Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The battle atop the clocktower had reached its breaking point. The air was thick with tension, the sounds of footsteps echoing in the height of Piltover’s skyline. Vi, breathless, was pinned beneath the beast that now is Vander, his claws scraping at her armor, the weight of his monstrous form nearly suffocating her. She struggled beneath him, the flashes of anger and desperation in his yellow eyes almost blinding.

Then, without warning, the pulse of purple light—a flash of chaos—slammed into his side, sending him crashing off of Vi. Jinx’s Shimmer dash had worked, knocking him off balance. But as soon as Vi heard that familiar surge of power, her eyes widened in alarm.

“Powder, NO!” she shouted, realizing what the results would be of what Jinx was about to do.

Her gauntlet flicked forward, the mechanisms inside buzzing with energy. In a single fluid motion, Vi reached out and saved Jinx mid-air. A shockwave rattled the air between them as Vi’s glove collided with the force of the dash, freezing Jinx in place for just a heartbeat. Vi caught her, yanking her close and spinning them both in a desperate maneuver to avoid falling in a tight hug.

Vander’s howl of frustration echoed as he toppled over the ledge. His monstrous form seemed to fall forever, disappearing into the darkness below.

Jinx’s wide eyes met Vi’s, a flash of panic in them. She gasped for breath as Vi held her, steadying them both. “You almost—” Jinx began, but Vi didn’t let her finish.

“No, Powder,” Vi murmured, tightening her grip, her voice strained. “You don’t get to throw yourself away. Not for me. Not again.”

The world felt as if it had paused, the clocktower swaying beneath them. Jinx looked up at her, the mix of guilt and confusion obvious on her face. It was a look Vi knew all too well. A look that spoke volumes without a single word.

“Vi…” Jinx whispered, her voice faltering, “I—I don’t know what to do anymore. I don’t want to lose you. I…I thought… maybe I could fix it.”

Vi’s heart broke at the sight of her sister, so small in her arms, so lost in her own guilt. But she didn’t have time for any of that now.

“Listen to me, Powder,” Vi said firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument. “You don’t need to fix anything. You’re here. You’re with me, and we’re not going anywhere. Got it?”

Jinx nodded slowly, still trembling in her arms, the adrenaline of the fight slowly wearing off. Vi’s gaze softened as she helped her steady herself on the narrow ledge, the sounds of the chaos below muffled by the height of the tower. There would be time for answers later, but for now, they had survived. Together.

Jinx’s voice was shaky, but there was an urgency in it now, the familiar spark of wild energy returning to her as the adrenaline continued to surge through her veins.

“We got to get to that other ledge,” she urged, her eyes darting to the gap just ahead, a precarious drop below. “It’s a simple hop over.”

Vi’s gaze followed the direction of Jinx’s finger, seeing the narrow ledge ahead—a path that would require precision, strength, and steady nerves. It was risky, but it was the only way forward. She looked down at Jinx, who was already crouching into position, her legs twitching with anticipation.

“Are you sure about this?” Vi asked, scanning the distance between them and the other ledge. It wasn’t exactly a simple jump. But if there was anyone who could pull it off, it was Jinx and Vi.

Jinx flashed a quick grin, though it was strained, more worried than confident. “I was born for this, Vi. You taught me that,” she said, her voice almost a challenge, daring Vi to doubt her. This was her time to prove she isn’t a Jinx.

Vi’s heart skipped at the reference, and for a moment, it felt like they were back to those simpler days—when the world hadn’t splintered, when things were easier between them. She could feel the weight of everything they’d been through, but right now, she needed to trust in what they still had. In her.

“Alright,” Vi said, her voice steady despite the nerves crawling up her spine. She reached out, her hand firm on Jinx’s arm, a silent reassurance. “But if you miss, you better hope I’m right behind you.”

Jinx gave her a confident look, eyes alight with the same fire that had once driven them both through every scrap of trouble they’d gotten into. Without waiting for more, she pushed off the ledge with a fluid motion, her body a blur as she soared across the gap.

Vi’s breath hitched as Jinx made the jump, landing with a thud that reverberated in the silence that followed. There was a moment of tension—then Jinx popped back up, laughing to herself out of pure relief, as though the gap had been nothing more than a playground game.

“See? Told ya!” she yelled back over her shoulder, her grin wide and relief, a rush of triumph filling her chest.

Vi couldn’t help but laugh, despite herself, the knot of worry loosening in her gut. She moved swiftly, making the jump herself, landing easily beside Jinx. Her hand tightened on her sister’s shoulder, steadying her.

“Alright, let’s do this,” Vi said, scanning the precarious landscape around them. “But this time, we stick together. We survive together.”

Jinx nodded, her wide purple eyes gleaming with something unspoken, as if that simple act—of doing something together—meant more than any of the chaos around them. For a moment, it felt like the world had slowed, the weight of everything slipping away as they moved, side by side, into the uncertain future ahead.

The momentary sense of relief from the jump faded quickly as the reality of their situation set in. Vi landed beside where Jinx landed, her feet scraping the narrow ledge, but there was no immediate way forward. The clocktower loomed above them, its metal structures twisted in ways that made escape seem impossible. All around them were scaffolds and incomplete construction, nothing stable enough to support them—or even close enough for an easy climb.

Vi took a breath, scanning the jagged path ahead. Every ledge, every beam, seemed designed for someone with a purpose: workers, not escapees. It was clear now that they were stuck.

Jinx’s eyes flicked from one ledge to the next, frustration flickering across her face. She stepped back, then crouched, fingers tapping against the side of the tower in a nervous rhythm. “Nothing,” she muttered to herself. “Nothing, nothing, nothing… What the hell, Vi? Where do we go?”

Vi exhaled slowly, her gaze following Jinx’s wild-eyed search. She understood the panic under the surface, the feeling of being trapped—stuck—with no way out. But Jinx wasn’t the frantic, unpredictable girl she used to know. There was a focus in her now, a steadiness that Vi had almost forgotten existed. At that moment she wasn’t Jinx. She was her sister who was simply scared.

“You okay?” Vi asked, her voice low, the question more for reassurance than anything else. She wasn’t just asking about the ledges.

Jinx looked up at her, and for a split second, there was something soft in her eyes—almost as if she’d finally let her guard down for just this one moment. “I’m fine,” she said quietly, her tone lacking the usual manic edge. “I just… thought there would be more options, y’know?”

Vi stepped closer, placing a hand on her shoulder—a grounding touch, simple but full of meaning. “You’ve been through a lot, Powder. We’ll figure this out. We always do.”

For a moment, the words felt heavier than usual. Vi could sense the weight of everything between them, the unspoken things that had always hung in the air. But she also knew that this—the calm, the trust—was what they needed right now.

Jinx finally nodded, her hand moving to the side of the tower as if feeling for something, anything that could give them a way out. She pulled herself up to a crouch, her face lighting up with a quiet, determined focus.

“I know we’re stuck, but…” Jinx glanced at Vi, her expression softer than it had been in years, “…I’m not giving up on you. We don’t leave eachother behind again.”

Vi felt a lump in her throat at the words. There was no hesitation, no madness in them—just the pure, unwavering devotion of the sister she’d always wanted. The air between them, once filled with tension, now seemed lighter, more open. For the first time in what felt like forever, they were just Vi and Powder again, a team.

“Then let’s figure this out, together,” Vi said, her voice steady as she scanned their options.

Jinx’s eyes flickered with a quiet smile, the edge of mischief returning, but it wasn’t the same wild unpredictability that used to define her. This time, it was the look of someone who knew exactly what they were doing.

“Together,” she agreed.

And though the tower still felt like an impossible maze, Vi knew that as long as they had each other, they would find their way.

Before they could even begin to strategize, a deep rumble echoed through the tower. Vi and Jinx froze, instinctively looking back toward the ledge they’d just jumped from. The ground beneath them seemed to shudder, and then, without warning, the metal scaffold they had briefly stood on buckled and gave way.

The ledge crumbled in on itself, collapsing with a screech of twisted metal and a shower of debris that rained down to the depths below. Vi’s heart skipped, her breath catching in her throat as she realized just how close they had come to being caught in the destruction.

“Shit,” Jinx whispered, her eyes wide. She took a step back, the fear creeping back into her features, but there was no panic—just a calm understanding that their situation had just gotten worse. Much worse.

Vi gripped the side of the tower, her knuckles whitening as she processed the change in their circumstances. “That’s it,” she muttered, the realization settling in like a weight in her stomach. “We’re trapped, sis. If we can’t get out of here, that’s gonna be the next thing to go. And there’s no way to climb up or down.”

The sound of metal groaning under strain filled the air as other sections of the structure trembled, a cascade of falling pieces hinting at what was to come.

Jinx stood still for a beat, her eyes tracing the collapsing ledge, then quickly turning her attention back to Vi. “We can’t stay here,” she said, the edge of urgency creeping back into her voice. “Not now. We need to move before it’s too late.”

Vi nodded, knowing she couldn’t afford to waste time thinking about what had just happened. They had been lucky—but luck wasn’t something they could rely on much longer.

“Alright,” Vi said, her voice hardening as the adrenaline surged back. “Keep your eyes open, and don’t stop moving. We find another way.”

Jinx, never one to back down from danger, gave a sharp nod. The old, playful fire in her eyes flickered, but it was tempered now with something else—a resolve, a clarity that Vi hadn’t seen in her for a long time.

They couldn’t afford to waste any more time. The clocktower was crumbling around them, and if they didn’t find a way to escape, it would bury them both. Together.

Vi reached for Jinx’s hand, pulling her close with a firm grip. “Stick with me. We’re getting out of this.”

Jinx met her gaze, steady and unwavering. “Together,” she echoed.

And just like that, despite the looming danger, they were a team again—a team that, no matter the odds, would find their way out.

Jinx’s eyes scanned the tower once more, her gaze flicking to the pillars that anchored the structure, the ones that would hold under their weight. Their own ledge, despite the chaos around them, was solid—secure enough that it wouldn’t give way. She felt the tension in her chest start to ease as she realized they had a rare moment of stability.

Vi, however, was still pacing. Her focus was sharp, scanning every possible way to keep moving, to keep climbing. She needed to find an escape route, and fast. But Jinx could tell that her sister was on edge—her shoulders tense, her movements quick and restless.

Jinx let out a long breath, a quiet sigh of exhaustion, and slowly slid down until she was sitting against the wall of the ledge. Her legs folded beneath her, and for a moment, she just let herself rest, her head leaning back to feel the cold stone against her skin.

“Vi…” Jinx’s voice was softer now, almost fragile. She looked up at her sister, who was still walking around, fingers grazing the walls, eyes darting in search of anything that might offer a way out.

Vi didn’t turn immediately, lost in her own thoughts. But Jinx’s words broke through the rush of her thoughts.

“Our ledge won’t fall,” Jinx said, her voice steady but insistent. “Sit, please. I don’t want to die exhausted.”

Vi hesitated, her brow furrowing as she processed Jinx’s words. For a moment, the urgency that had propelled her forward faltered. She turned and saw Jinx sitting, calm but clearly drained, her usual manic energy subdued for the first time in what felt like forever.

The weight of the request—of the simple need for rest—hit Vi harder than she expected. The reality of their situation was undeniable, but so was the reality of how far they’d both been pushed. She could see it in Jinx’s eyes, in the way she had chosen to stop, despite the world around them still crumbling.

Vi exhaled deeply, the tension in her body slowly unraveling as she walked over to sit beside her sister. It wasn’t the escape they needed, but it was a moment of peace, a brief pause before they faced whatever came next.

“I don’t know if I can,” Vi muttered, but the edge in her voice was gone. She sank down beside Jinx, pulling her knees to her chest, letting the weight of everything press in around them.

Jinx nodded, not looking at her, but her lips curved slightly upward. “I know you don’t,” she said quietly. “But I can’t do this alone anymore, Vi. You don’t have to keep going, not like that. You’re not alone, alright?”

Vi’s heart tightened in her chest, but she nodded, letting the words sink in. There was so much left unsaid between them, so many pieces of their past that had yet to be healed. But in this moment, in the crumbling ruins of the clocktower, the one thing she knew for sure was that she wouldn’t have to face this alone.

Vi glanced over at Jinx, and for the first time in a long time, she didn’t see the wild chaos or the unpredictability in her eyes. She saw her sister. Not Jinx. Just Powder. The girl she’d tried to protect for so long.

“Alright,” Vi said softly, leaning back against the stone. “We’ll sit for a bit. Then we’ll figure out what’s next.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Vi allowed herself to relax, even if only for a moment. The world was still crumbling around them, but for now, they were together. And that meant everything.

Jinx stared at the vast drop below them, her fingers idly tracing patterns in the dust on the ledge. The city was distant, alive with its usual chaos from whatever was leftover from Viktor’s attack with his evolved soldiers as well as the Noxian Soldiers, but up here, in the ruins of the clocktower, it was eerily quiet. The weight of everything pressed against her chest, but for once, it wasn’t unbearable. Not with Vi sitting beside her.

She turned her head slightly, watching Vi out of the corner of her eye. Her sister had finally stopped moving, though her muscles were still tense, her mind likely racing through every possible escape plan.

Jinx let the silence linger between them for a moment longer before speaking.

“How long do you think we’ll be up here before they realize we aren’t on the ground?” she asked, her voice steady, calm. It wasn’t laced with fear or panic, just quiet curiosity.

Vi let out a slow breath, her gaze locked on the cityscape beyond. She hadn’t let herself think about that yet. How long would it take? Would anyone even be looking for them?

“I dunno,” Vi admitted, rubbing the back of her neck. “Could be hours. Could be tomorrow. Hell, maybe nobody even checks.” She hated saying it, but it was the truth. The city not even an hour ago just finished it’s war. Their survival wasn’t exactly a priority for anyone else.

Jinx hummed in response, her head tilting slightly as she considered that. “Guess that gives us some time to just… sit, then.”

Vi turned to her, surprised by how calm she sounded. There was no trace of the erratic energy Jinx usually carried, no forced laughter or wild grins. Just quiet acceptance.

“You okay with that?” Vi asked, skeptical.

Jinx shrugged. “Better than falling, right?” A small smirk tugged at the corner of her lips, but it wasn’t sharp or mocking—just tired. “Besides, I kinda like the view.”

Vi followed her gaze, looking out over Zaun and Piltover, the two cities stacked on top of each other like broken puzzle pieces. For all the damage, all the fighting, it was still home.

“Yeah,” Vi murmured, leaning back against the wall. “I guess it’s not so bad.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, they weren’t running, fighting, or breaking apart. They were just there, together, waiting for whatever came next.

Jinx let her head rest back against the stone, gazing at the night sky above them. The sounds of the city below felt distant, muffled by the height and the ruins around them. There was something almost peaceful about it—if not for the fact that they were trapped.

She glanced at Vi, who sat beside her, arms resting on her knees, staring off in thought. Jinx studied her sister’s face for a moment, the way her brows furrowed slightly, the way her fingers curled against the fabric of her gloves.

After a pause, Jinx broke the silence. “Caitlyn won’t come looking?”

Vi blinked, turning her head to face Jinx, surprised by the question.

Jinx’s expression was unreadable, but her voice was calm, almost thoughtful. “She, of all people, I’d think, would be worried about you. After all, she saw our balloon crash into this clocktower.”

Vi exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair. She hadn’t let herself think about that yet—about Caitlyn. About whether or not she’d even made it out of the chaos in one piece. She wanted to believe Caitlyn would come looking. That she was already trying to find a way up here.

“She’s probably trying,” Vi admitted, though there was a flicker of doubt in her voice. “But there’s only so much she can do. The whole city’s in chaos right now. You saw Viktor’s soldiers.”

Jinx studied her for a moment, then gave a small nod. “Yeah. Suppose so.”

Vi glanced at her, searching for something in Jinx’s expression—some hint of what she was really thinking. But Jinx just sighed, stretching her legs out in front of her.

“I don’t hate her, y’know,” Jinx murmured, almost as an afterthought.

Vi’s breath hitched slightly, but she didn’t say anything right away. Instead, she waited, giving Jinx space to continue.

“She makes you happy,” Jinx added, her voice quiet. “I get it now.”

Vi felt something tighten in her chest, an ache that she wasn’t sure how to put into words. She turned fully to face Jinx, her expression softer than before.

“She does,” Vi admitted. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t.”

Jinx let out a small, breathy chuckle, shaking her head. “You don’t have to say that.”

“I’m not just saying it,” Vi said firmly. “You’re my sister, Powder. That’s never gonna change.”

Jinx didn’t respond right away, but there was something in her expression—something lighter, something relieved. She gave Vi a sideways glance and offered a small, genuine smile.

“Well,” Jinx muttered, “guess that means I’ll have to get used to the Cupcake hanging around, huh?”

Vi huffed out a laugh. “Yeah. Guess so.”

Jinx shook her head, her smile lingering. “Tch. She better hurry up, then.”

Vi’s chest warmed at that, and for the first time since they’d crashed into the tower, she felt like—maybe—everything was going to be okay.

Jinx exhaled slowly, letting her head tilt back against the stone. The weight of everything was finally settling in—the fights, the destruction, the fact that they were stuck up here waiting for someone, anyone, to realize where they were. But more than anything, it was the aftermath that loomed over her now.

She let out a tired sigh. “I’m going to have to spend time in Stillwater, aren’t I?”

Vi stiffened slightly beside her. She turned her head, staring at Jinx, but her sister didn’t meet her eyes. Instead, Jinx kept her gaze fixed on the horizon, her fingers absentmindedly toying with the fabric of her sleeve.

Vi swallowed. She hadn’t wanted to bring it up—not yet, not when they were still here, stuck between everything that had happened and everything that would come next. But Jinx saying it out loud made it real.

“I…” Vi started, then stopped. She ran a hand down her face, exhaling through her nose. “Yeah. Probably.”

Jinx nodded, as if she already knew the answer, as if she had made peace with it before even asking. “Figured,” she muttered.

Vi felt something tighten in her chest. It’s not fair. After everything, after finally getting her back—Powder back—the idea of watching her be locked away, even if only for a while, made Vi sick.

“It won’t be forever,” Vi said quickly, firmly. “Caitlyn won’t let that happen. I won’t let that happen.”

Jinx gave a soft, humorless chuckle. “Vi, I blew up a Council chamber.”

Vi winced. “Yeah. That… probably didn’t help.”

Jinx finally turned to look at her, a small smirk tugging at her lips despite the exhaustion in her eyes. “Ya think?”

Vi sighed, leaning back against the wall. “Still. You saved me back there. That has to count for something.”

Jinx hummed in response, looking away again. “Guess we’ll find out.”

Silence stretched between them. The weight of the future lingered, heavy and uncertain.

Then, after a long pause, Jinx muttered, “You’ll visit, right?”

Vi turned her head sharply, her heart clenching at the quiet vulnerability in Jinx’s voice.

“Every damn day,” Vi promised without hesitation.

Jinx finally smiled—a small, tired thing, but real. “Good,” she whispered.

And for now, that was enough.

For the first time in what felt like forever, the weight of everything crashed down on Jinx all at once. The exhaustion, the fear, the years of running and fighting—of losing and losing and losing—it all swelled inside her chest until she couldn’t hold it in anymore.

Her breath hitched.

Then, without thinking, without hesitation, she turned toward Vi and buried her face in her sister’s shoulder.

Vi stiffened in surprise, but only for a second. The moment she felt Jinx’s shoulders shake, the moment she heard the quiet, broken sob slip out, she wrapped her arms around her sister and held her close.

Jinx gripped onto Vi’s shirt like a lifeline, her body trembling as she let herself feel.

“I—” Her voice cracked, and she squeezed her eyes shut, pressing her forehead against Vi’s collarbone. “I don’t—I don’t want to be alone again.”

Vi’s throat tightened. She swallowed hard, one hand cradling the back of Jinx’s head as she rocked her slightly.

“You won’t be,” Vi whispered, pressing her chin against Jinx’s hair. “I promise, Powder. You’re not alone anymore.”

Jinx let out a choked sob, gripping her tighter. For so long, she had told herself she didn’t need anyone—that she could survive on her own, that it was easier that way. But she was so, so tired.

And Vi was here. Holding her. Not letting go.

“I’m sorry,” Jinx whispered, her voice shaking. “For everything, Vi. I—”

“Shh,” Vi murmured, tightening her hold. “It’s okay. We’re okay.”

Jinx didn’t know how long they stayed like that—wrapped in each other’s arms, away from the world, away from the expectations and the consequences. But for the first time in years, she let herself cry, let herself break—and Vi was there to catch her.

And she believed her.

She wasn’t alone anymore.

Jinx’s breathing was still uneven, her face buried against Vi’s shoulder, but as the sobs slowly subsided, a different kind of weight settled over her. A clarity she hadn’t felt in years.

She sniffled, pulling back slightly, though her grip on Vi’s jacket remained tight. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her face streaked with tears, but she didn’t try to hide it. Not from her.

Vi watched her, concern etched deep into her features, but she didn’t push, didn’t rush her to speak.

Jinx took a shaky breath, then met Vi’s eyes. There was no manic grin, no teasing lilt to her voice—just raw, quiet truth.

“Vi… if we die up here?” She swallowed hard, fingers tightening in Vi’s jacket. “I refuse to go out as Jinx.”

Vi’s breath hitched, but she said nothing, letting Jinx finish.

“I want—need—to go out as Powder.” Her voice cracked on the name, but she didn’t look away. “I don’t want her to be the last thing I am.”

Vi felt her heart shatter and piece itself back together all at once.

Jinx—Powder—was looking at her now, truly looking at her, not as the wild and unpredictable girl she had become, but as the sister Vi had lost all those years ago.

Vi reached up, cupping the side of Jinx’s face with a gentleness that made her sister’s lip tremble.

“You are Powder,” Vi whispered, her thumb brushing away the fresh tears slipping down Jinx’s cheek. “You never stopped being her.”

Jinx let out a shaky breath, pressing into Vi’s touch. “Then let that be what they remember,” she murmured. “Not the mistakes. Not the explosions. Just… me.”

Vi felt her own eyes burn with tears, but she nodded, her grip firm, steady.

“Then that’s how it’ll be,” she promised. “But we’re not dying up here, Powder. You hear me?”

Jinx let out a soft, almost watery chuckle, nodding. “Yeah… yeah, I hear you.”

And in that moment, for the first time in years, Jinx wasn’t Jinx.

She was just Powder.

And Vi wasn’t going to lose her again.

Vi sighed, rubbing slow circles against Powder’s back as the weight of their conversation settled between them. The silence wasn’t heavy—it was something else, something lighter than what they were used to. A quiet understanding.

She looked around at their ledge, at the shattered remains of the clocktower, at the endless drop below. There was no way out yet, no clear plan. And if help was coming, it sure as hell wasn’t coming now.

Vi exhaled through her nose and gave Powder’s shoulder a small squeeze. “Let’s get some sleep,” she murmured. “We’re gonna do no good if we’re exhausted.”

Powder blinked up at her, surprised for a moment, then glanced around at their situation. “Sleep? Here?”

Vi smirked faintly. “You got a better idea?”

Powder let out a breathy chuckle, shaking her head. “Guess not.”

Vi leaned back against the wall, shifting to get as comfortable as she could against the rough stone. Jinx hesitated, then, without a word, curled up beside her, resting her head against Vi’s shoulder.

Vi felt her sister’s body relax slightly, the exhaustion finally catching up to her now that she wasn’t constantly running, constantly fighting.

Powder let out a quiet sigh. “If I wake up and we’re still stuck, I’m gonna be pissed.”

Vi huffed a soft laugh, resting her cheek against Jinx’s hair. “Yeah, well, if we wake up and we’re not stuck, that means we fell. So, y’know. Silver linings.”

Powder snorted. “Dark, sis.”

Vi smirked. “Get some rest, Powder.”

Powder didn’t respond right away, but after a few seconds, Vi felt her sister’s breathing slow, her body settling against her side.

For the first time in what felt like forever, they weren’t fighting, weren’t on opposite sides of a war, weren’t tearing each other apart.

They were just two sisters, sitting together in the ruins of a broken tower, holding onto each other as they waited for whatever came next.

Almost on cue, the second Powder shut her eyes, she was out.

Vi felt the weight of her sister’s body fully relax against her, her breathing evening out into soft, steady rhythms. For a moment, Vi didn’t move, barely even breathed, just listening—really listening—to the sound of Powder sleeping. Not tossing and turning, not mumbling in restless, half-crazed nightmares. Just sleeping.

Vi smiles from ear to ear.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen her like this. So… peaceful. Not Jinx. Not a ticking time bomb waiting to go off. Just Powder.

Vi shifted slightly, adjusting so Powder could rest more comfortably against her. She let her head lean back against the stone wall, gazing up at the night sky, the stars barely visible through the dim, polluted air of Zaun and Piltover.

