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thebigqueer · 25 days ago

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"dirt in the wounds" - Caitvi - One-Shot

Summary: caitlyn and vi bump into each other after one of vi's pit fighting matches. angst and hate sex ensues (but it's not smut because i don't go into that much detail about the actual sex). inspired by this art by @koifee and this one from twitter! Notes: important CWs: blood & injury, vomiting, alcohol use/abuse, sexual content. Word Count: 9197 Read on AO3

Vi’s not sure how long she’s been on the ground, crumpled in a puddle of her own blood and sweat and drool. All she knows is that all of the audience has petered out and that her rise on the charts was short-lived.

It’s kind of a blow to her ego, if anything. After everything that had happened the past few months - getting out of prison, finding her sister and losing her again, falling for some stupid Enforcer and being inevitably betrayed - her fists have been the only thing keeping her going. If she couldn’t save the people she loved, she could at least fight the pain of her failures.

But after the straight losing streak over the past few nights, she supposes even that comfort had to end at some point. It was only a matter of time before she would fail even herself.

As she’s lying on the ground, watching her blood soak into the dust, head pounding and jaw pulsing and teeth aching, she wonders how many more punches she can take. Maybe she should ask someone to just knock everything out of her in one go. It would speed up the process.

Her hand twitches, and the motion surprises her, as if it wasn’t even her own body. She drags it into her line of vision and stares at her knuckles, bruised and bloodied from her embarrassing attempts tonight. She rolls her hand over in the dim lighting, and as she does, a hazy memory floats the surface of her mind. Her and Vander, sitting in the warm glow of the basement of The Last Drop, his eyes full of regret and disappointment, her chest raging in frustration.

That path? He’d taken her hand, bloodied even then, so many years ago, and looked at her. This? It’s not gonna solve your problems. Just makes more of ‘em.

She wonders what Vander would say now if he saw her. She wonders what she’d tell him. “You were wrong”? If anything, fighting has been her only path.

A thudding sound makes her heart jump, and she flicks her eyes around, waiting patiently for whoever it is that wants to bother her now. A foot comes into view in front of her, and when she looks up, she finds the rat-faced referee, holding a bucket of whatever slop he was eating. She narrows her eyes at him.

“Ey, kid, you can’t just lie here.” He bends down to face her and throws another piece of meat into his mouth. “Show’s over. Go home.”

Vi just continues staring at him. Her silence seems to make him squirm, and maybe a few weeks ago that would have made Vi feel good, but now she can’t even feel proud of that; it’s such a small win compared to all the losses she’s faced.

But then his eyebrows lower in what looks like pity, and any sense of pride she gained evaporates immediately. Her teeth grind against each other.

“Listen, kid,” he says. “We all have bad days. Just go home and get some rest.”

The sound of his remorse scratches against her and lights some sort of match. It’s a small flame, but it does the job - she uses the last of her energy to push herself up into a sitting position. Her muscles throb, her head spins, her abdomen burns, but she pushes herself up even through it.

She spits out some blood. The referee’s pity doesn’t relent.

Vi’s hand whips out against the bucket, and the meat goes sprawling.

“Hey!” he exclaims, his eyes now narrowing in rage. Better than the pity.

She stumbles to her feet and starts wobbling towards the tunnel exit. The referee throws a slew of insults at her, but all she can manage is a weak middle finger as she stalks her way through the darkness, gripping her abdomen, trying to keep herself together.

The alleys are bustling on the outside, filled with audience-goers talking animatedly about the matches. There’s laughter, groans, shouting, drunkards swaying and talking loudly. Vi clings to the wall to try to keep her balance, and her vision blurs with each step forward as another pulse of pain erupts from her abdomen. Her skin stings with the weight of people’s stares on her, their whispers and jeers. Shame hardens around her with each step forward.

She needs a drink. She needs a punch. She needs something more painful than whatever this hollowness in her heart is.

Blinded by her own self-pity, she hardly registers when she shoves into something tall and soft and stumbles to the ground. It takes a second of blinking rapidly before her vision clears, and she looks up, her fists already clenching, her teeth already gritting, preparing for her next fight. A figure in a purple cloak hovers over her, and when Vi blinks again, the figure is bent over her, hands outstretched in surrender.

“Sorry,” the figure mutters. The blade of the street lights strikes against their features, and Vi’s heart shudders to a stop in her chest.

The exhaustion and pain that weighed Vi down just seconds ago slide off as a new adrenaline surges in her stomach. She yanks herself to her feet and lunges, hand curved for the throat. But before she can even get her grip on the figure, white hot pain cracks through her arm, and a cry rips out of her. Her gaze whips to her wrist, which is now pinned to the wall by pale, slender fingers, then turns back to the figure.

And Caitlyn’s eyes stare right back at her.

“Vi?” she hisses, her eyebrows knitting together, growing more irritated by the second. Her nails dig deeper into Vi’s skin, but when she grunts at the stab of pain, Caitlyn’s gaze whips back to her wrist. A new shock falls over her, and she immediately lets go. Vi falls to her knees, cradling her wrist to her chest, and looks up at Caitlyn, hissing through her teeth.

There were about a million ways Vi imagined meeting with Caitlyn again. In most scenarios, Vi imagined, maybe selfishly, that she got her turn to leave Caitlyn on the ground, begging for forgiveness. And she’s been training for that moment: after the matches, as her opponents look up at her with pain glazed over their eyes, it’s Caitlyn’s face she sees. When they’re sobbing, pleading for mercy, it’s Caitlyn’s voice she hears.

But now that they’re facing each other again, only dread hardens in Vi’s stomach. Isn’t this exactly how they left each other? Caitlyn, looking down at her, tall and mighty, and Vi looking up at her, crumpled over in pain.

All that training, all that imagining - gone to waste. Vi is right back where she started.

She scowls at Caitlyn around her bangs. “Why are you here?” she spits.

Caitlyn’s spine straightens, and her eyes flicker around nervously. Vi almost scoffs. Is there ever a moment she isn’t on guard?

