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Chapter Text

Vander tended the bar, pouring drink after drink for ill-mannered patrons, all while maintaining a steady stream of conversation with Benzo. Ekko and Powder passed- Her easy smile complimenting his look of open contentment. Even Claggor brushed past, trailing Mylo who, in turn, trailed Gert like a puppy eager to please. With the innovator’s competition on the horizon, it was easy to imagine this was all there was to their lives, but there were still patrol after patrol of enforcers, faces that got younger with each crop. Topside would never trust them, House Kiramman could do no more than blame them, and House Talis never left that first stage of mourning.

Though the explosion- The physical event- was reduced to a blur, a dull thudding in the back of the minds of those present, the impact never lessened. Every brick lain on Zaunite soil was in jeopardy should the wrong word be uttered in a barroom. Everything Silco and Vander strived to build, threatened by the testimony of one whom the consequences would never reach. Alas, cruelty is so often mistaken for justice.

That was why Vi enlisted. Why Powder spent weeks sick with worry and Vander left a light burning through the night, every night. She wasn’t going to live in the shadow of the undercity anymore, nor was she content to allow those who she cared for to do the same. At least with her among the armoured, her people knew they had a friend. Without her, the possibilities were endless and daunting, not to mention vicious.

The day belonging to the Hound of the Underground and the Eye of Zaun was gone. Dead and buried, so to speak. Vi would replace them, in a way, even if her methods were unconventional in nature.

☆☆☆

A woman of a similar age to Vi approached the bar, hesitation clear in her manner, a distinct outlier in her enforcer uniform. Her hair fell inconspicuously over one clear-blue eye.

“I need to see Vander.” She told Vi. Her eyes were slightly asymmetrical. “Official business. On Grayson’s behalf.” Her eyes glossed over the arrangement of liquor bottles at Vi’s back.

Vi chuckled, “No drink, no information.” She told her, “House policy, Cupcake. Nothing personal.”

Vi heard Vander before she saw him- Great clunking footfalls. He laid a hand on her shoulder, and she stalled. “Don’t listen to her,” He told the enforcer, peering curiously at the pair, “Business hasn’t been all it could be, that’s all. Grayson’s an old friend.”

“Caitlyn.” She introduced herself with a slight nod, drawing her badge as a means of identification.

“You two-” Vi heard him strike a match, “-Are due for a conversation if I’m hearing right.” He released Vi and deftly spun her to face him, “Maybe you’d better take this inside?”

In unspoken agreement, Vi turned from Vander and, hands thrust in her pockets, made a beeline for The Last Drop. She could only assume the young enforcer was not so encompassed in the life of a Topsider that she lacked the ability to track someone through a crowd.

The Last Drop was the last remnant of the life Vi had lived before the accident. The final location, preserved by time for her convenience. Nothing so much as a new nail had been hung by the door and, frankly, Vi hoped it would stay that way until she was too far away for the prospect to provide unease. She perched upon one of the circular wooden tables which groaned under her weight. Vi began to tear at the flesh of her thumbnail, dreading what was to come. Caitlyn did not think to speak. She merely stood, observing with a quiet, calm air.

“Well?” Vi’s tone wasn’t exactly kind, “If they don’t want me, you can just say it.” Vi heard the change in her voice, deceptively nonchalant, “It’s not the first time I… I’m used to it.”

Caitlyn withdrew a letter written on thick stock and sealed with embossed black wax. Lightly, she handed it to Vi, “I’m not permitted to open it.” She told her plainly.

Vi, of course, was not limited by such a restriction. Eagerly, she tore through the seal with her fingernails, flecking the brilliant white with sterile red. Then, the seal torn but not unfolded, she froze, anxiety seizing her, “Grayson always told me herself.” She caught Caitlyn’s eye, “Who are you? Why now?”

“I don’t know.” Caitlyn’s reply was honest, this Vi knew. There was something horribly familiar about her. The draw of her brow and the wide set of her eyes. Her chipped front tooth- Though, she had not smiled. She was just another enforcer, Vi knew. She had to be, another anonymous face on patrol, dipping in and out of the bar like clockwork, on the hour. Regardless, something nagged at her mind. Forcefully- And it was a feat, for sure- she tore her mind from the invaluable contemplation back to the issue at hand.

“Maybe she just got sick seein’ the look on my face when she told me…” She glanced at the paper almost as an afterthought, “There’ll be another-”

The first sentence caught her eye. Words she didn’t recognise. We would like to congratulate you…

She froze, words caught in her throat.

“Well?” Caitlyn prompted, disinterested, perhaps, but polite all the same. The sheer elation on Vi’s face must have made the answer clear as she offered a slight smile, close-lipped, and said, “I look forward to working with you in the future.”

Mutely, Vi nodded. Caitlyn dismissed herself quietly, bowing into the sea of people outside. She faded among the undersaturation into a mere ghost among men. Vi, if she was to be truthful, hardly noticed, preoccupied by her joy.

☆☆☆

Powder was hardly a fan of the idea and, though she held Vi’s hand through each rejection, Vi suspected that her sister was secretly content with her prospective life a second-rate barkeep. Vander had a talent for the trade, a way with patrons, and while he could teach Vi how to make a favoured cocktail, he could not impress upon her the ability to predict a request just from a man’s stride, or how to pour said cocktail without even a glance at the liquor. Powder, of course, encouraged this prospective path, as well as other, similar ones.

“Whenever me and Ekko win this competition and are living large,” She would say, “You won’t need to work. I’ll support you. That’s what sisters are for.”

And though Vi would laugh and tease- “You need to win first. Then we’ll talk.”- she knew she could only placate Powder with falsehoods. Simply, Powder didn’t understand the reality in that this was not so much a choice, but an obligation. If Vi removed herself from the issue, she became part of it, no better than those who ignore its existence. Besides, if Vi could save one life, one child, why shouldn’t she at least try? She knew what Powder would say.

Nobody tried for us. We don’t owe them anything.