They weren’t out of danger. Not by a long shot. But for now—for right now—Powder was safe. Here. With her.

Vi let out a slow, quiet breath.

And for the first time in a long, long while, she allowed herself to close her eyes and rest, too.

Vi glanced down at Powder, taking in the way her sister’s face had finally relaxed, free from tension, fear, or the weight of the past. It was strange—seeing her like this again. Peaceful. Whole.

She let a small, tired smile tug at her lips as she reached up, brushing a few stray strands of blue hair from Powder’s face.

She’s really here.

Vi had spent so long chasing a ghost, fighting a nightmare that wore her sister’s face, that moments like this felt almost unreal. But this was real. Powder was here. And Vi wasn’t going to let anything take her away again.

She leaned her head back against the wall, exhaling softly before whispering, “No monster is gonna get you while I’m here, Powder.”

Powder didn’t stir, lost in the kind of deep sleep that Vi hadn’t seen her fall into since they were kids. But even in sleep, she shifted slightly, nestling closer, as if she had heard Vi’s words and believed them.

Vi let her smile linger as she closed her eyes. No monsters. No nightmares. Not while she was here.

Vi let out a slow breath, her body finally giving in to the exhaustion she had been stubbornly fighting. With Powder curled up beside her, her breathing steady and warm against Vi’s side, the tension in Vi’s muscles slowly unwound.

She shifted carefully, lowering herself onto the large metal beam they had been sitting on, making sure not to disturb Powder’s sleep. The beam was sturdy, cold against her back, but none of that mattered. What mattered was that, for the first time in what felt like an eternity, her sister was right here, safe in her arms.

Vi let her eyes drift shut, her hand still resting protectively against Powder’s shoulder.

For now, there were no fights to be had. No battles to win. No past to haunt them. Just this moment.

And as Vi finally surrendered to sleep, she held onto one simple truth—

She had Powder back. And she wasn’t letting go.

———7 Hours Later———

Finally Vi stirred. Her body ached from the awkward position she had slept in, the cold metal beam unforgiving beneath her. But she didn’t care. The first thing she registered wasn’t the discomfort—it was the warmth pressed against her side.

Powder.

Vi’s eyes slowly blinked open, adjusting to the dim light filtering through the broken remains of the clocktower. The city below was still in chaos, though the distant sounds of shouting and battle had quieted to a low murmur. The world hadn’t stopped for them, but for these past few hours, it might as well have.

She turned her head slightly, looking down at Powder, who was still fast asleep beside her. Her blue hair With its purple streak was messy, her face peaceful in a way Vi hadn’t seen in years. She looked so much like the little sister Vi had once known—before everything had fallen apart.

Vi felt something tighten in her chest, but it wasn’t pain this time. It was something softer. Something warm.

Careful not to wake her, Vi exhaled slowly and sat up, stretching out her sore muscles. She glanced around their ledge, their precarious perch still solid beneath them. No one had found them yet. No sign of Caitlyn, no rescuers, nothing but the broken remnants of the tower and the sky above.

They were still stuck. But for the first time in a long time, Vi didn’t feel hopeless.

She looked down at Powder again and let a small, tired smile tug at her lips. They were going to get out of this. Together.

Vi stretched her sore limbs as she carefully stood up on the beam, making sure not to disturb Powder. She glanced around their ledge, scanning for any possible way down—or at least something useful.

That’s when she saw it.

A small rock, sitting near the edge of their beam.

Vi frowned. That wasn’t there when they fell asleep.

Her instincts sharpened, and she crouched down, picking it up and turning it over in her palm. It wasn’t anything special—just a chunk of debris from the tower, probably loosened from somewhere above. But its presence meant something was shifting. Maybe from the wind, maybe from something else.

An idea struck her.

Standing back up, she gripped the rock tightly, then raised her arm and slammed it against the metal beam beneath them.

CLANG!

The sound rang out loud and clear, echoing through the remains of the clocktower and beyond.

Vi stilled, listening.

The echo carried far, bouncing off the broken walls, traveling downward into the city below. It was exactly what she was hoping for.

A grin spread across her face as the idea of a rescue finally formed in her her.

If anyone was out there searching for them—Caitlyn, please be looking—then maybe, just maybe, they’d hear it.

Vi took a deep breath, steadying herself. The weight of exhaustion still clung to her, but her mind was sharper now, focused. They were still stranded up here, and while Powder was safe for the moment, that wouldn’t mean anything if no one found them.

Her eyes drifted to the sky, then down to the streets far below. Somewhere out there, Caitlyn had to be looking. Vi knew her—she wouldn’t stop searching, not after seeing the balloon crash into the clocktower. Come hell or high water, Caitlyn is probably searching.

Her fingers tightened around the rock.

She racked her brain, trying to remember something useful. Caitlyn had drilled plenty of things into her head back when she made Vi take those damn task force classes—most of which Vi had tuned out, assuming she’d never need them. She only joined to find her sister either way.

One lesson, though, clawed its way back through the haze of exhaustion.

“In emergencies where communication is impossible, Morse code can be a lifesaver. If nothing else, remember SOS—three short, three long, three short. It could mean the difference between being found and being forgotten.”

Vi exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “Goddamn Enforcers and their lectures…” she muttered. Then, gripping the rock tighter, “Fuck it.”

She crouched down against the metal pillar supporting their ledge, set her jaw, and started banging.

Three short.

Three long.

Three short.

The sound echoed through the ruins, bouncing off the remains of the tower and carrying into the city below. The vibrations thrummed beneath her fingertips, and Vi felt a flicker of hope spark to life in her chest.

She paused, listening. Nothing yet.

She did it again.

Three short.

Three long.

Three short.

The rhythmic clangs cut through the silence like a heartbeat, steady and deliberate. If anyone out there knew what they were listening for, they’d recognize it. They had to.

Vi clenched her jaw, her pulse pounding in her ears as she kept going, refusing to stop.

Come on, Caitlyn. Hear me.

Around the 10th SOS, Vi’s arm was starting to ache. Every slam of the rock against the metal sent a dull shock up her wrist, and her muscles were tensing from the repetition. But she didn’t stop. Couldn’t.

Three short. Three long. Three short.

The sound echoed again and again, her breathing growing heavier with each strike. Still, no response. No voices calling out, no signs of movement from the city below. Just the distant hum of Zaun and Piltover, indifferent to the two sisters stranded above.

Her grip on the rock tightened, frustration bubbling up. “Come on, Caitlyn. Come on.“

Then, behind her, there was movement.

A groggy voice, thick with sleep.

“Vi…?”

Vi stilled for a moment, glancing over her shoulder.

Powder was standing now, rubbing her eyes with the sleeve of her coat as she stepped toward her. Her hair was even messier than before, and she still looked half-asleep, but there was a flicker of curiosity in her expression as she took in what Vi was doing.

Powder blinked, frowning slightly. “What the hell are you doing?”

Vi exhaled through her nose and straightened up slightly, rolling her sore shoulder. “Trying to get us the hell outta here,” she muttered, lifting the rock again. “Sending an SOS.”

She banged out the pattern again, wincing at the sting in her wrist.

Powder frowned deeper, her sharp eyes scanning Vi’s face before drifting down to her arm. “Your muscles are locking up.”

Vi scoffed. “Yeah, no shit.”

Powder tilted her head, listening as the echo faded into the distance. After a moment, her expression shifted into something thoughtful.

Then, without a word, she crouched down next to Vi, plucked the rock from her sister’s tired fingers, and started banging out the code herself.

Vi blinked, caught off guard. “Powder—”

“Your arm needs a break,” Powder muttered, not looking at her. “And I’m not just gonna sit here doing nothing.”

Her strikes were just as strong, just as precise, the familiar rhythm ringing out into the air once more.

Vi stared for a moment, then let out a small, breathy chuckle, shaking her head. “Heh… alright, then.”

She stretched out her sore arm, flexing her fingers as she watched Powder work. It was a simple thing—passing off a rock, taking turns—but there was something in it, something unspoken.

They weren’t just waiting for help anymore.

They were doing this together.

Powder kept banging the rock against the pillar, but after a few more strikes, she hesitated. Her fingers tightened around the stone as she glanced at Vi, brow furrowed.

“What’s the SOS thing again?” she asked, her voice still scratchy from sleep.

Vi arched an eyebrow. “Three short, three long, three short,” she said automatically.

Powder nodded slowly, tapping the rock against her palm as if running the pattern through her head. Then she turned back to the pillar and repeated it—three sharp taps, three slow, heavy ones, then three more quick ones.

The sound echoed through the wreckage again, carrying into the distance.

Vi watched, a small smirk tugging at her lips. “Huh. Guess you do listen sometimes.”

Powder shot her a look. “Screw you, I listen all the time. Just… not to things that bore me.”

Vi huffed a quiet laugh. “Right. Like survival skills.”

Powder shrugged, tapping out the pattern again. “Look, I spent most of my time making sure things explode, not calling for help.”

Vi rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. Instead, she sat back, letting Powder take over while she stretched out her sore muscles. She hated feeling this helpless, but at least now they had a plan, something to do while they waited.

And for once, Powder wasn’t acting on impulse. She was focused, steady, and determined.

That alone made Vi’s chest ache in the best way.

Powder kept her rhythm steady, her hands precise as she sent out the SOS signal over and over. The echoes bounced through the ruins, disappearing into the city below. Whether anyone heard them or not, she had no idea. But at least they were doing something.

Vi sat beside her, rolling out her sore shoulder, but her eyes never left Powder. There was something different about her now—something calmer. More in control. It was strange, but not in a bad way.

Then, without looking up, Powder spoke.

“We won’t survive up here if we fight.”

Vi blinked, caught off guard by the sudden statement. She tilted her head. “What?”

Powder tapped the rock against the pillar again, keeping her rhythm. “If we fight,” she repeated, “we’ll wear ourselves out, make mistakes. And mistakes get you killed.”

Vi didn’t say anything at first, just watching her. It wasn’t the kind of thing Jinx would’ve ever said. Jinx thrived on chaos, on conflict. But Powder? Powder was thinking ahead.

Vi exhaled through her nose, nodding. “Yeah. You’re right.”

Powder let out a small chuckle. “Damn right I am.”

Vi smirked, shaking her head. “Alright, smartass. Keep sending that signal. Someone’s gotta hear it eventually.”

Powder didn’t argue. She just kept going, her movements precise, controlled.

And for the first time in a long time, Vi realized something—

Powder wasn’t just surviving. She was fighting to live.

Vi glanced around at their precarious little perch, taking in the sturdy metal beam beneath them and the broken edges of the clocktower surrounding them. The thought had crossed her mind before, but now it hit her with a little more weight.

She gave a half-laugh, shaking her head. “Thank god this ledge isn’t going to fall anytime soon,” she muttered, her voice carrying just enough humor to cut through the tension.

She looked down, letting her gaze travel to the jagged drop below, feeling the dizzying height once again. It had been hours, and they were still alive, still stuck. But at least they had one solid thing to cling to—this ledge.

Powder stopped banging the rock for a moment, glancing around as well. Her lips twitched into a small, amused smile. “Yeah, if it was gonna fall, it’d be a hell of a ride down, huh?”

Vi smirked. “Yeah, real fun.” She looked back at Powder, her tone shifting slightly. “You sure you’re okay with all this? I know… being up here is kind of a mind-bender.”

Powder, without missing a beat, picked up the rock again and resumed her steady rhythm. “I’m good. It’s just, you know, a little quieter than I’m used to. But hey, it’s not like I haven’t been in worse situations.”

Vi couldn’t help but let out a quiet laugh. “I guess you’ve got a point.”

She leaned back against the pillar, eyes closing for a moment, letting the sound of the steady tapping fill the air. The quiet was a far cry from the chaos they’d come from, but right now, the calm felt like something they could finally hold onto.

After a beat, she opened her eyes and looked down at Powder again. “I’m glad you’re here, Powder. Really.”

Powder gave a soft, almost shy smile, her voice quieter than before. “Yeah… me too.”

For a moment, they just sat there in the warmth of each other’s presence, the sound of their SOS echoing into the distance, as if the world was holding its breath, waiting to see what would happen next.

After a while, Powder finally stopped tapping, her hands now trembling slightly from the long stretches of repetitive motion. With a quiet exhale, she sat back down beside Vi, placing the rock between them on the beam.

She let her arms rest at her sides, her fingers still curling into the cool metal, as if grounding herself against the constant tension in the air. Her eyes flickered downward for a moment, then met Vi’s gaze, an unsettling question forming in her mind, one she hadn’t fully voiced before.

“When will our bodies start failing us?” she asked, her voice quiet, almost too calm for the weight of the question.

Vi felt a chill run down her spine, a tightening in her chest. She had been so focused on keeping them alive, on keeping her alive, that she hadn’t really considered what would happen when their endurance finally ran out.

Her eyes fell to the rock in front of them. The stone that had sent out their SOS, the one that had kept them active, kept their minds focused on something beyond the fear of the fall, the broken tower, the endless drop.

It felt heavy now, like a reminder of how fragile everything really was.

Vi’s voice softened, her gaze never leaving the rock. “I don’t know. I mean… we’ve already been up here a lot longer than we should’ve been, right?” She glanced up at Powder, trying to keep her tone light, but her words felt heavier than she expected. “I guess we just keep going until we can’t anymore.”

Powder nodded slowly, her fingers tapping lightly against the cold metal, but her gaze was distant, almost lost in the quiet of their world up on the ledge. The sound of the city below felt so far away, like a world she wasn’t sure she belonged to anymore.

The silence stretched between them for a few long seconds. Then, with a quiet breath, Powder spoke again, more to herself than to Vi.

“I don’t think I’m scared,” she murmured, barely above a whisper. “I just… don’t want it to be all for nothing.”

Vi swallowed hard, feeling the weight of those words sink deep into her chest. Powder had always been unpredictable, wild, but there was a kind of clarity in her now that made Vi ache. This wasn’t the girl who had broken down years ago, the one who’d let herself spiral into chaos. This was someone who had been through it all and somehow come out the other side, still fighting, still trying.

Vi reached over, her hand resting on Powder’s, grounding them both. “It won’t be for nothing. Not if I can help it. We’ve made it this far, and we’re not stopping now. We’re getting out of here. Together.”

Powder turned her hand over, linking her fingers with Vi’s, her eyes searching her sister’s face for something—anything—that might make her believe it.

Vi gave her a small, tired smile. “We’ll keep going until we can’t anymore. And when we do? We’ll make sure it counts.”

Powder held her gaze for a long moment before she nodded, her grip tightening just a little. “Yeah. Together.”

Powder’s smile was small but genuine, a quiet warmth that softened the sharp edges of the moment. She turned her head to look at Vi, her eyes steady, even though there was a glint of something unspoken behind them.

“I want you to know,” she began, her voice low and unsteady, but carrying an unexpected sense of finality, “that if we go out, I’m glad I’m going out with you.”

Vi’s heart skipped a beat, the weight of those words hitting her harder than anything she’d expected. The thought of losing Powder had always been something she kept buried deep—too painful to confront, too impossible to imagine. But hearing her say it like this, so calmly, so accepting, shook something inside her.

She swallowed thickly, her throat tight, trying to keep the emotions from spilling over. “Don’t talk like that,” she whispered, her voice betraying the cracks she hadn’t known were there.

Powder just shrugged slightly, her smile still there, even though it was tinged with something bittersweet. “It’s just… I don’t think I’d want to go out any other way. You’ve always been there, Vi. Even when I screwed up. Even when I wasn’t… me.”

Vi’s chest clenched, and she squeezed Powder’s hand, the gesture more urgent now, more protective. “No. We’re not going anywhere. Not yet. We’re getting out of here, and when we do? I’m never letting you go again.”

Powder’s smile widened just a fraction, though the edges of her eyes looked a little damp. “I know. Me neither.”

The silence that followed felt like the calm before a storm. Not one of panic or dread, but something more profound, something real. Both of them, sitting there on the ledge, two sisters bound by shared history, pain, and the fierce promise to keep going, no matter what.

“Together,” Powder repeated quietly, and this time, it wasn’t just a promise—it was a vow.

Powder’s gaze shifted to the loose wall just a few feet away, her eyes narrowing as she surveyed the bricks that had started to shift over time, loosened from the wear and tear of the ruined clocktower. It was an odd thing to focus on, but Vi could feel her sister’s mind working, the wheels turning despite everything going on around them.

She turned to Vi, her expression a little uncertain but determined. “I know you don’t have your gauntlets anywhere near here, so I’ve got some extremely stupid questions for you.”

Vi raised an eyebrow, a small, tired smile pulling at her lips. “Hit me with it.”

Powder didn’t hesitate. “See that wall with the loose bricks? Question one: If that was busted open, would that kill the echo?”

Vi’s gaze followed Powder’s finger to the cracked wall. She thought about it for a moment, considering the architecture of the clocktower, the way sound bounced off the crumbling surfaces. “Probably,” she replied, squinting at the wall. “If we broke it open, the sound would escape through the gap, and the echo would get lost in the open space.”

Powder nodded thoughtfully, tapping her fingers against her leg. “Okay, next one.” She pointed toward the vast emptiness outside the clocktower, where the world below seemed so distant, so unreachable. “What’s the odds of us being near a ledge outside?”

Vi hesitated, staring out into the open air beyond the broken structure. There were no other visible ledges within reach, but the space outside the tower was a dizzying drop, and the thought of navigating that gave her a cold pit in her stomach. “Odds are… slim,” she said slowly, “but I’d say we’re not completely screwed if we could find a way to get down there. Maybe there’s a building or something far enough below that we could… I don’t know, climb down?”

Powder let out a quiet sigh, clearly not thrilled with the idea of hoping for a miracle. But then, her eyes narrowed again as she shifted back to the wall, that glint of calculation in her eyes.

“One last question,” she said. “How many punches would it take for you to bust that wall down?”

Vi blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“Like, just the wall with the loose bricks,” Powder said, gesturing to it again. “No gauntlets, no fancy tricks. Just you. How many punches?”

Vi took a long breath, looking at the wall and then back at Powder. She could see the gears turning in her sister’s head. She was serious about this. The whole idea seemed ridiculous—no way would a simple punch do much against that wall, let alone with her bare hands. But still…

She cracked her knuckles, staring at the wall again. “Hard to say. Depends on the material, but I could probably break through if I aimed for the weak points.” She glanced at Powder with a wry smile. “You sure you want to test that out? You’ll be the one dealing with the aftermath if I hurt myself.”

Powder grinned back, a challenge in her eyes. “I don’t think you’re gonna break your hand. Maybe the wall will. But I’m sure it’d be cool to see you try.”

Vi shook her head, but she couldn’t suppress the chuckle that slipped out. Powder’s humor, no matter how dark, was always a strange comfort.

“Fine,” Vi said, standing up and flexing her fingers, “but I’m not making any promises. Just don’t blame me if the whole tower comes down on top of us.”

She took a few steps back, preparing to test the strength of her own punch against the wall. Crazy. But why not?

Powder’s eyes lit up with a sudden thought, and she quickly turned to Vi, her voice eager but still tinged with that mischievous spark. “Hey, Vi, could you kick it first to loosen it?”

She gestured to the loose wall with an exaggerated motion, clearly picturing the scene in her mind. “You know, maybe a good kick would do some damage before you start punching it. It might loosen the bricks even more, make it easier to break through. I mean, your legs are just as strong as your fists, right?”

Powder smirked, watching Vi’s reaction as if she were the one trying to convince herself. “You’re not gonna break your foot either, are you? Or, hey, you could always aim for the spot that looks like it’s ready to fall anyway.”

Her tone was light, but there was a real practicality to it, as though she was trying to map out a way to make the task more manageable. Powder’s brain had a way of jumping from one idea to the next, often with surprising results. And right now, she was looking for any possible edge to get them out of this mess.

Vi didn’t need a second invitation. The moment Powder finished speaking, she cracked her neck, took a quick breath, and without another word, shifted into position.

With a grunt, she launched her booted foot forward, connecting with the base of the loose wall. The impact rang out with a solid thud, and a few of the bricks rattled loose, tumbling slightly to the side. The wall trembled as if surprised by the sudden force, and for a moment, Vi felt a flicker of hope.

The wall was definitely weaker than it had seemed.

Vi glanced over at Powder, a wicked grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Not bad, huh?” she said, rolling her shoulders. “Feel like that helped?”

Powder’s eyes widened slightly at the shift in the wall’s structure, her smile growing as she took in the result. “Hell yeah, that did more than I thought it would!”

Vi set her stance again, ready to follow through. “Then get ready, ’cause we’re about to do this thing.”

She stepped back, sizing up the wall, then aimed another heavy kick at the spot she had just struck. This time, the wall gave way a little more—a few more bricks crumbled, the rest of the structure shuddering as it started to loosen even further.

Vi’s smirk deepened. “Alright, Powder. Time to get the hell out of here.”

Powder’s eyes gleamed with that familiar spark—one that only came when she was about to do something big.

“Wait! I have a more… explosive solution…” She grinned widely, almost mischievously, as she stood up and turned toward the pile of rubble they had been sitting on for the past hours.

Vi raised an eyebrow, her heart rate picking up a little. “Explosive? Powder…”

But Powder was already moving, brushing aside the debris like it was nothing. Her hands were quick and purposeful as she revealed something beneath—the grenade. She held it up, almost reverently, as if it were some kind of prized treasure. The Hextech gemstone inside of it caught the dim light, its eerie glow pulsing just slightly.

With a grin that only Powder could pull off, she said, “Introducing the ultimate SOS.”

Vi’s stomach dropped as she glanced at the grenade. That’s not exactly what I had in mind… But before she could even think to speak up, Powder was already looking at her, practically bouncing with excitement.

“This’ll get their attention, alright,” Powder continued, her voice low but filled with that wild confidence she always carried when things were about to go sideways. “All we need is the right timing.”

Vi held up her hands in mock surrender, though a part of her had to admit, it was a brilliant idea. “I’m not gonna argue, but I’m really hoping you know what you’re doing with that thing.”

Powder’s grin only widened. “Of course I do! This is what it was made for. What better way to send an SOS than with a bang?”

Vi hesitated for a moment, looking down at the grenade in her sister’s hands. Then, with a resigned sigh, she grinned. “Guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

Powder’s grin only grew. She glanced at the weakened wall again, then back to Vi. “You take cover, I’ll make the noise.”

Vi didn’t need to be told twice. She quickly moved back, ducking behind some of the debris, her eyes still trained on Powder as her sister prepared for the chaos that was about to unfold.

In that moment, they didn’t need a plan. They just needed to make a sound that someone would hear. And with Powder, anything was possible.

Powder took a deep breath, her eyes narrowing with focus as she gripped the grenade tightly, the weight of it almost comforting in her hand. She glanced at Vi, who was still ducked behind the debris, waiting for the storm that was about to hit.

For a moment, time seemed to stretch as Powder looked at the window—a broken, jagged hole in the clocktower’s crumbling side, the perfect launch point for her ultimate SOS.

She pulled the pin with a smooth motion, the metallic click sounding too final, too heavy in the stillness of their world. Without hesitation, she took a running start, her feet pounding the debris-covered ledge as she pushed herself forward.

In one fluid motion, Powder hurled the grenade with all the force she could muster. Her arm snapped forward, sending it soaring through the air with a sharp whistle. The grenade flew high, its trajectory perfect as it sailed through the window, disappearing into the unknown space beyond.

For a split second, everything felt suspended—then the familiar whoosh of the explosion followed by the violent boom shook the tower.

The shockwave reverberated through the metal and stone of the clocktower, echoing down into the streets below, and the sound was deafening—sharp, chaotic, like a massive crack splitting the sky. The force of the blast tore through the broken hole, sending a couple shards of metal and debris flying outward in a spectacular cascade. The loud bang that followed was a brutal, unrelenting SOS that could only be ignored if you didn’t care to listen.

Vi winced at the explosion, her hands covering her ears instinctively, but her heart raced with a strange mixture of fear and exhilaration. She slowly peeked over the edge of her cover, watching the smoke and dust swirl through the broken opening.

Powder, grinning from ear to ear, leaned back against the pillar, hands on her hips, as if nothing could be more natural. “That should do the trick,” she said with a smug smile. “If that doesn’t get their attention, I’ll eat my boots.”

Vi let out a shaky breath, a laugh escaping her despite the chaos. “You sure know how to make an entrance, don’t you?”

Powder’s grin didn’t waver as she walked back toward Vi. “What can I say? I like to make sure people really notice when I need something.”

As the dust slowly settled, the echo of the explosion lingered in the air. They had done what they could. Now, they would just have to wait and hope someone heard.

Chapter Text

———Hour One———

Powder’s smile never faltered as she watched the last of the smoke from the explosion curl into the air. She looked over at Vi, clearly pleased with herself, her eyes sparkling with that familiar, dangerous glint.

