt with gold chains in her hands.

“Oh!” Caitlyn makes a small, surprised sound, getting closer until they are face to face. “You look incredible.”

“That is an overstatement,” Vi laughs. “It’s only because your standard are my old ratty clothes,” she gulps down whatever else she was about to say, realizing that Caitlyn is staring at her, checking her out.

“Buy all of this,” Vi is momentarily out of balance as Caitlyn hooks two fingers in her beltloops and pulls. Vi thinks Caitlyn is about to kiss her, trying to ignore the way the store owner is watching them, somewhat confused. “And wear it often,” she grins, taking a step back again, out of Vi’s bubble. Vi scrambles to take everything off and to the register, the belt Caitlyn was holding added to the pile.

They make it back in some weird trance, Caitlyn’s hand secured in the crook of Vi’s arm as they walk through the streets back to the bridge and to the Kiramman estate. There is a kind of energy Vi doesn’t often sense from Caitlyn. Anticipation and restlessness. She rolls with it.

They barely make it to Caitlyn’s quarters before Vi’s being pushed on the back of a shutting door and kissed thoroughly. She hears Caitlyn moan into the kiss the moment she feels the peek of a tongue running across her teeth. It gets heated for a few moments, before it slows down, their bodies moving against each other, friction barely enough for anything other than conveying their shared need to be close. Caitlyn’s hand lands on the front of her shirt, pulling her further into the room, pushing her onto one of the armchairs.

“Cait?” Vi questions, voice coming out as a groan when Caitlyn’s weight is on her, back of thighs on top of her legs. Caitlyn stops to look at her, breath fanning into Vi’s open mouth. “What was it?” Vi tries to play it cool. Her whole body is on fire. She wants to touch and be touched by Caitlyn, in the way they haven’t in too, too long. “What was it, the outfit, or the haircut?”

Caitlyn caresses the freshly shaved side of her hair, fingers trailing down to a longer strand by Vi’s nape, and she pulls. “Neither,” she whispers into Vi’s ear, moving to trail kisses down her neck. “Just you.”

Vi goes along with it, hands caressing down Caitlyn’s shoulders blades, feeling how her muscles move as they make out, then moving lower to Caitlyn’s waist. They rock together, the room freezing without the fireplace burning, but neither seems to mind with the heat between them.

Vi debates asking Caitlyn to take this to the bedroom. They’ve both been doing much better physically, but she doubts the armchair will be merciful to their joints and muscles if they continue. She feels Caitlyn suck in the skin of the collarbone almost to the point it hurts, and then pressing a kiss on it. She realizes how much she has been craving this, like a dam opening and the memories of the sounds Caitlyn made on her fingers and mouth start coming back.

“Violet,” Caitlyn mutters, lips against skin, warm and wet, and promising if not for the weird way Caitlyn’s body shags on her. “Sorry.”

“Hey,” Vi tries to not panic, but something is obviously wrong. Caitlyn is a dead weight on top of her, the tips of her fingers slightly shaking. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Caitlyn’s voice can barely be heard. Vi wants her to know that this isn’t something to feel bad about. She knows she looks off herself though, she is worried. “I wanted to- I really did, but then I just couldn’t.”

“It’s okay,” Vi gathers Caitlyn into her arms, protectively. “There is so much shit going on Cait, you are exhausted, we both are. You don’t owe me, or yourself, this.”

“But you want this,” Caitlyn sounds on the verge of tears, and Vi hates it, hates how she cannot fix everything wrong, how Caitlyn sounds miserable over something she has no control over. “And I want this, and then I just shut down.”

“We have time,” Vi hopes she sounds as convincing as she wants to be. “No reason to rush this, or anything else, right?” She feels a small nod from Caitlyn, and it’s enough. “Let me see your pretty face.” Caitlyn lifts her head, eye watery, mouth a tense line. “Breathe for me,” Vi places a hand on Caitlyn’s chest, feeling her finally letting a breath out, and sucking another one in.

“I need some sleep,” Caitlyn leans in, nose rubbing on Vi’s. “I bet you do too.”

“Let’s get to it, then,” Vi smiles at the gasp Caitlyn lets out when Vi lifts her up, carrying her to the bedroom. The one she doesn’t dare call their bedroom, but that’s what it is in every way, shape and form.

She throws an arm around Caitlyn’s middle, the other under her head, bodies flush and warm. Safe. Caitlyn holds her hand, muttering something out right before her breath evens. Vi is too tired to figure out what it was, content to be able to hold Caitlyn in her arms, night after night.

-

The dam is completed, along with various other infrastructures in the two cities. Zaunites working in Piltover and vice versa are still rare but not shocking anymore. It’s like a breath of fresh air, realizing that they were able to finish something so big, so monumental without horrible shortcomings or delays or resistance. Six, almost seven months after the war, large parts of Zaun have access to clean water for the first time. Piltover learns to share, and Zaun learns that there is a chance of building trust.

“Do you understand how lifechanging this is?” Vi asks, skimming through the morning paper, a black and white picture from the dam opening ceremony on the very first page. “For so many people, for so many children that won’t have to grow up in filth.”

They are in Caitlyn’s office, on one of the rare instances they are both in and unoccupied. Caitlyn had spent the whole morning attending meetings over possibly reopening some of the trading routes with Demacia and Ionia and Vi had just finished her morning batch of training. They share a platter of tea sandwiches from a nearby café, half catching up, half trying to take care of all pending paperwork.

“I cannot pretend I will ever be able to understand the full extent of it,” Caitlyn is sitting on top of her desk, legs crossed, a copy of the newspaper in her own hands. “And I could never do it alone, without you, and the other dozens of people who backed us up and did the work.”

“You are such a gem, Cupcake, you know that?” Vi pinches Caitlyn’s thigh, her hand batted away accompanied by Caitlyn’s little giggle. “Maybe you deserve to treat yourself to a holiday.”

“A holiday?” Caitlyn sounds almost offended, but she laughs, open mouthed this time, letting Vi know how ridiculous she’s being.

“Why not?” Vi schools her expression into something more serious, trying to be convincing. “We can go…somewhere, for a bit. The world won’t stop turning.” There are mountains of work to be completed, but if they wait for them, they might as well take a holiday when they are dead.

Caitlyn seems to actually contemplate this, creaking the corners of the newspaper she’s still holding. Vi didn’t expect anything but dismissal to the proposal of holiday, but if Caitlyn was downright negative, she would have voiced it by now.

“There is something that can be arranged,” Caitlyn says finally, looking at nothingness. “A couple of weeks maybe, but only if we manage to take care of any pending work and ensure that no delays will occure due to our absence.”

“I like the sound of that,” Vi smiles. She does think they need a few days off from…all of this. “Where to?”

“It should start snowing in the upcoming weeks,” Caitlyn turns to look at Vi, a small smile on her lips. Caitlyn runs naturally cold, so Vi wouldn’t expect her to be fond of the colder months.  “The Kiramman winter home will be beautiful.”

-

Vi has never been on a train before. She knew about their existence, sure, but they were more of a vague concept than an actual means of transportation people used. She is riding in one now though, Caitlyn’s sweet weight on her side as they’re both looking outside of the window. Vi had never stepped foot outside of Zaun and Piltover, only ever seeing photos or sketches of faraway lands in books, and her eyes are glued to the landscapes they’re passing through.

Caitlyn had explained the basics of their route and where the Kiramman winter house is geographically. They’re moving to the west, parallel to the mountain range and the seaside merchant routes between Piltover and Demacia. There are scattered small towns along the route, the biggest of which are even graced by a train stop, but most of the journey has a view of either thick forests, or cliffs with peeks of snow on the mountaintops.

Caitlyn has booked them a private train car, and she has brought paperwork to work on during the multiple hours they are going to be spending there. Vi watches her, pretending to be drafting the new recruit training plans that have been requested of her.

They have tea, lunch, a nap, some more tea and a lot of aimless chatting in between until it’s time to arrive, and Vi is jittery with nerves the moment they finally step out of the train, into a frozen, all-grey and white station. People come to greet them, and take their luggage, despite Vi being able to carry the few bags herself. They are polite to both Caitlyn and Vi, who is somewhat shocked they take the time to welcome her instead of right out ignoring her presence.