But Vi knew it was not about debts paid or owed. It was about the people who could see past those initial assumptions and strove to aid anyone who could not. Silco had long since given up his corrupted officers- Marcus, rotting away in Stillwater, his daughter, barely an infant, housed by an anonymous, concerned citizen- and she genuinely believed the enforcers had become an honest association.

Her desire for this profession was not a bid for revenge or an outlet for a bleeding heart. Merely, she wished to atone for the deaths she could not be at fault for and yet continued to be. The Kiramman girl could destroy them all if she spoke of that day, but it had been near enough a decade, and she had not. Logic’s dictations were not present in Vi’s mind as she tossed and turned at night, nor Powder’s soft voice. Let it go, she said. It’s not worth it.

She was right, any fool could see that. Regardless, Vi struggled with the concept.

☆☆☆

The night of the innovator’s competition was Vi’s first assignment. Inexplicably, Grayson continued to partner her with Caitlyn at every viable opportunity. The pair stood by the entrance to the judge’s quarters- Caitlyn, straight-backed and scowling, and Vi, warily attempting to broach conversation at intervals- in a vaguely ceremonial manner.

Tobias Kiramman was an assistant judge to the new head of the academy- Viktor, something or other, a Zaunite. Vi had refrained from more than a glance in Tobias’ direction. Though, when her eyes happened to fall on him throughout the night, she found more often than not that he was already staring in her direction. Caitlyn either neglected to notice or was actively ignoring her surroundings.

Vi broke the silence, “Powder entered this new energy source she and Ekko have been slaving over for months. Vander’s been tellin’ everyone who asked for a drink for weeks.” Her haphazard attempt at a relevant conversation topic was, perhaps, just enough to catch Caitlyn’s attention.

Slowly, she nodded. “I’m happy for you.” Caitlyn said, “And your sister. Give her my regards.”

As with each of Vi’s various attempts, the conversation drew to a standstill. Caitlyn held her rifle aloft. Her right index finger, Vi noticed, circled the engraved Kiramman crest almost constantly. Her hair fell flawlessly across her right eye and, though for a while Vi had scarcely noticed the fact, she heard whispers of a terrible accident and a scar to remember it by. Much like herself, she thought, relating the subject to her tattoos.

“I could’ve been nicer when we met.” Vi blurted, “Sorry.”

For a stretch of time, Caitlyn did not reply. Though her posture wavered, and she threw a calculated glance at the door to her back. Then, she simply laid her rifle on the ground by her feet and dropped beside it. Vi, hesitant, mirrored her actions.

“Is it true they’re manufacturing hybrids to help with the ventilation in the fissures?” It was a practised line, perfected before a mirror most likely, but it was an example of true effort on Caitlyn’s part. That was, in the very least, progress.

“The conversion rate isn’t high enough for what we want right now but they think with a bit of tinkering the entire ecosystem could be replaced.” She smiled as Caitlyn’s eye widened, “Nothing as fancy as topside but for a bunch of Zaunites?”

Caitlyn’s expression turned sour, “You shouldn’t have to fight just to be able to breathe.”

Vi scoffed, “You don’t think I know it’s not fair?” The tone between them shifted as Vi scrambled to her feet. To Caitlyn, she had been nothing but civil, polite even, and in return she had received nothing more than frost and retort, “I keep wondering, is managing that superiority complex of yours as much of a full-time job as you let on?”
Vaguely, Caitlyn reached for her. Maybe even reached for an apology somewhere inside herself, but she resigned herself to silence as she looked upon the wall opposite. Vi assumed her previous position while Caitlyn remained sprawled upon the floor, one leg stretched out before her. She often walked with a slight limp, usually at the end of a tiresome day, though Vi pretended not to notice for her partner’s sake.

Vi’s mind turned, as it so often did, to the storm of rumours surrounding Caitlyn. Nothing explicit or easy to decipher, simply snickers and snide remarks. Several people had claimed her rifle to be specially modified, but this Vi had to dismiss. What did they suppose Caitlyn did? Wrote a letter to Cassandra Kiramman and begged accommodations? Council member or not, that was hardly realistic. Now, however, she could note the slight differences in hers and Caitlyn’s weapons. Caitlyn had lain hers over her lap and was examining it, reloading the bullets every minute or two with a deafening snap and inhuman swiftness. But hers had a more sophisticated scope than Vi’s, as well as a slimmer body and wider trigger.

A magnificent boom sounded above them and great sparks of blue and green cascaded over the rooftops. Caitlyn flinched with such violence that she dropped her rifle. Her breathing quickened as she drew her knees to her chin, eye fixed on the dark expanse above them. They were a new creation, something Ekko had marvelled over, some magnesium reactant that created a dazzling, if brief, light in a range of colours. But light travels faster than sound and, with each wonderful light, Caitlyn braced herself for what she knew would follow. Her rifle lay discarded by her thigh, forgotten entirely, if Vi had to guess.

It took all of moments for a single explosion to cease, but several minutes for the display. Caitlyn counted, under her breath, to one hundred after the final burst of colour before dropping into her previous position, rifle on lap once more.

She must have felt Vi’s unyielding curiosity, for she said, unprompted, “I don’t react well to sudden loud noises.”

Vi nodded, “My sister doesn’t either. She used to hide under our bed when Vander’s footsteps were too rough. Thought… Thought they were something else. Something we heard a lot growing up.”

“It’s funny.” Caitlyn continued, seemingly failing to take note of Vi’s statement, “I can refrain from fear when attempting and succeeding in taking a life with a rifle, but fireworks send me into shock. It’s trauma, or so I’ve been told. The body recalls what the mind cannot.” She rose, stretching her leg out before her in the action, and assumed her previous position by Vi’s side.

Vi merely nodded as if followed Caitlyn’s words. In truth, no number of rumours could have prepared her for the following conversation.

Caitlyn continued to study the House Kiramman crest while she spoke, tracing her fingertips across the indentation absently, like a comforting habit. Her voice was deceptively light, “I presume you have heard my tragedy already?”