“That grenade?” she asked, her grin widening. “That thing was supercharged to high hell. I put a Hextech Gemstone in it.”

Vi blinked, taking a step back, her mind momentarily processing what her sister had just casually dropped. She stared at Powder, wide-eyed. “You did what?!”

Powder shrugged nonchalantly, as if inserting a Hextech Gemstone into a grenade was the most normal thing in the world. “Yeah, well, it was the most convenient thing I had around. I figured it’d give it that extra kick, you know? It’s more than just a bang now—it’s a message.”

Vi’s mind raced, trying to fully grasp the implications of what Powder had done. A supercharged explosion? Powered by a Hextech Gemstone? It would have sent shockwaves through the entire district—and anyone within earshot would have to know they weren’t just trying to survive; they were trying to be heard.

Powder’s grin softened a little as she watched Vi’s stunned expression. “What? It’s not like I could’ve just sat here and waited for a rescue. That wasn’t gonna cut it. So I did what I had to do.”

Vi let out a breath, running a hand through her hair. “You’re insane… but also way more resourceful than I give you credit for.” She shook her head, a little smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Guess I should’ve known not to question you when it comes to blowing things up.”

Powder laughed, flicking a piece of debris off her sleeve. “You should’ve learned by now. If it doesn’t explode, I’m not interested.”

Vi chuckled, shaking her head, but deep down, she knew that whatever happened next, they had given themselves the best shot possible. A Hextech-powered SOS? That would definitely get attention. Now, it was just a matter of waiting for the world to answer.

Powder let out a breathless chuckle, still grinning as she turned back to Vi. “Did you hear how loud that thing was?” she asked, her voice buzzing with excitement. “If people don’t know we’re here, then I’m shocked.”

Vi exhaled, rubbing her temple as the lingering echoes of the explosion faded into the distance. “Yeah, Powder, I heard it,” she muttered, shaking her head with a half-smile. “Pretty sure the entire Undercity heard it. Hell, Piltover might be sending enforcers right now just to figure out what the hell that was.”

Powder flopped back down onto the metal beam with a satisfied sigh, letting her legs dangle over the side. “Good. That means we won’t be up here long.” She shot Vi a sideways glance, smirking. “Unless you want to spend a couple more hours stargazing with me?”

Vi rolled her eyes but sat down next to her anyway, nudging her shoulder. “As much as I’d love to, I think we’ve done enough for one night. Now we just wait.”

Powder stretched her arms behind her head and grinned. “Well, at least this time, we’re waiting with a guaranteed exit plan.” She glanced up at the shattered remains of the window, the smoke still curling into the sky. “Any minute now, someone’s gonna come looking.”

Vi nodded, watching the horizon, her fingers absentmindedly drumming against the cold metal beneath them. “Yeah… Let’s just hope it’s the right people.”

Powder furrowed her brows, turning her head toward Vi. “What is that supposed to mean?” she asked, her tone shifting from playful to slightly wary.

Vi sighed, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees, staring out over the ruined skyline of Zaun and Piltover. “I mean… yeah, someone’s definitely gonna come looking after that explosion. But who it is? That’s the real question.”

Powder’s smirk faltered just a little. “You’re worried it won’t be Caitlyn?”

Vi exhaled through her nose. “I’m worried it won’t just be Caitlyn.” She tapped a finger against the metal beam beneath them. “Think about it. That grenade wasn’t just some regular firecracker, Powder. That was Hextech. That kind of explosion? It’s the kind of thing that makes people nervous.”

Powder frowned, crossing her arms. “You think Piltover’s enforcers are gonna come charging in?”

Vi hesitated before nodding. “Them, or maybe someone worse. You know how things work down here. People don’t ignore something like that. If the wrong people come looking, we might have a very different problem on our hands.”

Powder clicked her tongue, leaning back slightly. “Guess we better hope Caitlyn’s the first one through the door, then.”

Vi shot her a sideways glance. “Yeah. Or at the very least, someone who doesn’t want us dead.”

For the first time since setting off the explosion, the reality of their situation settled over them. They had sent the loudest possible SOS—but in a place like Piltover, that wasn’t just a call for help. It was a beacon, one that could attract anyone.

As the minutes dragged into an hour, the adrenaline from the explosion had long since worn off, leaving nothing but the eerie quiet of the clocktower and the distant hum of Zaun below.

Powder tapped her fingers restlessly against her knee, her earlier confidence beginning to wane. “Shouldn’t someone be here by now?” she muttered, mostly to herself.

Vi, who had been keeping her eyes on the ruined skyline, sighed. “Could be they’re taking their time, trying to figure out what caused the blast before rushing in.”

Powder frowned, glancing at the metal pillar beside them. The same one Vi had used earlier to send out the Morse code. Her mind churned, grasping for something—anything—to keep them from just waiting.

Without a word, she grabbed the rock again and started banging against the metal, trying to repeat the SOS signal Vi had sent earlier. The sharp, rhythmic clangs cut through the air, bouncing off the towering structures around them.

Vi turned to her, raising an eyebrow. “Powder, we already set off a literal beacon. You really think tapping on some metal is gonna do more than a damn Hextech explosion?”

Powder didn’t stop. She just kept sending out the message, determined. “I dunno,” she admitted, “but it’s either this or sitting here doing nothing. And I hate doing nothing.”

Vi exhaled but didn’t argue. She could understand the frustration—hell, she felt it too. So she just watched as Powder sent the signal again and again, hoping that if the explosion wasn’t enough, maybe this would be.

Because the alternative—the idea that no one was coming—wasn’t something either of them wanted to think about.

Powder’s body had been running on adrenaline, but now, as the minutes stretched into another hour, exhaustion was finally catching up to her. Her limbs felt heavier, her muscles aching from the tension of staying alert for so long.

She tried to bring her arm up, maybe to stretch or shake off the stiffness, but the moment she moved, a sharp jolt shot through her arm. It wasn’t painful—more like a sudden, uncontrollable twitch.

Powder froze, blinking in surprise. “Wha—?” She tried again, but her fingers barely responded at first, stiff and slow like they weren’t fully hers.

Vi immediately noticed the change, her sharp gaze locking onto Powder’s hand. “Pow, what’s wrong?”

Powder flexed her fingers, her movements sluggish. “I dunno… my muscles just—” Another small jolt ran up her arm, making her twitch involuntarily. She huffed out a breath. “Great. Now my body’s deciding to give out on me.”

Vi frowned and shifted closer, concern creeping into her expression. “It’s probably the cold, or maybe dehydration. We haven’t exactly had much water up here.” She reached out, rubbing Powder’s arm in an attempt to get some warmth and circulation back.

Powder exhaled through her nose, trying to shake it off. “Yeah… that, or my body’s just real pissed at me for all the stunts I’ve pulled today.” She forced a smirk, but even she could tell it was weaker than usual.

Vi didn’t laugh. Instead, she wrapped an arm around Powder, pulling her close so their body heat could at least keep the worst of the cold at bay. “Just hang in there, alright? Someone’s gonna come.”

Powder let herself lean against Vi, closing her eyes briefly. The jolts in her arm didn’t stop completely, but with Vi holding her, she felt just a little less like her body was betraying her.

“I know,” she murmured. “I just… hope they hurry.”

Vi pulled Powder into a tighter hug, trying to ease the tension in her sister’s body, trying to keep her warm, grounded—here. But in the motion, in that brief moment of closeness, the worst-case scenario unfolded.

The rock, the same one they had been using to send the SOS signal, slipped from Powder’s stiff fingers.

Clink.

It tumbled down the beam, bouncing once—twice—before slipping over the edge.

Silence.

Then—a distant clatter far below.

Powder’s eyes snapped open, and for a second, neither of them moved. The sound of the rock hitting the distant ground felt deafening, a stark reminder of just how high they were, how precarious their situation remained.

Powder swallowed hard, her body tensing again. “…Vi?”

Vi’s jaw clenched as she stared at the ledge where the rock had disappeared. “It’s fine,” she said quickly, forcing steadiness into her voice. “It’s just a rock.”

Powder didn’t look convinced. “That was our rock.”

Vi exhaled sharply, rubbing Powder’s back in an attempt to keep her from spiraling. “I know, I know. But we’ll find something else if we need to. It’s not like that was the last rock in the clocktower.”

Powder let out a short, shaky laugh, but the tension in her voice was obvious. “Yeah, well, if it was, then I’d really be worried.”

Vi pulled her in closer again, this time keeping her hands steady. “Look at me,” she said, waiting until Powder met her gaze. “We’re still here. That’s what matters. Rock or no rock, we’re getting out of this.”

Powder hesitated, but as she stared into Vi’s determined eyes, some of the panic in her chest eased. She took a slow breath and nodded. “Yeah. You’re right.”

Still, as the seconds passed, both of them found their eyes drifting toward the empty space where the rock had fallen, where the echoes had now faded.

And the silence that followed felt louder than ever.

———Hour Three———

Powder’s fingers twitched at her side as she stared at the empty space where the rock had disappeared. The silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating.

She lowered her head, her voice barely more than a whisper. “I’m so stupid for not hanging on…”

Vi’s heart clenched at the sound of it—the quiet, broken self-blame that she knew all too well. She didn’t hesitate. “Hey.” Her voice was firm, but not harsh. She cupped Powder’s face gently, making her look up. “Don’t do that. Don’t start tearing yourself down over a rock.”

Powder’s lips pressed into a thin line, but Vi could see the storm in her eyes. “It wasn’t just a rock, Vi. It was our way of making noise. Of letting them know we’re here.” She shook her head slightly, frustration and exhaustion mixing in her voice. “And I just let it slip.”

Vi let out a slow breath, brushing a thumb over Powder’s cheek. “You didn’t let anything happen, Pow. Your body’s exhausted. It’s not your fault.”

Powder looked away for a moment, her expression tight. “Still feels like it is.”

Vi sighed and pulled her into another hug, this time resting her chin on top of Powder’s head. “You’ve gotta stop doing this to yourself,” she murmured. “We’re still alive, yeah? That’s what matters.”

Powder hesitated before nodding against Vi’s shoulder. “…Yeah.”

But even as she agreed, she couldn’t shake the feeling deep in her chest—that familiar weight, the gnawing fear that once again, her mistake might cost them everything.

Vi tightened her hold around Powder, her voice soft but unwavering. “I promised Vander once that I’d protect you.” She pulled back just enough to look Powder in the eyes, her grip firm on her shoulders. “And I can’t keep that promise if you spiral.”

Powder’s breath hitched, her gaze flickering with something between guilt and longing. She didn’t want to spiral—god, she didn’t—but it was hard not to when every mistake felt like another link in a chain dragging her down.

Vi gave her a small shake, not rough, just enough to keep her grounded. “I need you here, Powder. Not in your head. Not blaming yourself for things you can’t change.”

Powder swallowed, her fingers gripping the fabric of Vi’s shirt. “…I’m trying.”

Vi exhaled, pressing their foreheads together. “I know,” she murmured. “And I’m not going anywhere. So stop thinking that this is on you, alright?”

Powder nodded slowly, closing her eyes for a brief moment. “Alright.”

The weight in her chest didn’t disappear, but with Vi’s steady hands on her shoulders, it felt just a little easier to carry.

Powder pushed herself up with a quiet groan, her muscles still stiff from exhaustion. She shuffled over to the wall where they had been sleeping and leaned against it, letting her head thump lightly against the cold metal.

“God, I am getting hungry…” she muttered, rubbing her stomach as if that would somehow ease the growing emptiness inside.

Vi let out a short laugh, though there wasn’t much humor in it. “Yeah, well, join the club.” She stretched out her legs, wincing as her joints protested. “Not like we’ve exactly had a feast up here.”

Powder sighed dramatically. “Man, I’d kill for a pork bun right now. Or, hell, even one of those stale crackers you used to sneak me when Vander wasn’t looking.”

Vi smirked. “Those things were terrible.”

“Yeah, but they were food.” Powder groaned again, letting herself slide down against the wall. “What’s the longest someone can go without eating before they lose it?”

Vi rolled her eyes. “You’re not gonna lose it.”

Powder pouted. “Tell that to my stomach. It’s already writing my will.”

Vi chuckled, shaking her head. “Just hang in there, Powder. We’ll get out of this before you start hallucinating about flying sandwiches or some shit.”

Powder huffed. “No promises.” But even as she joked, her stomach twisted painfully. They needed to get out of here soon. Hunger was just another reminder that time was running out.

Powder let out a short, breathy laugh, rubbing her stomach absentmindedly. “God, my stomach feels weird.”

Vi barely reacted, waving a hand dismissively. “Yeah, well, hunger’ll do that to you. Pretty sure mine’s about to start eating itself.”

But Powder didn’t laugh this time. She shifted uncomfortably against the wall, her expression twisting into something uncertain. “No, Vi… I mean, really weird.”

Vi’s smirk faded. She turned her head toward Powder, finally registering the unease in her voice. “What do you mean?”

Powder pressed a hand against her stomach, her fingers digging in slightly as if trying to figure out what was wrong. “It’s not just hunger,” she murmured. “It’s tight. And kinda… I dunno, off-balance? Like everything inside me is locking up or twisting the wrong way.”

Vi frowned, her earlier dismissiveness vanishing. “When did that start?”

Powder exhaled, leaning her head back against the wall. “I dunno. I felt off when I woke up, but I thought it was just exhaustion. Now it’s worse.” She swallowed, her throat dry. “And I don’t like it, Vi.”

Vi’s stomach knotted with worry. Hunger was one thing, but this? This sounded like more than just missing a few meals. She moved closer, pressing the back of her hand against Powder’s forehead, checking for fever. Nothing.

She chewed her lip, trying to push down the rising panic. “It’s probably dehydration,” she reasoned, though she wasn’t entirely sure. “We haven’t had water in—hell, I don’t even know how long.”

Powder groaned, curling her arms around her stomach. “Great. So if hunger doesn’t kill me, my own body rebelling will.”

Vi forced a smirk she didn’t really feel, nudging Powder’s shoulder. “Nah. You’re too stubborn to go down that easy.”

Powder chuckled weakly, but Vi could see the worry in her eyes. And as much as she tried to keep her voice light, the truth gnawed at the back of her mind.

They needed help. Fast.

Powder pushed herself up with a quiet groan, wobbling slightly before she steadied herself against the wall. She stepped closer to the hole they had blasted open earlier, her fingers gripping the jagged edge as she peered outside. The city stretched below them, its dim lights flickering through the thick Zaunite smog.

She exhaled slowly, her breath visible in the cold night air. “We’ve been here for a day,” she murmured, her voice quiet but heavy with realization. “Look… it’s night again.”

Vi, still sitting, followed Powder’s gaze, her stomach twisting. She hadn’t been keeping track of time—too focused on staying awake, keeping Powder from spiraling, and trying to send out signals for help. But now that Powder had said it out loud, the weight of it settled in her chest like a stone.

A whole day. And no one had come.

Vi stood up, walking over to stand beside Powder. She looked down at the city below, the streets so far away they felt like a different world. Up here, it was just the two of them, trapped on a ledge that would never fall but could just as easily become their grave.

“…They’ll come,” Vi muttered, more to herself than to Powder.

Powder didn’t respond at first. She just stared out into the vastness of the Undercity and Piltover, the places they had fought so hard to survive in. Now, it felt indifferent to them—like it wouldn’t even notice if they never came back down.

Finally, she swallowed hard and turned to Vi, her voice quieter now. “You sure?”

Vi hesitated. Just for a second.

Then she nodded, forcing certainty into her voice. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

Powder searched her eyes, looking for something—maybe hope, maybe reassurance. Whatever she found, it seemed to be enough for now. She sighed and leaned her head against the wall.

“…They better hurry,” she muttered, hugging her arms around herself. “Because I don’t know how much longer I can take this.”

Vi’s heart clenched as Powder kept talking, her voice growing weaker, more fragile with each word.

“They better hurry…” Powder muttered, staring out at the city with unfocused eyes. Her arms tightened around herself as if trying to hold something inside—something breaking. “Because I don’t know how much longer I can take this.”

Vi’s breath hitched, and before she could say anything, Powder kept going, her voice barely above a whisper now.

“I mean… I know we’ve been through worse, right?” She let out a short, shaky laugh, but it held no real humor. “We’ve always made it out. Always found a way. But this…?” She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “We’re stuck, Vi. No tricks, no plans, no backup. Just… waiting.”

Vi swallowed hard, stepping closer, but Powder kept talking, her words unraveling.

“I keep thinking about how easy it would be for them to just not find us. What if they’re not even looking? What if they do find us but it’s too late? What if—” Her breath hitched, her voice cracking fully now. “What if we just die up here, Vi? Like we never even mattered?”

That was it. That was the thought that had been eating her alive.

Vi felt something deep inside her shatter.

“Pow, stop,” Vi said, reaching out, her voice strained with emotion. “Please.”

But Powder wasn’t done. She squeezed her arms tighter, her entire body shaking now. “I don’t wanna be forgotten, Vi. I don’t wanna—” Her voice caught in her throat, and suddenly, she was wiping at her eyes furiously, trying to stop the tears before they could fall. “God, I hate this. I hate feeling like this.”

Vi couldn’t take it anymore. She didn’t care if Powder wanted to push through it alone—she wouldn’t let her. She grabbed Powder and pulled her into a crushing hug, one hand cradling the back of her head.

“You won’t be forgotten,” Vi whispered fiercely, her own voice thick with emotion. “And you’re not dying, Powder. You’re here. With me.”

Powder trembled against her, her hands gripping Vi’s shirt like a lifeline. She sucked in a shaky breath, but it hitched again, and suddenly, she wasn’t just tearing up—she was crying. Full, quiet, exhausted sobs muffled against Vi’s shoulder.

Vi held her tighter, closing her eyes against the sting of her own unshed tears.

“We’re getting out of this,” she promised, voice breaking. “I don’t care how, but we are.”

Powder just held on, her body shaking with the weight of all the fear she had been holding back.

Vi didn’t let go. She wouldn’t. Not now. Not ever, But then Vi froze.

Powder’s voice had been barely more than a whisper, a breath of sound carried away by the wind—but Vi heard it. Every word.

“I’m coming, Isha. I’ll see you soon.”

A cold, sinking dread clawed at Vi’s chest as she pulled back just enough to look at Powder’s face. Her little sister wouldn’t meet her eyes, her gaze distant, unfocused, like she was already somewhere else.

“No,” Vi breathed, her hands tightening on Powder’s shoulders. “No, you don’t get to say that. You don’t get to say that, Powder.”

Powder blinked, as if just now realizing she had spoken out loud. Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn’t deny it. Didn’t take it back.

Vi shook her head, her grip firm but desperate. “Isha’s gone, Powder.” Her voice cracked, raw with grief and panic. “But you’re not. Do you hear me? You’re not!”

Powder finally looked at her then, and what Vi saw nearly shattered her.

It was that same look—that same look from so many years ago. The night everything fell apart. The night Powder had thought she was truly alone.

Vi’s throat tightened. “Don’t do this,” she pleaded, her voice barely above a whisper now. “You’re not going to see her soon. Because you’re not going anywhere.”

Powder let out a shaky breath, her fingers curling into Vi’s shirt like she wanted to hold on—but something inside her was slipping.

“I’m just…” Powder swallowed, eyes glistening. “I’m just so tired, Vi.”

Vi’s heart twisted painfully. She pressed their foreheads together, her own breath shaking.

“I know,” she whispered. “I know, Pow. But you stay with me. You fight. Just like you always have.”

Silence stretched between them, heavy, fragile.

Then, finally, Powder closed her eyes and gave the smallest nod.

Vi exhaled, relief washing over her in a broken, trembling wave. She pulled Powder back into a tight hug, vowing—swearing—that no matter what, she wasn’t letting go. Not now. Not ever.

Vi’s grip tightened around Powder, her own breath coming in short, jagged gasps as she held her little sister close. There was no pretending, no more strength to mask the fear that had been gnawing at her for what felt like an eternity. She had to admit it.

The words were quiet, fragile, but they carried everything she’d been holding inside. “I’m scared too, Pow Pow…”

For a moment, there was only the sound of their breathing, the soft hum of the wind around them. Powder stayed still in Vi’s arms, the weight of those words sinking into the space between them.

Vi hadn’t said it out loud, not to anyone. Not even to herself. She’d kept her fear hidden, buried behind the need to protect, to be the strong one for both of them. But in that moment, with Powder so close, so fragile, she couldn’t pretend anymore.

Powder’s body was still, her hands gripping Vi’s shirt like a lifeline. Her voice cracked, quiet but understanding. “I know…”

Vi pulled back slightly, looking into Powder’s face, the tear stains fresh on her cheeks. She wasn’t used to seeing her like this—broken, vulnerable. But in that moment, she realized that she wasn’t the only one holding everything together.

Powder wiped at her eyes, forcing a shaky smile. “Guess we’re both a mess, huh?”

Vi let out a half-laugh, though it was more a sob than anything else. “Yeah, guess so…”

For a moment, there was a quiet understanding between them. They weren’t invincible. They weren’t the untouchable duo everyone thought they were. They were just two people who had been through too much, trying to survive, trying to stay strong for each other.

Vi took a deep breath, wiping her own tears away before they could fall. “But we’re still here,” she said, her voice a little more firm, a little more steady now. “And as long as we’re here, we’ve got a chance. We always have a chance.”

Powder nodded slowly, her expression softening, the tears finally stopping. “Yeah. We do, don’t we?”

Vi smiled, brushing a lock of hair from Powder’s face. “We’re not giving up, no matter what. Promise.”

Powder’s smile, though faint, was real. “Promise.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, the weight on Vi’s chest lifted just a little. They weren’t alone in this. They had each other. And that meant everything.

The air grew colder as the night deepened, the weight of their exhaustion pressing down on both of them. They’d said what needed to be said, shared the fear, the vulnerability. And for the first time since they’d been trapped up there, there was a strange sense of peace between them.

It wasn’t that the danger had passed, or that they suddenly had a solution. They both knew that nothing had changed. They were still stranded, still hungry, still waiting for a rescue that might never come. But for a brief, fleeting moment, it didn’t feel like the end.

Vi shifted slightly, her body aching from hours of awkward rest, but she didn’t move away from Powder. The younger girl had curled up beside her, and as Vi felt her warmth, the gentle rhythm of her breathing, something in her chest softened. Powder was still here. And that was enough.

Powder’s hand found Vi’s again, her fingers weak but persistent as they curled into her sister’s shirt. She could hear the faint sounds of Vi’s breath, steady now, almost too quiet. And for a moment, Powder allowed herself to let go—let go of the fear, the panic, the never-ending cycle of “what ifs.” They were here, together. That was the only thing that mattered.

The world outside felt distant, irrelevant. The city that had shaped their lives, their struggles, seemed like a faraway memory. Up here, on this ledge, they were just two sisters trying to hold on to each other, trying to survive for one more day.

Vi’s voice was barely a whisper as she shifted, adjusting so Powder could get more comfortable. “We’ll make it,” she murmured, though even she wasn’t sure who she was trying to convince—her sister, or herself.

Powder didn’t answer. She didn’t need to. Her grip on Vi’s shirt tightened just slightly, and she let her eyes flutter shut.

In the silence, the two sisters fell asleep again, not knowing what the morning would bring. They couldn’t do anything more. They had done everything they could. But at least, for now, they weren’t alone.

Powder curled up as close as she could, her body folding into Vi’s side, seeking the warmth and comfort that had always been her safe place. She buried her face against Vi’s shoulder, her small hands clutching tightly at her sister’s shirt. It was a familiar feeling, one that always made the world feel just a little less cold, a little less overwhelming.

Vi didn’t hesitate. She wrapped her arm around Powder, pulling her in even tighter, offering what little warmth she could. The gentle pressure of her sister’s presence was the only thing that made the isolation of their situation feel even remotely bearable.

Vi could feel the steady rise and fall of Powder’s breath, her body trembling slightly from the cold, the exhaustion, and the fear she refused to show. But Vi could feel it all—the way Powder’s small frame shook, the way her fingers clung to her like she was afraid of disappearing.

In this moment, the world outside didn’t matter. They were just two sisters, holding on to each other, their bond stronger than anything else. The chaos, the fear, the unknown—none of it could break what they had.

Powder’s voice was barely audible as she snuggled deeper into Vi’s side, her words muffled but sincere. “Thanks, Vi… for always being here. Even when it feels like we’re…” She trailed off, not needing to finish the sentence.

Vi’s heart ached, but she tightened her hold around her sister, whispering back, “I’m not going anywhere, Pow. Not ever.”

And as the night pressed on, the two of them, exhausted and vulnerable, fell into a deeper sleep, holding on to the one thing that kept them going: each other.