“Business,” she finally mutters, then turns her gaze back on Vi. For a brief second, Vi catches that familiar cold determination in her eyes, the same one she’d seen down there in the sewers so many months ago. But then it gives way to a softness, something similar to pity, and once again rage surges through Vi.

Maybe Caitlyn spots the rage in Vi’s eyes, because her features shift again. Something more like curiosity. Caitlyn’s eyes roll over her, and Vi can almost hear the thoughts in her head as the frown pulses on her face.

“I saw you in there,” Caitlyn says finally. “Hardly recognized you at first.” Her eyebrow flicks. “New pastime?”

Vi’s mind flickers back to Vander, at his grip on her wrists. She looks back at her wrists now, rolls them over in the streetlight. “No,” she mutters, “not new.”

Before Caitlyn can respond, Vi turns her head away and focuses on gathering her strength. After a brief moment, she presses her hand against the wall and starts to pull herself up, relying solely on the prowess of her own muscles. She manages to lift herself a bit, but then the wound in her abdomen pulses, and she stumbles.

Just before she falls again, a pair of arms catches her. A strange scent overwhelms her - not the dirty gases of the Undercity, not the trash around her, but something sweet. Violets.

Caitlyn eases her onto the ground, propping her back to the wall, and as she does this, Vi’s eyes burn with frustrated tears. It’s one thing to be unable to get up on her own; it’s another to have Caitlyn watch her crumble right before her.

“I don’t need your help,” Vi growls around her shame, hiding her face behind her bangs. It’s bad enough she’s caught her in this state, useless to even herself; she doesn’t need Caitlyn to see the tears in her eyes either.

Caitlyn sighs irritably and lets go. She bends down on her knees to meet Vi’s eyes, and the sight only makes Vi’s rage flame. She feels like a child.

“How do you plan on getting home?” Caitlyn asks, brows knitting together in the middle. Not in concern, but as if she’s trying to prove a point.

“Since when do you care?” Vi meets Caitlyn’s eyes again with purpose. “It’s not the first time you’ve left me on the ground.”

Caitlyn only stares at her, and something unreadable flits through her eyes. Her jaw locks in place, shifts around. Then her eyelids flutter as she rolls her irritation out of her eyes. “I don’t see anyone else around to help you.”

Vi blinks and looks around. For what, exactly, she doesn’t know. Someone to come in and help her? Loris gave up on her. She wants nothing to do with Jinx anymore. None of these stupid audience members is going to come to her aid; if anything, one of them will just try to steal whatever money she has in her back pocket.

She knows Caitlyn’s only talking about the present. But Vi’s come to the same conclusion a million times since the night at the sewers.

Vi narrows her eyes at Caitlyn. “I’ve managed just fine every other night. But thanks for your concern.”

She shifts herself to try to stand up again, but even that movement is too much for her; her abdomen throbs, and this time she cries out. Her vision blurs as tears prickle her eyes, and she grits her teeth.

A flicker of movement catches Vi’s eyes, and she looks down. Through the blurriness of her tears, she can make out the shape of a pale hand.

Vi glares at it. “You don’t even know where I live.”

Caitlyn tilts her head to the side. “Then show me the way.”