“I don’t go around asking about you, Cupcake. You’re not that special.”

Caitlyn’s laughter was brittle, but authentic. It brought a smile to Vi’s lips.

“Trust me, you don’t have to seek it.” Her voice took on a rhythmic quality, practised and heavy, “An explosive device was detonated in the apartment of a friend of mine. I was with him, in the corridor, attempting to enter while thieves were inside. Jayce-” The blood drained from Vi’s face, “Wasn’t as fortunate as me.”

She took a deep breath and, turning to Vi, said, “There. You’re up to date.” Her eyes narrowed, “Are you alright? You look… Pale. More so than usual.”

Vi could only bring herself to nod, however weakly.

Chapter Text

Powder lay with her body sprawled across the mattress, head dangling off the edge, offering a unique perspective of the situation as Vi, haltingly and erratically, recounted the nights events. From the glow of Powder’s face, it was obvious her own night’s events had not worn off yet. Tobias Kiramman announced the winner just as the fireworks ceased. Ekko lifted Powder off her feet and spun her in a wide arc. The flush had not left her cheeks since.

“It’s her! The Kiramman girl, she’s Caitlyn. Caitlyn who- who showed me how to aim with a rifle and who Grayson keeps pinning me to…. Powder, I don’t- I can’t just keep lying to her.” Vi clapped a hand over her mouth, “If we hadn’t broken in or if we’d just waited a day… Her friend would be alive, and she wouldn’t be living that with guilt. It’s my fault.”

Suddenly, Powder sat up. She blinked owlishly, “Blood rushed to my head.” She explained, “Eh. Can’t you just sit her down and talk to her? Take her for a drink?” Vi blushed a violent shade of red, “Oh.” Powder chuckled softly, “It’s like that.”

Irritably, Vi batted a stray strand of hair from her eyes. She sat down by Powder’s side and Powder laid her head on her sister’s shoulder.

“I can’t keep lying to her.” Vi repeated, staring morosely at the silver enforcer badge she had lain on the dressing table by her uniform. Then, sharply, “Fuck.”

“Language.” Powder whispered and Vi smiled.

 A comfortable moment passed between them before Powder spoke, “I almost lost you at the apartment.” Her voice was soft, tinged with reluctance as well as a certain wistful quality, “Don’t go looking for trouble, Violet. Don’t ruin everything Silco and Vander built because you suddenly grew a conscience.” She rose, continuing, “Ekko’ll be looking for me.”

Vi offered a weak smile, “Don’t do anything I would do.”

☆☆☆

Grayson continued her relentless assignments, ensuring Vi and Caitlyn became intimately known to one another. The two perched outside the Kiramman’s tent during the Progress Day celebrations, much to Caitlyn’s irritation, and frequently patrolled the shrewd streets of the undercity after nightfall- The graveyard shift, as Vi referred to it. She pointed out landmarks of personal significance to Caitlyn as they strolled through dimly lit streets, providing a running commentary of her childhood memories.

“Mylo dared me to pick up broken glass here when I was eleven. So much blood Vander had to clear the bar.” Vi would say and Caitlyn would turn to her in mock sympathy. Or “I won my first fight in that alley.” And Caitlyn would laugh, asking, “How old were you?” or “Did you fight fair?”

One night, strolling through the lanes, side by side, Caitlyn promised, “I’ll show you where I grew up if we ever escape this shift. You can see the dogs… My mother says they’re ‘Practical’, but she lets them sleep inside more than you would think.”

Vi expelled a harsh breath, “Cassandra Kiramman, the big softie? Who would’ve thought?”

Caitlyn shrugged, “She’s changed since Jayce. Started acting as if I was made of glass, as if I’d break if she breathed on me. It was a year before she even let me touch a rifle. Before, I was competing against adults and winning. It was like she wanted to wrap me in linen and hide me in the attic.” Then, she jested, “Too bad. There are dozens of hunting rifles in the attic. My grandmother’s.”

“Will you take her place on the council?” Vi asked and Caitlyn scowled, “Not like that.” Vi retracted, “I mean… Vander used to say that the problem with Piltover is that everyone who could change everything, changed nothing whereas the people who could only change something did it, even if everyone was worse off for it. You could be the- the exception.”

Caitlyn turned unexpectantly toward Vi, swiping her hair from her face in a sure, swift movement, much like how she loaded her rifle. The scar ran from the upper edge of her eyebrow to just below her left eye, marring the pale skin. Vi looked away, dread capturing her heart.

“They don’t want me, Vi.” Caitlyn let her hair fall back into place.

Vi knew she had only served to reenforce what Caitlyn always suspected:

That she should feel ashamed. It was a false assumption, wholly ridiculous, truly, but an easy one to make as a teenager. As someone, that is, who fortifies themselves against waves of insecurity with every breath. She was only sixteen, Vi knew. She never returned to any formal education; a private tutoring-based alternative was supplied due to what they referred to as ‘Special Circumstances’.

“Cait-”

“Please. I’ve endured enough pity for both our lifetimes.” Caitlyn scoffed, closing her eyes against Vi’s earnest expression. She made to continue on. Vi laid a hand against her cheek, stalling her.

“I don’t pity you.” She said. A simple statement, yes, but impactful as Caitlyn opened her eyes, lips parted in a polite expression of shock.

“Oi!” The voice was male. It rose from behind Vi’s back and, begrudgingly, she turned, “Get outta here! There’re children sleepin’… Who d’ya think you are… Bloody enforcers…” He was a short man, hobbling and shrouded in a black cloak.

Caitlyn began to shake with poorly contained laughter as Vi turned a rather violent shade of red.

“How could you not see him?” She asked in exasperation.

Caitlyn shrugged, “I do have a reduced field of vision.”

“Now you want pity?” Vi grumbled, grasping her arm as they hurried toward the end of the street.