There is a carriage waiting for them, two horses, the Kiramman crest at the side of the door, deep green carpet and pillows on the inside. Vi stares so hard she thinks her eyes will roll out of her skull during the few moments she has to herself, before Caitlyn takes her hand and leads her inside.

“Sometimes I forget you are that rich,” Vi laughs, “How did they even know my name?” The two men and the lady who came to greet them had called her Miss Violet. Who the fuck would know her as Violet, let alone a Miss.

“I wrote to them in advance,” Caitlyn smiles, hands tidy in her lap and although the employees are not in the cabin with them, Vi wonders if it will be improper to hold her hand. Caitlyn must be getting cold, despite the insulation of the carriage. “And of course they would treat you with respect, as the partner of the house head.”

Vi stares at her funny. “Partner?”

Caitlyn stares back. “Would you prefer something else?” Caitlyn’s smile turns into a subtle grin, in that playful way Vi has a feeling is reserved solely for her. “Lover? Girlfriend, mayhap? For anything more pompous, I am afraid I would have to marry you first.”

“I am your girlfriend?” Vi sounds dumb even to her own ears. They haven’t talked about labels, but they sure were something, exclusive and dedicated. She doesn’t really have the bandwidth to assess the getting married comment.

Caitlyn chuckles, eyebrows lifted and her tooth gap in full view. It is getting pretty challenging for Vi to not kiss her. “I sure hope you are,” Caitlyn apparently is having a similar though, leaning in and pecking the side of her mouth.

-

The winter house is undeniably beautiful. The vast gardens are covered with snow, but Caitlyn tells Vi they are full of roses of all colors in the summer months. It’s all made of stone, in what Vi assumes is traditional architecture for the area, and the largest fireplace she has ever seen is burning in the living room.

Caitlyn introduces her to the personnel that come to greet her, about a dozen people, some of which seem honestly content to see Caitlyn, even pulling her in for hugs. Vi wonders how spending the holidays at this place would have been, in that kind of luxury, but also warmth.

The sun has long set, and soon enough they are alone again, in the wing of the house Vi assumes they will be occupying for the next ten days. She looks at the decorations in awe, the animal heads on the walls, the rifles, rapiers and other hunting and fighting paraphernalia, the portraits.

“My grandma and grandpa,” Caitlyn says, placing her hand on Vi’s shoulder, standing right behind her while she’s examining the family portraits, similar but different than the ones at the Piltover mansion. “I barely remember them, but they gifted me my first letter writing kit.”

“Are you getting a portrait too?” Vi half wonders where they will manage to find the wall space for it, and half who might be accompanying Caitlyn on her picture.

“Eventually,” Vi feels Caitlyn’s smile on her neck. “When things settle down.” She follows Vi’s eyes, on a portrait of the Kirammans of three generations ago. Vi is unsure if asking about it is overstepping, but Caitlyn beats her to it. “Indeed, this is my great grandma and her wife,” she rubs the ever-present knot on top of Vi’s spine. “I am far from being the first one of my house with these preferences.”

Vi stares at the portrait. A woman with long, dark braided hair is standing up, wearing fur, one hand resting on the hilt of the sword she carries in her belt, the other on the shoulder of another woman, sitting beside her. The sitting woman is wearing a dress, her face round and sweet looking, and she is holding a baby in her arms. “How did they-“ Vi makes an awkward motion with her hands. “Your grandma?”

“Kirammans are nurtured, not born,” Caitlyn moves to stand next to Vi, her hand coming up to her waist, pushing under the sweater Vi is wearing to trace bare skin underneath. “My grandmother was adopted, and she was never less of a house head because of it.”

Vi nods, letting the information sink in. She thought aristocracy was all about birthrights and nothing much more. Being born into money because your grandparents ten generations ago were rich even if the nine generations before you hadn’t had to lift a finger. She is too tired for more questions, and doubts Caitlyn is in the best state after so many hours of traveling, so she saves it for another day.

-

The following morning in the winter home is the first time in very long that Caitlyn allows herself to sleep in. Vi wakes up, warm and toasty, a handful of Caitlyn in her arms and a few strands of black hair in her mouth. The heavy curtains don’t let any sunlight in, and Caitlyn is still soundly asleep, snoring a little in the way she does when her nose is getting stuffed.

“Gotta be honest with you Cupcake,” Vi whispers against Caitlyn’s hair. “I don’t know how I made it here.” Or how she made it that far, not only still alive, but still willing to live.

Caitlyn stirs, mutters something and burrows further into Vi’s arms. Vi momentarily feels like she is about to cry, but reigns it in. Not the best morning impression, especially since they are there to try relaxing for once.

When she looks at her again, Caitlyn is already looking back, half-lidded and soft. “Good morning,” she presses a sloppy kiss on Vi’s cheek and pulls their shared covers up to their necks.

“Morning, Cupcake,” Vi finds it that she wouldn’t mind spending the whole day in there, under the warm covers, kissing Caitlyn, whispering sweet words between their lips. “What’s the game plan?”

Caitlyn lets out a quiet groan, like she just realized that there are things beyond their bed and the warm body next to her. She pulls Vi onto her body by the back of her shirt, peppering kisses across her face. She is rarely very talkative in the mornings before her caffeine after all, and Vi is more than happy to reciprocate the touches wordlessly. They move slowly, Vi’s tongue licking into Caitlyn’s mouth, Caitlyn’s frozen fingertips pressing circles on Vi’s hipbones where her shirt has risen.

“I love your weight on me,” Caitlyn breaths out, smiling, and Vi dips down to steal one more kiss. “You are so warm.” Palms cup both of Vi’s cheeks and she’s being kissed like Caitlyn has been starving for her, Vi losing track of which is making what sound between them.

They both startle when there’s a knock on the door, two short raps and by the time someone calls from the other side that Breakfast is served, Vi has jumped on the empty side of the bed, horrified that someone would find them in a compromising position and she will ruin Caitlyn’s decency…or something. Caitlyn laughs, looking at Vi as she replies that they will be there in a moment.

“They know we are sleeping together, Violet,” Caitlyn rolls out of the bed from the side unoccupied by Vi. “I am sure they can fill in the gaps of what might be happening apart from sleeping.” Vi manages to get up too, walking up to Caitlyn to dig into the wardrobe where Caitlyn insisted they store their clothes instead of letting them folded into their bags.

Vi finds a soft crème pullover to wear over thick black pants. Most of the tops brought on the trip for her to wear are Tobias’ as she really didn’t have much appropriate clothing for that kind of cold and couldn’t do much but agree to the offer.

They make it to the dining room without many delays, and Vi stares in awe at the wide, ceiling height windows that let so much light in. It’s snowing outside, and inside the fire is burning, and the table is already set for two with what Vi assumes the Piltoverians would call a breakfast spread.

“All this for us?” Vi sits on one of the plush chairs, watching the snow mesmerized. She only remembers getting snow at Zaun a few times, and by the time it landed it would just become a murky pile of mud.

“Have whatever you want,” Caitlyn starts buttering up a slice of bread, making a pleased sound after her first sip of tea. Vi is still not used to the strong and sharp taste of Caitlyn’s preferred blend, but she can tolerate a few more herbal ones. “Our employees are free to join for breakfast too, although most start their work much earlier in the day.”

And truthfully, some of the employees make a pit stop for a bite. They greet them with a good morning and make small talk. An old lady that Caitlyn introduces as the head cook, a tall Ionian man that is head of security and two siblings that apparently work in the stables. Vi didn’t know there were stables, but she supposes at this point it shouldn’t come as a surprise.

“I was thinking of visiting the shooting range today,” Caitlyn says, trying to pass it as a casual, off-handed recommendation. Vi has learnt how to read between the lines. She knows how much gunmanship means to Caitlyn. She knows Caitlyn hasn’t fired a gun since she lost her eye. She only keeps a small revolver on her for security. The doctors were against it as the recoil and the movement needed would strain Caitlyn’s muscles. Then there was the vertigo and the nausea in those first weeks, and it’s not far-fetched to assume they might return with something that requires eye and hand coordination.