Vi scoffs. Then, grudgingly, she grabs her hand.

~~~

The walk back to Vi’s apartment is charged. The air around them feels denser than anything Vi’s ever felt living in the Undercity, and her lungs burn in Caitlyn’s vicinity.

A hood covers Caitlyn’s face, and each time the streetlight strikes her face, Vi can only see a glimpse of her lips and the bottom half of her face. It’s grown a little thinner, but other than that she looks about the same.

Vi almost wants to laugh. Here, Vi’s been trying to escape her failures by changing every possible thing she can about herself. Then there’s Caitlyn, looking the same as ever, if not even more arrogant. Vi doesn’t know why she’s bothered giving a shit about her; clearly she has more important things to be worrying about.

As Caitlyn lugs Vi along on her side, one arm around her waist, Vi wonders what kind of business could be bringing her to the Undercity anyway - or what could constitute her coming alone, no less.

Vi weighs the consequences of whether or not to ask her. But as they’re stumbling through a familiar narrow alleyway - just at the end of this are the stairs to her apartment - her eyes catch on the poster to the left. The commander’s face stares back at them through the dimness of the tunnel, stern and proud as she looks off into the distance, her decorated cloak sharp against her shoulders.

Vi steals a look at the Caitlyn next to her. Her jaw locks in place, eyes steely as she glances at the poster.

Vi grits her teeth and decides she doesn’t want to know the answer.

After a bit more of limping and grunting, they eventually find themselves stumbling through Vi’s door. Caitlyn helps set Vi down on her bed, and she cries out at the sting that erupts from her abdomen at the motion. Once she’s down, a long sigh drags out of her, and she leans her arms behind her and spreads her legs, trying to breathe out the pain.

As soon as the stinging clears a little, Vi looks up at Caitlyn, and her shoulders grow heavy as the weight of this moment settles over her. Caitlyn’s face glows green in the sliver of streetlight that bleeds through Vi’s window. Her eyes wander around, catching on every detail of Vi’s apartment, and with each passing second, her disgust only hardens.

The scene is almost hilarious. Caitlyn, tall and arrogant even in her plain cloak, surrounded only by scum. It almost washes the pride out of her stance.

Then her eyes land on Vi’s, and she blinks as if she forgot she was even here. With a slight shake of her head, she starts to take her cloak off, and it falls to the ground. The gold of her Enforcer’s uniform gleams in the light.

“Not wearing your special commander’s cloak?” Vi cocks an eyebrow at her. “What’s a villain without her cape?”

Caitlyn lets a beat of silence pass before turning her gaze away, down to one of the empty bottles lying on the floor. A furrow appears between her eyebrows. “I needed to be inconspicuous,” she mutters. Then, in a voice so soft Vi almost doesn’t hear, she adds, “I didn’t ask for it. Ambessa had it made.”

Vi huffs humorlessly. “Doesn’t matter. You’re the one who wears it.”

Caitlyn looks back at her, and Vi takes the moment to truly take her in. Her hair’s grown longer, crawling just past her shoulders. An exhaustion lingers in her eyes, and Vi wants to snort. Long nights running martial law on the scum of Piltover? she thinks, but she decides it’s not worth the fight to say it aloud.

Caitlyn’s own eyes rove over Vi, and her brows furrow again as she takes in all the changes. “Your new uniform isn’t much to look at, either.”

“At least mine isn’t sweeping the floors for war-obsessed tyrants.”

Caitlyn’s eyes narrow into blue knives, and Vi meets them with the same fervor. But finally, after what feels like hours of staring each other down, Caitlyn sighs in irritation. “Where do you keep your medical supplies?”

Vi keeps her eyes on Caitlyn as she juts her head towards the mirror cabinet above her sink. Caitlyn keeps her eyes locked on Vi for another moment, a cold wariness sizzling in them, before making her way over. She returns with the small box of supplies and places it on the floor. Vi watches as she dabs some alcohol onto a cotton pad, then begins to reach forward, her eyes aimed at something on her face.

Vi swats her hand away and narrows her eyes. “I can handle myself, Commander.”

A spark of rage bursts in Caitlyn’s pupils at the title, but her face remains frozen in her usual cold determination. She brings her hand forward again.

Maybe it’s Vi’s exhaustion. Maybe it’s the ache in her bones muddling up any remaining sense of reason she’s been holding on to. Or maybe it’s her body still accustoming to the shock of seeing Caitlyn again. But this time, for whatever reason, Vi doesn’t swat her hand away.

Caitlyn blinks now, but again, so practiced in keeping her composure, the expression is only fleeting. Her fingers hover over Vi’s forehead, and Vi closes her eyes as she awaits the sting. After another second of hesitation, Caitlyn finally presses her hand against the cuts, and Vi hisses at the touch, trying not to curl away.

“So,” Caitlyn says, and her voice yanks Vi’s focus onto something other than the pain. “This is what you’ve been up to? Getting yourself beat up at the bottom of a pit?” When she pulls her hand away, Vi meets coldly amused eyes.

Vi huffs in equally cold amusement. “What do you care?” Her head tilts daringly. “Jealous that other people have the balls to hit me with their fists instead of their gun?”

This time, Caitlyn isn’t as good at hiding her emotions. Shock ripples through her face, and the blue of her eyes pales with regret. She’s frozen momentarily, and pride swells in Vi’s chest; she’s broken through, snapped something in her composure. Then Caitlyn turns her head and rummages through the box again. Her fingers fumble with the bandages, and Vi knows she’s just buying herself time, trying to pull herself together.

Finally she emerges again, but Vi’s surprised to see the guilt is still apparent in the furrow of her eyebrows. She leans forward with the white bandage and presses it to Vi’s forehead, and through the padding, she can feel the heat of Caitlyn’s fingertips. She almost sighs.

Caitlyn pulls back to check her work, but then her eyes drift to Vi’s abdomen. The guilt in her brows only deepens. “You’re bleeding.”

Vi looks down. Caitlyn’s right; there’s a tear in her bandages through which a shallow gash bleeds through, and suddenly Vi becomes aware of the stinging in her abdomen again. For some reason, the sight of it sets tears burning against her eyes. She can barely even remember who it came from, but it doesn't matter; it’s all pain in the end, anyway.

When she looks up to meet Caitlyn’s gaze, she realizes just how pathetic this moment is. Of all the times Caitlyn showed up, it was a night Vi had to lose.

If Caitlyn spots the tears in her eyes, she doesn’t react. A moment of silence passes between them, burdened by the implications of their words, and then Caitlyn leans forward gingerly again. She takes a deep breath and touches her hand to the bandage around Vi’s chest, and when Vi doesn’t do anything, she releases the breath and begins to unravel it.