☆☆☆

Vander stood stoically behind the bar, polishing a glass with a certain reverence reserved for only men such as himself. Silco lingered, as ever, by his side. Vi stirred her drink morosely with the dinged metal straw, recounting the events which plagued her. She lifted her head only when the entire tale was laid out between them. Vander paused, setting down the glass while Silco continued to sip over his own drink. They exchanged weary glances.

“I tried to talk to Powder,” Vi continued, “But her attitude toward Pilties hasn’t changed since enforcers raided Babette’s place when we were kids.”

Silco replied dismissively, “She’s distrusting. We all are.”

Vander silenced him with a glance, “Let’s focus on the task at hand, shall we?” He addressed Vi, “The Kiramman girl. What’s stopping you from clearing the air?” Vi shrugged, taking a keen interest in the whirlpool she had managed to create in the centre of her cup, “Vi.”

“I don’t want her to hate me.”

“If she can’t forgive-” Silco began confidently, but Vi’s purposeful glance made him falter. He scowled into his drink, impatiently directing Vander to take the helm.

Vander hesitated a moment before he spoke, “Redemption isn’t something someone- Caitlyn especially- can offer you. It’s something you need to strive to be worthy of. You need to prove that you’ve earned redemption through your actions.”

“The same principle applies to forgiveness.” Silco stepped forward, brandishing his glass in some semblance of a toast, “It is up to the Kiramman girl whether or not she continues on a path of resentment. You cannot force her hand.”

Vi looked searchingly at the two of them. She could imagine them here, fewer years weighing them down, scribbling in notebooks and plotting the future of Zaun. She could imagine her mother, too, hovering at their sides, providing encouragement and humour when required. When had that fallen to pieces?, she wondered, When did friends become enemies?

As if he had sensed her question, Silco smiled, “I learned to forgive by realising the simple fact that what we set out to build was worth invaluably and undoubtedly more than what was holding us back. We weren’t building Zaun for ourselves, Violet, but for you and for Powder. Mylo, Ekko, Claggor, Ren. For those who would outlive us.”

Vander slung an arm around his shoulders, “Took him long enough.” Begrudgingly, Silco allowed himself a smile.

Although Vi could not possibly know whether Caitlyn matched Silco’s capacity for forgiveness, she knew that there no alternative than to try, to run at the problem with all her might in search of resolve. The single action could send Zaun, all that Vander and Silco had strived to build, crashing down around their shoulders. This, Vi knew, yet she had to believe that Caitlyn was who she knew her to be. That Caitlyn understood the price of change, the violence necessary to begin the cycle. Most importantly, that Caitlyn was privy to the difference between cruelty and justice.

☆☆☆

Caitlyn possessed an odd habit of standing with her back to a wall as an instinct. When this was not a possibility, she tended to grow agitated and unagreeable. Therefore, when Vi caught her between shifts and enticed her toward The Last Drop, she ensured to ask Vander to keep a booth open for them at the very fringes of the barroom. She even produced a spare stool for Caitlyn to elevate her leg on. She would never admit how it bothered her but it wasn’t difficult to deduce after an evening of chasing lawbreakers.

Powder, complete with a vaguely manic expression, arrived to take their order. She had pulled a stained apron over her overalls and, despite Caitlyn’s horrified expression, said in a monotone voice, “What’d you want?” Vi shooed her away, muttering assurances and excuses. Powder rejoined Ekko and Silco at the bar, cackling with ill-received laughter.

At first, the conversation flowed like any shift with Caitlyn dismissing bogus rumours at Vi’s request and Vi providing tales of historical significance for the sole purpose of Caitlyn’s amusement. Caitlyn sipped over her drink while Vi swallowed hers in two gulps.

Finally, with Vander’s gaze upon her back and the lights growing dim, Vi felt she must broach the all-feared topic.

“I don’t know how to build up to this so I’m just going to lay it all out for you,” She began unwrapping her forearm, only to wrap it tighter as she spoke. She could feel Caitlyn’s sharp eye on her. The words felt heavy on her tongue, thick like syrup. They fought against her admittance, desperate as it may be. When she managed to speak, it was halting and queer to the ear.

 “We- We were the undercity kids who broke into a topside apartment and set off some kind of… security system I guess and blew the place up. Somebody came home while we were…. Whatever, I was knocked off my feet. Claggor had to carry me out. We, er, scared the shit outta Vander. I promised I would never do anything like that to him again… And I didn’t. I haven’t. Never. We didn’t hear about Jayce or about… You. Not for a day or two. News carries slow down here when it wants to.” The bandages had left angry red marks on her forearms.

Time stretched expansively between them. It may have been a moment or a millennium. Even the barroom seemed to fall silent around them. The angry chatter of those mulling over drinks ceased entirely. Vi drew her arms over her chest in a vaguely protective manner.

“Thank you…” Caitlyn said eventually, voice thick, “For telling me.”

Vi faltered, “What?” The word came out with a great deal more aggression than she had intended, “No, but Cait, you don’t understand, it was my fault. I- I led them there. Jayce died and you…” She trailed off, her words evaporating.

“I know what I am, Vi.” Her voice was soft, though clearly audible. Vi saw, in her peripheral vision, Powder leaning over the back of her chair, straining her ears to hear the contents of their conversation. Ekko had his foot on the spindle, ensuring she didn’t topple forward entirely. He, too, glanced eagerly in their direction but, unlike Powder, he had the courtesy to look away sheepishly once Vi noticed. Vander, like any good barman, knew to mind his patrons selectively.

“But it wasn’t your fault.” Vi felt the tone change as Caitlyn’s voice turned brittle, “Or mine, or Jayce’s. Eleven very expensive mental and emotional specialists have explicitly told me as much. Another three said essentially the same through gestures and comments. Even my own mother-” Her voice rose angrily.

“You’re right.” Vi laid a hasty hand against Caitlyn’s cheek, fearful of her tone, “It was nobody’s fault, Cupcake. Just an accident.”

