Chapter Text
Jarring brightness pierced Caitlyn’s retina, forcing her eyelid to shut tightly in defense. She hesitated, drawing a slow, deliberate breath as her mind stirred reluctantly to life. Consciousness crept in, accompanied by a cascade of emotions that quickly unraveled into disjointed thoughts and blurry, fragmented memories. Most were tormenting. The dull ache in her body sharpened with each recollection: slashes, kicks, headbutts, blood, casualties, betrayal. The weight of it all made her wince.
Yet amidst the storm of affliction, there was something else—a faint, unexpected sense of relief. It lingered like a whisper at the edges of her awareness, tugging at her curiosity. Cait clung to the feeling, focusing her scattered thoughts as she tried to make sense of it.
Another flood ensued—this one sweeter. Delicate nothings meant to soothe her suffering. These impressions hovered in her memory: that voice, tender yet tinged with worry, speaking words she couldn’t quite recall but whose owner was unmistakable. Through the haze of delirium and weakness, it felt as though an angel had stayed by her side. Gentle hands tending to her, a cool compress pressed to her fevered forehead, and then... the faintest brush of lips on her cheek.
Vi’s lips.
The realization sent a wave of calm through her weary body. After this brief but soothing respite, the head of house Kiramman felt a pull—a need to rejoin the waking world. But something felt off. Why was one eye—? Oh… oh. She released a slow, measured exhale. It wasn’t sadness that filled her, just a bitter acknowledgment. Blinking a few times, she coaxed her single pupil to adjust to the illumination, bringing the familiar ceiling slowly into focus, its work made harder by the absence of its twin. Never mind that. There was something more pressing. Where is—?
Vi.
Tilting her head to the side, a lump formed in her throat as she found the sight her soul had been yearning for. She was right there, close enough to touch. Alive, safe. The rhythmic rise and fall of her shoulders was paired with quiet, steady breaths which created a melody Caitlyn hadn’t noticed until now. A warmth spread through her as she took it all in. Slumped in a chair beside the bed, Vi’s upper body was sprawled over the mattress. Her head rested atop folded bare arms, her reddish hair disheveled and cascading over her face. It was likely the most endearing Caitlyn had ever seen her. She looked so serene, so vulnerable—like a child who’d fallen asleep mid-task. The enforcer wanted to etch this image into her memory forever.
After a few more moments of quiet admiration, this touch-starved girl could no longer resist the need for contact. Bracing herself, she stifled a groan as she shifted her body, rolling from her back onto her side. Pain flared, sharp and immediate, as the position pressed against her wound, but she ignored it. The ache was secondary to her need to reach out.
She expected the motion to rouse her partner, but when it didn’t, Cait’s heart softened further. How long had Vi gone without proper rest, staying by her side? Her focus settled on Vi’s face, partially obscured by a stubborn crimson fringe. Caitlyn was determined to tuck it away, unwilling to let anything block her view. Summoning what little strength she had, she brushed the unruly strands aside. The warmth of her companion’s skin grounded her. The sensation was so comforting, that Cait let her hand rest there, cupping Vi’s cheek. Only now she could get a better view of the multiple cuts and bruises that littered her face. Feeling slight dismay, her sight lingered on that one nasty slit across her name tattoo.
The touch worked where her movement hadn’t. A soft sigh escaped her lover, followed by a content hum as she began to stir. Her eyelids fluttered open, unfocused at first, her gaze drifted lazily over the bedsheets. Then, as if drawn by some magnetic force, her puppy eyes met Caitlyn’s.
Misty blue orbs stared back at her, wide with surprise for just a heartbeat before softening into something impossibly gentle. The noblewoman’s breath hitched as she took in the sight. The morning sunshine streaming through the window behind seemed to frame the redhead in a delicate glow, almost like a halo. She knew it was just a trick of the light, but it made the moment no less divine.
“Hey,” Vi whispered, her tone low and warm as she reached for Caitlyn’s hand on her cheek. Gently, she wrapped her fingers around it, bringing it to her lips and pressing a tender kiss to her knuckles. The simple, unguarded gesture filled Cait with an overwhelming passion, as if her very being might overflow.
“Hey,” Caitlyn croaked in response. Vi’s smile widened, a genuine expression that made her freckles seem more prominent in the gentle morning radiance.
“How are you feeling?” Her lover questioned cooly, though her glimpse held a flicker of concern.
“Better. Thanks to you.” Cait managed to keep the strain from her tone, unwilling to let her discomfort overshadow the gratitude she wanted Vi to hear. She needed her to know that every moment Vi had spent at her side, every effort she had made, hadn’t gone unnoticed.
Vi exhaled softly, her shoulders easing as though Caitlyn’s words had lifted a weight she hadn’t realized she was carrying. But after a moment, her smile faltered. Her stare dropped to the bedsheets, and her fingers tightened slightly around Cait’s hand, the faint tremor in her grip betraying an emotion she wasn’t ready to voice.