Vi searches Caitlyn’s face for any hint. Wants to tell her that it will be alright. Even if her marksmanship isn’t perfect as before with one eye, or if her body can’t take the recoil of the rifle as easily anymore, it will be alright. It’s not a personal failure to fall a few steps behind. She does not say any of this. “Of course, I will join you in the biggest coat we can find in this house.”

They bundle up, coats and scarves and all, and Vi figures it’s probably not the best time to mention how hot she finds those leather gloves Caitlyn uses for shooting. They move through the snow towards a small storage space at the side of the house, where the rifles are kept.

Vi watches Caitlyn pick one, running her hand on the monogram decorating the wood. She cleans the parts and sets it up with fast and practiced motions, picks ammunition and guides Vi outside again. The shooting range isn’t far, but Vi has trouble walking in the snow, Caitlyn slowing down for her, looping her hand around Vi’s waist to steady her and Vi can see her smile even underneath the scarf.

They make it to a big, open area, with large circular targets that seem to be made out of painted wood at various distances. Vi realizes how long it has been since she last saw Caitlyn like this, in her element. The rifle she has picked is a simple one, unlike the fancy Hextech guns built for them. Made of wood and steel, old but well-loved looking. Similar to the one Caitlyn carried on her back when they first met.

There is a bench a few steps behind Caitlyn that Vi clears out by pushing the snow off, and hopes her coat is thick enough to not get soaked as she takes a seat. She doesn’t know much about shooting; she was never the one for long range fighting. She remembers hearing muffled conversation from the doctors, about how the eye lost was the non-dominant one. Still Vi has no idea what this means in practice.

Caitlyn gets into position, back straight and head high. She loads the gun, and the following fire is deafening, the smell of gunpowder in the air. Vi looks at the target hit, a hole off center, but in the circle. Caitlyn loads the gun again. Again, and again.

Vi watches her getting frustrated. Some of the shots get close to the center of the targets, but Vi is certain that for Caitlyn it’s not close enough if it’s not bullseye. The recoil from the rifle seems cruel, and Caitlyn’s posture is starting to crumble after the repetitions.

“Goddamit,” Caitlyn says, bringing the rifle closer to her body. An attempt for more steadiness maybe, to the cost of direct recoil on her shoulder. Vi, who has been standing up and trying to move around and not freeze gets closer to her.

“Cait,” she doesn’t touch Caitlyn, not wanting to startle her, waiting until she lowers the rifle and turns around.

“Vi.” Caitlyn looks tense. Hard lines framing her face, eye squinting. She needs a break that Vi knows she won’t allow herself to take.

“Hey,” Vi’s every breath comes out as a frozen little cloud. “Teach me how to shoot.”

There is a moment of silence, and then a moment of understanding. That Vi is asking her to take it slow, to let her help. She knows the Caitlyn she first met would never let her touch her rifle, but this Caitlyn, her Caitlyn, nods her head and motions for Vi to move close.

It is not hard to figure out the basics of loading and firing the gun. The kick it gives Vi’s shoulder the first time she shoots sends a sharp pain through her spine, and Caitlyn manhandles her upper body to fix her posture. What is hard, is actually aiming. It feels simple and instinctive enough to look through the scope and shoot, but Vi finds out that this isn’t how it actually works.

“You have to find your shooting eye,” Caitlyn instructs, having Vi shoot with one eye shut, and then the other. “Take note of the wind and humidity,” her front is on Vi’s back, gloved hands on top of Vi’s, guiding them to direct the gun. “Measure how far your target is.”

Vi shoots. It’s an almost scary experience, the sound, the strong smell, the ways a rifle like that can be used. She misses most of the targets, and shoots out of the circles, or just at the borders. She’d never expect to be good at this, but she’s content to feel Caitlyn’s body relax against her as they go over the repetitive motions, again and again. Vi isn’t sure if Caitlyn is convinced Vi can eventually make a good shot, or is just using Vi’s little stunt as an excuse to touch her.

The sun has crossed the middle point of the sky by the time Caitlyn decides they are done. She takes a few last shots herself, shoulders relaxed, and grip less desperate than it was before. Vi tells her she wouldn’t be opposed to a repetition the following days and watches the glee in Caitlyn’s eye.

“This was my mother’s,” Caitlyn says, disassembling and putting back the rifle in the storage space. “I assume it is mine now, but there was a time I would beg her to let me hold it.”

Vi watches her run her finger on the monogram again before she puts it away. The CS carved into the wood. “Did you learn to shoot with it?”

“No,” Caitlyn looks around, at the other guns stored in the room. “Greyson gifted me my own first gun for my tenth birthday and taught me how to use it.” Vi watches as she gulps, her lips trembling for a moment before she composes herself again and smiles. “At first it was so heavy for me that I could barely fire twice before my arms would give out.”

“What happened to it, then?” Vi asks. Vi has seen Caitlyn using various rifles through their time together and does not remember noticing monograms on them.

“It got lost,” Caitlyn shrugs. “Somewhere in the undercity,” she offers a hand for Vi to take. “I will eventually commission a new one.”

They spend the rest of the day lazy, draped across the couches, reading books and pretending to be working, ending up with Caitlyn nested in Vi’s arms. Vi tries to follow Caitlyn as she explains something about borders and mineral trading on a map she’s holding, but her mind is pleasantly fuzzy.

“Can I kiss you?” She asks, Caitlyn stopping mid-sentence. The position isn’t the best, but Caitlyn does turn enough to press her lips on Vi’s.

“Is that sufficient, Violet?” There’s this glint in her eye again. They are in the living room, with the door open, and the possibility of someone stepping into the room is non-zero. Still Vi mutters a no, and goes for another kiss. Caitlyn stops her, a palm flat on Vi’s sternum to hold her down. She is smirking, and she is too damn attractive. “The rest after dinner,” she pecks Vi’s cheek and gets up, to put the map she was holding back in its place.

“After dinner,” Vi parrots, a bit awestruck with the change of the atmosphere between them. She feels something she cannot put her finger on, but knows Caitlyn isn’t the one to break promises. She occupies herself until the clock strikes seven in the evening.

They take a shower after dinner. The water is scorching and Vi cannot tear her eyes from Caitlyn’s reddening skin. Caitlyn lets her. They wash each other’s hair and then dry it, washing their teeth and then Vi watches Caitlyn pick a lotion from the cabinet.

“Can I?” She holds the bottle, and Vi has no idea what it is, but nods nonetheless, already imagining Caitlyn’s hands on her. “The cold isn’t forgiving to skin,” Caitlyn pours some of the clear liquid into her hand. It smells vaguely oily and flowery. “This helps.”

Vi forgets to breathe when Caitlyn massages the lotion into her skin. The liquid is warm in her hands as they start from Vi’s neck and trail down, her breasts, her stomach, her legs, her backside. Vi has never been that still before, scared that if she moves, or talks, she will break the moment they are having.

When she finishes her handiwork Vi is sure Caitlyn knows how much she has affected her. She wants to push Caitlyn’s back to the fogged-up mirror behind the sink, and kiss her until neither of them remembers their own name. But Caitlyn hands her the bottle with the lotion, and Vi snaps out of the thoughts, understanding what is being asked for her.

It’s heaven and it’s torture. Running her hands down Caitlyn’s shoulders and her ribcage and all the patches of skin Vi has been fantasizing of kissing. She keeps her touch soft, airy almost, but Caitlyn presses closer into her hands, asking for more. Maybe asking Vi to cross the line.

Following the same route Caitlyn has taken, she finishes applying the lotion on Caitlyn’s calves, and stands up to look at her in the eye, feeling her want bubbling up. “Are you…are we-“ she stutters, her usual bravado leaving her body when he sees the look Caitlyn is sending her way.

“Let’s get dressed, love,” Caitlyn says, and she knows what she is doing to Vi. And Vi will let her.

Vi dresses hastily in shorts and a loose sleeveless shirt she had brought. It is a little cold, but she knows it won’t be a problem under the sheets, and the room has its own little fireplace burning, that will keep the temperature high enough through the night.

When she turns around to seek Caitlyn, she finds her sitting on the edge of the bed. Vi stares, because she is aware Caitlyn really wants her to. Stares for what might be solid minutes before Caitlyn takes pity on her and makes a come forth motion with her fingers.