A brittle laugh erupted from Caitlyn’s lips, “Every action has a reaction, and every accident has a lynchpin. If the council had not so blatantly disregarded the citizens of their undercity- Their citizens, living on the streets, choosing between exploitation by a kingpin to whom they may as well be dolls and a government that doesn’t give a shit!” Her voice rose to a shout. Vi laid a hand over Caitlyn’s, hoping it to be a calming gesture, “They killed Jayce. Not you or me. My mother may as well have lodged the bullet in his head herself.”

Vi felt her words lodge in her throat. Shock, surprise, horror… She didn’t quite know which. Helpless, she looked to Vander for reprieve. Caitlyn bowed her head. Like Vi, she felt every eye on her back. Thankfully, Vander had far from lost his ability to rally troops or, when necessary, clear a barroom.

“Everyone,” His voice rose over the hastily resumed din, “Out!” When nobody made to follow his command, he glanced pointedly at the metal gauntlets suspended over the bar. Suddenly, everyone was all too eager to abandon their drinks and hurry home. Everyone but Powder, who protested loudly as Vander attempted to guide her toward the backrooms, then squealed when he gave up and lifted her off her feet. Ekko left wordlessly, throwing Vi a concerned look over his shoulder and Silco spoke only to Vander in hurried, hushed tones as he took his leave.

When safely alone, Caitlyn raised her head, tucking her hair behind her ears. Vi, frankly, knew better than to break eye contact. She wondered what Vander would do. Surely, he would have an instinctive, flawless solution where they could all go home feeling lighter than air. Even Silco with his forgiveness and his selfless heart was better suited. Vi had a distinct advantage on their expertise: She knew Caitlyn, or some version of her. Knowledge gained through countless nights wandering through shaded streets and shadowed alleys by her side. She knew the rough underside of her palm and the light touch of her fingertips. She knew the slant of her nose and the scars across her lower back. More so, she knew her mind. Vi could predict whether a joke would aggravate or please. She could note the change in Caitlyn’s demeanour whenever she had a plan of attack. She knew Caitlyn, even if every instinct she possessed told her the opposite.

Vi approached the topic cautiously. Her hand still lay over Caitlyn’s. She felt her pulse fluttering under her fingertips.

“I’m not gonna tell you that you can’t place blame because you had to. You had to survive, and I get that. But you can’t let blaming them become all you have. Because that isn’t any kind of life.” When Caitlyn didn’t reply, Vi continued, “Someone told me that redemption is something that has to be earned, but forgiveness is something that has to be offered. You need to realise which one you want because blame isn’t a solution, Cupcake. It’s fuel and, yeah, it burns hot and- and fast. But not forever.”

The silence fell over them again, suffocating and complete yet managing to avoid becoming awkward. Caitlyn reached, with her free hand, to let her hair fall over her face once more, as if now was an appropriate moment to let shame dictate her actions. Vi grasped her hand in her own, “What do you say, Cait?”

The familiar backdrop of The Last Drop, the worn leather booth and the chipped mugs from which they drank, all served to comfort Vi, to cushion her against the daunting scenarios which ran like films within her mind. Even Caitlyn’s hand in her own, her soft skin marred by a crisscross of scar tissue on her wrist.

Caitlyn’s breathing turned unsteady, she swallowed heavily before she spoke, “You don’t understand… If there’s nobody to blame, then Jayce’s death is meaningless. He died… For nothing.”

“No!” Vi leaned earnestly forward, “His death has given you the chance to prevent any more like it. Talk to your mother. Never forgive them, if you don’t want to, but make them earn the redemption. Make them give a shit about The Grey and The Lanes and- and who their enforcers slaughter in the streets. You have to hold them accountable because no one else can.”

“Come with me?” It wasn’t a demand, but a question. Her breathing remained ragged and irregular, but her eyes no longer shifted between shadows dancing on the walls. She met Vi at an equal stance, lips parted and inviting.

Vi nodded, “If you’ll have me, Cupcake.”

Chapter Text

The Kiramman house- That is, the physical building- was regal and stately, but those qualities only served to highlight the impersonality in the bare walls and empty bedrooms. The portraits, Caitlyn’s sole acquaintances in her youth, remained with a haughty air, rising above the petty problems of the living. Years past, Cassandra had commissioned a new portrait of her family, commanding the old to be disposed of by whatever means necessary. The new commission was grander, flawless even, if we are to speak in means of method and medium. For a perceived eternity, they stood in weak autumn sunlight while the artist failed to capture the glint in Tobias’ eyes or the angle of Caitlyn’s rifle. Cassandra, ever the matriarch, commandeered each detail, seeking nothing less than perfection. She supplied Caitlyn with a hat, not unlike that which she had worn as a young girl, with a partial veil. You’re in mourning. She had told her, We all are. Despite Cassandra’s peacocking and fastidiousness, the resulting artwork portrayed, without a doubt, three apparitions.

Caitlyn pointed it out to Vi in passing, “We look like we’re haunting our own house.”

Tobias greeted them at the door, pulling his daughter into a brief embrace. Caitlyn’s explanation of their arrival had been even briefer, but his relief at her return overshadowed his natural curiosity about the matter. He nodded in agreement as she said this, adding, “Don’t tell your mother.”

“She knows.” Caitlyn replied shortly.

“Yes, but she thinks that we don’t. Let’s allow her to keep that idea, shall we? Doesn’t hurt anyone.” He gestured to them to follow as he set off down an expansive corridor, bare of all decoration or embellishment. There was gauze wrapped around his left forearm, which Caitlyn gingerly brushed against. He winced but assured her, “Accident with one of the innovator’s entries. Some volatile material, lashed out as we approached… Viktor took interest, but you know me, not one to push the boundaries… Ah, here we are.”

He paused, tugging his shirt sleeve over the wound, before an oaken door at the corridor’s farthest end. The wood, Vi noted, was engraved rather extravagantly with the Kiramman crest, as was the silver door handle.

“I wasn’t allowed in here when I was young.” Caitlyn said abruptly.

Tobias turned to her with a knowing smile, “We locked certain doors not because you were young but because you insisted on carrying that training rifle everywhere… And only after the vase incident, you remember.” He addressed Vi, “Her great, great grandmother’s antique vase, shattered by a stray round. It was all I could do to keep Andie from throwing her out on the streets!”