———Hour Ten———

Another night of sleep passes, and the faint light of dawn began to filter through the gaps in the ruined clocktower. Vi’s eyes fluttered open first, the grogginess of sleep fading quickly as the weight of their reality pressed back in. Her muscles ached, her body stiff from the uncomfortable position they’d slept in, but she barely noticed. The first thing she noticed, the thing that made her stomach drop, was that nothing had changed.

The silence felt heavier this time, more suffocating, as the early morning light highlighted the grim reality of their situation. Powder was still asleep beside her, her body curled up into Vi as if it was the only thing keeping her together. The younger girl’s breath was slow and steady, her face peaceful, but Vi couldn’t shake the feeling that time was slipping away, that they were running out of chances.

Vi shifted slowly, trying not to disturb her sister, and took a moment to glance outside the hole they’d made. The city below was still there—dark, industrial, and indifferent to their plight. The sky above was overcast, just like it had been the night before, and there was no sign of anyone searching for them. No search lights. No rescue. Just the cold, indifferent expanse of Zaun on the left and the extravagant city of Piltover on the right.

Her heart sank. They’d sent the signal. They’d made noise. But no one came.

Vi leaned back against the cold metal, her eyes scanning the surroundings again, hoping for something—anything—that might show that someone was looking for them. The sound of the grenade, the SOS signal, the crash—it should have been enough. It had to be enough.

But nothing.

Vi exhaled shakily, rubbing a hand over her face. She was tired—so tired. But the fear gnawing at her was worse than any fatigue.

“Come on,” she whispered under her breath, almost like a prayer. “Where the hell are you guys?”

Her eyes went back to Powder, the small figure still curled against her. For a moment, she just stared at her sister, watching the way she clung to sleep, still holding on to the hope that Vi wouldn’t let her go.

As much as Vi tried to be strong, tried to keep her fears buried deep down, the reality was setting in. They might not get out of this.

But she would never stop trying.

Vi glanced down at Powder, then let out a long breath. It was time to wake her up. They couldn’t just sit here. They couldn’t afford to wait anymore.

They had to fight, again.

As Vi pushed herself to her feet, a sharp, dizzying wave of weakness hit her. Her legs wobbled beneath her, her body not ready for the strain after hours of awkward, cramped sleep on the cold metal ledge. Her vision blurred for a moment, and she had to catch herself on the wall to keep from collapsing.

Her breathing quickened, the tightness in her chest intensifying as her body screamed at her for rest. Not now, she thought, clenching her jaw and forcing herself to stay upright.

She had to keep it together. She had to keep going—for Powder.

But as she tried to take another step, her legs gave way again, and she stumbled back against the cold metal, gasping for breath. Her hands shook as they pressed against the ledge to steady herself, but it was useless. Her body just wasn’t listening.

Vi closed her eyes, squeezing them tight against the wave of dizziness that crashed over her. “I can’t be weak now,” she told herself, the thought almost painful. She couldn’t afford this. She couldn’t afford to be too tired to protect Powder.

“Shit…” Vi muttered under her breath, gritting her teeth. The sharp headache that started to throb at her temples only made things worse. Her stomach churned, and she felt a wave of nausea rise in her throat, a result of the lack of food and exhaustion.

Her hands curled into fists as she tried to steady herself, but it was clear now. She wasn’t as invincible as she liked to believe. Her body wasn’t made of iron, and after days of constant strain, it was finally catching up with her.

And worse, she couldn’t be strong for Powder if she couldn’t even stand.

The thought sent a pang of fear through her chest, and despite her stubbornness, she sank back down to the ledge, sitting heavily beside her sister. The dizziness didn’t fade, and it only made her feel more useless.

Get it together, Vi, she scolded herself, her voice strained, though there was no one there to hear her.

With a shaky breath, she looked down at Powder. She couldn’t let this happen—not now.

But for the first time in what felt like forever, Vi wasn’t sure she could keep up the fight on her own.

Vi’s heart skipped a beat as she moved back to Powder’s side. She sat beside her sister, ready to gently shake her awake, when her gaze fell on something she hadn’t noticed before. The pale skin of Powder’s midsection, where her shirt had ridden up slightly, was more gaunt than usual.

Vi’s breath caught as she saw the subtle outline of Powder’s ribs—vaguely visible beneath the thin layer of her skin. Her sister had always been lean, but now it was worse. The hollowed curve of her stomach, the faint rise and fall of each shallow breath—everything screamed starvation. She’d never seen Powder like this, Not even as kids.

Vi’s stomach twisted, a rush of guilt and fear flooding her chest. She’d been so focused on keeping them both alive, on getting out of there, that she hadn’t even noticed how bad it had gotten. The hunger. The exhaustion. They’d both been running on fumes, but Powder…

Vi’s hand hovered over Powder’s side, the impulse to comfort her colliding with the cold realization that she hadn’t been paying attention. Not enough. She hadn’t realized how much their situation had worn on her sister’s body.

Her voice cracked when she finally spoke. “Pow… Why didn’t you tell me?” She couldn’t stop the guilt that was bleeding into her tone.

But there was no answer. Powder’s chest rose and fell with every shallow breath, her face still pressed against Vi’s shoulder, her expression relaxed in sleep. It was as if she hadn’t even noticed how her body had started to betray her.

Vi’s eyes closed for a moment, her fingers brushing gently against Powder’s ribs. Her stomach twisted at the feel of it—so frail, so thin. This wasn’t the little sister she had known.

“Damn it…” Vi whispered, her voice tight. She had been so caught up in fighting for their survival that she’d missed the signs. But now, in the harsh light of the morning, the truth was undeniable. Powder was slowly being worn down—not just by the cold, but by the slow, gnawing hunger that had been eating at her for days.

Vi swallowed, pushing back the rush of emotion that threatened to overtake her. She couldn’t break down now. Not when Powder needed her more than ever. She needed to get a grip.

Reaching for Powder’s shoulder, Vi shook her gently. “Powder… Hey, wake up. We need to talk.”

There was a quiet groan from Powder as she stirred, her eyes fluttering open, but the expression on her face was still distant, barely awake. It took her a few moments to focus on Vi, the cloudiness in her gaze slowly dissipating.

Vi forced a smile, trying to sound stronger than she felt. “Hey, I need you to be with me right now. We’ve gotta think of a plan. Okay?”

Powder blinked, her hand instinctively reaching for Vi’s, but there was a faint confusion in her eyes. She didn’t say anything, but Vi could see the exhaustion in her face, the way she fought to stay awake, even though her body was begging for rest.

And then, almost as if on cue, Powder’s voice came out weak, hoarse. “I’m hungry, Vi…”

It was barely more than a whisper, but it hit Vi like a punch to the gut. The full realization of how badly her sister had been suffering settled in. This wasn’t just about surviving. This was about staying alive.

Vi’s throat tightened. She couldn’t fix this. Not here. Not now. But she would find a way. For Powder. For them both.

“We’ll get through this,” Vi promised, her voice thick but resolute. “Just hang in there. We’ll get out of here, I swear it.”

But the truth was, Vi wasn’t sure how much longer they could keep fighting.

Powder’s voice was soft, almost hollow, as she spoke. Her eyes, still heavy with sleep and pain, seemed to lose focus for a moment before she blinked and met Vi’s gaze, her words barely audible.

“Let’s go back to bed…” she muttered, her tone distant. “…They aren’t coming.”

It was as if she had already accepted it—the waiting, the silence, the empty hope—and the finality of those words seemed to hang in the air like a thick fog. She didn’t sound angry or bitter. It was just… acceptance. A weary surrender to the reality they were both facing.

Vi’s heart broke at the sound of Powder’s voice, so quiet and fragile. She could feel the weight of those words deep in her chest, the crushing truth that Powder, her little sister, had given up. Not in the sense that she wanted to die—no, not at all—but in the sense that she had stopped believing anyone would come to save them.

Vi reached out to her, brushing the back of her hand against Powder’s cheek, gently lifting her face so that they were eye to eye. Her voice cracked with emotion, raw and real, as she whispered, “Powder… no. You’re wrong. We’re still here. And I’m not letting go. Not now. Not ever.”

But Powder’s eyes, dark and sunken from hunger and exhaustion, didn’t change. She looked at Vi, a faint glimmer of something like sadness in her gaze, but it wasn’t fear or anger. It was… resignation.

“I’m tired, Vi,” Powder murmured, her voice barely more than a whisper. “I don’t want to be up here anymore. I just… want to sleep…”

Vi felt the cold rush of helplessness sweep through her, but she clenched her jaw, forcing herself to stay strong. They weren’t done yet. They couldn’t be.

“No,” Vi said, her voice firm, though she could feel her own cracks starting to show. “You’re not going anywhere, Powder. Not on my watch.”

Powder didn’t answer. She didn’t fight it. She just leaned back into Vi’s embrace, her body trembling slightly, as she gave in to the pull of exhaustion once again.

And as Vi held her sister close, she swore—quietly, fiercely—that she would keep going. For Powder. For both of them. Because even if no one else came for them, Vi wouldn’t give up. Not now. Not ever.

Vi’s chest tightened, her grip on Powder growing more desperate as the tears finally broke free. She didn’t fight them, didn’t try to hide them. The steady drip of salty emotion fell, the weight of hopelessness sinking deep into her bones. It felt like the very air around her was thickening, suffocating her, and for a brief moment, she allowed herself to feel the full force of the fear she’d been bottling up.

Powder was right. They’d been up there for days now, clinging to the hope that someone would come, that someone would find them. But nothing had changed. No one had come. No one even seemed to care.

Vi had spent so much time trying to keep everything together, trying to be the strong one, the protector, but now… now the cracks were showing. It felt like every minute that passed, every second that stretched longer without a rescue, was another blow to the fragile hope she’d been clinging to.

The soft sound of Powder’s breathing was the only thing grounding her. The younger girl’s body, warm but fragile against hers, reminded Vi of the responsibility that still lay on her shoulders. She wasn’t ready to let go. She couldn’t be. But the darkness creeping in around the edges of her thoughts made it harder to ignore the truth.

What if we don’t make it out?

The thought hit her like a physical blow, her chest tightening at the weight of it. She could feel the weight of those thoughts pressing down on her, threatening to overwhelm her. But even as the tears fell, Vi refused to let them consume her.

She wiped at her face quickly, as though trying to push away the fear and the hopelessness that threatened to drown her. “No,” she muttered under her breath, clenching her fist. “Not like this. We’re not—I’m not giving up.”

Powder shifted slightly in her sleep, and Vi, feeling her sister’s warmth against her, pressed a soft kiss to her hair. She whispered, “I’ll keep going. I’ll keep fighting… I’ll get us out of here, I swear to you.”

But for the first time, Vi wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep promising. The exhaustion was catching up to her. And the empty silence of the world below them was a bitter reminder that the only ones who could save them now were themselves.

Yet even in the face of that crushing realization, Vi didn’t stop holding on. Not just for herself, but for the sister who had never given up on her, even when everything seemed impossible.

She wouldn’t stop. Not yet.

Because as long as they had each other, there was always a chance.

Vi froze, the weight of Powder’s words landing heavy in her chest. She hadn’t even realized she’d been drifting into her own thoughts again—too lost in the quiet despair of their situation. But now, with Powder’s weak grip tightening on her arm, the words hit her like a jolt of ice-cold water.

“Don’t…” Powder’s voice was small, barely above a whisper, her breath shaky as she clung to Vi. “I need you with me. Just in case…”

Vi swallowed hard, her throat thick with emotion as she carefully turned her head to look down at Powder. The younger girl’s face was still pale, her eyes heavy with exhaustion, but there was a sharpness in her gaze now, something raw and vulnerable that Vi hadn’t seen before.

It wasn’t fear, though. It was something else entirely—a plea. A quiet request for something Vi couldn’t deny.

Powder’s hand, weak but insistent, held on to her arm as if it were the only thing keeping her tethered to reality. As if, in that moment, Vi was all she had left.

Vi didn’t know how to answer at first. Her chest ached, her breath catching in her throat as she tried to find the words. How could she promise to stay strong when the weight of everything felt like it might crush her? How could she say something reassuring when, deep down, she wasn’t sure if she had the strength left to fight herself?

But as Powder squeezed her arm again, Vi felt the desperate hope in that small action. She felt it in the way her sister was holding on, even when it seemed like there was nothing left to hold on to.

Vi’s voice cracked as she whispered, “I’m here, Powder. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll always be here. Always.”

She could feel the tightness in her chest again, but this time it wasn’t fear—it was something deeper, something harder to admit. Vi wasn’t just keeping her promise to Vander anymore. She was holding on for herself too. Because as much as Powder needed her, she realized she needed her sister just as much.

Powder didn’t say anything, but the faintest of smiles tugged at the corners of her lips as she rested her head back against Vi’s side. Her grip on Vi’s arm didn’t loosen, but there was a calmness in her expression, a fragile trust that Vi wasn’t sure she deserved.

But she’d try to deserve it.

Vi let out a long breath, trying to calm the frantic beating of her heart. She wasn’t going to leave Powder. Not like this. She wouldn’t let go. No matter what came next.

———Hour 18——-

The hours seemed to blur together, a never-ending cycle of hopelessness and exhaustion. 18 hours. It felt like a lifetime—each second dragging by with crushing weight, each minute stretching farther than it should have. Vi and Powder had stopped trying to move long ago. It wasn’t from lack of desire to escape, but the sheer fatigue that had taken over their bodies. Every muscle screamed, and their minds were too tired to keep up the fight.

Vi sat with her back against the cold wall of the clocktower, her arms wrapped loosely around Powder, who leaned against her, the faint rise and fall of her chest the only sign she was still alive. The two of them had stopped talking, stopped looking out at the sky. There was no point anymore. The world outside was silent, indifferent.

Vi felt numb, her body refusing to obey her commands to stand, to move, to act. Every thought seemed clouded with exhaustion, and her eyes struggled to stay open. She kept telling herself they’d make it. That someone would come. But the cruel silence of their situation was beginning to swallow her optimism whole.

Powder, on the other hand, was almost eerily still beside her. Her once vibrant, spark-filled eyes had dimmed, her small frame fragile and pale. The hollow, aching feeling in Vi’s chest grew tighter as she watched her sister, barely moving, her hand still loosely clutching Vi’s arm but with less strength than before.

They were dying, both of them. Slowly but surely.

Vi tried to shake the thought from her mind—No. They couldn’t be. They weren’t done yet. They couldn’t be. But deep down, she felt the cold certainty creeping in. They were running on nothing now. No food, no strength. Just each other, and that was running out, too.

The air was colder now, the night deepening as it swallowed up what little light had remained. Time had lost meaning here, in this dark, metal prison of a clocktower.

“I… I don’t think they’re coming, Vi,” Powder muttered, her voice barely audible as she shifted slightly in Vi’s embrace. The words didn’t surprise her. They couldn’t.

Vi looked down at her sister, her throat tight, but she forced a response out. “No. They will. Someone will come. We just have to hold on a little longer, Powder.” Her voice trembled, but she still clung to the words, as if repeating them might make them true.

Powder’s gaze was distant now, no longer focusing on anything in particular. Her words were slow, weighed down by fatigue. “It’s okay, Vi… It’s okay if they don’t… I just… don’t want you to hurt anymore.”

Vi felt the pressure in her chest build, as though she might suffocate from the weight of it. She wanted to scream, to rage against this reality, but she couldn’t. Her body didn’t have the energy. She barely had the energy to keep holding her sister.

She pressed her forehead to Powder’s, her voice quiet, barely a whisper now, “I’m sorry, Pow. I’m sorry I couldn’t fix this… I’m sorry I couldn’t get us out of here.”

But Powder’s hand squeezed hers again, a faint glimmer of the sister she once knew still there beneath the exhaustion. “You did. You kept me safe… kept me from getting lost. You didn’t give up. That’s all that matters.”

And then, as Vi felt the quiet tears slip down her face, she held on. For as long as she could.

Then the inevitable happened. Vi barely noticed at first. The steady, shallow rhythm of Powder’s breath had been the only thing keeping her tethered to reality. But the silence grew heavier, deeper, until even that soft rise and fall of her sister’s chest seemed to disappear ever so slowly.

It wasn’t until the warmth that had always been there—Powder’s tiny form pressed against hers, her weight settled lightly in Vi’s arms—shifted, and Vi felt something… wrong. The stillness wasn’t comforting anymore. It was hollow.

Vi stiffened, her heart skipping a beat. She carefully shifted, gently moving Powder’s head, expecting to see her sister’s familiar, sleepy eyes looking up at her—perhaps irritated that she was disturbed, perhaps just a little groggy from the exhaustion. But what she saw made her blood run cold.

Powder’s head had fallen completely limp against her shoulder, her face pale, more gaunt than ever. Her breath, once faint but steady, was now too shallow, almost imperceptible.

“Powder?” Vi’s voice cracked, her hand gently shaking Powder’s shoulder, desperate for any sign of movement, any response. But there was nothing.

It took a moment—a long, cruel moment—for Vi to fully grasp what she was seeing. She felt a cold, tight sensation in her chest, and a deep panic began to claw at her. No. This couldn’t be happening. Not now. Not like this.

Her heart pounded in her chest, her hands shaking as she held Powder closer, pressing her sister’s fragile form against her own. “No. No, no, no. Wake up, Powder! Please…”

Her voice was frantic now, breaking with the weight of her fear. But Powder didn’t move. Didn’t react. It was as though the world had gone still around them. The silence in the clocktower seemed to swallow everything whole.

Vi’s hands trembled as she gently checked for a pulse, her mind screaming for any sign of life. But what she felt beneath her fingers was slow, weak, barely there. The pulse was there, yes, but faint. Too faint.

“No…” Vi whispered, her voice hollow and strained as her fingers pressed harder against Powder’s wrist. The pulse barely fluttered in response. Her heart cracked wide open as she realized what it meant—how close they had come to the edge.

No… Not like this… Not like this…

But the truth was sinking in, deep and undeniable. Powder had slipped into the edge of exhaustion, and now it seemed like there was nothing left to hold onto.

Vi pulled her sister close again, her body shaking with quiet sobs. “I’m here, Powder… Please…” She whispered into her hair, her voice cracked and raw, but the words couldn’t bring her back. The thought of losing her—after everything, after all they’d been through—was too much for Vi to bear.

The minutes stretched long and heavy, but no miracle came. It was just them now. Alone in the cold silence of the tower, and the weight of everything was beginning to crush Vi. She couldn’t hold on any longer. Not by herself.

Powder finally mutters “I’m so tired… I see a light Vi…”

Vi froze. The words hit her like a punch to the gut, and her breath caught in her chest.

Powder’s voice was so faint, so fragile, like the last whisper of a dream fading away. Vi could barely make out what she said, but the words echoed in her mind as if they were the only thing she could hear.

For a moment, Vi thought she must have imagined it. Maybe the exhaustion was getting to her, or the weight of everything was finally breaking her mind. But as she looked down at her sister, the dim light in Powder’s eyes seemed to flicker, distant and unfocused, as if something was drawing her away from this world.

Vi felt the cold panic take over her body again, a desperate surge of energy rushing through her. “No, no, no… Powder, stay with me!” She grabbed Powder by the shoulders, her grip tightening as she tried to keep her sister’s gaze on her. “Powder, don’t go. Don’t you dare leave me. I’m here. You’re not alone. Please.”

But Powder’s eyes—those bright, mischievous eyes that had always been full of life, even in the darkest of times—were growing dimmer. Her face was pale, her lips trembling as she fought to stay awake, to stay present. The light she spoke of was so close, Vi could see it in her expression—a faraway look, as if her sister had already begun to drift, one foot in this world, the other reaching out toward something beyond. And because she’s with Vi? She’s facing it with a smile on her face.

Vi’s heart shattered. She couldn’t lose her. She couldn’t. “Powder, listen to me, please!” Her voice cracked with raw desperation, the sound of her own need shocking her. She wasn’t ready to let go, not now. Not when they had come so far, when they had fought so hard.

Powder’s voice was barely a breath now, her words soft and distant. “It’s okay, Vi… I’m not scared. I… I’ll be with them soon… with Isha… I’ll see her again…” Her words trailed off, a faint smile pulling at the corners of her lips, but it wasn’t the smile of the girl Vi remembered. It was distant. Vi was wrong. Powder wasn’t halfway gone. She is on death’s doorstep and she is waiting to walk through.

Vi’s vision blurred, the tears streaming down her face, mixing with the dirt and sweat, but she didn’t care. She didn’t care about anything but keeping Powder here with her. She leaned in close, pressing her forehead to Powder’s, whispering hoarsely through her tears, “I’m not ready to lose you. Don’t go. I’m here, Powder…”

The faintest of breaths left Powder’s lips as she shifted slightly, her body fighting to stay awake, but it wasn’t enough. She was slipping. Slowly, surely, away from Vi.

And as much as Vi wanted to scream, to hold onto her forever, the reality was settling in. This was happening. And all Vi could do now was be with her, until the very end.

The words that came next were quiet, but there was a calmness in them, a bittersweet acceptance that hurt more than anything.

“Vi… I love you… Always….”

Vi choked on her sobs, her body shaking as she pulled her sister close once more. “I love you too, Powder… Please… don’t leave me…”

But there was no answer. Only the fading warmth of her sister’s body, and the softest of sighs, as if Powder had finally found the peace she’d been searching for. As if she finally rejoined Isha.

Vi could do nothing but hold her sister in the silence that followed, the weight of the moment pressing down on her like a crushing wave.

Vi’s body trembled. Finally out of pure anguish a scream tore from her chest, raw and primal, the sound echoing through the hollow, cold walls of the clocktower. It was a scream of rage, of pain, of desperate loss. It was everything she had bottled up for the past hours, days—everything she’d tried to hold back, tried to fight against. And now, there was no fighting it. There was only the crushing weight of knowing that this was the end. 

She cradled Powder’s lifeless form in her arms, her fingers trembling as she held her sister closer. The tears came, hot and uncontrollable, streaming down her face in a torrent. She had never felt so broken, so utterly powerless. The world outside might as well have ceased to exist, because in this moment, there was nothing but the sharp, stinging ache in her chest and the suffocating silence of their isolation.

Vi’s vision blurred, and the tears fell freely—each one a release, each one a testament to how much she had loved her sister, how much she still loved her. How could this happen? How could she let this happen?

She wasn’t ready. She wasn’t ready to say goodbye.

Her heart broke with every breath she took, the suffocating grief threatening to swallow her whole. She had promised. She had sworn to protect Powder. And now, in the face of this inevitable loss, those promises felt hollow, empty, meaningless.

“No, no, no…” Vi repeated, her voice choking on the sobs. Her hands pressed against Powder’s cold body, hoping for a sign—anything that would tell her she was wrong. That her sister was still with her, just a little longer. But the silence was deafening, the stillness of the moment louder than anything else in the world.

And then, Vi felt it. The quiet, final weight in her chest. The shift inside of her that told her—she wasn’t going to make it either. The numbness had already settled in. Her body was shutting down, slowly but surely, every ounce of strength having been drained from her. The hunger, the exhaustion, the weight of the loss—it was too much.

Her grip on Powder loosened, but she refused to let go completely. If this was the end—if she was going to slip away like her sister had—then at least they would go together. In each other’s arms.

She whispered through her tears, her voice barely audible, but full of the last remnants of love she could muster, “I’m sorry, Powder… I couldn’t save you… I couldn’t keep you safe…”

The words came out in broken pieces, each one heavy with the weight of regret. And for the first time, in that hollow silence, Vi let herself fall apart completely. She cried for everything they had been through, for everything they had lost, for the family they had once been.

And she cried because she knew the end was near—for both of them. The world outside could keep spinning, but here, on this ledge, the last of her strength was fading with every breath.

Vi’s vision was swimming, the world growing darker around the edges as her body surrendered to the exhaustion, the grief, and the suffocating weight of it all. She held onto Powder as best as she could, the quiet warmth of her sister still a faint comfort against the cold reality of their situation. Her breaths were shallow, ragged—each one harder to take than the last. She thought she could feel her body slipping away, her mind hazy as she let herself drown in the inevitable.

But then, a voice.

A voice cut through the silence—a voice she thought she’d never hear again.

“Vi?! Jinx?! Thank the gods!!! Get me a medic!!!”

The words echoed in her foggy mind, so out of place that for a moment, she chalked it up to some last, desperate hallucination. Her eyelids were heavy, her thoughts blurred, and for a fraction of a second, she thought maybe her mind was playing tricks on her.

But then the voice came again, more insistent, cutting through the haze.

“Vi?! Jinx?! Stay with me you two! Damn it everyone they are up here!!! Get me a medic!!!”

Vi’s heart skipped, and though her body was too tired to respond, a flicker of hope sparked within her. No, it couldn’t be… could it?

With the last of her strength, Vi opened her eyes, the sound of her name echoing in her ears. She blinked slowly, trying to focus, the world still swimming around her. Her vision was a blur, but she thought she saw movement—shapes, figures near the edge of the tower.

And then, through the fog, she recognized it.