As she peels the bandage off, all Vi feels is a pervasive shame ringing through her lungs. She closes her eyes, if only to try to stop the tears threatening to spill.

The bandage falls to the floor, and despite the pain in her abdomen, a pressure falls off Vi’s chest. Her breaths come easier now that she isn’t bound together, and she tilts her head back as she savors her ability to breathe.

When she straightens her gaze, she’s surprised to find Caitlyn equipped, yet again. A handkerchief dangles from between her fingers, and in the light, Vi catches the Kiramman logo engraved into them. Her vision fizzes in rage, and she meets Caitlyn’s eyes, only to find her looking at Vi solemnly.

“This is going to sting a little more,” Caitlyn says.

Vi just huffs out a sigh and closes her eyes, trying to steel herself. Caitlyn puts a hand on her chest, keeping herself balanced, and then presses her other hand to the gash.

Red bursts across Vi’s vision as a stinging erupts in her stomach. Against her will, new tears burn against her screwed eyes, and a cry pierces out of her chest. As Caitlyn’s cold hands continue cleaning, her mind bursts with images of the flashing lights of the pit, glaring down at her as she throws punch after punch. She can hear the roars of the crowd, booing her with every missed hit. But, most of all, she thinks she can see a pair of blue eyes watching her, glowing even brighter than anything around her.

The tears start slipping out.

Then she feels a hand on her face, and she opens her eyes to find Caitlyn looking at her, her eyes hardened in concern. With a start, Vi realizes the stinging has dimmed, just a little; when she looks down at the gash across her abdomen, she’s met with a soft white bandage.

She brings her eyes back to Caitlyn, whose concern hasn’t relented from her eyes. She searches Vi’s face, soaking in all the pain on her face. Her hand brushes over Vi’s shoulder, coated in thick black paint, and Vi watches as she pulls her fingers away gently. A slight black smudge stares back at Caitlyn.

Caitlyn looks at it, then meets Vi’s gaze again. They stare at each other for a beat of silence, the weight of unspoken words pressing on both their shoulders.

Then Caitlyn reaches out again, more hesitantly this time, and brushes her hand against Vi’s chest. Her fingers linger over a smaller gash, one still healing from nights ago. Guilt pulses in her eyes.

When Vi doesn’t react, doesn’t shove her hand away, something hopeful sparks in Caitlyn’s pupils. She blinks, then drags her fingers further down, her touch achingly slow against Vi’s breast. With each inch she dares, her eyes start to feel more and more like a challenge. But Vi doesn’t move her gaze - in fact, only focuses harder on Caitlyn’s eyes.

It’s another match, and this is one Vi refuses to lose.

Caitlyn’s fingers finally linger over Vi’s waist. A final test. And when Vi doesn’t take her gaze off Caitlyn’s - when she merely throws a raised eyebrow at her - Caitlyn’s hands grip the back of her neck and she surges forward.

Vi’s ready, though. As soon as Caitlyn’s mouth crashes into hers, desperate and guilty, her hands grab for Caitlyn’s waist. She opens her legs a little further, tugs Caitlyn closer, and Caitlyn follows. She wraps her arms around Vi’s shoulders and pins one knee against her side, while the other stays planted on the floor. She’s on the barrier between Vi’s bed and the rest of her apartment.

But Vi won’t have her straddling that barrier. Vi pulls herself further onto the bed, just a few inches from her wall. If Caitlyn really wants her, she’ll follow.

And she does. Caitlyn brings the other leg forward to straddle the other side of Vi’s waist, and now her full weight is on Vi’s lap. Vi grips at Caitlyn’s jacket, yanks her closer, and Caitlyn’s mouth opens wider, her tongue licking desperately at Vi’s.

Vi keeps one arm locked around her waist while the other presses down the side of Caitlyn’s leg, and with each inch further, Caitlyn’s breathing gets deeper. Vi digs her fingers into her thigh, and a strangled sigh escapes her. The hands on Vi’s shoulders start drifting around, one now gripping Vi’s neck and the other in her hair, and with each tug of her fingers, heat licks at Vi’s stomach.

Vi hooks her fingers over the buckle of Caitlyn’s pants. She fumbles with it, but no matter how hard she tries to unbutton it, her pants can’t seem to come undone. Finally Caitlyn has enough; she pulls herself away from Vi and starts tugging it off herself, and in the meantime, Vi pushes away from the wall so that she’s parallel to the rest of her bed.

Vi watches as the paleness of her legs start peeking through, and she curls her lips in disgusted amusement. What is she even doing, fooling around with Caitlyn like this? There’s no good way tonight could end.

Maybe this is her way of letting go of Caitlyn. She’s not the girl with the sweet, slow smile in her drunken hallucinations; she’s not the girl in the frilly officer’s uniform she met that first night in the prison. She’s a commander now, someone who’s learned to aim that power in her hands as easily as she knows how to shoot.

Maybe tonight will give her a reason to give up her hope in the old Caitlyn. After all, everyone in Vi’s life has changed; she doesn’t know why she ever thought Caitlyn wouldn’t.

Vi leans back on her hands as she watches her. “Do your Enforcer friends know you’re fraternizing with the enemy?” she crows. “I don’t think sleeping with an illegal pitfighter is considered very commander-ly of you.” Then Vi scoffs. “With my luck, you’re going to arrest me after this for aggravated assault of an officer.”

Caitlyn glances at her with an almost comical look of irritation on her face. At one point, maybe this would’ve made Vi laugh, but now it only makes her heart feel heavy in her chest. This moment doesn’t feel real; it feels like she’s getting a glimpse into some alternate universe, where maybe her attempts at being annoying might have come across as more lighthearted plays of flirtation. But instead, in this universe, in this moment, their existences are in complete opposition of each other. Two girls who’ve lost themselves.

“I came alone,” Caitlyn says as she tugs her other leg out of her pants. “I didn’t want anyone else getting involved with me tonight. It would’ve been too risky.”

Caitlyn finally throws the pants to the floor, and they fall to the wood with a soft thud. Before Vi can say anything more, Caitlyn crawls onto Vi and straddles her hips, then comes to meet her lips again. Her hands pull at Vi’s neck as she deepens the kiss, and a new wave of desire crashes over Vi when she lets go of a slight moan. Her fingers dig into Caitlyn’s waist, push her down into her, and her desire flames when she feels Caitlyn rocking against her. Vi drags her lips over Caitlyn’s jaw, into the crook of her neck. She runs her hands over Caitlyn’s thighs again, now bare and warm in her grip, and Caitlyn shivers under her touch.