Vi delighted in Caitlyn’s flushed cheeks, “Haven’t always been an ‘Excellent’ shot, then?” Caitlyn, avoiding her eye, began to study the engravements with the ferocity of an impassioned scholar. Fondly, her father shook his head. He stole a final glance at his daughter and took a deep breath before he opened the door.

Cassandra merely raised her head as the door glided soundlessly open. Her eyes fell first on Tobias, she smiled, then Caitlyn, her brow furrowed, and finally Vi, her jaw tightened. She was situated behind a gilded desk, an amalgamation of oak and silver, in a plush, straight-backed her. To her left, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves containing journals belonging to every past and current matriarch of House Kiramman as well as books on Piltover’s history and Zaun’s creation and people. To her right, a scaled map of Piltover and Zaun, with clusters of red markers and a smaller map of Runeterra in its entirety. And at her back, a framed window which flooded the room with sunlight and on which’s sill a number of blooming violets grew from boxes.

“Caitlyn.” She spoke with an odd inflection, “And I see you’ve found a stray.” Her earrings lay in a crystal dish on the desk. In Vi’s opinion, she looked bare without them- Unguarded, even.

Caitlyn greeted her mother with pursed lips, “Her’s name’s Vi. She’s my partner.” Cassandra raised her eyebrows, “We work together as enforcers.”

“Ah… How is that going?” Cassandra lifted a teacup from a saucer lain atop a leather-bound book and took a calculated sip, narrowed eyes upon her daughter’s steeled expression.

“I did not come to exchange pleasantries.” Caitlyn’s footsteps were silent on the carpeted floor, “I wish, with Vi’s aid, to afford the council a chance at redemption.” Cassandra began to protest, and Caitlyn held up her hand to silence her. Perhaps due only to shock, she obeyed, and Caitlyn continued, “It is not proper for you to simply clean your hands of Zaun now that they have almost achieved republic status. The council must atone for all those whose lives have been lost due to their negligence.”

Cassandra’s lips quirked, “You don’t understand the gravity of what you’re asking.”

“Who said we’re asking?” Vi stepped forward as to stand level with Caitlyn. Tobias took a hesitant backward step in an instinctive response, but Vi hardly noticed as she began, “Enforcers killed my parents because no one was gonna hold them accountable. Where were the council then? Holed up in your mansions, just happy it was someone else’s family destroyed?”

With Vi’s testimony heard, Cassandra rose. She turned her back on the scene, reaching for the window-boxes. She cradled the head of a violet in her gloved palm as she spoke, “Jayce’s death was difficult for you more than any, Caitlyn. I haven’t shown my understanding of that and for that I apologise. But-” She turned, sharp-eyed, “-All actions resulting from council rulings were decisions made for the betterment of the people. You used to understand that.”

Caitlyn mirrored her mother’s stance, perhaps unconsciously. It was easy to see the similarities in their features if you knew to look but it was their eyes that made the relation apparent- The same shocking sky-blue.

“Yes, well children do have the unfortunate habit of believing whatever their parents tell them.” Vi heard Tobias lay a hand on the doorframe to steady himself. Neither his wife nor his daughter spared him a thought. Caitlyn’s sharp words sought, simply, the wrong target. Blissfully unaware in her rage, she continued, “The council thinks only of the betterment of themselves. Their people. Piltover. Where does Zaun find itself in that equation? Are the children living and dying on the streets owed nothing from the council that put them there? How- How about the addicts cowering in the shadows? Are they anything more than a stain on the council’s reputation? Seven, at my count, bedrooms lying unoccupied in this house. Each one capable of housing a child orphaned on the council’s account. Instead, they lay empty. Why? Because the council doesn’t give a shit!”

“Caitlyn!” Cassandra, drained of colour, looked at her daughter as if she was entirely alien to her. Vi imagined this is how her own mother would see her now, should she be able to. Some part of her wished to blame the enforcers as Powder did, but she was unable. Another wished to blame the council as Caitlyn felt she must, yet it was impossible. No greater force took them, just people in suits who felt entitled to such an act.

When Cassandra spoke once more, her voice was soft, “I commissioned the design and implementation of a system to clear the industrial fumes from the undercity a long time ago. I had not earned my seat on the council by then. If I had, I doubt it would have ever reached fruition.” She spoke pensively, as if debating the next move in a wondrous chess match, but her gaze was even and her jaw set, “The council will not welcome a discussion of their faults. I suggest you prepare accordingly.” She turned and held her daughter’s gaze. Caitlyn inherited her mother’s eyes, Vi recognised, as well as her mind.

Cassandra reached for her earrings in the crystal dish, “You’ll have an audience at the next meeting. Salo determines our schedule. Soon, I’m certain, but the specifics are not for me to decide.” She closed her fist around the earrings, stepping around the desk. When she reached Caitlyn, she gently brushed her hair from her face, tucking it behind her daughter’s ear. Then, she carefully removed the glove from her left hand and laid the now bare hand against Caitlyn’s cheek. Though Caitlyn hadn’t spoken, her sudden bout of muteness brought on by her mother’s unexpected relent, she gasped sharply as Cassandra’s hand made contact with her skin.

Vi caught Tobias’ eye in the mirror’s reflection of the scene. The pure elation plain on his face reminded her of her father’s expression as he watched Vi’s mother carry Powder to bed, whispering softly in her ear. Her memories of them were faint, bleeding at the edges like watercolour paintings, but this one remained in vivid focus.

A moment passed and Cassandra retracted. She nodded to Vi, a symbol of acceptance, she supposed, before setting off down the corridor with Tobias by her side.

☆☆☆

Vander lifted Ren like she was featherlight, slinging her over his shoulder. Powder whistled at them, grinning as Ren stuck her tongue out in retaliation. Even Mylo, drumming his knuckles on the worn wood of the table, found it in himself to smile.