Caitlyn.

It was Caitlyn’s voice. Caitlyn was here.

Vi’s heart clenched with disbelief and desperate hope, but she couldn’t bring herself to speak. She could barely move, the weight of everything too much. But Caitlyn was here. Caitlyn had come for them.

Through her haze, Vi heard footsteps scrambling, voices shouting commands, but it all felt distant, muffled. Everything was so slow. The world was shifting, like she was underwater, everything blurry, out of focus.

But Caitlyn’s voice was sharper now, close, closer.

“Vi! Jinx!” Caitlyn’s voice broke through the haze again, this time closer, more frantic. There was no mistaking it now. It was real. “You’re gonna be okay. Help’s here. I’m here, okay? Hold on!”

Vi’s breath caught in her throat, her head spinning. It was Caitlyn. And it sounded like help was on the way. She wanted to speak, to say something, anything. But she couldn’t. Not anymore. She couldn’t move. Her body was failing her, the exhaustion and grief far too much.

But even as her vision faded again, something inside her kept her tethered. Caitlyn was here. There was a chance. There was hope.

Through the thick fog clouding her mind, Vi whispered hoarsely, “Cait…” It was barely a sound, just a rasp in the air, but she hoped Caitlyn could hear it. She hoped, desperately, that the medic was coming. That maybe… just maybe… they weren’t going to die up here. Not today.

Then, she allowed herself to drift off just like Powder, knowing Caitlyn was there now, knowing that they were no longer truly alone. Vi will die in her sister’s arms. Just like Powder is with her being in Vi’s arms.

Caitlyn’s voice rang out with urgency, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, Vi felt a weight lift from her chest. She had heard that voice—strong, commanding—and it was pulling her back from the edge. But her body was too weak to respond. Still, her mind registered the movement, the hurried steps of someone rushing to her sister’s side.

“She’s cold. But there’s a pulse. Get the hell over here!” Caitlyn’s words were frantic, but there was a note of relief in her voice that Vi clung to, even as everything around her blurred.

Vi barely had the strength to open her eyes, but she could hear the scramble of boots against metal, the shuffle of hurried footsteps, and the soft click of tools being readied. The sound of Caitlyn calling out, giving orders, making sure everything was being done to save the two sisters… it was like a lifeline, pulling Vi back to the world of the living, back from the edge of the darkness where she had been slipping.

As Caitlyn knelt beside Powder—Jinx—Vi felt a fleeting sense of panic grip her. She couldn’t let them think Powder was gone. She couldn’t lose her. Not like this.

But Caitlyn’s voice continued, sharp and commanding. “Hold on, Jinx. I’m not losing you too.”

The word “Jinx” hit Vi like a blow to the chest. Caitlyn still thought this was Jinx, still thought the girl she had been fighting beside was the dangerous, unpredictable person they had all feared. But Vi couldn’t blame her. To Caitlyn, this was still just Jinx—the girl who had caused so much destruction. The girl she had sworn to bring in.

Vi’s mind swam with confusion, with the fog of everything that had happened, but she fought to keep her thoughts clear. Powder needed them both. She needed Caitlyn to see her sister, really see her. Not just as the broken girl who had spiraled into madness, but as the person who had fought beside her, who had been there for Vi, for them.

Caitlyn had her hands on Powder’s chest now, her fingers pressing down, trying to feel the pulse more clearly, urging the medics to move faster, to help. Vi couldn’t help but think of how different things would be if she could just speak, just move. If she could tell Caitlyn that Powder was more than this. More than the name she had carried, more than the reputation that had followed her.

But as Vi’s vision blurred again, it seemed like her body was slipping away too quickly. Her eyelids fluttered, and she let herself fall into unconsciousness again, her last thoughts on the fragile thread of hope that Caitlyn had brought with her. The sound of the medic’s voice, the urgency, the rhythm of their steps, the promise of help—it was enough to give her something she hadn’t felt in days: a sliver of peace.

She wasn’t alone anymore. Powder wasn’t alone. Maybe, just maybe, they had a chance.

The steady descent was a strange, surreal feeling. It was almost as if time had slowed, as though they were drifting through the air, held up by something invisible and fragile. Vi could feel herself being gently lowered, the soft hum of the lift below them a quiet reminder that, for once, help had come. She didn’t know how long they’d been descending, how many minutes or hours had passed since Caitlyn’s voice first broke through their isolation. But the sensation of being lowered, of moving—slowly, carefully—was enough to ground her in the present.

But it didn’t change the truth.

The truth that they were still dying.

Vi could feel Powder’s body against hers, the faint rise and fall of her sister’s chest—a weak, shallow breath that barely made its way in and out. Powder’s skin was cold to the touch, the once vibrant, lively girl she had known so well now barely hanging on. The stillness between them was oppressive, the air heavy with the knowledge that neither of them was fully alive, not yet.

Vi’s heart ached with the quiet realization that this wasn’t a victory, not yet. This wasn’t the end of their suffering, just a brief pause. They had been saved, but for how long? The darkness was still there, lurking in the corners of her mind, waiting for its moment to swallow them both whole.

The lift was taking them down, slowly, surely, but Vi couldn’t help but think about what would happen once they reached the bottom. They would get medical help—perhaps. But even Caitlyn’s urgency, the way she had called for medics, couldn’t drown out the truth that she and Powder had been alone for too long. Too many hours, too much starvation, too much fatigue. There wasn’t enough time for anything to change, not in the way they needed.

With each passing moment, Vi’s body felt heavier, weaker. Her breaths were shallow, her mind foggy. It was all she could do to hold onto Powder, to keep her close, to keep the faintest thread of warmth between them, knowing it wouldn’t be enough.

As they neared the bottom, the faint hum of the lift’s mechanisms whirring beneath them was the only sound breaking the silence. Vi’s eyelids fluttered, struggling to stay open, but they felt like lead, and she could feel the pull of sleep tugging her in. She didn’t want to close her eyes, didn’t want to miss any moment that they had together, even if it was just this—just the feel of their bodies being lowered toward safety, toward a chance.

The bottom of the clocktower seemed so far away, but the thought that they might make it, even if only for a little while longer, was enough to give Vi a spark of hope. But it was a faint, fragile spark, threatened by the deep, gnawing exhaustion in her body.

As they descended, the feeling of being suspended in time was almost calming. There was no rush now. No more danger. No more isolation. And in that moment, Vi allowed herself to let go, her grip on her sister tightening one last time.

Maybe they weren’t out of the woods. Not yet. But for now, as they descended into whatever fate awaited them, Vi found comfort in the fact that they were together. They wouldn’t face this alone. And maybe, just maybe, that would be enough.

——— Hour ???———

The sudden stop was jarring, like the world had shifted abruptly beneath them, a sharp contrast to the gentle, slow descent they’d felt moments before. Vi barely had time to adjust, the ground beneath them suddenly solid as Caitlyn’s presence became unmistakable. There was no more floating, no more uncertainty—only the sharp sting of reality as the cool air hit her face, the first true breath of fresh air she had felt in what seemed like forever.

They were outside.

Vi’s eyes, half-lidded from exhaustion, strained against the cold wind that whipped through the air, the crispness of it biting into her skin. She could hear the bustle around her, the hurried steps of medics approaching, the calls for assistance, and Caitlyn’s voice once more, filled with urgency.

“Get them on the ground and to the cab, NOW!” Caitlyn barked, her tone a sharp contrast to the desperation in her voice. She wasn’t wasting any time. She was in full action mode, and that gave Vi the faintest sense of relief.

The last thing Vi could focus on was the chill creeping over her skin. Her body was trembling, but she couldn’t tell if it was from the cold or from the weakness that had overtaken her. There was a heaviness in her limbs, the feeling that if she let go now, she might simply collapse into nothing.

But then, Caitlyn’s voice again, clear and strong. “Jinx, stay with me, alright? Just hold on.”

Vi’s heart skipped at the sound of her sister’s name. Caitlyn still didn’t see the truth. She still didn’t know who Powder really was—not Jinx. Not the monster that everyone believed her to be. But the girl Vi had fought beside, the girl who had once been so full of life.

“Vi, I need you to stay awake,” Caitlyn continued, her voice softer now, but no less urgent. She was beside them, kneeling in the dirt, her hands moving quickly but gently to check on both sisters. “You’re gonna be alright, okay? Just hold on. Help is here.”

Vi’s thoughts were foggy, like she was wading through water, but hearing Caitlyn’s voice brought her a sense of something she hadn’t felt in days—hope. A lifeline.

She wanted to respond. She wanted to tell Caitlyn that they weren’t Jinx and Vi, that they were Powder and Vi—siblings, not enemies. But all Vi could manage was a weak breath and the faintest attempt to squeeze her sister’s hand. It was all she had left.

Powder, meanwhile, had no strength to even open her eyes. She was limp in Vi’s arms, her chest barely rising and falling with each shallow breath. She looked like a ghost, her skin pale and cold. But Caitlyn’s hands were already there, pressing against Powder’s ribs, trying to feel for the faintest sign of life.

“She’s alive,” Caitlyn murmured, her voice soft yet filled with disbelief. “She’s alive.” But the relief in her words quickly shifted to a hard resolve. “We need to move them. NOW.”

The medics arrived, their voices blurred in Vi’s mind, but she could still hear them moving, the rush of them getting to work. There were quick hands lifting her, pulling her off the ground, and though the sudden movement made her head spin, there was something comforting about being touched again, being cared for. They were no longer trapped. They were no longer alone.

But Caitlyn was still there, by her side, her presence unwavering. “You’re both going to make it,” Caitlyn promised again, as if repeating it over and over would make it come true. “Just a little longer.”

As they moved, Vi’s world began to tilt again, the adrenaline of the moment starting to wear off. She was aware of the ground beneath her feet, of the fresh air hitting her skin, of the medics’ voices in the distance, but more than anything, she was acutely aware of Powder’s weight against her, the stillness of her sister’s body, the fading heartbeat she could barely feel through her grip.

For all the urgency, for all the movement, Vi’s heart still ached with the knowledge that nothing was certain. Even now, when they were outside, in the hands of those who could save them, the fear lingered. They were alive, but for how long?

But there was something, something in Caitlyn’s presence and the flurry of movement around them, that made Vi hold on just a little bit longer. She wasn’t ready to let go. Not yet. Not when there was still hope, however small.

She heard Caitlyn’s voice again, soft and steady, calling out to the medics. “Get them stabilized. Now.”

And with that, Vi closed her eyes for what felt like the last time, trusting in the hands that had come to save them.

As the cab jolted into motion, the cold wind cutting through the open air, Caitlyn climbed into the back, her heart pounding in her chest. She moved with practiced urgency, her hands immediately going to Vi’s side as the medics worked on Powder, checking vitals, administering injections, trying to stabilize the other girl who still clung to life, barely.

Caitlyn’s eyes locked onto Vi, the younger woman’s face pale, her breathing shallow and ragged. It broke her heart to see her like this—broken, fragile—but she couldn’t afford to focus on her emotions. Not now.

She forced herself to breathe steady, to steady her hands. “Tend to Jinx. I got Vi,” Caitlyn ordered, her voice firm, carrying the weight of command. She wasn’t the same woman who had been chasing after Jinx, trying to bring her in. This wasn’t a criminal to apprehend. This was someone in need. This was Powder. And Vi—her girlfriend, the woman she had sworn to protect.

The medics acknowledged her with quick nods and focused their attention on Powder, the scene outside fading into background noise as Caitlyn turned her focus solely to Vi. Her hands, trembling slightly from the adrenaline, reached out to check Vi’s pulse, her fingers pressing against the pale skin of Vi’s wrist, feeling the weak thrum of life. It wasn’t enough. Not yet.

“Vi,” Caitlyn murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, but it held all the concern, all the urgency, and all the fear she felt inside. Her eyes scanned Vi’s face, watching the shallow rise and fall of her chest. “Stay with me. Come on.”

She gently cupped Vi’s face, feeling the coldness of her skin beneath her fingertips, but there was something about the touch—about the connection—that brought Caitlyn back to the task at hand. No more hesitation. No more fear. This wasn’t the time for that.

“Vi, I’m here. You’re going to be okay,” Caitlyn reassured, though she knew the words felt hollow. How could she promise that when the woman she cared about so deeply was hanging on by a thread? Still, she spoke them because they needed to hear it. They needed hope. “Just a little longer.”

Her fingers deftly moved to check Vi’s breathing, pressing her ear to her chest briefly to listen for anything, anything that would tell her that she wasn’t too far gone. Her heartbeat, weak but steady, was a sign of life.

She looked back at the medics briefly, instructing them to get ready to stabilize Vi once they reached the medical area. But for now, Caitlyn stayed with her, her gaze never leaving Vi’s face, as though willing her to wake, to come back to her.

Powder’s fate still hung in the balance, but Caitlyn refused to let go of Vi. She couldn’t afford to lose them both—not after everything they’d been through. Not when they were so close to safety, to survival.

The cab bumped over a ridge, and Caitlyn winced, adjusting herself to keep Vi from jolting. As the minutes ticked by, the dark weight of the situation still hung thick, but Caitlyn held on to the smallest glimmer of hope—hope that they had made it this far, that there was still time to save them.

They were alive. And as long as they were, Caitlyn wasn’t going to stop fighting.

Caitlyn’s voice was steady, though the worry behind it was palpable. She leaned in closer, her hand brushing against Vi’s, her fingers warm against the coldness of her skin. The constant movement of the cab, the sounds of the medics working on Powder beside them, all seemed distant compared to the fragile stillness that clung to Vi’s form.

“Squeeze my hand if you’re still alive,” Caitlyn urged, her voice low and calm but full of desperation. “I haven’t seen your head move.”

She waited for a beat, heart in her throat, watching Vi’s face for any sign of response, any hint that the woman she was so deeply invested in was still there, still fighting. Caitlyn was no stranger to danger, to injury, but seeing Vi like this, in such a fragile state, unsettled her in ways she hadn’t anticipated.

She couldn’t lose her. Not like this.

Vi’s chest rose and fell in shallow, labored breaths, her body betraying her. Caitlyn’s eyes flicked from Vi’s face to her hand, hoping for the smallest indication of life.

Her fingers brushed the back of Vi’s hand once more, gently squeezing, as if her touch could somehow bring Vi back. “Please, Vi… Please.” Caitlyn’s voice wavered for a moment, betraying the mask of control she tried to keep in place. “You’re not alone, okay? Just hold on.”

Her heart raced as she kept her hand there, waiting, hoping. 

Caitlyn held her breath, her entire world narrowing to the delicate sensation of Vi’s hand in hers. For a moment, there was nothing but the pulse of her own anxious heart, the chaotic sounds of the world fading into the background.

And then—there it was.

A faint, but unmistakable squeeze.

Caitlyn’s heart skipped a beat, a rush of relief flooding through her. She hadn’t even realized how much she had been holding onto the fear of losing her until that simple, fragile connection shot through her like lightning. The squeeze wasn’t much, but it was everything.

“Vi…” Caitlyn whispered, her voice breaking as she looked down at her. There was a tear in her eye, but her face softened, relief washing over her. “Thank God.”

She leaned in closer, pressing her forehead to Vi’s. “I knew you were still with me.”

The grip on her hand wasn’t strong, but it was enough to tell Caitlyn that Vi was still alive, still fighting, even if her body had become a battleground. Caitlyn squeezed her hand back gently, reassuring her that she wasn’t alone.

“We’re getting you help. I’m not going to leave you,” Caitlyn murmured, her breath shaky with the raw emotion she hadn’t allowed herself to feel until now. “I swear, I’m not going to leave you.”

In that small, shared moment of connection, Caitlyn knew there was still hope. Vi was still fighting. And as long as she was, Caitlyn would keep fighting, too.

As the medics continued their frantic work, Caitlyn watched, heart in her throat, as Vi’s hand—weak, trembling—shifted slightly. There was a brief moment where everything seemed to slow down, and Caitlyn’s breath caught in her chest.

Vi’s fingers twitched, then moved again, struggling with the effort, reaching across the stretcher, her pale skin almost ghostly under the fluorescent lights.

Caitlyn’s heart clenched as she realized what Vi was trying to do.

With every ounce of strength Vi had left, her hand reached for Powder’s, still cold and unmoving beside her. The movement was slow, deliberate, as though the bond between them was still fighting, still demanding to be honored, even in the face of everything that had happened.

“Vi…” Caitlyn whispered under her breath, a raw edge to her voice, a mix of awe and sorrow. The movement, however weak, made it clear what she was trying to do—Vi wasn’t letting go. Not of her sister. Not of the hope that, somehow, they would make it through this together.

Vi’s fingers brushed against Powder’s, their hands coming so close that Caitlyn could feel the unspoken words between them, the quiet plea for something she couldn’t fully understand.

For a brief, painful moment, Vi’s hand lingered there, her fingers resting against Powder’s, as though the two of them were still bound by something deeper than circumstance, deeper than pain.

But then, as the hospital doors to the emergency room slid shut, Caitlyn felt the finality in the quiet. The doors closed between them, between the fragile sisters, leaving Caitlyn standing in the hallway with only the image of Vi’s last reach burned into her mind.

She stood frozen for a moment, staring at the closed doors, the feeling of helplessness creeping back into her chest.

She didn’t get to say anything. She didn’t get to tell Vi everything she needed to—everything that had been left unsaid. She didn’t get to tell Powder that she wasn’t just a monster in Caitlyn’s eyes anymore.

But as she turned and took a step back into the waiting area, Caitlyn made herself a promise. She would not let them slip away without fighting. Not now. Not when they had come so far.

Chapter Text

The vase shattered against the wall, sending shards of porcelain flying across the waiting room. The sound was deafening in the otherwise sterile, quiet space, but Caitlyn didn’t care. She barely noticed the startled gasps of the nurses and other waiting patients around her. All she could feel was the suffocating weight in her chest, the rage boiling inside her, the sheer helplessness that made her stomach twist into knots.

She should’ve found them sooner.

She should’ve been there before they wasted away, before their bodies had started to shut down. They had sent every damn signal known to man—Vi’s desperate Morse code, the deafening explosion from Powder’s grenade—and where was Caitlyn? Being tended to for her wounds while they starved on that ledge, alone, waiting, dying in each other’s arms.

Her fingers curled into trembling fists at her sides, her nails digging into her palms so hard it hurt.

The image of Vi reaching for Powder’s hand, so weak she could barely move, burned itself into Caitlyn’s mind. It haunted her.

Where had she been?

She’d heard the explosion. She’d known they weren’t among the dead or wounded when the search teams found the wreckage below. But instead of climbing that damn clocktower herself, she had let them convince her to sit down, to get her wounds checked, to rest. Rest —while Vi and Powder wasted away, alone, scared, dying.

She clenched her jaw so hard it ached, her breath coming in uneven gasps.

She couldn’t let this happen again. She wouldn’t.

Before she even realized it, Caitlyn turned on her heel, marching toward the emergency room doors, but a firm hand caught her wrist.

“Caitlyn, stop!” One of the nurses blocked her path, her voice edged with concern. “You can’t go in there right now. They need to stabilize them.”

Caitlyn yanked her arm free, her glare sharp enough to cut through steel. “And what if they don’t ?” she snapped. “What if I lose them while I’m sitting out here waiting again?!”

The nurse flinched but held firm. “You’re not going to lose them.”

Caitlyn let out a bitter, humorless laugh, shaking her head. “You don’t know that.”

She felt like she was going to explode. The helplessness clawed at her insides, suffocating, unbearable. She had spent so long trying to bring Jinx down, seeing her as nothing more than a criminal, an enemy. And now, for the first time, she saw her for what she truly was—Powder. Vi’s little sister. A girl who had been broken and lost for so long, just trying to survive in a world that had abandoned her.

And Caitlyn had abandoned her too.

Another sharp breath. She pressed her hands against her face, trying to ground herself. She had to pull it together. For Vi. For Powder. For both of them.

She wasn’t going to lose them.

Not now. Not ever.

Caitlyn’s voice was sharp, unwavering, leaving no room for argument. “I might not be Commander anymore, but I am still in charge of the search party. This is an order—give me status updates the second they become available.”

The nurse hesitated for only a moment before nodding stiffly. “Understood.”

Caitlyn exhaled sharply, forcing herself to steady her shaking hands. She had spent too much time waiting already—watching, helpless, as Vi and Powder wasted away on that cursed ledge. She refused to sit idle now.

Her mind raced with every worst-case scenario. What if Powder’s body couldn’t take it? What if Vi’s heart gave out before they could recover? She clenched her jaw, pushing those thoughts away. No. She couldn’t afford to think like that. Not yet.

Taking a deep breath, she turned on her heel and stormed toward the waiting room’s nearest bench. If she was going to be stuck out here, she was going to be ready the second they needed her.

No more waiting. No more being too late.

The nurse flinched as Caitlyn’s grip tightened around her wrist, the desperation in her eyes more intense than anything she had ever seen.

“What are they doing now ?” Caitlyn demanded, her voice dangerously low, trembling with barely restrained fear.

The nurse swallowed hard, glancing toward the emergency doors before meeting Caitlyn’s piercing gaze. “They’re stabilizing them. Both are severely dehydrated and malnourished. Their bodies are in a weakened state, but they’re alive. They’re administering fluids, trying to regulate their vitals.”

Caitlyn’s breath hitched. Alive. That should’ve been a relief, but it wasn’t enough. They’re still fighting for their lives.

She let go of the nurse’s wrist, her hands balling into fists at her sides. “And Vi? Powder?” Her voice softened just a little, the edge replaced by something raw and broken.

The nurse hesitated. “Vi is responding better. She’s stronger—her vitals are weak, but she’s conscious off and on.”

Caitlyn’s throat tightened. “And Powder?”

A pause. A hesitation too long for Caitlyn’s liking.

“She’s… worse,” the nurse admitted quietly. “Her body took a greater toll. She doesn’t have the same muscle mass or endurance Vi does. Her organs are under extreme stress.”

Caitlyn’s stomach dropped.

“We’re doing everything we can,” the nurse added quickly, sensing the storm building behind Caitlyn’s eyes. “But you need to let us do our jobs.”

Caitlyn took a shaky breath, trying to suppress the panic clawing at her chest. She wanted to do something— anything —but there was nothing left in her control.

Her fingers twitched at her sides. She needed to see them. She needed to be there when Powder woke up—Well that is if Powder woke up.

“Keep me updated,” Caitlyn said, her voice barely above a whisper. It wasn’t a request. It was a command.

The nurse nodded before hurrying back through the emergency doors, leaving Caitlyn standing alone in the waiting room, her fists clenched, her body trembling.

She had found them. She had saved them.

But was it soon enough?

Caitlyn squared her shoulders and turned sharply, spotting the nearest enforcer standing by the entrance. She marched toward him with purpose, her voice carrying the weight of authority she had once wielded with ease.

“Send word to Councilor Mel Medarda and Councilor Shoola,” she ordered, her tone leaving no room for discussion. “Tell them Vi and Jinx are alive. I need to update them on the situation personally.”

The enforcer hesitated only for a second before nodding. “Right away, ma’am.”

As he hurried off, Caitlyn exhaled slowly, trying to steady herself. The situation wasn’t just about survival anymore—it was political. The council had to be informed. They would want to know the status of Jinx, the infamous terrorist, and Vi, the enforcer who had been hunting her.

Caitlyn didn’t care about politics right now. She cared about the two sisters lying in hospital beds, fighting to stay alive.

Running a hand through her hair, she took one last glance at the emergency doors, willing them to open with an update— any update. Then, with a heavy heart, she turned and prepared for the next battle: making sure nothing came between Vi and Powder’s recovery.

—---Meanwhile In The Operating Room—---

The operating room was a battlefield of its own. Doctors and nurses moved in a frantic yet precise rhythm, their voices sharp with urgency as machines beeped and monitors flickered erratically. The sterile white lights above cast an eerie glow over the chaos, illuminating the stark contrast between the two sisters lying on the tables.

Powder’s vitals were unstable, jumping wildly between weak and dangerously erratic. Her body was rejecting the sudden influx of nutrients and fluids, struggling to adjust after enduring starvation and exhaustion. A nurse frantically adjusted the IV flow, while a doctor hovered over her, checking her pulse.

“She’s crashing—damn it, stabilize her!” one of the surgeons barked, adjusting a dial as the heart monitor spiked then dipped dangerously low.

“BP is plummeting! We need another round of adrenaline now! ”

On the other table, Vi was in better shape, but that didn’t mean she was safe. Her vitals were weak but steady, her body responding better than Powder’s. Yet even unconscious, her fingers twitched as if searching for something—someone.

“Vi’s responding, but we can’t push her too fast,” another doctor called out. “Her system is weak, but she’s holding on.”

“Unlike her sister,” a nurse muttered under her breath, but everyone heard it.

For a split second, no one spoke.

Then Powder’s monitor let out a high-pitched wail.