“You…had that?” Vi walks to the bed, to Caitlyn. Caitlyn who is wearing a dark blue satin robe and seemingly nothing underneath. Vi reaches to feel the fabric under her fingers and her mind short circuits.

“I had it made right before we left,” Caitlyn wets her lips. “Hoped that I’d want to wear it, and that you would like it.”

“We don’t have to do anything,” Vi straightens up, Caitlyn’s fisting her shirt to pull her back down, close to her own face. “You- you know we don’t.”

“I know,” Caitlyn agrees, lifting her hand to touch Vi’s bicep. She squeezes. “But I really want us to, I’ve been thinking about it.”

“About what?” Vi is leaning over Caitlyn straining her back, but she’s contemplating falling on her knees instead. “Me?”

“You,” Caitlyn confirms. “The things you can do to me.”

Vi lets out a shaky exhale, that Caitlyn doesn’t miss. The yellowish lamp on the bedside table covers everything in a warm light, and Caitlyn’s smile has never looked that kissable before.

“Bed?” Vi decides that kneeling on the floor, as hot as it is, won’t do either of them any favors. And she wants to savor this.

“Bed,” Caitlyn agrees as Vi climbs on the mattress to lay over the pillows covering the headboard. “But I just wanted to say something.”

Caitlyn has crawled over her, straddling Vi’s thighs, hair falling into her face. “Cait?” Vi gets worried, thinking of all the previous time Caitlyn had backed out from their intimacy. How she had said she wanted to, but something was stopping her. Vi wants her to know that as much as she wants it, it isn’t something that their relationship can’t be without.

“This morning,” Caitlyn smiles and presses a kiss under Vi’s eye, on the scribbled tattoo of her name. “You realized I was frustrated, getting in a weird headspace,” she places her hands on Vi’s shoulders, steadying herself and Vi can hear how her breath is getting faster with anticipation, and not anxiety. “And you dragged me out of it,” Caitlyn cups Vi’s face, thumb running over her lips. Vi leaves a kiss on the pad, watching the smile forming on Caitlyn’s face. “I am sure you know it, already, Vi, but I also want to tell you.” She leans in, closing the distance and Vi shuts her eyes instinctively, feeling lips ghosting over hers. “I love you, Violet.”

They kiss, and Vi feels herself melting into in, in the way Caitlyn holds her like something precious, and in the way her stomach feels tight and warm and so full of feelings. Caitlyn’s tongue parts her lips and their bodies start moving, Vi crumbling the satin on Caitlyn’s robe in her fists, pulling her as close as humanely possible.

They find a rhythm, kisses turning wet and needy, Caitlyn’s hips buckling against Vi’s body unashamedly. The I love you echoes in Vi’s mind and she feels herself moaning, Caitlyn’s teeth now down her neck, leaving marks that they might or might not be able to cover with scarves and turtlenecks.

“Tell me what you want,” Vi breathes out, cupping Caitlyn’s breasts through the fabric, the robe starting to come loose. “What you need.”

“Anything you’d give me,” Caitlyn mewls, and Vi is going crazy over the way she can feel the warmth of her skin against her shorts. “I’ve been dreaming about that tongue of yours, Vi,” Caitlyn presses her body down, and Vi can feel her dampness, nothing apart from pleasing her lover in her mind.

“Say my name like this, again,” Vi asks, manhandling Caitlyn to flip them around, laying her on the bed, long dark hair framing her face. She kisses Caitlyn again on the lips, the nose, the shut eyelid and the cut of her jawline, hand working to untie her robe.

“Vi,” Caitlyn arches her body, into any friction that Vi is willing to give her. And maybe another time they could do that; deny each other until it becomes deliciously unbearable. But not tonight. “Oh, Violet.” Tonight she is going to give Caitlyn everything.

“Easy,” Vi cages Caitlyn underneath her, hand sprawled on her stomach, where the loose knot used to hold the robe shut moments ago. “I’m here,” she kisses Caitlyn’s neck, that little spot that makes her whimper sweetly.

Caitlyn pulls the shirt off Vi, both gasping at the skin-on-skin contact, the warmth of skin, the way it feels when they move against each other as they keep kissing. Caitlyn’s nails trace the tattoos down Vi’s arms, her hips buckling against Vi’s calve slotted between Caitlyn’s thighs.

Vi lifts herself on her hands and knees and allows only a short moment to look at Caitlyn’s body before she gets to work. She moves slowly, methodically, making sure that no patch of skin will go unkissed. Caitlyn’s chest is sensitive, and Vi basks in the noises she can take out of her with a perked nipple in her mouth and another one between her fingers. She licks and leaves trails of red and shallow toothmarks across skin.

“I’d like you…a little lower,” Caitlyn threads her fingers into Vi’s hair, pulling a strand, her body reacting to the noise Vi makes in response. Vi has made it to her stomach already, sucking on the soft skin, grateful for the healthy weight Caitlyn has been putting on.

“And I thought you were the one always talking about patience,” Vi chuckles, but does move lower, finally laying down, supporting her upper body on her forearms. There is a wet trail on the sheets and Vi realizes that Caitlyn is dripping on them, and it does things she can’t put a name on to her.

She presses open mouthed kisses on the inside of Caitlyn’s thighs, soft hair tickling her cheeks as Caitlyn’s moans trying to direct her when she needs Vi to be. It feels impossibly warm in the room, and Vi follows Caitlyn’s musky, clear scent almost blindly. She noses on dark curls, a last moment of teasing before she licks a strip.

She has to keep Caitlyn down by the hips when she dips her tongue inside her, then licks up to her clit and sucks, Caitlyn thrashing against her. Vi relishes in the way she can hear her name between broken moans, Caitlyn so wet that Vi laps at her greedily.

Caitlyn’s hands stay on her, pulling her hair, caressing the shaved side of her head, holding her arms or shoulders, just keeping in contact with Vi in any way possible. And Vi is circling Caitlyn’s clit with her tongue, feeling her pulse through flushed skin, and the I love you bounces around her mind again, and she’s so turned on, and so in love, her thoughts start becoming mangled.

She can’t really help it when she sneaks a hand down her own shorts, grinding against it, providing a bit of friction to relieve herself. The motion isn’t lost on Caitlyn, with the way Vi is off balance for a moment. She’s so close just by feeling how close Caitlyn is, how her body moves against Vi’s tongue and her words start making no sense.

Caitlyn comes in waves, unable to keep still, loud and unbound, Vi’s tongue working her all through it, feeling her own orgasm approaching. The way she sloppily moves against her own hand would be embarrassing if she wasn’t almost painfully turned on.

She comes with Caitlyn’s taste in her mouth, a silent scream and the sound of her own name ringing in her ears, freezing for a couple of seconds. When she comes back to her senses, she realizes that Caitlyn, calmer now, is still moving against her face in slow circles. Vi ignores the way her jaw is getting sore and brings up the hand she was using on herself, experimentally dipping it just past Caitlyn’s core. Caitlyn responds with a litany of affirmations, and it’s all Vi needs before she fully slips a finger inside, and then a second one with ease, her tongue flicking Caitlyn’s sensitive clit. Caitlyn’s legs wrap around her back and Vi is so eager to bring her over the edge again that she barely remembers to breathe.  

It doesn’t take long for the buildup, and it gets messy, and Caitlyn sounds wonderfully desparate in those short moments before she comes with a scream and deflates back on the bed, whining in oversensitivity.

Vi crawls to lie next to her, to kiss her, slow and lewd as Caitlyn tastes herself on Vi’s tongue. They kiss until they cannot ignore the mess they have made of the bed and of each other, and they grunt and groan until they manage to get up and clean up enough to fall back to bed.

It’s right before Vi feels herself falling asleep, with Caitlyn’s fingers trailing the shapes on her naked back, that she manages to say what she doesn’t want to keep to herself anymore either.

“Just for the record, Cait, I really fucking love you too.”

-

The rest of their time in the winter house is spent leisurely. Or as leisurely as two people who cannot stay still can handle. They go to the shooting range and take turns at the targets. Vi is improving her previously nonexistent skills, and Caitlyn’s aim has gotten better, her hands steadier, the shortcoming of her missing eye a lessening evil. They spend hours cuddling and reading books by the fireplace, discussing stories and maps and historical texts.