Vi brings her lips higher again, back into the corner of Caitlyn’s jaw, and Caitlyn stretches her neck a little further. Vi presses her nose against the side of Caitlyn’s hair, then nips at Caitlyn’s ear, and she flinches slightly.

Vi grits her teeth. “Why are you really here, Commander?”

Caitlyn doesn’t answer immediately. Vi brings her lips down Caitlyn’s neck again, then to the other side. It’s only when Vi stops to meet her eyes that Caitlyn sighs in irritation. “I think you already know,” she mutters.

Vi scoffs and brings her lips back to Caitlyn’s neck, and Caitlyn sighs again, this time in relief.

Vi wants to rip that relief from her throat. She doesn’t deserve it.

“Jinx is gone, Caitlyn. No one’s heard from her.” Vi huffs in humorless amusement. “And this is coming from me.”

Caitlyn doesn’t answer immediately. She lets Vi drag her lips against her neck, breathes through her touch. But Vi doesn’t want her to have this slow ease into the moment. So she bites against the skin in the crook of Caitlyn’s neck, sinking her teeth further than she really should, and Caitlyn sucks in a breath in surprise.

“Just because no one’s heard from her doesn’t mean she’s gone.” Caitlyn’s voice burns against Vi’s ears, so low it’s almost a growl, and Vi’s vision turns red. There she goes again, letting her arrogance blind her. “The opposite, actually. She’s a symbol down here now.” Then Caitlyn rears her head back and looks down at Vi. An aggravating cockiness hardens in her eyes. “Or have you been too busy letting people stab you in the stomach to notice?”

Caitlyn’s face blurs as Vi’s rage surges through her. She grabs Caitlyn’s bottom lip between her teeth and bites down. Even when Caitlyn hisses, she doesn’t let go immediately; only when she speaks again does she release her. “You don’t get to mock me,” Vi growls against her lips. “At least I’m getting hit by trained fighters. Are you still trying to fight innocent kids?”

Caitlyn’s brows furrow, and her eyes shine in disgusted shock at Vi’s words. Good, Vi thinks. At least she feels some sort of remorse.

Vi leans forward and bites at the fabric of Caitlyn’s uniform collar. With a tug, she rips the fabric, and something inside Vi’s chest unfurls with pride at the sound. She brushes her lips against Caitlyn’s unprotected throat now, and at her touch, Caitlyn clutches at Vi’s bare back.

“What brought you to the ring, anyway?” Vi asks into her skin. “Didn’t think filthy trencher entertainment was high-end enough for Topside’s favorite commander.”

Caitlyn pushes forward to kiss Vi again, and this time she comes in with something even hungrier, more desperate. She forces Vi’s head to tilt to the side as she takes her turn to drag her lips over Vi’s neck, and Vi’s own breath hitches. But her skin starts to burn at the touch; she gets the sense that this is Caitlyn’s way of warning her.

Caitlyn forces Vi’s chin to tilt up as she drags her lips lower, now just above Vi’s heart. Vi’s hold on Caitlyn tightens, tethering herself for what’s about to come next.

Then Caitlyn straightens and meets Vi’s eyes. Vi can’t stand the cold remorse in her irises; she wants to force her back to her neck just to stop looking at it. “You won’t like the answer,” she says grimly.

Vi tugs at Caitlyn’s thighs, forces her closer. “Try me.”

Vi’s surprised to see the genuine anxiety in Caitlyn’s eyes. But when she takes in the adamance in Vi’s, she sighs. She leans forward to kiss Vi again, and this is more gentle, more elusive, like she’s trying to seal something before letting it go.

“A figure was spotted leaving one of these fights the other night.” Caitlyn pulls back to meet Vi’s gaze again, and now a genuine guilt shines in them, like she’s about to regret the next words out of her mouth. “A girl with long blue hair.”

Caitlyn’s face blurs into a mix of blue and gray as rage overwhelms Vi’s senses. Her fingers reflexively turn towards a fist, and it’s only when Caitlyn lets out a whimper that Vi realizes how hard she’s gripping her thighs.

Vi’s teeth grind against each other. Whatever Caitlyn thinks, whatever she’s heard, it had to be a false report. Jinx would know better than to even dare show her face anywhere - she’s Piltover’s most wanted now. She wouldn’t take a risk like that. And she would know better than to come anywhere near Vi, not after everything that happened at the sewers. She would know Vi wants nothing to do with her anymore.

But still, despite it all, Vi can’t help the way her heart stutters. Only one thought screams through her mind: What if she needs help?

Vi’s vision blurs in red. With newfound adrenaline, she shoves Caitlyn over and pins her arms to the bed, and Caitlyn gasps in surprise underneath her. Vi straddles her waist and presses against her, makes sure that she can feel all of her weight on her hips. She digs her fingers underneath Caitlyn’s chin and forces her head to tilt up, and a blade of streetlight falls over her face. She catches Caitlyn’s gasp in her mouth.

“What is it, Kiramman?” Vi growls against her lips. She pinches her teeth into her neck. “Does it get you off when you lie to me? Is that it?”

“Vi,” Caitlyn wheezes, and Vi sits up to let her explain for herself. Caitlyn takes a few deep breaths, and Vi watches her chest rise and fall rapidly as she tries to catch her breath. The motion annoys her, so she rips open the buttons of her jacket. Her fingers tug aggressively at the buttons of the cotton blouse underneath, and she rips it off Caitlyn’s shoulders.

Finally she finds herself staring at Caitlyn’s bra. So pretty and lacy. It reeks of expensive.

Vi digs a thumb under the wire and yanks. She almost smiles at the sight of the threads snapping.

“I’m not lying,” Caitlyn breathes, and Vi looks up to meet her gaze. There’s genuinity in them, and another wave of rage floods through her. She throws Caitlyn’s clothes to the floor, then runs her bottom lip against Caitlyn’s neck and bites her shoulder, hard. Caitlyn whimpers, shivering in Vi’s hands.

She has to be lying. Jinx doesn’t get caught; if she does, it’s because she orchestrated it. And showing up to an illegal pit fight hardly seems like her way of making an entrance.

But would Caitlyn be down here if she didn’t trust her sources?

Vi’s vision narrows, and she comes back to leave another bite against her shoulder. “You’re a bitch,” she seethes. A new wave of desperation washes over her, and tears start burning against her. She tightens her eyes, and when she speaks again, it turns into a whisper. “Do you know that? All you do is fuck me over.”

She flattens herself against Caitlyn, brings her hands to hover between her legs, and a slickness coats her fingers as she starts tugging at her underwear. Caitlyn’s back arches at her touch and her arms tighten around Vi’s shoulders.

Through the blurriness in Vi’s eyes, she catches the blue of Caitlyn’s again. An ache erupts in her chest at the sight of her own tears, fat and round at the corners of her eyes. Vi gets the underwear to start sliding down her thighs, but before Vi can go further, Caitlyn brushes a thumb against Vi’s lip. The touch is gentle, like a promise before she’s about to leave for war. Like an ending.

She breathes out a dying breath. “I know.”