“She’s going into cardiac distress— get the crash cart! ”

A jolt of panic rippled through the room as nurses scrambled. The doctor administering her care grit his teeth.

“She fought to stay alive for Two Days on that ledge! She’s not dying on my table—clear!”

The paddles pressed against her chest, and her body jolted as the current surged through her. The monitor stuttered, the line flattening for a second before sputtering weakly.

“Again—clear!”

Another shock. Another jolt.

Then, a sound— beep… beep… beep…

“We’ve got a rhythm! It’s weak, but she’s back,” a nurse announced, barely masking the relief in her voice.

The tension in the room remained thick, but the immediate crisis had passed— for now . The doctors exchanged glances, knowing this was only the beginning. Neither Vi nor Powder were out of the woods yet. But at least, for now, they were still fighting.

The medical team wasted no time. Now that Powder’s heart was stabilizing, they had to act fast to ensure it didn’t happen again. A surgeon leaned over her frail body, eyes scanning the monitors as his team worked with precision.

“She’s severely malnourished, dehydrated, and suffering from acute exhaustion,” he muttered, pressing a gloved hand to her sternum, feeling the shallow rise and fall of her breath. “Start her on electrolyte replacement, but slowly. If we push too much too fast, we risk refeeding syndrome.”

A nurse nodded, carefully adjusting the IV drip connected to Powder’s arm.

Another doctor checked her vitals again. “Her body’s rejecting sudden nourishment. We need to regulate everything—fluids, glucose, even oxygen. She’s weaker than we thought.”

“Barely any muscle mass,” one of the surgeons noted grimly. “She’s been surviving on fumes.”

The lead doctor’s eyes flicked to Powder’s face, pale and hollow. Her once-vibrant features were sunken, and dark circles marred the skin under her closed eyes.

But she was still alive.

“Keep her temperature regulated. A warm blanket, but don’t overheat her,” he ordered. “We need to avoid shock. And someone— watch that heart monitor like a hawk. If she dips again, we need to be ready.”

One nurse gently wiped the sweat from Powder’s brow, whispering softly, “Come on, kid. You made it this far. Don’t give up now.”

The fight wasn’t over yet and neither was Powder.

A nurse immediately moved to check Powder’s blood pressure, wrapping the cuff around her frail arm. The room was tense as everyone waited for the reading.

“BP is… 72 over 40,” the nurse reported, her voice uneasy.

The doctor frowned. “That’s too low. She’s still in danger of crashing again. Increase IV fluids, but keep it gradual. We need to stabilize her circulation without overloading her system.”

Another nurse adjusted the IV drip, carefully monitoring the rate. “Heart rate is still weak but steady. She’s holding on—for now.”

The lead surgeon glanced at the monitors, watching the slow, unsteady rhythm of Powder’s heartbeat.

“She doesn’t have much left in her,” he muttered. “But she’s still fighting.”

He looked toward the team. “Keep monitoring her vitals. If that BP drops any lower, we’re looking at another emergency.”

The tension in the room remained thick. Powder was far from stable—but at least she was still here.

The room fell into an eerie silence, save for the beeping monitors and the steady hum of medical equipment. The doctor’s words hung in the air like a ghost, echoing what everyone had been thinking but hadn’t dared to say aloud.

“How the hell is this girl still alive…?”

No one had an answer.

Powder should’ve been dead hours, No days ago. The starvation, the dehydration, the exhaustion—any one of them should’ve been enough to take her down. Yet here she was, clinging to life with sheer, impossible stubbornness.

“She spent two days trapped on that ledge,” one of the younger nurses muttered, shaking her head in disbelief. “Barely any food, barely any water, in the freezing cold—and she still held on.”

“She’s malnourished to the bone,” another doctor said, gesturing to her body. “Her muscles are deteriorating, her organs have taken a hit, her heart should’ve given out by now.” He exhaled sharply. “But she’s still here. ”

The lead doctor stepped forward, eyes fixed on the frail girl lying unconscious before them. “Some people survive because their bodies are strong.” He shook his head. “This one? She’s surviving because she refuses not to. ”

A heavy silence followed.

Then, after a long pause, he turned to the team. “We’re not letting that fight go to waste. Do whatever it takes to keep her in this world. ”

A quiet determination settled over the room. They weren’t just treating a patient anymore. They were helping a survivor make it to the other side.

A nurse hears Powder's stomach rumble which causes a nurse’s ears to perk up at the faint, gurgling sound. At first, she thought she imagined it. But as she leaned closer to Powder’s frail form, she heard it again—her stomach rumbling in protest.

“She’s starving,” the nurse muttered under her breath, looking toward the lead doctor. “Her body is screaming for food.”

The doctor, still focused on the monitors, didn’t even look up. “We can’t give her anything solid yet. If we feed her too fast, it could send her into shock.”

The nurse nodded in understanding but couldn’t help the deep ache in her chest. Powder wasn’t just hungry—she was starving on a level most people would never comprehend. Her body had likely been consuming itself for energy, eating away at whatever muscle and fat reserves she had left.

Another nurse spoke up, carefully adjusting the IV drip. “We’re already giving her a slow glucose infusion, but she needs real nutrients soon. Her body’s begging for it.”

The doctor finally turned, his gaze sharp but laced with concern. “We’ll introduce liquid nutrition gradually. Broth first. Then we monitor her response before moving forward.”

The nurse who first heard Powder’s stomach took a step closer to her bedside, brushing a damp strand of hair from the girl’s pale forehead.

“Hang in there, kid,” she whispered. “We’ll get you fed soon. Just hold on a little longer.”

A couple of nurses moved over to Vi, their movements careful but efficient. Unlike Powder, Vi had more muscle mass, but that didn’t mean she was in good shape. Her body had endured nearly as much—starvation, dehydration, and sheer exhaustion had taken their toll.

One nurse gently lifted Vi’s wrist, checking her pulse. It was weak but steady, stronger than Powder’s, but not by much.

“She’s holding on,” the nurse confirmed. “Vitals are better than her sister’s, but she’s still dangerously dehydrated.”

Another nurse inspected her for any unseen injuries. “She’s got a few deep bruises, but nothing life-threatening. The main concern is fatigue and malnutrition.”

As they worked, one of them noticed Vi’s fingers twitch slightly. A tiny, involuntary movement—but it was a sign.

“Vi?” the nurse called softly, leaning closer. “If you can hear me, try to squeeze my hand.”

For a long, agonizing moment, there was nothing. Just the steady beep of the monitors and the soft rustling of medical equipment.

Then, weakly, Vi’s fingers closed around the nurse’s hand.

“She’s responding!” the nurse called out, relief washing over her.

The other nurse nodded and quickly adjusted Vi’s IV, increasing her fluids. “She’s got fight left in her. Let’s make sure she doesn’t lose it.”

Despite everything—despite the sheer hell Vi and Powder had endured—they were still holding on. And now, it was up to the medics to make sure they made it through.

The words sent a ripple of hope through the room, the tension lifting for the briefest of moments.

"We got a response over here!" the nurse repeated, her voice more confident now.

The team gathered around Vi’s bedside as the nurse gently encouraged her to move. She placed a finger under Vi’s chin, tilting her head slightly. “Vi, can you hear me? You’re in a hospital. You’re safe now. I need you to focus for a second. Can you open your eyes?”

At first, nothing happened. Then, after a few long seconds, Vi’s eyelids fluttered, the movement weak but unmistakable. Her eyes, though glazed and unfocused, tried to focus on the nurse in front of her.

The nurse’s heart raced, but she kept her voice calm, trying to guide her through the haze. “That’s it. Just a little longer, Vi. You’re doing great.”

Vi’s breathing was shallow but steady, her pulse stronger now, and it seemed like she was slowly pulling herself out of the fog.

Slowly, her eyes shifted, and for the briefest moment, they locked onto the nurse’s face, a faint flicker of recognition in her bleary gaze.

The nurse exchanged a glance with the others. “She’s with us. She’s starting to regain consciousness.”

The doctor overseeing the procedure nodded, taking a small step forward. “Good. Let’s keep it slow. I don’t want to push her too hard. Let her come to us.”

A wave of relief washed over the room, but everyone knew they weren’t out of the woods yet. Vi was awake, yes—but her recovery would be just as long and delicate as Powder’s. The battle wasn’t over. Not by a long shot. But Vi was fighting. And that was enough for now.

The tension in the operating room had returned, thicker than before. Powder's pulse remained weak, fluttering in her chest like the last ember of a dying flame. The head doctor stood over her, focused and calculating as he assessed the situation, his brow furrowed in deep concentration.

“Her body’s resisting the nutrients we’re giving her,” the head doctor muttered to the team, his voice steady despite the underlying urgency. “We need to adjust the electrolyte infusion. If we push too hard, we’ll overwhelm her system.” He glanced at the monitor, the heart rate spiking and dipping erratically. “This isn’t just about stabilizing her. We need to fight for her organs, or we’ll lose them too.”

A nurse moved quickly to adjust the IV line, infusing more fluids, but at a slower rate, ensuring it wouldn’t cause too much strain. Another nurse worked to adjust the oxygen mask over Powder's nose and mouth, making sure she had enough air, but not too much to stress her fragile lungs.

“She’s not responding as well as I hoped,” one of the nurses said quietly, her eyes flicking to the monitor. “Her vitals keep fluctuating—this isn’t typical.”

The head doctor didn’t respond right away. He moved closer to Powder’s side, carefully inspecting her face, which was still pale and gaunt, the remnants of her exhaustion and malnutrition starkly visible. Her eyes were closed, her body a fragile shell, and despite everything, she looked younger—smaller, as if the world had worn her down to her very core.

“She’s been through hell,” the head doctor finally said, his voice softening slightly. “She’s a survivor. But this is too much for any body to endure. We’re pushing against the limits of what her body can handle.”

Another nurse approached with a syringe, carefully preparing a small dose of pain relief for Powder. “We’ll give her something to ease the pain, but she’s still critical. We need to make sure she’s not in distress.”

“Do it,” the doctor ordered, though his voice was laced with frustration. “We need to stabilize her and then figure out a plan to replenish what she’s lost. But we can’t let her crash again.”

The nurses worked quickly, making the necessary adjustments, but the fight for Powder’s life was far from over. The monitor beeped again, still irregular but at least it was showing some signs of life, some hope. Still, the reality remained: the longer this took, the thinner the margin became for her survival.

Powder was holding on, but she was teetering on the edge, every breath, every beat of her heart a desperate fight. The head doctor stood motionless for a moment, staring down at the girl who had somehow defied the odds. “She’s not going to make it if we don’t stay on top of every second,” he muttered. “She needs the full force of everything we have.”

The rest of the team worked in silence, the tension building, waiting for any sign that Powder might make it through. In that moment, every heartbeat, every breath was a fragile victory—and they weren’t about to let that slip away.

The room froze. The second doctor, who had been monitoring the ventilator, turned sharply to the head doctor, his voice urgent. "She can't breathe. The airway's starting to collapse."

The head doctor’s gaze shot to the monitors, and sure enough, Powder’s oxygen saturation was dropping rapidly, her chest rising and falling in shallow, labored breaths that barely seemed to reach her lungs.

"Increase the oxygen pressure," the head doctor barked, but even as the nurse adjusted the oxygen settings, he could see the problem was deeper than that.

The team worked in synchronized chaos. Another nurse moved quickly to assess her throat, checking for swelling or obstruction, while the head doctor motioned for another to prepare a more invasive solution. "We need to intubate her now. This can’t wait."

But as the team scrambled into action, one of the nurses who had been monitoring her vitals shouted, “Heart rate’s accelerating—she’s in distress!”

"She’s suffocating," the head doctor muttered under his breath. "Her body is shutting down from the inside, fighting against the lack of oxygen and nutrients."

The nurse working on her airway quickly placed a breathing tube down Powder’s throat, and the head doctor gave his order with calm precision. "Get the ventilator to take over her breathing. She’s too weak to do it herself."

The moment the tube was in place and connected to the ventilator, Powder’s chest began to rise and fall more steadily, the artificial support doing what her failing body couldn’t.

"Good," the head doctor said, though his face remained tight with concern. "But this is only a temporary fix. We need to stabilize her condition now . Keep working on the fluids, we don’t have much time."

Powder’s body twitched slightly, the invasive measures only adding to the strain. It was clear: the road ahead would not be easy. They were keeping her alive, but the real battle—both for her lungs and her life—was just beginning.

"She's not out of the woods yet," the head doctor murmured. "Not by a long shot."

The team worked relentlessly, each action deliberate, each moment precious. Powder's body was fighting back at every turn, and the doctors knew this would be one of the toughest battles they’d ever face. She was barely holding on, but they weren’t ready to give up just yet.

A nurse walks in and cautiously tells the room, "Former Commander Caitlyn Kiramman is asking for an update."

The head doctor glanced up sharply at the nurse who had entered the room, the weight of the request settling heavily in the air. His face tightened, knowing that Caitlyn had been through hell in her own right—and she deserved to know what was happening. But the grim reality of Powder’s condition made him hesitate for a moment.

"She’s here?" the head doctor asked, his voice tired but firm.

"Yes, sir. She’s outside waiting, insists on speaking with someone," the nurse responded.

The doctor glanced over at the team, his eyes flicking between the monitors and the nurses working on Powder. The signs were still critical, but Powder was stable, for now.

“Tell her to wait a moment,” the doctor said, trying to keep his tone neutral but respectful. He knew Caitlyn was likely on edge after everything that had happened, and he couldn’t imagine the burden she was carrying. “I’ll update her shortly.”

He took a deep breath, steeling himself before he spoke to the room. “Powder’s airway has been secured. Her oxygen levels are stabilized for now. We’ve got her on a ventilator to help with her breathing, but it’s not a permanent fix.” He looked over at the nurse adjusting the IVs. “She’s fighting. Her body’s under intense stress, and her vitals are still erratic. She’s not out of danger. Not by a long shot.”

The nurse nodded grimly and turned to the head doctor. "Should we adjust her IV again?"

"Yes, but carefully," he replied. “Increase the electrolytes, and monitor her heart rate closely. If it spikes again, we may have to sedate her to prevent her from crashing.”

He took a moment to catch his breath, then turned back to the nurse who had brought in the message. "Go ahead and let Caitlyn know, but be prepared. The news won’t be easy to hear."

As the nurse exited the room, the head doctor stepped closer to Powder’s bed, his fingers hovering near her wrist, feeling for the faint pulse. His heart clenched, but he kept his composure.

“Stay with us, kid,” he muttered under his breath, as the team continued their efforts. “We’re not giving up.”

—---The Waiting Room—---

Caitlyn had been pacing the waiting room, her nerves frayed, every minute feeling like an eternity. She had heard nothing since her frantic call to get them out of the clock tower, and she hadn’t heard anything that reassured her yet. She was already too far gone in her own mind—every heartbeat, every breath, every passing moment felt like it could be the last for either of them.

When the nurse stepped into the room, Caitlyn froze. Her breath hitched, but she didn’t speak right away, her eyes locked onto the nurse’s face. She had expected some news—any news—but the look on the nurse’s face was guarded.

“Caitlyn Kiramman?” the nurse asked, her voice soft but firm.

“Yes,” Caitlyn answered, her voice shaky, trying to keep the flood of emotions at bay. “How are they? Is Vi okay? What about Powder?”

The nurse glanced around, ensuring no one else was paying too much attention before speaking quietly. “Vi is stable enough to be moved. We’re preparing a room for her now. But Powder…” She hesitated, the words not coming easily. “Powder is still critical. We’re doing everything we can, but I’m afraid she’s not out of the woods yet. Her condition is dire.”

Caitlyn’s heart skipped a beat. The weight of the words felt like a punch to her gut. “I need to see her,” Caitlyn said, her voice now more insistent, her hands trembling. “Please, I need to see both of them. I have to know they’re okay.”

The nurse’s expression softened, but she shook her head gently. “I’m sorry, but the situation with Powder is… complicated. She’s in intensive care. The doctors are doing everything they can, but it’s not safe for you to see her right now. We’re still stabilizing her.”

Caitlyn’s face fell, a wave of frustration and helplessness crashing over her. "I’m not leaving without seeing them both. If Vi’s awake, then I can’t just—" Her voice faltered as she tried to hold it together, but the thought of being kept away from them after everything they’d been through was unbearable.

The nurse paused, her gaze flicking to the hallway and back to Caitlyn. “Vi is stable enough to be moved to a room. If you wish to see her, we can escort you to her, but it will be a brief visit. And I must insist that you don’t see Powder just yet. Not until she’s more stable.”

The words felt like a concession, but Caitlyn didn’t care. She nodded quickly, too exhausted and emotionally drained to argue further.

“Fine,” she said, her voice shaking with emotion. “I’ll see Vi. But I’m not leaving until I know more about Powder.”

The nurse gave her a small, reassuring nod. “We’ll update you as soon as we can. Right now, we’re just focused on getting them both the care they need.”

As Caitlyn followed the nurse down the sterile hospital hallways, every step felt heavier than the last. She had to see Vi. She had to make sure her partner was okay, and that she wasn’t alone in this fight. Powder would have to wait for now. But Caitlyn would never stop fighting for her, no matter how long it took.

Caitlyn’s breath hitched the second she stepped into the dimly lit hospital room.

Vi lay motionless on the hospital bed, her face pale, her body unnaturally still. The usual fire, the stubborn defiance that had always burned in her—even in the worst of times—was absent. Wires and IV lines ran from her arms, monitors beeping steadily beside her, confirming she was still alive. But that didn’t make the sight any easier to bear.

Caitlyn approached slowly, her boots barely making a sound against the tile floor. The closer she got, the more the exhaustion in Vi’s face became clear. Bruises lined her arms, some fresh, some old. Her lips were dry, her breathing faint but steady.

“Vi…” Caitlyn whispered, her voice cracking as she reached for her hand. It was cold. Not lifeless, but colder than it should’ve been.

She swallowed hard, gripping Vi’s fingers gently, her thumb running over the back of her bruised knuckles. “You were supposed to be okay,” she murmured. “I was supposed to find you sooner.”

Her other hand clenched into a fist at her side. Guilt gnawed at her insides. Vi and Powder had sent every damn signal they could, and where had she been? Being patched up for a few scrapes while they starved, while they sat alone, waiting for help that took too damn long.

Caitlyn exhaled sharply, blinking back tears. “You better wake up,” she muttered, squeezing Vi’s hand a little tighter. “Because I am not doing this without you.”

The room was silent except for the steady beeping of the monitors, a cruel reminder of just how fragile everything was. Caitlyn stayed there, her grip firm but gentle, grounding herself in the fact that Vi was still here. Still breathing.

But Powder…

She shut her eyes, shaking her head. She couldn’t break now. Not yet. So she stayed by Vi’s side, waiting. Hoping. Pleading for her to wake up.

Caitlyn didn’t look up right away when she heard the footsteps approaching. Her grip on Vi’s hand tightened slightly, her eyes locked on the slow rise and fall of her chest. It was the only thing keeping her grounded.

“Caitlyn,” Mel’s voice was firm yet carried a rare softness.

Caitlyn exhaled sharply, forcing herself to release Vi’s hand before standing. She turned to face the two councilors, her expression unreadable but her exhaustion impossible to hide.

Mel Medarda and Councilor Shoola stood before her, both with expressions that wavered between concern and urgency. Mel, ever composed, studied her with sharp golden eyes, while Shoola, usually one to keep a professional distance, looked genuinely troubled.

“Where are they?” Mel asked, cutting straight to the point.

Caitlyn’s jaw clenched before she answered. “Vi’s right here. Stable, but weak.” She paused, running a hand through her hair, trying to keep her voice from shaking. “Powder… is still in surgery. She wasn’t breathing when they brought her in.”

Shoola let out a quiet curse under her breath. Mel, though her expression didn’t change much, narrowed her eyes. “What happened?”

Caitlyn let out a bitter scoff. “They were stuck in the Clocktower for at least 2 days. Starving. Freezing. Sending signals no one answered.” She shook her head, anger seeping into her tone. “They almost died up there. And we were too slow. Far, Far too slow.”

Mel folded her arms, considering the weight of Caitlyn’s words. Shoola, however, wasn’t as composed. “And you’re only telling us now?”

Caitlyn’s head snapped toward her. “Because I’ve been here, making sure they survived,” she shot back. “The second I had a free moment, I sent for you.”

The tension between them lingered for a moment before Mel finally exhaled. “What do they need?”

Caitlyn hesitated, looking back at Vi. “For Jinx to make it,” she admitted quietly. “Because if she doesn’t, I don’t know if Vi will wake up at all.”

Caitlyn crossed her arms tightly, her gaze shifting back to Vi as she exhaled slowly. “She’s… weak,” she admitted, her voice lower now. “Dehydration, starvation, severe fatigue. Some bruising, but no major external injuries. The real concern is how long her body was running on empty. She’s stable, but—” Caitlyn hesitated, glancing at the machines keeping Vi monitored. “She hasn’t woken up yet.”

Mel studied Vi carefully, her expression unreadable, but there was something in her eyes—something rare. Concern.

Shoola frowned, arms folded. “And Powder?”

Caitlyn’s jaw tightened. “She wasn’t breathing when they got her in. They’ve had her in surgery for hours. Her vitals were worse than Vi’s. She…” Caitlyn swallowed, struggling to say it out loud. “She was barely hanging on.”

Mel finally reached out, placing a hand gently on Vi’s arm, as if testing for warmth. “They survived for two days up there,” she murmured. “They shouldn’t have.”

Caitlyn nodded, her voice bitter. “But they did. And I’ll be damned if they don’t make it now.”

Mel straightened, glancing at Shoola before looking back at Caitlyn. “We’ll do everything necessary to make sure they recover,” she said firmly. “The city owes them that much.”

Caitlyn nodded, but her hands remained clenched at her sides. “Then let’s just hope we’re not too late.”

The moment the doors swung open, the room went silent. Powder was wheeled in, her frail form barely noticeable beneath the hospital sheets. The soft beeping of the monitors strapped to her was the only indication that she was still alive.

Caitlyn felt her breath hitch as she took a step forward, eyes locked onto the girl she had known as Jinx for so long. But this wasn’t the manic, unpredictable force of destruction Piltover had come to fear. This was someone barely clinging to life.

“Jinx…” Caitlyn muttered, the name slipping out before she even realized it.

Mel and Shoola both turned to her, but neither said a word. The weight of the moment settled over them. Powder’s face was pale, her ribs faintly visible beneath the hospital gown, dark circles shadowing her closed eyes. She looked… small.

Too small.

The medics maneuvered her bed carefully into place beside Vi’s, adjusting the monitors as they double-checked her vitals. One of them finally looked up at Caitlyn. “She’s alive. But she’s not out of danger yet.”

Caitlyn’s throat tightened. She looked between Vi and Powder, their hands just inches apart but not touching. She wanted to reach out, to place Powder’s hand in Vi’s, but something held her back.

She glanced at Mel, who was still watching Powder with an unreadable expression. Finally, Caitlyn forced herself to speak.

“What now?”

The lead doctor, who had been overseeing Powder’s care, sighed. “Now? We wait.”

Councilor Shoola’s voice cut through the silence, sharp with disbelief. “You can’t be serious?”

The doctor barely flinched, adjusting Powder’s IV drip before turning to face her. “I wish I weren’t, Councilor,” he said evenly. “But their bodies have been through severe starvation and exhaustion. We’ve stabilized them as much as we can, but their recovery isn’t something we can rush. It’s up to them now.”

Shoola scoffed, crossing her arms. “So we’re just supposed to stand here and hope they wake up?”

Mel, who had remained quiet, finally spoke. “What other option is there?” Her voice was calm but firm. “Their bodies need time, and we need to trust that they’ll fight their way back.”

Caitlyn clenched her fists. They already fought. They fought for eighteen hours alone in that damn tower, waiting for help that never came. And now, even after everything, they were still on the edge of death.

She turned back to Powder, watching the slow rise and fall of her chest. Her hair, usually wild and untamed, clung to her face, damp with sweat. Caitlyn barely recognized her—not Jinx, but Powder .

She swallowed hard and stepped closer. “She’s going to wake up,” Caitlyn said, more to herself than anyone else. Then, looking at Vi, she added, “They both will.”

The doctor sighed but didn’t argue. “For now, all we can do is monitor them. If anything changes, we’ll be the first to know.”

Shoola exhaled sharply but didn’t press further. Mel only nodded, her gaze lingering on Vi before she turned to Caitlyn. “Then we wait.”

Mel studied Caitlyn carefully, her golden eyes unreadable. “You’re suggesting we ignore the fact that Jinx is a criminal?”

Caitlyn exhaled sharply. “I’m suggesting we acknowledge the fact that she’s not the same Jinx we’ve been hunting.” She gestured toward the unconscious girl in the hospital bed. “That’s Powder lying there, not the manic, destructive person we’ve been chasing for years before Martial Law and even harder with Martial Law in place. And if we keep treating her like she’s the same, we’ll push her right back into that place.”