“I was so scared…” Vi began, her speech trembling. “That I would lose you too—” The last word caught in her throat, as though it had slipped out without her permission. Her piercing irises darted upward, searching the topsider’s face, anxious to gauge her reaction.
But Cait was at a loss, her vision widening. Her mind scrambled to process what Vi had said.
“Too… What—? You don’t mean—? No…” Caitlyn noticed her own accent growing more pronounced, as it usually did when she felt perturbed. After the stuttering mess she fell silent, realization dawning. The only person Vi had feared losing more than anyone else… Her sister. “Oh, Vi.”
The weight of melancholy hit her like a blow to the chest. Following months of chasing this outcome, of obsessing over stopping Jinx, the reality of her death felt surreal, like the punchline of a cruel joke she would never want to hear. Somewhere in her mind, the enforcer had convinced herself that Jinx was untouchable, larger than life, a ghost who could never be caught. And now… Looking at Vi, there was no doubt. The raw anguish etched into her expression, the hollowness in her gaze—spoke of a brutal loss. A horrible, gnawing guilt settled deep within her. As much as she wanted to deny it, a part of her had played an indirect—no, direct—role in this.
Jinx wasn’t just Vi’s sister; she was the most precious person in her partner’s life, someone Cait could never hope, or even desire, to replace. Worse still was the timing. Jinx had been changing, showing glimmers of something better. Redemption, perhaps. Caitlyn could still see it clearly, that fleeting moment of humanity at the bunker, her signature flying vessel descending into the chaos of battle. And now, she’s gone.
The memories burned through her—her mother’s face. Jinx hadn’t meant to kill her, Caitlyn knew that. It had been another of Jinx’s reckless, chaotic explosions. But that didn’t matter. Her mother was gone, and Cait had carried that loss like a stone in her chest every day since. It had shaped her, twisted her, driven her down a path of cold calculation and burning hatred. Every mission, every move, had been leading to the day she would finally kill Jinx and make her pay. And now Jinx was dead—not by the former commander’s hand, but it was done all the same.
And she—Vi had loved her. Not the villain the markswoman had built in her mind, but the person behind the chaos, her little sister who had been lost to the shadows of Zaun. And Caitlyn had spent months wanting nothing more than to destroy her. The regret clawed at her now, sharp and unforgiving.
In the past, the aristocrats’ daughter had only known how to offer condolences in the most formal and detached manner, a carefully chosen phrase or two—coldly polite, designed to acknowledge the grief without ever truly engaging with it. But now? Now she stood at the edge of her own hypocrisy.
How could I possibly address Vi when I have spent so long consumed by the fervent desire to see Jinx perish? How could I extend her comfort when my own grief has rendered me so unyielding? The void left by my mother still whispers to me in the quiet moments. What words could I offer to soothe a pain I once yearned to inflict myself? Jinx was not merely an adversary. She was the embodiment of all that the world could cruelly take. Yet, she also stood as a reminder of what we might have preserved, of what slipped like sand through our grasp. Vi had lost her sister, and I had forfeited the chance to reconcile my hatred with her fragile humanity.
“I understand it must be hard to hear this coming from me,” Cait began, her voice cracking as the truth of it all sunk in. “I’m not just saying it. I mean it. I’m terribly sorry.”
“I know.” Vi uttered simply, barely above a whisper. Her look glossed over with brimming tears, but also a trace of understanding. Caitlyn saw the hurt, but she also saw a flicker of reassurance, as if the gentle soul had already forgiven her.
Cait couldn’t help but marvel at Vi's heart—so full of devotion, so fierce, even in the face of everything she had lost. In the midst of her own mourning, Vi had managed to offer nothing but care and tenderness, putting Caitlyn’s torment above her own. It was something the officer could never quite wrap her head around, this capacity for compassion, even when it seemed the world had done nothing but break the Zaunite’s spirit.
Caitlyn could feel the tremble in Vi’s hands and notice the way her shoulders shook with ragged breaths. Questions churned in Cait’s mind, each one heavier than the last. But one rose above the rest, unbidden and impossible to ignore. How had Jinx died? Was it fast? Had she been at peace in the end?
“How?” The misfit finally let the question escape. Vi froze, as though the words had struck her. Her gaze dropped to the sheets, her jaw tightening ever so slightly. She parted her lips to reply, but the words refused to come. Caitlyn’s stomach churned at her own intrusion, regret washing over her as she realized the weight of what she had asked. She wished she could take it back, not wanting to burden Vi more than she already had. “There is no need to answer,” Caitlyn said quickly, her tone apologetic. “Take your time.”
Vi released a long, shaky breath, steadying herself. “I’m just... really glad you’re safe, Cupcake,” she said, her lips forming a bittersweet smile, tear streaks running down her cheeks. Her thumb brushed a circle over the skin of Caitlyn’s hand.
“And I’m glad you’re safe too… Violet.”