~~~

Vi’s not sure how long she and Caitlyn have been lying here, on Vi’s sorry excuse of a bed, passing this bottle back and forth between them. All she knows is that no matter how many sips she takes, the burn will never be harsh enough to let her forget the taste of Caitlyn on her tongue, soft and sweet, or the feel of her voice on her bare skin, pleading and devastated.

They’re not even holding each other, which is what makes this moment so harsh. Vi feels like she and Caitlyn are packaged dolls, staring blankly at the ceiling.

Then Caitlyn shifts, and her hair brushes Vi’s shoulder as she leans over her. “Is it alright if I take a shower?” she asks.

Vi purses her lips at Caitlyn, then shrugs. “Sure.” She takes another sip from the bottle in her hands. Then she snorts and, under her breath, she adds, “But no amount of water is gonna clean out all that dirt on your hands.”

Caitlyn starts to peel herself off the bed, but stops midway and rests her head against the wall. She stares blankly at the foot of the bed for a minute, and Vi watches her back expand with each breath she takes, pale and shivering.

“If you’re gonna puke,” Vi says, “do it in the sink.”

Caitlyn’s eyes snap back at her, almost surprised at her voice. She releases an irritated breath and continues climbing off the bed. “I’m not going to be sick,” she says. “You’re the one who finished most of the bottle.”

“And I’m gonna finish the rest of it, too.”

Caitlyn flashes her with a look of disgust, then gets to her feet, and then she’s standing in front of Vi. Her muscles flash green in the blades of light that seep through the window, and Vi’s eyebrow jumps in appreciation.

Caitlyn holds her elbows to her body for a moment, and Vi watches her over the bottle against her lips. Her hair falls over her shoulders, messy and tangled, and a question lingers in her eyes.

Vi raises a brow. “What?”

“Can you… come with me?”

Vi huffs in amusement. “What, you don’t know how to take a shower? Scared of some bug jumping out at you from the drain?”

“No,” Caitlyn says. “I just…” Her eyes flash in the light, and she sighs. But no other explanation comes out.

Vi watches her for a moment. She’s not sure why, but watching her in this light, looking so frail and confused, so outside of her own body, makes her chest ache with pity.

Vi shouldn’t give in. Caitlyn doesn’t deserve the comfort.

And yet, because she’s just as pitiful, she sighs and throws her legs over the bed.

It takes a moment for the floor beneath her feet to stop tilting, but when Caitlyn sees her sit upright, surprise flashes in her eyes. Vi tries to push herself into a standing position, but the world’s still tilting, so she cocks her head at Caitlyn and holds a hand out. “You gonna help me out, Cupcake?”

Caitlyn blinks at her, then pulls on Vi’s hand. For a brief second, the walls tilt backwards as Vi’s tugged forward, and then something crashes against her body. She blinks to clear her vision, and she realizes she’s leaning on Caitlyn, her chin fallen against her right shoulder.

Caitlyn huffs, and a pressure builds on either side of Vi’s shoulders. Then she’s staring upright at Caitlyn’s, whose eyes are narrowed in irritation and something that almost looks like concern.

“Sober as ever,” Caitlyn mutters sarcastically. Her gaze drifts down, and Vi follows it to the bottle in her hand, which, by some miracle, is still in her hand. Caitlyn reaches for it, but Vi yanks it out of her way, and then their gazes meet again.

Caitlyn’s lip curls in disgusted confusion. “You’re going to drink it in the shower?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Vi says, then pushes herself off Caitlyn. She’s able to stand perfectly fine without her.

Caitlyn’s brows furrow, and then she looks around the room, eyes all the bottles in it as if really noticing them for the first time. When her gaze turns back to Vi, the concern in them blooms full-force, and rage curls in Vi’s nerves.

“Seems like punching yourself blind isn’t the only thing keeping you busy,” Caitlyn says, but her voice lacks any fire. Her head tilts and then, to Vi’s surprise, she reaches out and brushes a lock of hair from her face.

Vi swipes her hand away. “I don’t need your pity.”

Caitlyn’s eyes flinch, and for some reason, seeing the shock ripple through her body, Vi’s heart tumbles. She hesitates, then glances at her bottle. Then she huffs a sigh and throws it on her bed. It’s empty anyway.

Her eyes trail over the floor now, too, catching on the bottles and papers and stains, over the pile of clothes, both hers and Caitlyn’s, to the cloak lying like a dead body on her floor. Then she meets Caitlyn’s eyes and sighs in disgust. “We all need to deal with our mistakes somehow.” Vi shrugs. “You grieve by putting on a disguise. I grieve by drinking.”

Caitlyn’s eyebrows furrow, and she looks down at her cloak, too. Her eyes shut at the sight, and another wave of pity washes over Vi, so she takes this chance to pull her towards the bathroom.

Vi’s shower is small, just barely a big enough square for even herself, but they manage to fit, somehow. As they get accustomed to this new tight space, their chests breathing against each other, their arms brushing, they meet each other’s gazes, and something about this moment feels almost comical.

Caitlyn Kiramman, leader of House Kiramman, beloved commander of Piltover’s forces, standing in a dingy shower in front of a trencher. How low she’s buried herself.

“Why are you laughing?” Caitlyn asks.

Vi grins and leans back against the wall. She looks Caitlyn up and down, and all she can think about is how unnatural she looks here, with the flickering light barely processing over her features and the scum of her walls a stark contrast to the pureness of Caitlyn’s body, devoid of scars and bruises beyond the ones Vi left on her.

“You look fucking ridiculous here,” Vi snorts, and she can’t stop the torrent of giggles bubbling out of her.

Caitlyn doesn’t laugh. The pity in her eyes has somehow managed to grow wider.

And that pulls the plug on any further laughter. Vi’s eyes narrow at Caitlyn, and she leans forward again, making sure she can feel the sting of Vi’s eyes on her own. “Why are we just standing here, Kiramman?”

This seems to bring Caitlyn out of her stupor. Her eyes find the handle of the shower, and she flicks it up. The scene slows down as Vi hears the water racketing through the pipes, sees it bubble at the top of the showerhead, watches it glitter as it comes down.

When it hits Caitlyn’s back, she gasps and lurches away, right into Vi. Vi can feel her shivering as she snaps her arm out again to play with the handle. Through clacking teeth, she hisses, “Why is it so cold?”