“My mother received a lot of backslash when she announced her relationship with my father,” they are in the corner of the living room serving as a library space, looking through notes on the family history, the last tome of them written in by Cassandra herself. “An Ionian doctor, from a middle-class family.” She smiles, fingers tracing a photo tucked into the notebook, of a much, much younger Cassandra and Tobias.

“Do you know how they met?” Vi asks, assuming that it’s a more romantic story than her own parents meeting while working together in the fissures. She thought Tobias came from aristocracy too.

“Mother spent a summer at Ionia in her early twenties, doing diplomatic work. Father was working in the hospital when she got admitted after getting a nosebleed, apparently getting a heatstroke from spending too much time in the sun.” Caitlyn shuts the notebook she is holding, placing her hand on top of Vi’s instead, as they sit cross legged on one of the couches. “There was so much love between them, in their own, quiet ways. I don’t think I had realized the extend of it until I saw father…grieving.”

Vi rubs circles into Caitlyn’s hand, comforting, soft. They only have a couple of days left in the winter home before they go back to their work and shared life at Piltover, and Vi treasures every little moment they use to get to know about each other, however depressing some pieces of info might be. “And then he…followed her back to Piltover?”

“Oh, no,” Caitlyn giggles. She isn’t wearing her eyepatch, and Vi can see how the skin around her shut eyelid crinkles with the smile. She leans in to kiss it. “Apparently father didn’t want to leave at first, and it took mother multiple visits to convince him to come back with her. She was…insistent.”

Vi thinks back to the Cassandra Kiramman she so briefly met. Imposing, strict and cold. Then, the woman in front of her, an almost split image of her mother, also imposing and strict, but so, so warm to the people she loves. A young lady traveling back and forth to Ionia to bring her lover back with her against her family’s wishes. Maybe the similarities between mother and daughter run way deeper than Vi will ever know.

“I wish I could have spent more time with her,” Vi mutters, fully conscious of that part of her brain that screams at her that Cassandra would hate her, would do anything in her power to keep her as far from her daughter as possible.

“She would have come to adore you,” Caitlyn says, quieting the voices in Vi’s head. “Your stubbornness and lack of filter would create conflict, but I know she would come to respect you.” Caitlyn gulps, Vi following the motion, wondering if she has to let her know it’s okay to cry, to let it all out if she wants. “I fought a lot with her over my decisions and my preferences and my life, but I know she wanted the best for me, I know she wanted me to be happy. She loved me, as much as I did her.”

Caitlyn deflates into Vi’s arms, a warm weight as the first tears escape, quiet in the way grief sometimes takes over in these small moments. “My mother wasn’t around much,” Vi says, a song on her mind. “But she loved me, and she would love you with all her heart too.”

“I wish we could see them grow old,” Caitlyn smiles up at her. “Have their guidance.”

Vi smiles back, leaving a small kiss on Caitlyn’s forehead. She doesn’t remember her mother’s body, but she remembers the fire that engulfed it. And she remembers the scream ripped out of Caitlyn’s throat when she saw her mother’s lifeless body in the destroyed council room. Something taken from them that nobody can ever give them back. So they sit there, in the low light of the room, quietly mourning the family they could have been.

-

Their return to Piltover is uneventful, and apart from some paperwork that needs to be taken care of urgently, pretty much everything is where they left it. Vi also feels they left some of their worries back in the winter home, feeling lighter as they’re unpacking, both in Caitlyn’s room.

“Dinner on me tonight?” Vi picks the red vest Caitlyn likes from the closet they have started sharing. Caitlyn has promised not to work on their first evening back, and she does look tired from the journey, so she agrees with a small smile.

Piltover is pretty at night. Not as rowdy as Zaun, but lively, even more so now that a sense of peace is slowly starting to return to the city. The streetlamps emit a gentle warm light, and the river laps on the bridges as they walk towards a small restaurant they’ve found close enough to home to comfortably walk back after a couple of glasses of wine.

“We should do that again,” Vi says after they give their order. There’s a rose and a lit candle on their table and she wonders if it counts as a date. “The holiday.”

“We should,” Caitlyn agrees easily, the waiter pouring their drinks and bringing complimentary bread that Vi plans on obliterating. “It helped.”

Vi does not ask with what, digging in the bread rolls instead, catching Caitlyn’s eye. Caitlyn always talked with her eyes, and Vi eventually started becoming accustomed to it, deciphering every look. And at that very moment, swirling her glass of red wine and looking at Vi stuffing her face, Caitlyn’s gaze is full of affection.

“Sometimes I wonder,” Vi taps her fingers on the tablecloth. “If I look at you in the same way you look at me.”

“And what would that be?” Caitlyn gets some bread for herself, leaning her head on her palm.

“Like I hung the stars in the sky?” Vi feels a slight flush up her neck. She’s been getting more sun living in Piltover, but the slight tan does nothing to hide the feelings she always wears on her sleeve. “And like…you want to kiss me.”

“And you look at me like I’m precious,” Caitlyn smiles, blinking slowly as she exhales, tension leaving her shoulders. Vi thinks a massage should be in order before they get to bed. “With you pretty, pretty eyes.”

Vi hopes their food comes before she starts stuttering. She knows how to flirt and has done a fair amount of it. It’s easy, and it’s fun and she can reel people up when she wishes to. She had used to try it on Caitlyn too, when they were strangers.

But Caitlyn flirts in a different, completely disarming way. She compliments Vi and it sounds so genuine Vi doesn’t know what to do with herself. Her eyes, her hair, her tattoos, her muscles, Caitlyn has told Vi she likes them, and she has showed it too. This affection, this adoration, open even when they are in public, where Caitlyn won’t hesitate to take her hand and tell her how handsome she looks, is just incredibly foreign to Vi.

Up to her teens, attraction was an abstract, almost funny concept, and she was too busy keeping herself and her siblings fed most of the time to entertain it. Then, behind bars, attraction was superficial, affection nonexistent and sexual encounters something between a currency and a way to let out stream instead of beating one another.

Suffice to say, Vi had not been romanced before.

“Hey,” she knocks their shoulders on their way back, the air freezing.

“Hey, you,” Caitlyn replies, her cheeks and nose red either from the wine or from the cold, as they stop under a streetlamp and share a few moments.

“I love you,” Vi says, getting on her tiptoes to kiss Caitlyn and taste the wine off her lips. It’s easier to say it after the very first time, now that Vi knows that Caitlyn wants to hear it. “I’m glad it’s you,” she buries her face in the crook of Caitlyn’s neck, inhaling her familiar perfume.

“I cannot imagine anyone than you,” Caitlyn whispers into her hair, peppering kisses along her hairline. “You are one of the best things to have happened to me, Violet.”

“Guess we both got lucky,” Vi feels herself grinning, as they start walking again, the temperatures dropping too much to still be outside.

At the place Vi now allows herself to come home, Caitlyn puts a record on the phonograph. Vi has never seen her using it before, and she thinks this must be a big moment, a milestone, although she doesn’t know what for.

Caitlyn asks her to dance, and Vi says she doesn’t know how to. They dance nonetheless, swaying together to the soft, grainy music. It sounds old, melancholic and beautiful and Vi wants to ask about the song but doesn’t want to break the silence.

Caitlyn lets her head roll on Vi’s shoulder, hands around her neck, holding her as close as they could be. Vi can feel her heartbeat, steady, and remembers all of the nights spent at Caitlyn’s bedside, terrified that the small sound would abruptly stop.

“I love you,” she says again, bringing her hand up to Caitlyn’s chest, pressing, feeling the beat. Letting her know she’s glad she’s alive, and there.

“Sometimes I think,” Caitlyn kisses Vi’s neck, and it tickles. “I know I am a horribly flawed person, but my choices somehow led me back to you, to be with you,” she rubs on Vi’s shoulders, and Vi knows that her eye is getting watery. “And it makes me think, maybe I am not so horrible.”

They sway in the living room until the record stops, and Caitlyn’s bad hip starts acting up, so they call it a night. A conclusion to their holiday, and a small new start, knowing a little more about each other.

-

Vi really doesn’t want to hurt any of the enforcers she is training, most of them barely into adulthood. The classes she teaches are compiled of a mix of meek trainees that are too scared to lift an arm against her, and overconfident ones that end up with their back hitting the training mat in seconds.