“Wait,” It was Ekko who spoke, “They’re just gonna let you talk to the council? Just like that?”

“Yes.” Caitlyn replied. She blended in well with the makeshift family, slotted between Vi and Claggor. She had opted, thankfully, to leave her enforcer uniform at home.

Reaching to lightly punch his shoulder, Vi added, “Just like that, little man.”

“Strings?” Mylo questioned, tearing his attention from Vander.

Powder leaned forward, “That’s what I wanted to know.”

Vi and Caitlyn exchanged glances. With Vi’s arm around Caitlyn’s shoulders and her hand in Vi’s, they could almost ignore the prospect on the horizon. Cassandra had made it clear that their journey was to be, in her words, arduous and excruciating, even if the council accepted the proposal as the implementation would be fought relentlessly by both cities. Through these actions, Caitlyn and Vi put targets on their backs. Regardless, Cassandra had requested- Or, rather, demanded- one condition in order to establish their audience. She wished Caitlyn and Vi to greet the council as citizens, not as enforcers. A councillor’s daughter and a stray from the undercity. In Cassandra’s eyes, this would personify them, Vi in particular, and ensure their attention.

“Well?” Mylo’s impatience.

Vi cleared her throat, “No strings.” She said, and Caitlyn grasped her hand.

Vander laid Ren atop the table amongst the mugs and bottles. Ekko’s mug, in particular, did not take kindly to the disruption as it tipped over into Mylo’s lap. He sprung up as if burned and everyone else collapsed into the giggles of schoolgirls.

Despite his initial scowl, it took hardly a moment for Mylo to return to his seat and for the familiar flow of conversation to continue. Vander sat at the table’s head, with Silco to his right, and Ren, in turn, on his lap.

Eventually, as all things must, the night dwindled to an ending, a final spark. Ekko carried Ren on his shoulders, racing with glee as Powder, blindfolded, chased them. Claggor stood as umpire, ensuring she didn’t break any bones while Mylo lay on the grass, claiming the contemplation of life itself. After half a dozen occasions of Ekko’s using him as a hurdle, Claggor became distracted, and Powder fell on top of him with a groan. Mylo then decided contemplation was better done alone and took Powder’s role while Silco treated the gash on her ankle from the fall.

Caitlyn and Vi served as spectators to the chaos, “That girl will never doubt how loved she is.” Caitlyn commented, just as Powder narrowly avoided a broken nose, dodging a wall at Claggor’s command. Though Caitlyn spoke, Vi knew, of Ren, she could almost imagine her words were for Powder.

Vi laid her head against Caitlyn’s shoulder, “None of us will.”

Chapter Text

The council met in what Vi knew to be the most prominent of buildings. She supposed their insistence on having commandeered the highest floor for their use was a symbol of superiority, but her mind couldn’t help but stray toward just how many children could be afforded housing if not for their egos. She knew Heimerdinger would agree but his seat remained with a foreign, gaping emptiness.

Cassandra was to introduce them. Until she thought appropriate to do so, Caitlyn and Vi waited, flanked by enforcers, in an outside corridor. Caitlyn had worn a collared shirt, not unlike her mother’s, which she wrestled with ceaselessly until finally shrugging it off, revealing the thin linen undershirt beneath. She disappeared for a moment, then, and returned with a cropped, black and gold jacket.

“Where…?” Vi couldn’t help but smile, reaching out to brush the soft fabric.

Caitlyn batted her away, “Over the back of a chair. I’ll replace it.” She added when Vi put on a face of mock horror. She buttoned the jacket, pausing before a mirror at the end of a hallway in order to confirm what she already knew.

"Miss Kiramman,” One of the enforcers, a great hulking woman with a crisscross of scars under her left eye, “Please, they’re waiting for you.” She set off toward the hallway’s end, expecting Vi and Caitlyn to follow. They exchanged glances, Vi’s disbelieving and Caitlyn’s encouraging.

Caitlyn set off before Vi, her footsteps thundering on the marbled floor and Vi, begrudgingly, followed. The enforcer rejoined her partner at the doorway and, as Vi caught up, the two of them pushed the doors open. Vi heard Cassandra’s voice, “My daughter wishes to raise an issue before our council today.”, followed by a male’s sneer, “The…. What am I meant to call it, again? Your differently abled daughter, Councillor Kiramman?”

Vi winced, but Caitlyn’s stride didn’t falter. Her voice was light, “Restricted field of vision, Councillor Salo, but my hearing is unaffected.”

The man who had presumably spoken was frail-looking with skin that bore a certain anaemic-sheen and oily, slicked blonde hair. He flushed an unflattering pink as his eyes fell on Caitlyn, then Cassandra who looked rather pleased. One councillor- Young with dark skin and golden accents on her skin and hair- stifled a chuckle in her palm.

An older man, fidgeting with what looked to be a child’s toy, addressed them, “Miss Kiramman, I see you have brought a guest with you.”

“This is Vi.” Caitlyn told him politely, “She’s a citizen of Zaun.” The word rippled uncomfortably among the councillors. Councillor Salo looked, frankly, as if he may faint.

“Oh.” The same man spoke, “Well, what topic have you brought before us today? You and… Vi, was it?” Vi nodded, figuring Caitlyn was better suited to speak.

“You all know what happened to Jayce of House Talis. You were present at the crisis meeting afterward and many-” She glanced pointedly at Councillor Salo, who shrunk in his chair, “-Of you sent gifts to my bedside after the accident. An accident which could have been prevented if this very council had not participated in what I can only call gross negligence. The undercity, as you deemed it, festered into a problem beyond your comprehension and, rather than tackling it like the rulers you claim to be, you hid your heads in the sand and allowed children to resort to burglary in order to feed themselves. Now-”

“Forgive me-” The golden woman interrupted, “-But how do you expect we rectify problems of years past now? The wheels have been put in motion to allow Zaun its independence. We are no longer responsible for the actions of our undercity.” Her eyes shone with an intelligence glint which made Vi feel as if her words were not truly a protest but rather something akin to a test.