“You think hot water is free?”

Caitlyn whips her gaze to Vi, then turns it back around to the handle. She keeps trying to twist it, but Vi knows there won’t be a change. Caitlyn eventually gives up and turns around, and, with a start, Vi realizes just how close they are. She can feel her stomach pressed against hers, her thigh quivering between her own, trembling as the water soaks her back.

For some reason, a pang of guilt strikes Vi’s chest. She hesitates, then draws her arms around Caitlyn’s waist.

Caitlyn looks down at her embrace, then meets Vi’s gaze. Something like remorse shines in her eyes, and Vi tilts her head curiously. After a beat of silence, her eyes harden decidedly, and she steps backwards into the water. As the cold water spills over her, her hair flattens over her face in thick blue ropes and she grits her teeth. But even through the pain of the water, a determination shines in her eyes.

Vi blinks at her, and a new remorse swells in her chest, watching her shiver.

Caitlyn wasn’t meant for this life. She wasn’t meant for the harshness of the Undercity.

Vi steps forward again, brings her arms out, and her teeth grit as a torrent of cold water hits them. But she persists and finds herself close to Caitlyn again, holding her around the waist. Caitlyn’s still getting most of the hits, but some water bounces off her and coats the front of Vi’s body, too, and Vi’s bangs become heavy against her face. The sting in her abdomen bursts at the chill, along with some of the other cuts on her face and body, and her eyes screw shut at the pain.

They stand there for a moment, shaking in each other’s embrace. But eventually the cold begins to feel like secondhand nature, and the stinging in Vi’s stomach eases. Caitlyn’s eyes drag over her body, and Vi follows her gaze. The paint on her shoulders ribbons down in rivulets of gray water, and the blood from her wounds slither down in a light pink. The colors mix together as they swirl into the drain. Watching them slip away, for a brief moment, Vi feels new. She feels unburdened.

Caitlyn brings her gaze up again. She searches for something in Vi’s eyes, and a tremble appears in her chin. A hand presses against the side of Vi’s face, and it's cold and slick, but Vi leans into it anyway. Caitlyn’s fingers brush against the cuts on the side of her face, and it stings when she touches them, but Vi doesn’t move her hand. She just takes it.

She needs the reminder of how much Caitlyn can hurt.

Caitlyn brings her gaze back to Vi’s shoulders, then starts running her hands in circles against them a few times. The water turns a deeper gray color, and Vi watches it fall off her body.

But when Caitlyn removes her hands to look at her progress, there's still a light gray overcast on Vi’s shoulders.

Caitlyn sighs, then brings her gaze to Vi’s abdomen. She brushes a hand over the wound, then looks up at Vi again, her eyes warily pleading. When Vi doesn’t do anything, Caitlyn gently pries the bandage off. She throws it to the side of the bathroom, and now the wound glares back at them both.

It’s not so bad. It’s shallow, which means it should heal soon enough. But Cait’s gaze lingers over it anyway, and her brows furrow.

She looks up again and searches the bandages on Vi’s face. Vi knows she should take those off, too, but she can’t bring herself to care. She just wants Caitlyn to watch her, to see all the scars on her body.

When Caitlyn speaks again, her voice is reedy, chipped by the sound of the water pouring over them. “Did I do this?”

Vi wants to laugh in Caitlyn’s face and say yes, actually, it’s all her fault. But as she looks up into Caitlyn’s eyes, the blue of them now gray in the flickering light, Vi decides that she doesn’t want to give her all the credit. That would be handing her too much power.

“No,” Vi decides, “not all of it.” She presses herself against the wall again as her mind flashes with fractured images: blood dripping down a little girl’s ashened nose; raging violet eyes, piercing her from behind the flicker of candles on an elaborate dining table; broken breaths escaping a broken girl as she choked at Vi’s hand.

“Most of it was me.” Vi’s gaze slips to the bandage on the floor. “Maybe all of it was me.”

And then: a child’s amber eyes, looking up at her in fear.

A scowl yanks on Vi’s face, and she snaps her eyes back to Caitlyn. “But you played your part, too.”

Cait cowers at Vi’s gaze, and she squeezes her eyes shut for a moment. When she opens her eyes again, there's a slight red in them. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, but it comes out like a barely contained sob. Her bottom lip trembles, and Vi’s heart drops at the sight. But that doesn’t make any sense, because isn't this exactly what she’s been hoping for? Caitlyn, begging her for forgiveness? Caitlyn, facing the mistakes she made?

But the more she looks into her eyes, the more Vi’s chest churns with rage, and angry tears shove against her eyes. Sure, Caitlyn’s crying now about how much of an evil person she’s become - but when she leaves, she’ll be clean and proper again, and she’ll go right back to unraveling the world around her until she fulfills whatever fucked up delusions of justice she has.

Vi pushes forward, her anger licking at her heart, and she means to push Cait into the opposite wall, but her movements are sluggish and she just ends up in Caitlyn's arms, both of them back in the cold water pouring down on them. She narrows her eyes at Caitlyn, then buries her head into her shoulder. “You should be sorry,” she mutters. “You’re a fucking asshole. You fucked us both over. You fucked the entire Undercity over.”

Caitlyn straightens Vi, and now the tears in her eyes look angrier as she scowls. “You think I don’t know that?” she seethes. “Every decision I’ve made has been worse than the last.”

Vi laughs, because she looks fucking ridiculous. What is a councilor’s daughter even doing in her fucking shower? She needs her to just shut up right now. Vi tugs Caitlyn again, brings them both back to the wall, then forces her head to tilt as she drags her lips against her neck.

Her mouth comes off wet and cold.

Vi brings an arm around Caitlyn’s waist again and pulls her closer, so close she can feel Caitlyn’s stomach rising with each breath she takes, so close that she can feel her thigh quivering between her legs. “I bet you feel so fucking high and mighty up there,” Vi mutters against her. “I bet you love seeing filthy trencher animals suffer down here all because you can’t seem to just let go of some grudge on a teenage girl.”