Shoola crossed her arms, skeptical. “And what do you expect us to do? Just let her go?”

“I expect us to think before we make another mistake,” Caitlyn countered. “She and Vi were trapped for two days . They sent signals. They fought to survive, and we— I —didn’t find them fast enough. If we throw Powder into a cell after everything she’s been through, we’ll be punishing someone who isn’t even guilty of the crimes she committed as Jinx. She was forced into that life, and now she finally has a chance to break away from it.”

Mel tilted her head, considering. “And what do you propose, Caitlyn?”

Caitlyn looked at Vi, then at Powder, her jaw tightening. “We give her a chance. No Stillwater. No shackles. We let her recover, and then… we figure out a way for her to truly come back.”

Shoola let out a dry chuckle. “That’s a hell of a risk.”

Caitlyn’s voice was steady. “No risk greater than losing her all over again.”

Caitlyn continues firmly almost as if she had the speech rehearsed over and over again, "I want to hold a Council Vote right now. Considering we have no clue where Jayce is as well as Heimerdinger, You both are technically the remaining Council Members. As for me? I will serve as a one time vote. And the vote is to move forward with Powder not having any prison time. I understand how that sounds. Of all people, Me being involved when it comes to voting for her innocence is absurd given our history, But the girl in that bed right there isn't Jinx. That is a sister who died and was brought back just barely. So as the future head of House Kiramman? This must be majority. That means two votes out of the three of us."

Mel glanced at Shoola, then back at Caitlyn, her expression unreadable. "You’re asking us to wipe away years of chaos, destruction, and death with a single vote."

Caitlyn squared her shoulders. "I’m asking you to see her —not the Jinx we knew, not the criminal everyone fears, but the girl she used to be. And the girl she could be again. You saw her condition. Two days, starving, clinging to Vi like she was all she had left. If we throw her in Stillwater now, we might as well have left her to die on that ledge."

Shoola folded her arms, her lips pressing into a thin line. "This is unprecedented."

"So was the attack on the bridge," Caitlyn shot back. "So was the destruction of the Council Chamber. So was everything that led us here. But the only way we ever fix this city is by breaking the cycle. That starts with this vote."

Mel let out a slow breath, rubbing her temple before looking at Shoola. "If we do this, we own this decision. There will be pushback. The people won’t understand."

Caitlyn didn’t waver. "Then we make them understand."

A long silence stretched between them. Then, Mel raised her hand. "I vote in favor of Powder’s freedom."

Shoola hesitated, glancing between them. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she sighed. "Damn it… Fine. I vote in favor as well. But if she falls back into her old ways, this is on you , Kiramman."

Caitlyn let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. "Then it's settled." She looked over at the unconscious girl in the hospital bed. "Powder is free ."

Mel’s eyes then lingered on an interesting sight—the two sisters, still lying unconscious, their hands just barely separated by the faintest of gaps. It was the smallest detail, but it held a weight far heavier than anything else in the room. The way their fingers almost brushed against one another spoke volumes.

For a moment, Mel’s stern demeanor softened as she studied them. She’d seen countless cases of violence, betrayal, and broken families. But this… This was different. Powder was no longer Jinx, and Vi was no longer the enforcer she once was. They were just two lost souls, bound by something more powerful than any law, any past crime, or any political decision.

"I still don’t know if I fully understand this," Mel murmured, her voice almost quiet as she spoke, not just to Caitlyn, but to herself. "What we’re doing here… It feels like we're opening a door we can’t close. This isn’t just about justice. It’s about something more complicated."

Caitlyn glanced at the sisters again. The simple, tender touch that seemed to show they still had each other—no matter what. "I don’t need you to understand, Mel. I just need you to trust that this is what they deserve."

Mel let out a slow breath. "Trusting you is the easy part, Kiramman. It’s trusting this city that’s the hard part."

Caitlyn didn’t respond immediately. She just stared at the two sisters, her gaze lingering on their hands again, trying to process the enormity of the decision she had made. This wasn’t just about sparing Powder’s future. It was about healing, about breaking down walls built from years of pain, and about giving these two people a chance to rebuild something in themselves.

She turned to face the other Council members. "We’ve made our choice. Now, let’s make sure we’re ready to live with it."

Caitlyn walked over to the side of the bed, her heart heavy as she gazed down at the two sisters. She could feel the weight of the decision they had just made hanging over her, but more than that, she felt the quiet bond between them. They were connected in a way that words could never fully explain.

With a gentle but steady hand, Caitlyn reached for Vi’s and then carefully brought Powder’s hand closer. She interlocked their fingers, making sure their hands were held together—something she hoped would serve as a reminder that, despite everything, they weren’t alone anymore.

The action was simple, but it felt like a promise. A promise that, even if the world around them still had its doubts, Caitlyn would be there, and she would protect them. They might not be able to change what had happened, but they could change what came next.

For a moment, the room was still. It was just the three of them—the broken pieces of what they once were, but maybe, just maybe, they could rebuild something together.

Caitlyn whispered, almost to herself, “You two deserve to be together. Let’s make sure you get that chance.”

It wasn’t a promise she made lightly, but it was the one thing she knew she could give them—each other.

Caitlyn’s words hung in the air, the finality of them echoing throughout the room. She extended her hand to Mel and Shoola, her gaze steady but filled with a quiet resolve.

“Welcome back, Councilors,” Caitlyn said, her voice unwavering. “I resign as Commander and transfer all authority back to you.”

Her fingers, still holding onto Vi and Powder’s hands, were a silent promise of what she was willing to sacrifice for them. She had put her duty, her title, everything she’d built as Commander, aside. Not for power, not for politics, but for the simple truth: these two, the sisters in front of her, deserved a chance to heal, a chance to live without the weight of their pasts constantly pushing them down.

Mel’s eyes narrowed as she considered Caitlyn’s offer. It was unexpected—an unprecedented move for someone who had once been so deeply tied to Piltover’s order. But there was a certain peace in Caitlyn’s demeanor now, a quiet strength in her willingness to step aside.

Shoola, who had remained mostly silent, took a deep breath. Her gaze flicked to the two girls, still holding hands. After a long moment, she spoke, her tone softer than usual. "Caitlyn… this city’s future doesn’t just depend on decisions like this. It depends on the people we choose to protect, and the choices we make for them." She paused before adding, "I may not understand your full reasoning, but I respect it."

Mel gave a short nod, the decision clearly weighing on her. “It’s not about understanding right now. It’s about the people. And if we’re truly moving forward with this… we need to act as a Council, not as individuals.”

Caitlyn’s hand stayed outstretched, and she nodded. “Then take the reins. I’ve done my part.”

A moment of silence passed as the three of them stood there, each contemplating what was next for Piltover. For now, Caitlyn had stepped away. But there was no question that her impact—her decisions—would still guide them.

The room, filled with tension just moments ago, now seemed quieter. More hopeful, even, as if the weight of their choices had created a new kind of possibility.

Caitlyn’s words were deliberate, each one heavy with the weight of her decision. Her hand remained outstretched, but this time it wasn’t just a transfer of power—it was an invitation to those who would take up the mantle of leadership now that she was stepping away.

“I thought Ambessa wanted to help at first,” she began, her voice steady, yet laced with a quiet resolve. “But I am done with politics. Mel, I’m sorry about your mother dying, but I am not a politician. You two know the city better than me.”

Her gaze swept over Mel and Shoola, acknowledging the truth of her words. Ambessa, with all her promises and grand ambitions, had been a distraction—a false hope that only brought division. Caitlyn’s time spent in the political trenches had only reinforced her belief that she didn’t belong there. It was no longer about winning favor or playing a game—it was about finding the right people, the ones who could lead the city forward without compromising what truly mattered.

“I’m not doing this for power, Mel,” Caitlyn continued, her eyes locking onto Mel’s. “I’m doing this for what’s right. Piltover needs to heal. And for that, we need people who actually care about the city, not the politics.”

She let her hand fall back to her side, a small but significant gesture of finality.

Mel, her expression unreadable, stood still for a moment, processing the words. There was a flicker of something—maybe respect, maybe sadness—before she replied, her voice soft but firm. “You’re not wrong, Caitlyn. The city... it’s never been about the politics for me either. It’s about the people. And the city is at a crossroads right now. But you’ve made your decision. We’ll take it from here.”

Shoola, who had been listening intently, gave a slow nod. “We’ll figure out where to go from here. But for now… you’ve done enough.” Her voice was quieter than usual, more contemplative. “I agree. The politics can wait. It’s the lives in front of us that matter.”

Caitlyn’s heart sank slightly, but there was a sense of relief too. She had said what needed to be said. Her place wasn’t in that world anymore. It was with those who needed her—people like Powder, like Vi, the ones who were slipping through the cracks because the system had failed them.

“I trust you both,” Caitlyn said quietly. “Just… don’t forget what’s really important. The people we’re supposed to protect.”

With that, Caitlyn took a step back, no longer holding onto the reins of authority, but still feeling the weight of the responsibility. The future of Piltover was now in their hands. And she could only hope they would take it in the direction that would honor those who needed it most.

Caitlyn’s eyes skimmed the clipboard in her hand, each detail sending a chill down her spine. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. The list of injuries was long, and it was almost impossible to comprehend how anyone could survive with so much damage. It wasn’t just the physical trauma, but the sheer exhaustion that weighed down her every thought. Every line, every notation seemed to underscore how close Powder— Jinx —was to death, and yet, somehow, she was still clinging to life.

“Gods… How is she still alive?” Caitlyn muttered under her breath, the words almost slipping out as a prayer. She could barely wrap her mind around the miracle that had been unfolding in front of her, not just with Powder’s survival, but also with how they were even in this position to begin with. The weight of responsibility was crushing.

She glanced at Powder, unconscious and frail, hooked up to machines. Her chest rose and fell with a ragged rhythm. Caitlyn couldn’t help but feel a surge of protectiveness, mixed with guilt. How many times had she failed this girl? And now, seeing the extent of the damage done to her, Caitlyn couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d let her slip through the cracks.

Caitlyn clenched her jaw, swallowing the frustration that was threatening to rise. This wasn’t the time to unravel. Not now.

Her eyes moved to Vi next. The sight of her, still unconscious, clinging to life only made the situation more poignant. The two of them—sisters who had been through so much together, yet separated by their past choices—now seemed like two fragile souls bound by an unspoken bond. And Caitlyn knew, deep down, that if either of them slipped away, part of the city would die with them.

She sighed heavily, her voice barely more than a whisper. “We’re not losing you. Not after all this.”

But the uncertainty loomed large, the battle ahead not just for survival but for the fractured souls in front of her. She wasn’t sure what the future would hold for Jinx or Vi, or even for herself. All she knew was that they had to make it out of this. They had to.

Caitlyn straightened, brushing away the tears she hadn’t even realized had fallen. She needed to focus. There was still work to be done. The road ahead was uncertain, but she was ready to face whatever came next—for them, for the city, for the people who depended on her. The fight wasn’t over. Not yet.

Caitlyn stood over the bed, her voice low but steady as she relayed the grim details. She glanced down at the clipboard again, trying to steel herself against the gravity of the words she was about to speak.

“Powder’s injuries... they’re severe, but she’s not facing internal bleeding or nerve damage, at least not to the extent we feared. The ribs aren’t crushed either, just badly bruised, but there's still significant trauma. Her body is just... it's exhausted. The worst part? She’s been on the brink of starvation for almost two days.” She paused, letting the weight of that hit her companions.

Her eyes moved back to the machines monitoring Powder's vitals, the faint beep steady but fragile. She swallowed, trying to push aside the lingering guilt that rose with each word. "She’s barely hanging on, but we’re getting there. She’s alive, and that's a miracle in itself."

Caitlyn turned to face Mel and Shoola, meeting their gazes as she continued, “What matters now is keeping her stable, making sure she gets the proper care so that her body can heal. We need to focus on that. The damage is here,” she said, tapping the clipboard lightly, “but it's not as catastrophic as we once thought."

The room felt heavier in the silence that followed, each of them processing the information in their own way. But Caitlyn wasn’t done. She had to say it, had to be blunt, because in moments like this, there was no room for half-truths.

“And... Jinx. She’s not the one we need to be worried about anymore. We’ve failed them both, but I can’t keep pretending like she's just the villain. She fought to stay alive. She fought to protect Vi... and I think that says everything.”

She let out a breath, hands pressed against the table, holding on to something—anything. “She’s not perfect. None of us are. But right now, Powder... she needs our help. And Vi...” Her voice faltered for just a moment, but she kept going, "Vi will wake up. She has to."

Caitlyn finishes with a grim tone "I don't know if you believe in the whole 'Janna being A Goddess Of Zaun' but if those two did? We are looking at one of her miracles..."

Caitlyn's words hung in the air, heavy with the gravity of the situation. The idea of Janna being a goddess, the mysterious figure who many in Zaun revered, felt more like a distant myth than something real. But as she stood there, staring at the fragile forms of Powder and Vi, she couldn't help but let that thought linger in her mind. She took a slow, steady breath before continuing, her voice lower now, almost reverent.

“If there’s even a sliver of truth to the idea that Janna’s blessings have some hand in this...” Caitlyn trailed off, her gaze flicking back and forth between the two sisters. “Then we are witnessing something beyond luck. A miracle, a second chance.”

She shook her head as if trying to dismiss the notion but couldn’t. The idea that Powder, despite all the odds, was still alive and clinging to a fragile thread of hope, felt too surreal. And Vi, ever the protector, ever the fighter—Caitlyn was almost certain she wasn’t going to let her sister slip away.

“I don’t know if I believe in miracles, but this... this feels like one,” Caitlyn added, her tone still carrying that hint of disbelief, but also something else. Something like acceptance. “I’m not ready to give up on them. Not yet.”

She looked to Mel and Shoola, the weight of her words clear. "If you want to call it a miracle, then fine. But it doesn't change the fact that we need to act. We need to help them heal, and we need to make sure they’re safe. For as long as we can, we need to keep fighting, even if the world thinks they’re lost causes."

Her eyes softened, though a fierce resolve burned in them. "We owe them that."

Caitlyn’s gaze finally lingered on Vi’s battered hands, worn from countless struggles throughout her life, But fresh wounds in the skin showed her palms cracked and bruised from the makeshift rock that had been her only tool in a desperate fight for survival. The realization hit her harder than she expected, a wave of guilt washing over her. Vi had fought with everything she had to keep Powder alive, to keep that sliver of hope alive—even if it meant using a rock, something so small, so insignificant, to send a signal that might never reach anyone.

Caitlyn reached out slowly, her fingers brushing against Vi's hands, tracing the roughness of the wounds. She felt a knot tighten in her chest. Vi had never asked for any of this. She had always been the protector, the one who took on the weight of the world for those she loved. But to see her in this state, so vulnerable, was a stark reminder of how much they had all been through—and how much they still had to overcome.

“She used a rock...” Caitlyn murmured, more to herself than anyone else. “She didn't give up. Even when it seemed like no one was coming. She fought to the very end, hoping that echo would carry. That someone—anyone—would hear her.”

Her voice was thick with emotion as she turned toward Mel and Shoola, her resolve hardening. "I... I don’t know if I can ever repay her for that. Or Powder. But they deserve more than what this city has given them. We can’t let this be the end of their story."

With a deep breath, Caitlyn squeezed Vi's hand gently, her thumb brushing over the rough calluses. "No matter how small the hope, no matter how fragile it seems, we’re not going to give up on them. Not now." She paused, her voice unwavering. "Not ever."

Mel finishes off with her telling everyone with a firm yet not unkind tone, "Then we don't let them die."

Caitlyn nodded, her eyes locked on Mel, the weight of the decision settling over them all. “Exactly,” she said, her voice steady but carrying an undertone of urgency. “We don’t let them die. Not here, not like this. They’ve been through hell, and if we’re going to make it right, we do everything we can to pull them back from the brink.”

She looked down at Vi and Powder, her heart clenched tight in her chest. Powder’s frail form, still so broken, but holding on. Vi, the fierce protector who had never given up on her sister, even in the darkest moments. Caitlyn would never forget the sacrifices they had made for each other.

Shoola, her arms crossed, shifted her stance. "We’ll get them the best care possible," she said firmly. "We’ll get the specialists in, make sure the city knows this isn’t just another casualty. We owe them that."

Caitlyn’s eyes softened but her resolve remained ironclad. “Then let’s make sure they know we’re not giving up, not on them. Not on any of it.” Her voice was clear, unyielding. “I’m not walking away from this, and neither are you.”

The room fell silent for a moment as they all stood there, the weight of their choices pressing down on them. They had all made promises, one way or another. But now, it was time to keep them.

With a final glance at Powder and Vi, Caitlyn turned, her hand still holding onto Vi’s. "Let's make sure they wake up, Mel. Shoola. Let’s do what we have to."

Chapter Text

Caitlyn sat rigid in her chair, exhaustion weighing on her, but she refused to leave. Her eyes remained fixed on Vi and Powder, their bodies still frail, their breathing shallow but steady. Every passing hour felt like an eternity, but now—finally—the doctors were here to do more than just monitor them.

She straightened as a team of medical staff entered, their movements swift and precise. One doctor approached Powder’s bedside, checking the IVs and adjusting the monitors, while another moved to Vi, carefully inspecting her vitals. Caitlyn’s heart pounded as she watched them work, waiting for any sign—any indication—that things were improving.

One of the doctors, a woman with sharp eyes and steady hands, glanced in Caitlyn’s direction. “We’re going to start administering proper nutrients now,” she explained. “They’ve been running on empty for far too long, but their bodies are still holding on. It’s a miracle, honestly.”

Caitlyn swallowed, her throat dry. “And their long-term prognosis?”

The doctor hesitated. “Vi is in better shape. She’s severely weakened, but her muscle mass helped her hold out longer. Powder…” Her gaze drifted toward the younger girl, who remained motionless except for the slow rise and fall of her chest. “She’s stable for now, but she’s dangerously underweight. Her body is consuming itself just to keep her alive. We’ll need to monitor her closely—she’s not out of the woods yet.”

Caitlyn let out a slow breath and turned her gaze to Powder’s face. She looked so small, so fragile. But she was alive. That was all that mattered right now.

As the doctors continued their work, Caitlyn silently vowed to herself—whatever happened next, she would not fail them again.

Caitlyn asks on instinct, “Will these help Powder stop consuming her body mass?”

The doctor nodded as she adjusted the IV drip connected to Powder’s arm. “Yes. These fluids contain the essential nutrients her body desperately needs. They’ll start replenishing what she’s lost and stop her body from breaking itself down for energy.”

Caitlyn exhaled, relieved but still tense. “How long until she stabilizes?”

The doctor hesitated. “It depends on how her body responds. She’s severely malnourished, so we have to be careful. If we introduce too much too quickly, it could shock her system. We’re starting slow—small amounts at a time. The next twelve to twenty-four hours will tell us a lot.”

Caitlyn’s hands clenched into fists at her sides. She hated feeling powerless, but there was nothing else she could do right now. She just had to trust the doctors and wait.

Her eyes drifted to Vi, whose condition was still concerning but more promising. At least she had more strength to fight this. Powder… she had always been smaller, always been more fragile. Caitlyn swallowed the lump in her throat. She’s not Jinx anymore. She’s Powder. And Powder needs us to fight for her now.

She turned back to the doctor, voice steady despite the emotions threatening to break through. “Do whatever you have to. Just don’t let her slip away.”

Caitlyn asks cautiously, “Who is likely to wake up first?”

The doctor glanced between Vi and Powder, carefully considering the question. “Vi,” she answered after a moment. “She’s in better overall shape, despite the exhaustion and malnutrition. Her body hasn’t deteriorated as much, and she’s responding well to the IV fluids. I’d expect her to regain consciousness within a few hours.”

Caitlyn nodded, her grip tightening around Vi’s bedside rail. “And Powder?”

The doctor sighed. “She’s more unpredictable. Her vitals are stabilizing, but her body’s been pushed to the absolute limit. It could be hours, maybe a full day before she wakes—if she wakes on her own.”

Caitlyn’s stomach twisted at the last part. If. She had already failed to find them in time. She refused to fail them now. “If she doesn’t?”

“We’ll monitor her closely,” the doctor assured her. “If necessary, we’ll intervene. But for now, the best thing we can do is let her rest and recover naturally.”

Caitlyn exhaled sharply and nodded. She pulled a chair up beside Vi’s bed but kept her eyes on Powder. No matter how long it took, she would be here when they woke up.

Caitlyn asks the doctor nervously, “So long story short, We will see Vi awake today? Yet Powder’s timeline is up in the air?”

The doctor gave a slow nod. “That’s the simplest way to put it, yes. Vi should wake up sometime today, given her condition. Powder, on the other hand…” She glanced at the monitors, watching the steady but fragile readings. “We just don’t know. Her body has been through extreme stress, and she needs time to recover. It could be hours, or it could be longer.”

Caitlyn sighed, running a hand down her face. “And if she doesn’t wake up on her own?”

“We’ll reassess. But right now, forcing it could do more harm than good.”

Caitlyn sat back in her chair, her eyes flicking between the two sisters. “Alright,” she murmured, more to herself than to the doctor. “One step at a time.”

Caitlyn asks the doctor a question she really doesn’t want the answer to, but she needs to know, “If you had to describe what they are feeling to someone like me, What would it be?”

The doctor took a moment, carefully choosing their words. “For Vi? Extreme exhaustion, dehydration, and soreness. Her muscles are probably stiff, her body weak, but she’s stable enough that once she wakes up, she’ll recover with time, food, and rest.”

Caitlyn’s eyes drifted to Powder. “And her?”

The doctor sighed. “Imagine pushing your body to its absolute limit—starvation, dehydration, and complete muscle failure. Every movement feels like lifting weights far beyond your strength. Every breath is a battle. Her body has been breaking itself down just to keep her alive. Right now, even though she’s unconscious, she’s still in pain.”

Caitlyn swallowed hard, her hands clenching. “So you’re saying… she’s suffering?”

The doctor hesitated. “We’re doing everything we can to ease that. But yes, she’s been suffering for a long time.”

Caitlyn took a shaky breath, forcing herself to keep it together. Powder wasn’t just some criminal, not anymore. She was a survivor—one who had been failed at every turn. And now, here she was, barely hanging on.

She glanced at Vi, still unconscious but looking far more stable than the fragile girl beside her. Powder’s face was gaunt, her ribs still faintly visible beneath the hospital gown. Caitlyn felt an ache in her chest.

No one deserved this.

Not a child who had lost everything.

Not a sister who had only wanted to be loved.

Not the girl who had once been Powder.

Caitlyn wiped her face quickly, not allowing herself to break down. She looked at the doctor. “Just… just make sure she wakes up. No matter what it takes.”

The doctor nodded. “We’re doing everything we can.”

Caitlyn turned back to Powder, her fingers hovering near the girl’s frail hand before hesitating. Instead, she clenched her fists at her sides. “You have to fight, Powder. For Vi. For yourself.”

She wasn’t sure if the girl could hear her, but right now, she had to believe she could.

Caitlyn asks the doctor with a straight face that betrays the feeling of pure terror that’s bubbling beneath her exterior, “Can… Can they hear me?”

The doctor sighed, glancing at the monitors before looking back at Caitlyn. “It’s hard to say for certain. Vi is in a lighter state of unconsciousness, so there’s a chance she might pick up on familiar voices, even if she doesn’t respond. Powder…” He hesitated, glancing at the frail girl. “She’s deeper under. Her body is prioritizing survival, shutting down anything that isn’t necessary. But sometimes, even in that state, people can still hear things.”

Caitlyn swallowed hard, her gaze shifting between the two sisters. “So… maybe?”

The doctor gave her a small nod. “Maybe. And sometimes, that’s enough.”

Caitlyn took a shaky breath and stepped closer to Powder’s bedside. She hesitated, then gently took hold of the girl’s cold, bony fingers. “Powder… It’s Caitlyn.” She glanced at Vi before continuing, voice softer now. “You and Vi made it. You’re safe. You just need to hold on a little longer, alright?”

She wasn’t expecting a response, but still, she held onto the hope that somehow, some part of Powder could hear her.

Caitlyn turned toward Vi, sitting down beside her and giving her hand a gentle squeeze. She could see the faint rise and fall of Vi’s chest, a small but hopeful sign that she was hanging on. The room was quiet, the only sound the steady beeping of the machines.

“Vi…” Caitlyn spoke softly, her voice cracking slightly. “I know you’re in there. I know it’s hard. But you’re strong. You’ve always been strong.” She paused, her gaze shifting to the steady drip of the IV. “You’re not alone in this, okay? You’ve got Powder here, and I’m not leaving you either. Just keep fighting. Just a little longer. Please, Vi.”