They start with training dummies, where she can show them pressure points and what-not, all the things she has no formal training on, but has practiced enough in the last decade. Then they move to actual hand to hand combat, practicing the grips on her or on each other. They are not supposed to seriously injure, or maim, like Vi has been doing for most of her life, but instead to disarm and keep in place, so her initial methods required a bit of tweaking.

Some of the trainees are optimistic to the point of naivety, talking about a better world and a peaceful union between cities, and others are plainly trying to find outlets for their aggression. Vi always knows when to stop before things escalate, and when to be strict, even if most of them aren’t even much younger. She puts on a confident mask, and they learn to respect her.

The dull thumping of bodies hitting the mats on the floor echoes around the room, sunlight filtering in through the windows nested up high on the walls. It smells of sweat and straw from the dummies and leather from the mats, and Vi knows she would find it nauseating if she wasn’t used to much worst smells.

The trainee she’s working with is a lanky, awkwardly tall boy. He hesitates to come for her, and she instructs him to try and throw her down, immobilize her on the floor. There is a protocol to be followed. Visually inspect for weapons and assess danger levels. Call for reinforcements or immobilize. Bodily search and control suspect until they are deemed non-dangerous, or taken to custody.

Vi thinks most of it is pure bullshit, and would much prefer a simple clear knock on the head to get the job done, but seeing the amount of hope Caitlyn has for the force, Vi gives it a go nonetheless.

The guy finally finds the courage to take a few steps towards her, and Vi can see his brows furrow as he thinks of his every move. “No thinking,” she tells him. “Do it.” He knows what to do. Vi has seen him practicing on the dummies, his holds more than decent, even if he lacks the weight and balance to overpower someone much bigger than him. They can work on it.

One of his hands gets a hold of her forearm and pulls, the other trying to grab her underneath her ribcage. He leans forward, off balance due to the way he sways trying to push her body weight and Vi decides they need to work on his core before they try that again. He seems to realize his various mistakes the moment Vi gets a hold of him back, her shoulder colliding with his chest, both hands pushing steadily on his hips as she lifts him above her body and throws him to land unceremoniously as a dead weight.

He groans, and Vi offers a hand that he takes with a pained expression. “Sorry,” he says, rubbing the point of his hipbone Vi pressed in to lift him. It might bruise a little.

“Not good,” Vi grins, “not horrible either, you’ll do better next time.”

She is about to wave to the next person in line, but a blurb of dark blue at her peripheral catches her eye and she turns to find Caitlyn against a wall, observing the training. She almost smirks before she remembers that it might not be optional to flirt in their workplace.

“Miss Violet,” Caitlyn pushes herself off the wall, and some of the trainees stare at her like they’ve seen god. Vi can imagine that the stories circulating about Caitlyn’s heroisms have reached their ears and might have been a catalyst to their chosen profession too.

“Sherrif,” she greets, giddy that she gets to see Caitlyn before the evening. While they both spend significant time in the central station, when Caitlyn is there she is usually holed in her office or the meeting room, so their paths rarely cross.

“Your presence is requested, briefly, if you can,” Caitlyn’s look is soft, and her voice unstrained, so Vi doesn’t brace herself for bad news. On the other hand, for Caitlyn to come seek her out in the middle of the workday, it should be something important.

“Of course,” she nods, wiping the sweat off her face on the shoulder of the uniform undershirt she has stripped down to in order to have some extra range of motion. “You guys have twenty more minutes of this, right?” She motions for the trainees to keep moving again, back to their pairs and positions. “I’ll be back and I want to see progress.”

Caitlyn is quiet as Vi follows her to her office, and she shuts the door behind them. There are photos, and newspaper cuttings and hundreds of notes in Caitlyn’s neat handwriting covering the walls. As far as Vi knows, nobody else has ever been able to follow the trains of thoughts apart from Caitlyn herself.

“Nothing bad,” Caitlyn exhales, shedding her jacket and picking a folder from her desk. “But I wanted to tell you as soon as I got them a few hours ago.”

“Okay,” Vi gulps, watching Caitlyn open the folder and neatly spreading some papers and what must be small photos across the middle of the desk. “What is that, then?”

“Do you remember the case of the blimp disappearance?” Caitlyn’s fingers tap on a piece of paper, a letter. Vi leans in to see that it’s between Caitlyn and a merchant company.

“I do,” Vi confirms, “did they find it?” It was months ago, shortly after the war, with them still licking their wounds, that a case of an aircraft disappearance came into the station. In a peaceful Piltover it would make headlines, but in the chaos of that period it got shoved to the backburner, with financial help given to the merchant. Everyone assumed it somehow got destroyed where it was outside the hangar the last time it was seen, or someone tried to loot and then burned it. Vi remembers that various weird details had been given about the case, as the other blimps in the aircraft yard being untouched, and the site being a distance away from any destruction taking place throughout the events of the conflict. Still, as far as she knows, the file was marked as unsolved and pushed aside with hundreds more.

“They did find it,” Caitlyn gives a small, strained smile. “In perfect condition, actually, minus some curious graffities on it.”

“Graffities?” Vi takes a photo offered and stares at the blue and pink clouds painted on the aircraft. She looks at Caitlyn, feeling like someone must be trying to make a fool of her, of them. “What does this…mean?”

“One, the aircraft was discarded, a bit outside the outskirts of Demacia,” Caitlyn underlines a few sentences on the letter with a pen, Vi making out that they offer the description of a  location and its coordinates. The photo of the blimp taken shows it on the ground, the front caved in, like it had a very horrible landing. “Two, no person was found on the site, but the pilot should have been very experienced to drive in winter weather, or at least,” Caitlyn exhales, fingertips shaking. “Extremely intelligent and mechanically inclined.”

“Caitlyn, if this is some kind of- “sick joke. But Caitlyn wouldn’t joke, not about something like this, not when she has seen Vi crumbling and mourning her sister again, and again, and again, not when she feels like she can finally breathe a little easier and Jinx’s death doesn’t hurt with the horrifying intensity it once did.

“I got the aircraft pictures last week, Violet,” Caitlyn keeps her voice even, in the way Vi knows she does when she’s trying to contain her emotions. “At first I didn’t know what to make of them, or if this could actually be connected to your sister.”

Ekko had been looking for Jinx’s body in the Hexgates for days, almost manic the times Vi had seen him at the time. They did find Vander, or what was left of his deformed body, too grotesque to even hint that he was human once.

There was no trace of Jinx apart from some of her explosives that Ekko managed to find lodged on the walls after going off. They didn’t talk about the implications of the ways Vi’s sister had died so horribly that nothing was left, or whatever left was so deep down that recovery was impossible.

And it hurt like hell, grieving someone without even a body to hold one last time, to say all the unsaid words left between them before she could let Jinx go.

“Why did you come find me today,” Vi’s hands are shaking, her eyes falling on the scattered photos that she’s too scared to pick up herself.

“With some trading routes reopening, we have our own people stationed at Demacia,” Caitlyn moves closer to her, not quite touching Vi, but enough to provide the comfort of proximity. “I reopened the case and started an investigation and-“

“And?” Vi feels faint and tries to convince herself she isn’t imagining the hopeful look in Caitlyn’s eye.

“Take a look at this, Violet,” Caitlyn hands her a photo. It’s blurry and Vi has trouble understanding what she is looking at, until it finally starts sinking in.

“Is this-“ The photo is taken from a weird angle, like the photographer didn’t want to get too close to the subject. In the middle of it there is a person, clad in what must be a dark cloak, sitting in front of shapes that Vi cannot make out. Then there is the unmistakably blue hair, chopped and messy, but vibrant as ever.

“This is a toy maker who has recently appeared in the streets of Demacia, selling clockwork toys for kids.” Caitlyn takes Vi’s hand when the first tears appear and holds it between her own. Vi knows the wetness is staining the photograph, but she can’t bring herself to stop holding it, that little paper that contains so much hope. “They don’t know her name, or where she lives, but she is…she is-“

“She is alive,” Vi finally lets herself breakdown, sobs wrecking her body to the point her ears hurt, and she cannot see through the tears.