“She killed my mother,” Caitlyn says into Vi’s hair, but her words barely have any fire. She sounds tired, like she’s not sure if she even feels the same conviction. A wick with barely any length left.

“And your Enforcers killed both of our parents.” Vi tilts her head and meets Caitlyn’s eyes, and laughter bubbles out of her. “You look fucking stupid.”

Caitlyn heaves out a desperate sigh, then leans forward. Her mouth drags down Vi’s throat, down her chest, and one hand tugs at Vi’s waist. Vi’s heart cries out at the touch, and the sound that crawls out of her throat sounds more like a sob than a moan.

A new revolting desire overwhelms Vi, and she pushes off the wall and back into the water. She meets Caitlyn’s mouth with a new fervor, and Caitlyn’s hands tighten around her waist, her nails gripping at her thighs, desperation hot on her fingertips. Her tongue on Vi’s is the warmest thing in this shower right now, which is just so fucking ironic, because Caitlyn is the coldest thing to ever happen to her. Vi’s hands travel up into her hair, grip the back of her neck, and she opens her mouth wider to push Caitlyn in.

Caitlyn pulls away suddenly, and Vi lurches at the momentum. Cait has to balance both of them, and when she holds Vi against the wall, her eyes burn with fear.

“I don’t know how to fix it,” she breathes.

Vi sneers at Caitlyn. God, she looks fucking ridiculous. “Is that why you came back with me? You thought I’d give you some sort of consolation? Tell you you’re just making silly mistakes that you can just erase? Is that what you want to hear?”

Caitlyn’s jaw locks, and the sight of it is so funny. Now she’s really angry. “I came back with you because you needed help,” she growls. “And I never needed consolation. I just need a reason to wake me up from whatever nightmares I’ve caused.”

Vi giggles. “Great. You’re welcome for being that reason, then. What do I get now? A pat on the back? A ‘good girl’?”

“What do you want, Vi?”

Vi just smiles up at her. Suddenly the walls around her are tilting again, and Caitlyn’s eyes are fuzzy blue. Funny - they look almost like Powder’s hair. “Nothing,” Vi says. “Whatever I wanted, it’s all gone. All that’s left is for me to rot a-fucking-way.” She laughs. “Isn’t that what you fucking Topsiders want? Let us trenchers rot?”

Then the wall behind her begins to slip, until it doesn’t, and then she’s floating up. A pressure builds at her lower back, and when she opens her eyes, she finds herself staring at big blue eyes. They look like the moon on Topside. They look so beautiful. They look so fucking dangerous.

“You’re drunk,” Caitlyn’s voice says.

“Oh, don't be so modest. You’re tipsy, too.” Vi snorts. “If you weren’t, you wouldn’t even still be here.” Then Vi smiles and puts her hands against Caitlyn’s face. Her thumbs pull at Cait’s bottom lip, and wow, Vi kind of wants to eat her alive. “You know, it’s kinda funny… those few days we spent together at your house, I was always hoping I could do this with you. Drunk fucking showers. But then you turned into a big fucking bitch. And so did I.”

“Vi.” The intensity of Caitlyn’s voice sends shrapnel through Vi’s heart, and she blinks up at her. The light suddenly feels too bright, like she’s staring right at the sun. “Do you need to sit down?”

“No, I don’t need to fucking sit down.” Vi shakes her head, basks in the coldness of the shower, then looks up to meet Caitlyn’s eyes. “I’m not a fucking child.”

“What do you need, then?”

Something burns against Vi’s eyes. She closes them, but the burning keeps going.

“I just need to forget you.”

~~~

Vi’s eyes burst open to something white and too bright, and as the blurriness clears, she realizes staring at the bottom of her sink. She's about to lift her head, but then her skin begins to tighten on her and her mouth fills with an acrid, metallic taste, and the next time she blinks, there’s vomit sprayed across the already unclean porcelain. The alcohol burns as it comes back up, and her anger burns and her sadness burns, and she hopes she gags so hard it rips her heart out of her chest.

Her fingers clutch at the sides of the sink reflexively as another wave of nausea overwhelms her. A piece of hair falls in front of her face, and she’s about to push it away when it pulls itself, and she feels a hand in her hair and a pressure on her back, but she has no idea how that’s even possible if both her hands are clutching the sink. Maybe she’s finally cracked; maybe she's starting to hallucinate phantom touches, too.

She tries to breathe, and it momentarily works, so she brings her gaze up to the mirror. Her eyes are watering and the paint’s all washed off, and she feels so fucking naked, so ripped apart. Then something catches her eyes - another face, next to hers. Pale and angelic and intangible. The most beautiful blue eyes she’s ever laid her eyes on.

Except this Cait looks different. Her hair’s longer, wavier, and her skin isn’t glowing with warmth; it’s pale, almost sickly. Instead of a smile, her eyes glint with concern and her lips are moving, but Vi can’t form the words in her head. She looks anxious. Vi gets the feeling it’s her fault she’s anxious, somehow.

Vi’s chest cracks with a sob, and the sound echoes around her head. What isn’t her fault? Even with fake Caitlyn, she’s fucking it up somehow.

“Please,” she begs, leaning towards the mirror. She needs to talk to Cait. She needs Caitlyn to hear her. “Please, Cait, stay. Just this once.”

Then another wave of nausea shoves her over the sink again, and Caitlyn gets stuck in the reflection.

~~~

The first thing Vi’s aware of is that she feels not freezing for once. She groans and rolls over, trying to hold on to sleep’s consolation. But as the familiar pounding in her head beats louder, she opens her eyes.

She rolls onto her back to stare at the ceiling, but when she does, she’s surprised to feel a weight on top of her. Something rough brushes against her bare chest, and her gaze snaps down.

The Kiramman flag snarls up at her.

She stares at it for a moment. Then she throws it over her head and shuts her eyes closed.

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