A man whose name was unknown to Vi, but the mechanics of his body were certainly memorable, chirped, “I, too, wondered as such.”

Caitlyn signalled Vi to speak, a light touch on her arm.

“Redemption isn’t the same as rectification, but it can resolve problems all the same.” It was a line Caitlyn had fed her the night previous and though the words felt foreign to her tongue, they were received well by the councillors. She continued in her own voice, “The people of Zaun don’t trust the council, especially not with twice as many enforcers patrolling our streets or- or with no explanation for the loved ones we’ve lost. If you ever want Zaun and Piltover to co-exist, you’re going to need to wake up and hear the voices calling for mutiny.”

Salo smirked, “You seem to be under the impression that we’re asleep at our posts. We’re not. You’re dismissed.”

“Not so fast.” The golden woman cast him a cool look. He shrunk under the scrutiny of her gaze, “What do you suggest we do to redeem ourselves?”

Caitlyn allowed herself only the slightest of smiles, “Acknowledge your mistakes. Apologize and repent. Half enforcer patrols in the undercity. Show you trust them to govern themselves ahead of becoming an official republic. Offer funds and technology without expecting anything in return. Treat them like equals. Allies, even.”

The remaining councillor, the only one who hadn’t spoken, suddenly announced her presence as she asked, “How do we know this will make any difference? They see us as monsters. What will money or trust do except give them an opening?” She wore a bronze collar around her neck in what seemed to be a rather uncomfortable fashion to Vi’s mind, but perhaps it was merely a declaration of status or a mechanism to aid her physically.

“I know you think we’re totally incapable of change, but we’re not.” Vi began viciously, all the anger she had mustered spent in just a few words, but then it dissipated, and she sighed, “My parents were murdered by enforcers and yet somehow, I can stand here without wanting to punch anyone.” This wasn’t strictly true as she would have been fairly content to deliver a punch to the side of Salo’s pretty face, but that wasn’t because he was a council member.

“Just because we don’t forget what has been done to us, doesn’t mean we can’t forgive it.”

Caitlyn took Vi’s hand in her own before she spoke, “One day, I will sit beside some of you on this council. If you deny me today, know I will be unrelenting. This is a chance to start the healing before the wound gets infected. I’d take it, if I were you.”  

“Why does this concern you?” The golden woman spoke once more. She laid her hands out before her atop a stack of paper, “A councillor’s daughter need not concern herself with problems of the undercity. At least, not to my knowledge.”

Caitlyn glanced at Vi, biting her lip, for a brief moment before she addressed the woman, “Thank you, Councillor Medarda, for asking the question no one else thought important. The concerns of the undercity are my own for the simple reason that they are the concerns of many people that I associate with and furthermore have come to appreciate. People with whom I couldn’t picture my life without…” She trailed off, clearing her throat, “For too long, it has been assumed that those in the undercity are below us, are- are somehow less than us. That isn’t a relationship that we can build upon with Zaun. It’s a power imbalance, and a rather serious one at that. I seek only to rectify it and afford Piltover a brighter future.”

There were only six members of the council at the time following Heimerdinger’s departure. Though they sat around the same cog-shaped table and debated the same issues, Vi knew they must all feel his absence. Even as they exchanged questioning glances, she saw how their eyes skirted over his place.

“Shall we vote?” Cassandra asked, raising her hand. Somewhere high above their heads, a spotlight jumped to life, illuminating her.

The golden woman- Councillor Medarda, Caitlyn had called her- nodded, mimicking Cassandra’s actions, as did the man whose mechanic’s amazed Vi. The older man, finally, joined the three in the light, setting his puzzle down before him. Salo pouted like a child, arms crossed over his chest, and the bronze woman furrowed her brow.

It was Cassandra who spoke.

“We have a majority in favour.”

☆☆☆

Now, Vi lay upon Caitlyn’s bed, speaking aimlessly on one subject or another. As per Caitlyn’s previous promise, she had a large black dog, the specifics of which’s breed was unknown, curled up with its head resting on her stomach. A second lay by Caitlyn’s feet, distinguishable only by his blue collar in contrast to his companion’s silver variant.

“What are their names again?” Vi asked.

Caitlyn kicked her shoulder lightly, “I’ve told you three times.”

Vi knew she had no real leg to stand on with that argument. For a moment, they lay in comfortable silence. Then, Vi’s mind returned to what she couldn’t quite put out. Caitlyn’s reply to the councillor’s question. People she couldn’t picture her life without.

“What you said to the woman in gold, was it just to… Get her on our side?” Vi could count the number of flowers stencilled on the ceiling from where she lay. The tremor in her voice was embarrassingly obvious, “People you can’t picture your life without?”

She heard Caitlyn shift, disturbing the dog by her feet, who whined in protest. Her voice was nearer as she replied, “’People’ was an exaggeration. One person in particular.”

Vi bolted upward- Startling the dog laying across her stomach. He glared at her with eyes the size of saucers for a long moment before laying his head in his paws. Caitlyn winced. She sat, now, with her knees drawn up to her chin, watching the series of events with wide eyes.

“I thought I was angry until she asked. I dreaded the question…” Caitlyn faltered. She breathed deeply, continuing only when the words were clearly laid out in her mind, “What I told Mel was the truth. I just wasn’t aware of it until she asked. You’re right. Jayce’s death was just an accident. I was too steeped in regret to recognise the truth when I heard it.”

Caitlyn had thrown the stolen jacket aside. It lay crumpled on the floor by the bed. Vi considered how truly unpredictable Caitlyn was. Never would she have anticipated such a move from the councillor’s daughter.

“I think my life would be pretty shitty without you too, cupcake.” Vi reached for Caitlyn’s hand and Caitlyn grasped her wrist in reply. She laid her head against Vi’s, ignoring how the dog by her feet yelped and licked her ankle in protest. Vi brushed Caitlyn’s hair from her forehead, smiling softly. She let her thumb brush Caitlyn’s lower lip, and her eyes darted to Vi’s lips.