“She is alive,” Caitlyn holds her, nosing into Vi’s hair until there is no breath left in her lungs for more and her muscles give out. They sit there, in the white light of the office and Vi wonders if the information will actually sink in.

We can leave and never look back, she had told Jinx once, and she meant it. A desperate way to fix things, before they became unfixable. Before the council tower collapsed and before Noxus got their hands in their politics and before Vi started making horrible decision after horrible decision hoping for a good outcome. Before she and her own sister tried to kill each other.

She doesn’t know for how long they sit together, only mildly aware that Caitlyn must be ignoring some of her duties to stay there with her. When Vi’s breathing returns to normal, and she doesn’t feel like she is about to faint anymore, Caitlyn makes her chamomile and rubs circles on her back.

“She probably won’t want me to look for her,” Vi says, small and quiet and tired.

“She will come back to you, when she is ready.”

-

Vi could spend hours looking at the mural in the Firelights’ base. It’s beautiful, and it hurts, but she knows it’s the least they could have done for all of them. Ekko is slumped against her, exhaustion set on his features, making him look way older than he is.

“Do you think she is happy…there?” He asks in the air between them, breaking the long silence after Vi showed him the photo Caitlyn let her hold onto.

 “I don’t know, little man,” Vi looks at Powder’s face in the mural. The face she saw every single time she shut her eyes freezing in Stillwater. “But I know she was not happy here.”

“I’m glad I got a bit of time with her before everything,” Ekko fidgets with a small device in his hands that Vi doesn’t even know what he can use for. “She was still so, so human.”

“Aren’t we all?” Vi smiles at him, at the young man that works tirelessly to make Zaun a better place, and the person that she knows loved her sister almost as much as she did. “Just humans, nothing more, nothing less.”

“I don’t know if it’s for better or for worse,” Ekko looks up at the mural too, where his own face can stare him down. “I just know we have to keep going.”

-

“You know, you two would have been wonderful friends,” Caitlyn says in lieu of a greeting when Vi finds her. The sky is getting dark, the temperatures dropping, and Vi takes her own coat off to place it on Caitlyn’s shoulders. She must be getting cold, sitting on grass and granite.

A simple grave, empty, with Jayce’s name and family crest, his age. Nothing more, nothing less, tucked in the corner of the Kiramman gardens. Vi sometimes finds Caitlyn there, talking to him in the early evenings.

“He was a good friend to you,” Vi says, rubbing her thumb on Caitlyn’s shoulder. “I would have loved to get to know him better.”

“Life was not forgiving to him,” Caitlyn doesn’t cry, but she runs her fingers over his name on the tombstone. “The past years in the council changed him, made him rough around the edges, kind of blind.” Vi didn’t know Jayce, not really, but she understands where the sadness comes from, seeing a friend change right before your eyes and being unable to do anything. “But he tried, he was a good person, always.”

Vi sits with her, keeping her company, wondering what Caitlyn is talking to Jayce about. Wondering if somewhere there is another set of them, in an alternative universe, where she and Jayce hang out together, without worries, without death looming above them and everyone surrounding them. His own seat on the council is given to Zaunites too, held by one of Ekko’s subordinates. She wonders if Jayce would be happy with it, if it is what the Man of Progress would have wanted.

Like much else, Vi knows she will never have the answers. And she is starting to be okay with it.

-

“Would you ever do me the honor of having me spar with you, miss Violet?” They’s tucked in bed, warm and comfortable, washed up with sleep clawing on Vi’s consciousness. She keeps herself awake, just to have a few more minutes talking with Caitlyn like that.

“Miss Violet?” Vi giggles into the pillow. She doesn’t mind when coworkers and subordinates call her that, but it still feels a little pretentious. She loves hearing her full name from Caitlyn’s lips though. Caitlyn pronounces the two syllables like it’s something precious, like it is a privilege to be able to call Vi that.

“Mhm,” Caitlyn taps a finger on her chin. “If you do not like it, you can go for lady.”

“I am no lady,” Vi laughs, taking Caitlyn’s hand into her own to kiss her knuckles.

“I can make you one,” Vi stares at her, a little confused, Caitlyn’s wonderful eye gleaming under the light of their bedside lamp. “Lady Violet Kiramman, it has a nice ring to it.”

“Oh it does,” Vi murmurs, pushing herself up just to land on Caitlyn’s lap. “You don’t seem that tired, love,” drowsiness has left Vi too, her mind running through all the places she can touch Caitlyn, and all the implications of her words, about something more, something official. Vi feels too much, and she’d rather be kissing Caitlyn than talking about it, so that’s what she does.

Caitlyn melts into her. She arches up from the bed for their lips to meet, letting out those soft breaths Vi can’t live without anymore. She runs her hands down Vi’s sides, leaving a trail of goosebumps, Vi moving to ravish her neck. She is thankful for Caitlyn’s love for turtlenecks, giving her a bit more skin to work with.

“Vi,” Caitlyn mewls, sweetly, in the way Vi knows is only reserved for her. “Let me see those pretty eyes,” Caitlyn cups the back of her head, and Vi obliges.

“What is it?” Vi stares back at the clear blue of Caitlyn’s eye, a silent question, but there is no worry in Caitlyn’s face, the lines usually running deep now relaxed.

“I love you,” Caitlyn says, still staring into Vi’s eyes, as she is in a daze. “I cannot get enough of looking at you.”

“You’re lucky then,” Vi giggles as Caitlyn leans in to kiss her cheeks, her nose, her jawline, airy and soft until she licks the shell of Vi’s ear. “You are allowed to look as much as you want,” she says, the last words turning into a moan, Caitlyn’s teeth on her.

“That is the plan,” Caitlyn replies, and Vi realizes that she’s grinding her hips down only when she sees the smirk on her partner’s face. It’s not a position she finds herself often in, seeking Caitlyn’s touch for herself like that. But Caitlyn doesn’t seem to mind it, quite the opposite.

Vi’s straddling one of Caitlyn’s thighs, hips moving on their own during their kisses, looking for friction she didn’t even know she needed that much. She freezes, unsure of what to do, if it is okay to continue, if Caitlyn would enjoy something like this.

Caitlyn mutters a few words that are lost in the static of Vi’s ears, hands on her hips moving her downwards, the thigh slot between her legs pushing up, firm. She feels herself moaning, too conscious of her body, of every nerve ending, and the way she curls into Caitlyn’s form.

“Cait,” her mouth is on Caitlyn’s neck, leaving open mouthed kisses, licking the skin that smells of rose scented lotion. “Do you- can you…?”

“Tell me,” Caitlyn’s breath tickles her ear and there is a hand on her hair, pulling softly. Vi wishes it was a little rougher, that it would hurt. She can’t think clearly enough to form full sentences. “What do you want? I will give it to you.”

“Your hand,” Vi pleads, although she knows Caitlyn would not deny her, not now that all she can think of is Caitlyn’s slim, flexible fingers and the wonders they can do. “Please.”

“Yes?” Caitlyn’s hand moves to the waistband of the pants Vi is wearing, slightly scratching the skin of her stomach, trailing the soft patch of hair that starts there. “Is this okay, Violet?”

“Yes,” Vi confirms, and she would once be embarrassed about the state of her underwear if she didn’t want to let Caitlyn know how much, and how desperately, she wanted her there.

Caitlyn’s hand slips past her underwear but she does not try to undress her. The covers are pooling all around Vi, the wind is whipping the windows, and Caitlyn’s hands are spreading her wetness through her core. Vi moves against them, trying to relieve the pressure building in her stomach.

“Does it feel good?” Caitlyn’s other hand comes up to cup Vi’s face, and they are kissing again, wet, all tongues and teeth and unsaid want and Vi moans into Caitlyn’s mouth when she feels fingers at her entrance.

“I need you,” Vi pleads instead, impatient and needy in a way she rarely is. Momentarily she thinks that Caitlyn implying she wants to marry her was the trigger to this, and she doesn’t know what to do with the information, her mind thankfully going blank the moment two fingers enter her, and all she registers is a pleased hum from Caitlyn. “Oh, Cait,” her legs shake as she moves, but she’s too close to stop, she feels too good.

“Good girl,” Caitlyn whispers in her ear, and something snaps inside her. She becomes almost frantic, kissing Caitlyn deeply, like her life depends on it. The fingers keep moving inside her and Vi can feel how wet she is, crying out when a thumb starts pressing circles around her clit.

Vi closes her eyes and lets her body move on its own, Caitlyn’s caresses and quiet words grounding, making her feel secure, loved, worshipped even when she still doesn’t feel confident enough to fully bare herself to her lover.

Her orgasm washes over her almost violently, her body shaking with tremors for what must be a few seconds but feel like hours. Caitlyn keeps talking to her, and Vi cannot think anything other than that she loves that woman.

The moment Caitlyn realizes Vi is crossing over the edge of oversensitivity she retracts her hands, carefully, letting Vi fall in her arms. Vi catches her forearm and brings her hand close, taking the fingers that were inside her into her mouth, sucking and watching Caitlyn’s eye roll back as a small giggle leaves her pretty lips.

“Thank you,” Vi rasps, letting herself finally fall completely limp, resting her head on Caitlyn’s chest, listening to her heartbeat. “I can-“ she wants to make Caitlyn feel good too.

“You can sleep,” Caitlyn chuckles, kissing the top of her head. “We both need some rest.”

-

Every now and then there are news of Jinx. Caitlyn keeps tabs on her through their diplomats, and occasionally she has a photo, or another piece of info to share. The little monkey toys selling too fast. A blur of a short blue braid under a clock hood. Paperwork for purchasing an old store next to a junkyard.

“Who would have thought,” Vi sits by the fireplace, holding the latest photo of her sister. She’s talking to a blond girl in armor, smiling. Apparently, she has gotten pretty popular with the local families and is even receiving commissions for toys now. “She seems to be doing…well.”

“I think of her too, you know,” Caitlyn comes to sit next to her, half empty teacup at hand. They have been working on opening the first school at Zaun, a nightmare of paperwork and coordination and late nights, but Vi knows it will pay off. “I think of the last time I saw her, how defeated she was.”

“Back then,” Vi swallows the lump in her throat. She knows that Caitlyn won’t lie to her, but she also knows that the truth can hurt too much. “Did you think of killing her, when you had the chance.”

“I did,” Caitlyn replies, leaning onto the armrest of her chair. “I spent hours thinking of what to do. Killing her would be easy, fast, at that point even merciful.”

“You didn’t,” they hadn’t talked about that before, Jinx surrendering herself.

“I didn’t,” Caitlyn smiles bittersweetly, looking down to her cup. “What good would it be, Violet? One more death, one more person gone by my hand.” She lifts her head to look at Vi, her eyepatch off but the lines of the straps still an angry red on her skin. “Tell me, would you ever look at me again if I had killed her?”

Vi exhales, looking at Caitlyn in shock, although she understands the implications. She was one of the reasons Caitlyn didn’t pull the trigger, didn’t let her anger, rightful on the most part, blind her. “I would understand,” she says. She thinks of grief, bloody knuckles and empty bottles piling. “But we could have never been together.”

“Jinx was too far gone,” Caitlyn moves to sit next to Vi, on her right, a habit out of Vi always moving to her left to keep track of her blind spots. “At the end she was a shell of herself, and I understood. Killing her would not bring my mother, or anyone else back. It would not make me feel any sense of superiority, or fulfillment, or anything else I might have imagined feeling long ago.” She opens her palms on her lap and Vi holds one of her hands. “Killing your sister would just put more blood on my hands, and for what? For nothing.”

“Even when I said I would do it, I knew I was lying, Cait. I would never be able to kill her, either.” She got close once, waking up black and blue, horribly hangover, seeing her sister after so long. Almost chocked her own sister with her own hands. She knows that she could never live with herself if she actually did it. All it would take would be a couple more seconds of pressure. “What I had promised you, back then, it was a lie.”

“I know,” Caitlyn’s smile is watery, pained. It always is when they talk about the before, too few the good things they can share. “I knew back then, too.”

-

Life moves on, somehow. Some days go by painfully slow, others horribly fast. Vi keeps working at the station and spends her afternoons in the undercity, teaching boxing to kids. A way to destress for them is what once was a way to survive for her.

She spends time with Ekko, gets to know the man he has become. She hopes their old men are watching over them, because they would sure be so proud of him and everything he has built.

The first Zaunite students get accepted into the University of Piltover, a day for the history books. Children falling sick lessen in numbers of thanks to the availability of clean water, and various teams are still working tirelessly to clean out the rest of the pollution. Vi hates Sevika’s guts with a burning passion, but she cannot deny that this damned woman will do the best for Zaun, in or out of the council.

She attends council and other meetings at Caitlyn’s side, for the first time in her life her voice being heard, being impactful. The kids that talk her ears off after their lessons, the trainees that stare at her starry eyed when she throws them down on the mat, the enforcers she meets at the bridge by the end of their shift to share a drink. A community created around her, acquaintances she can talk about the mundane and the serious with, even some new friends.

And Caitlyn, always there, her rock, her pillar, her guiding light. Ever-patient Caitlyn guiding her through the complicated politics, when she could just tell Vi to stay out of it. Caitlyn making sure to include her in all parts of her life. Letting Vi wear her Zaunite clothes in meeting rooms with high-ranking officials, never once asking her to change. Vi does change, through their time spent together, whether Caitlyn realizes it or not, but it’s all for the better.

-

A year after the final conflict took place, the two cities hold a ceremony on one of their shared bridges. It’s after the dark falls that they meet above the water and read names of the fallen, a list seemingly never ending. They burn fires and mourn, lighting candles and leaving small keepsakes of their loved ones. Favorite drinks, packs of cigarettes, photos, letters, clothes.

Vi holds Caitlyn as she cries, quietly sobbing hidden at a dark corner of the bridge. The people wordlessly make a shared promise, to be better to each other, to share, to work for everyone’s good, and to be united, despite the hopes of not facing external forces like that again in their lifetimes.

They stay there, deep into the night, remembering the faces of all the people they will never be able to see again. A promise to move forward for them, for their sacrifice to not be in vain. When they finally walk back home slowly, Caitlyn takes her eyepatch off in front of the vanity mirror and holds Vi as she finally allows herself to cry too.

It’s a few days after the ceremony on the bridge. A Sunday they are spending home, relaxing and getting ready for the upcoming week. But Caitlyn is jittery, moving from room to room, picking books and pens and her rifle cleaning supplies and then putting them back down. It’s evening by the time Vi decides to finally ask her if something is wrong, if there is a case on her mind, or some issue with the council.

Caitlyn stares at her for a few short moments before she springs back into motion, walking to her desk and opening one of the drawers.

“I have been thinking,” she says cryptically. “There is something I have been itching to give you, I am just unsure of when the right time is.”

“Did you get me…something?” Vi moves closer to the desk space, trying to make out what the small item in Caitlyn’s balled fist is.

“No, not really, but,” Caitlyn motions for her to come closer. “It’s something important.”

When Vi is close enough, Caitlyn opens her palm, letting her hand hover between them. At first, she doesn’t understand what she is looking at, a small silver and green item, slightly shiny under the light.

“A ring?” Vi blinks, looking between the dark green stone with the Kiramman monogram and Caitlyn’s face. “Caitlyn?”

“It’s not…it’s not a proposition…not of the kind you might be thinking of at least, not yet,” Caitlyn talks fast, anxiously. “This is the ring with our family crest,” Vi realizes she has seen it before, multiple times. “I have one, and father has one too. It can be used to wax letters shut, and as a proof of signature.”

Vi picks the item, holds it like it might break between her fingers. It’s heavy and cool, the golden crest slightly rising off the stone. “I am not a Kiramman, Cait,” she says, realizing the amount of power this ring would give her, bearing a founding house name.

“No,” Caitlyn shakes her head, “and I would never force you to take on the surname if you don’t want to.” She rubs on her finger, where a similar ring sits, Caitlyn always wearing it when she isn’t doing manual work or sparring. “But you are part of my family now, and this is a promise from me to you, to keep you by my side.”

Vi smiles, finally putting the ring on her finger, the same one Caitlyn wears her on. A little tight, but they can fix that. She meets Caitlyn’s eye. “And a promise from me to stay by yours, then.”