She felt a lump in her throat, her heart heavy as she watched the girl who had once been a force of nature—someone she’d seen fight for what was right—lay so still. “You can wake up. I believe in you.”

Caitlyn paused, her thumb rubbing lightly over Vi’s knuckles. “You’ve fought too hard to give up now.”

Caitlyn’s voice trembled as she continued, her words barely above a whisper. “Vi… I don’t know what I would’ve done without you. I don’t know how to make things right, but I’ll do everything in my power to fix this. I promised I’d protect you. I’ve broken that promise more times than I can count. But I’m not giving up on you now. Not after everything you’ve been through.”

Her eyes welled up with tears, but she fought them back, swallowing the lump in her throat. “You and Powder… You deserve so much more than this. Than all the pain and the suffering. You both deserve peace. I know we didn’t get everything right, but we can still make things right for you. You hear me? We’ll find a way to get you both through this.”

Caitlyn leaned down closer to Vi, brushing a stray lock of hair away from her face. “Please, Vi. I need you to wake up. Powder needs you. I need you.” The words hung in the air, raw and desperate. “Just a little longer. Hold on, please…”

Caitlyn gently leaned down, her forehead resting briefly against Vi’s. She let out a shaky breath, her lips soft as they pressed a small, tender kiss to Vi’s forehead. It was a silent promise, a vow that no matter what, she would be there. She would fight for them both.

When she pulled back, she lingered for a moment longer, her heart aching. “Please wake up, Vi,” Caitlyn whispered, her voice barely audible. The quiet desperation in her words reflected the weight of the promise she had made, not just to Vi, but to herself. She wouldn’t let them go. Not like this.

Caitlyn squeezed Vi’s hand gently, her heart heavy with the quiet hope that somehow, someway, her touch could bring her back. She closed her eyes for a brief moment, letting the weight of the situation wash over her. Her head rested softly on the edge of the bed, and she took a deep breath, trying to steady herself, but the uncertainty and exhaustion were starting to take their toll.

The silence in the room felt deafening, and for a moment, all Caitlyn could do was hold onto the connection, holding Vi’s hand as if it was the only lifeline left.

“I’m here, Vi,” she whispered again, her voice steadying as she found the strength to keep fighting. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

———3 Hours Later———

A doctor approaches Caitlyn holding an eyepatch and with a kind voice she tells her, “Here. I figured this would be better than wearing bandages over that scratched eye of yours.”

Caitlyn looked up, her face still pale and weary, as the doctor offered her the eyepatch. She blinked slowly, noticing how much she had been ignoring her own wounds in the midst of everything. She had been so focused on Vi and Powder that she hadn’t given herself much thought.

“Thanks,” she muttered quietly, her hand reaching for the eyepatch. It felt like an odd kind of relief, knowing she didn’t have to keep the bandages wrapped around her eye anymore.

With a steady hand, she carefully adjusted the eyepatch, the fabric soft against her skin. She didn’t have the energy to dwell on her own pain. Vi needed her, Powder needed her, and the city still needed someone to fight for it.

As she glanced back at the doctor, Caitlyn gave a small nod, her gaze determined.

“Any updates on them?” she asked, her voice strained but focused.

The doctor gave Caitlyn a quick, but reassuring glance. “Vi is stable now, and we expect her to wake up within the hour. Her vitals are strong, and the treatments are working. She’s exhausted, but she should come around soon. As for Powder…” The doctor’s expression darkened slightly. “Her condition is still a mix of stable and critical. Her body has been under extreme strain for too long, and even though she’s hanging on, we can’t be certain when or if she’ll wake up. We’re doing everything we can, but we can’t predict how her body will respond.”

She paused, letting the weight of the situation sink in for Caitlyn. “For now, we focus on Vi. Once she’s awake, we’ll have a better sense of how to move forward.”

Caitlyn nodded slowly, trying to hold onto that small piece of hope the doctor had offered. “Thank you,” she whispered, turning back toward Vi and Powder, her heart heavy with uncertainty but still clinging to the belief that they could pull through.

The doctor gave Caitlyn a small nod, pointing to the monitor near Vi’s bed. “See how her heart rate is stabilized? That is a good sign. Vi should be awake at any moment. The rest of her vitals are improving as well. She’s been through hell, but her body is responding to the treatment. I know it’s been a long wait, but we’re getting there. She just needs to regain her strength.”

Caitlyn’s grip on Vi’s hand tightened, the smallest glimmer of hope starting to light up in her chest. “Thank you,” she said again, her voice soft but filled with gratitude. “Just… Please keep me posted.”

The doctor gave a reassuring smile, giving Caitlyn a moment before walking away to attend to other matters.

Caitlyn’s heart then suddenly skipped a beat as she saw the slightest movement. Vi’s head shifted ever so slightly, and then her eyelids fluttered. The sight was enough to make Caitlyn freeze, her breath catching in her throat. She leaned in closer, watching intently.

“Vi?” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “Vi, can you hear me?”

For a moment, there was silence. Then, ever so faintly, Vi’s eyes cracked open. The room felt like it held its breath as Caitlyn’s heart raced with hope. She carefully squeezed Vi’s hand again, not wanting to overwhelm her.

“Vi… you’re safe. You’re in the hospital, and you’re going to be okay,” Caitlyn whispered, her voice barely above a tremble.

Caitlyn gently brushed a strand of hair away from Vi’s face, her voice soft and steady despite the weight of everything she had just witnessed. “I’m here, Vi. You’re not alone. You’re going to be okay.”

Vi’s eyes blinked a few more times, struggling to focus. The fog of unconsciousness still lingered in her gaze. Caitlyn leaned in closer, trying to catch her attention. “Vi, you’re safe. We’re going to get through this. You and Powder… you’re both stronger than this.”

A shaky breath escaped Vi, her lips parting slightly as she tried to speak. It was weak at first, barely audible, but Caitlyn could hear the strain in her voice. “Powder…?” she croaked, the concern in her tone clear.

Caitlyn’s eyes softened, a painful pang in her chest. “She’s right here, Vi. She’s been fighting just as hard as you. We’re getting her the help she needs too.”

Vi’s hand twitched, as if reaching out, but it was slow and hesitant. Caitlyn placed her hand over Vi’s, guiding her fingers to the warmth of Powder’s hand, where they rested gently against the side of the bed. “She’s not going anywhere, Vi. I promised.”

Caitlyn smiled through her tears, her voice unwavering. “We’re not losing either of you. Not today. Not ever.”

Vi’s voice was barely a whisper, but Caitlyn could hear it clearly through the rasp of her struggle to speak. A faint smile tugged at her lips, her eyes still heavy with exhaustion. She blinked a few times, her gaze unfocused for a moment before she managed to croak out, “Hey… Cupcake…”

Caitlyn’s heart fluttered at the familiar nickname, the one that always carried a certain softness when Vi used it. Despite everything they had been through, despite the darkness that had surrounded them, Vi still had that spark in her, that small, defiant warmth. Caitlyn squeezed her hand gently, fighting back tears as she whispered, “I’m right here, Vi. Always.”

She leaned in closer, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face, her voice steady and full of love. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Caitlyn hurriedly stood up from Vi’s side, her heart racing as she rushed to find the nearest doctor. Her footsteps echoed in the sterile hospital hallways as she quickly spotted one. “Doctor!” she called out, barely containing the urgency in her voice. “Vi’s awake. She just spoke. You need to check on her now!”

The doctor turned, surprise flickering in their eyes. “She’s awake?” They quickly followed Caitlyn back to Vi’s bedside, where Caitlyn had already returned to her place next to her.

Vi was still struggling to keep her eyes open, but she managed to look up at Caitlyn, offering her that faint smile again. The doctor moved in, checking Vi’s vitals, his fingers quick as he felt for her pulse, listened to her breathing.

After a few moments, the doctor stood up straight, nodding. “Her vitals are stable. This is a good sign. We’ll monitor her closely, but I believe she’s out of the worst of it.”

Caitlyn’s breath caught in her throat, relief flooding through her body. She leaned closer to Vi, brushing her hand over Vi’s, a smile finally breaking through her exhausted face. “You’re going to be okay. You made it through, Vi.”

The doctor gently adjusted Vi’s position, making sure she was comfortable as she slowly regained consciousness. “Vi,” the doctor spoke softly but firmly, “you’ve been through a lot. You’re safe now. You’ve made it through the worst of it.”

She checked the bandages and the various medical equipment attached to Vi, making sure everything was still in place. “We’ll give you some fluids soon, but you need to rest. Your body needs time to recover.”

Vi’s eyes fluttered, and she gave a weak nod, her breath shallow. “I… I’m okay… I think… just… need… her…” Her voice was weak, but there was that familiar determination in her tone.

The doctor smiled gently at her, recognizing the resilience in Vi’s words. “Your sister is here. Caitlyn’s been by your side the whole time. Just focus on resting for now, okay?”

Vi’s gaze flickered toward Caitlyn, her hand tightening around hers just slightly. Caitlyn leaned in, brushing her thumb over Vi’s knuckles. “I’m here, Vi. We’re both here.”

The doctor continued to monitor her closely, adjusting the IVs and keeping an eye on her vitals. “It might take some time before you’re fully alert, but you’ve made it through the worst. We’ll keep you comfortable, and when you’re ready, we’ll talk more. For now, rest.”

Vi closed her eyes again, too exhausted to stay fully awake, but Caitlyn could see the faintest flicker of a smile on her lips. Caitlyn leaned down, brushing a soft kiss to the top of Vi’s head. “You’re going to be okay, I promise.”

Caitlyn feels a squeeze on her hand and once she feels it, Caitlyn's heart skipped a beat. It was weak but undeniably there. She looked down at her, her voice trembling with emotion. “Vi?”

Vi’s eyes fluttered open again, more clearly this time. Her gaze met Caitlyn’s, and there was a tired but real smile on her face. “I… I’m really glad you’re here,” she whispered, her voice hoarse but filled with a warmth that Caitlyn hadn’t heard in days.

Caitlyn couldn’t hold back a tear, her thumb gently stroking the back of Vi’s hand. “I’m not going anywhere, Vi. I’m right here. I’ve got you.” She could feel Vi’s hand give a slight squeeze again, almost as if to reassure her.

The doctor watched them quietly, nodding to herself, knowing that the recovery process had only just begun but that this moment was a significant step in the right direction.

The doctor gently but firmly told Vi, “You need to rest, Vi. Your body has been through a lot, and sleep is the best thing for you right now.”

Vi nodded weakly, her eyelids growing heavy as the exhaustion finally began to catch up with her. She glanced at Caitlyn one more time, offering her a small, tired smile. “Promise me you’ll stay?”

Caitlyn smiled back, brushing a strand of hair from Vi’s forehead. “I promise,” she whispered softly.

Vi’s breathing began to even out as she drifted off to sleep, Caitlyn still holding her hand, unwilling to leave her side. The doctor, after seeing the peace settle over Vi, quietly exited the room, giving them the space they needed.

Mel walks into the room quietly, her presence commanding but soft. She notices Caitlyn sitting by Vi’s side, still holding her hand. Mel’s expression is a mixture of concern and respect, recognizing the weight of what Caitlyn and the two sisters have been through.

She clears her throat gently to announce her arrival, not wanting to disturb the fragile moment but needing to speak. “Caitlyn... How are they?”

Caitlyn looks up from Vi’s sleeping form, her eyes red and tired, but there's a faint hint of relief in her voice. “Vi’s stabilized. She’s asleep now. The doctors say she’ll be okay... but it’ll take time.” Her eyes flick back to Powder’s bed, and her face hardens slightly. “As for Powder... I don’t know. She’s still in critical condition.”

Mel steps closer, her eyes moving from Vi’s peaceful face to Powder’s, and then back to Caitlyn. “You did everything you could,” she says softly, trying to offer some comfort, though it’s clear she doesn’t have all the answers either.

Caitlyn nods but doesn’t speak. The weight of the situation presses down on her. She knew they couldn’t stay on that ledge forever, but the fact that it had come this far, that they’d been left in that state for so long... It was a hard pill to swallow.

Mel takes a deep breath, her usual confidence tempered by the somber reality of the situation. “I know you’re tired, Caitlyn. But we need to talk about what happens next. For them. And for Piltover.”

Caitlyn looks up at her, not surprised by the shift in conversation. She wasn’t just Commander anymore, but her duty—her responsibility—had never left her. “I know. But right now... I just need to focus on making sure they’re okay.”

Mel nods, understanding the moment. "Of course. We'll talk later. Just... make sure you're ready when it's time."

Caitlyn gives a faint nod, then turns her attention back to Vi, her hand still resting in hers. For now, she wasn’t going anywhere. Not while they were both still here.

Caitlyn asks Mel with a hint of curiosity,  "So who is taking over Noxus? In theory it should be you right?"

Mel walks into the room quietly, her presence commanding but soft. She notices Caitlyn sitting by Vi’s side, still holding her hand. Mel’s expression is a mixture of concern and respect, recognizing the weight of what Caitlyn and the two sisters have been through.

She clears her throat gently to announce her arrival, not wanting to disturb the fragile moment but needing to speak. “Caitlyn... How are they?”

Caitlyn looks up from Vi’s sleeping form, her eyes red and tired, but there's a faint hint of relief in her voice. “Vi’s stabilized. She’s asleep now. The doctors say she’ll be okay... but it’ll take time.” Her eyes flick back to Powder’s bed, and her face hardens slightly. “As for Powder... I don’t know. She’s still in critical condition.”

Mel steps closer, her eyes moving from Vi’s peaceful face to Powder’s, and then back to Caitlyn. “You did everything you could,” she says softly, trying to offer some comfort, though it’s clear she doesn’t have all the answers either.

Caitlyn nods but doesn’t speak. The weight of the situation presses down on her. She knew they couldn’t stay on that ledge forever, but the fact that it had come this far, that they’d been left in that state for so long... It was a hard pill to swallow.

Mel takes a deep breath, her usual confidence tempered by the somber reality of the situation. “I know you’re tired, Caitlyn. But we need to talk about what happens next. For them. And for Piltover.”

Caitlyn looks up at her, not surprised by the shift in conversation. She wasn’t just Commander anymore, but her duty—her responsibility—had never left her. “I know. But right now... I just need to focus on making sure they’re okay.”

Mel nods, understanding the moment. "Of course. We'll talk later. Just... make sure you're ready when it's time."

Caitlyn gives a faint nod, then turns her attention back to Vi, her hand still resting in hers. For now, she wasn’t going anywhere. Not while they were both still here.

Caitlyn tells Mel after taking a deep breath, "My mother would want me to support everyone in times of need. That includes Council Members. Councilor you backed my play when it came to Powder's freedom. Thank you for that."

Mel nods slowly, a soft smile tugging at her lips. "It wasn't just about Powder, Caitlyn. It was about the bigger picture. I know you’re struggling with all of this—what Powder did, who she used to be—but what you said made sense. She's not that person anymore. You, and Vi, you two deserve a chance at healing... and that means letting Powder have one too."

Caitlyn’s eyes soften at Mel’s words. She knows Mel doesn’t fully understand the gravity of what Powder did like the way Caitlyn knows, but she respects the compassion Mel has shown. "I was afraid. Afraid of making the wrong decision, of letting Powder have a chance after everything. But you're right. It’s about who they are now, not who they were."

Mel gives a small, reassuring nod. "Sometimes we need to give people that chance, even if it feels like the hardest thing to do. People are capable of change, Caitlyn. Sometimes it's just a matter of seeing it for yourself."

Caitlyn exhales deeply, clearly still processing everything, but a weight seems to lift off her shoulders with Mel’s words. She looks down at her hands, her thumb gently brushing against the edge of her eyepatch. "I just... I want to make the right choices. For them. For everyone."

"You will," Mel says firmly, her voice unwavering. "You already are."

The room falls into a quiet moment of understanding, the two women sharing a brief but powerful connection before the noise of their duties calls them back into the reality of their world.

—--Five Hours Later—--

Vi slowly opens her eyes, her surroundings a little blurry at first. She blinks a few times, her head still foggy, and then she hears a soft, familiar voice that pulls her fully back into the moment.

"Caitlyn?" she croaks, her voice weak from the exhaustion and the ordeal. She turns her head slightly, and the first thing she notices is Powder—still out cold, surrounded by medical equipment, and Caitlyn sitting beside her.

Caitlyn doesn’t immediately turn her head at Vi's voice, her gaze still focused on Powder, watching her with a worried expression. But hearing Vi's voice, she finally looks up, her eyes filled with a mixture of relief and exhaustion.

"Hey," Caitlyn says softly, a small but tender smile breaking through the intensity in her gaze. "How are you feeling?"

Vi swallows, trying to sit up but feeling the weight of her body, how sore and drained she is. "Like I got hit by a train... or two." She lets out a weak chuckle, but it quickly fades as she remembers Powder.

She then asks, her voice trembling slightly, "How's she...?"

Caitlyn’s smile fades a little, her expression becoming more serious. She gently squeezes Vi's hand. "She’s still fighting, Vi. She’s a fighter, just like you."

Vi’s gaze shifts toward Powder, her heart heavy with concern. "She shouldn’t be like this. It’s my fault—"

"No," Caitlyn interrupts softly but firmly. "None of this is your fault. You did everything you could. And Powder... she’s alive because you never gave up on her."

Vi’s eyes start to water, and her grip on Caitlyn's hand tightens. "I promised her I wouldn’t leave her. I won’t leave her now. Not like this."

Caitlyn nods, her own eyes filled with emotion, though she fights to keep her composure. "And you won’t. I’ll be here. We’ll both be here."

Vi nods, her heart settling slightly as she feels the reassurance in Caitlyn's words. But her eyes never leave Powder, the weight of everything still pressing down on her chest.

“I want to be there when she wakes up,” Vi murmurs, her voice softer now.

"You will be," Caitlyn assures her, giving her hand another gentle squeeze. "We'll make sure of it."

Caitlyn tells her bluntly, "Your sister was dead Vi. You also died. The doctors brought you back in the Operating Room. I don't know if I believe in miracles, or if you and Powder do, but I think if there was ever a time that Janna had a hand in this world? It's now. "

Vi blinks, her heart pounding in her chest as Caitlyn’s words hit her. She tries to process the enormity of what Caitlyn just said— You died ... Powder was dead ... and somehow they were both here. Alive. Against all odds. She looks at Powder’s still form, the realization sinking deeper into her bones. The weight of those words almost feels too much to bear.

"Dead..." Vi whispers hoarsely, the word trembling on her lips. "I... I remember being so tired, Cait. I thought we were both gonna... I thought we were gonna just fade away together. But... we’re still here?" She glances down at her own hand, then back at Powder, her voice faltering. "I don’t even know what to believe anymore."

Caitlyn’s expression softens, her gaze steady and unwavering. "I don’t know either, Vi. But you’re both here. And that has to mean something. Maybe it’s not just luck. Maybe it’s something more." She hesitates, taking in a deep breath. "I don’t know if Janna's involved or not, but I do know that what you two went through... it wasn’t just some fluke. You fought too hard to let go. Both of you."

Vi's gaze flickers back to Powder, her heart aching. She remembers the look in Powder’s eyes before everything went dark—the weight of her sister's suffering, the silent plea for someone to help, to save her. Vi's chest tightens as she speaks again, voice thick with emotion, "I don’t want to lose her, Cait. I can’t... I can’t let her slip away. Not now. Not after everything we’ve been through."

Caitlyn reaches over and brushes a stray lock of hair away from Vi’s face. "You won’t lose her. Not if we can help it. We're not alone in this, Vi. You’ve got me, and you’ve got all of us—whatever happens next."

Vi looks up at Caitlyn, her eyes tired but filled with quiet determination. She knows there’s still so much ahead of them, so much uncertainty. But for now, she just wants to hold on. To hold on to the chance, the possibility that maybe, just maybe, they could all find their way back.

She nods slowly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I’ll do whatever it takes. For her... and for us."

Caitlyn tells Vi gently "There's more. You should know you did everything right. Down to the SOS Calls, Making sound, preserving your strength. You survived two days on that ledge because of you actually wanting to get out."

Vi’s eyes widen slightly at Caitlyn's words, her mind replaying the exhaustion, the pain, the struggle to survive on that ledge. She hadn’t been sure if it had even mattered at the time, but hearing Caitlyn's words makes a flicker of something rise within her. Something between pride and disbelief.

"Two days..." Vi breathes out, her voice hoarse from the dryness in her throat. "I didn’t think it was gonna matter... I just kept banging the rock, hoping, even though I didn’t think anyone could hear us." She looks down at her hands, still sore and raw from the roughness of it all. "I didn’t know if I was doing it right. But... I couldn’t give up. Not without trying."

Caitlyn places a hand on Vi’s shoulder, a soft, reassuring gesture. "You did everything right, Vi. You kept going even when it felt like there was no way out. That’s why you’re both here now. It wasn’t just luck, it was you fighting. You fought for both of you, and that's what saved you."

Vi’s chest tightens, a mix of relief and lingering guilt tugging at her. She looks back at Powder, her heart heavy. "I just... I should’ve done more. I should’ve kept her awake. I should’ve..."

Caitlyn cuts her off gently. "You did all you could. You kept her close. You kept fighting, even when it felt impossible. That’s what matters. There’s no 'should've.' Not here. Not now."

Vi nods, swallowing hard as she tries to steady her emotions. She feels exhausted, drained from the ordeal, but Caitlyn’s words give her something she didn’t realize she needed: a reminder that she did her best. They both did.

"Thanks, Cait." Vi says quietly, her voice thick but grateful. "I... I didn’t know if anyone would understand how hard it was. To just... keep going."

Caitlyn smiles faintly. "I get it, Vi. I see how much you care. And that's more than enough."

For the first time in days, Vi feels a small weight lift off her chest, knowing that her fight hadn’t been in vain. Maybe, just maybe, there’s a chance for both her and Powder to heal. Together.

Vi tells Caitlyn as she looks at Powder with a face that screams she is worried, "When we slept the first time I remember Powder made me promise that if we were going to die in there, It's together in each other's arms. I felt her head fall. She was almost dead Cait... I couldn't get her to talk. And the second I realized that, I just screamed. Because I thought I lost everyone... Then I finally gave out. And I vaguely remember hearing you. The last thing I remember is hearing you run up to us screaming for medics."

Caitlyn listens intently, her heart aching as she watches Vi wrestle with the memory. Her grip on Vi’s hand tightens just slightly, as though offering a silent anchor. She can see the weight of the loss Vi carries, and the fear of the unknown, but she’s also amazed by the strength it took for Vi to even make it as far as she did.

"I’m so sorry, Vi," Caitlyn murmurs softly, her voice full of empathy. "I can’t even imagine what that felt like. The fear of losing her... of losing everything. But you didn’t lose her. You held on. You both did."

Vi looks over at Powder, her expression a mix of sadness and gratitude, still haunted by the memory of the two days they spent on that ledge. She tries to swallow the lump in her throat. "She... she was everything to me, Cait. I couldn’t let go. I couldn’t leave her alone. And I felt like I failed her when I thought I lost her. I couldn’t even keep my promise." Her voice cracks, betraying the weight of it all.

Caitlyn leans in slightly, speaking softly but with conviction. "You didn’t fail her, Vi. You kept that promise. You were right there with her until the very end. And that’s what matters. You’re not alone in this, Vi. You and Powder—you're both gonna make it through this. Together."

Vi nods slowly, her eyes never leaving Powder's still form. "I thought I was alone when I screamed. I thought... I thought no one would come. But then you did. And I think that’s the only reason I’m still here. You found us, Cait. You saved us."

Caitlyn gives her a gentle, reassuring smile, trying to hold back the overwhelming emotions. "You both saved each other first. You don’t have to carry this burden alone. I’m here for you, Vi. And so are the others."

Vi’s lip quivers as a few tears escape, the dam of emotions finally cracking. "Thank you... I don’t think I could’ve kept going without you."

Caitlyn wipes away a stray tear from Vi’s cheek, her heart breaking for her but also filled with a fierce determination. "You’re not alone. You never will be. I’ll make sure of that."

The room is filled with a heavy but comforting silence, the kind that speaks volumes in the quiet understanding between them. Vi knows that, for now, the hardest part is over. But the road ahead will still be long. And Caitlyn will be there, every step of the way.

Caitlyn takes a deep breath before she speaks again, her voice steady but tinged with frustration. "Should I tell you how I found you?"

Vi looks at Caitlyn, still a bit dazed but eager for any detail that might help her make sense of everything. She nods.

Caitlyn's voice softens as she explains, "A civilian heard an explosion by The Clocktower, where your sister's base flew into. I put it all together. The thing that pissed me off the most, however, is that I was being tended to when that civilian came up to us. We heard nothing, Vi. Not even that explosion. But because a civilian was there? We all bolted to The Clocktower. We saw Vander's body on the ground floor under some rubble, so we put two and two together. After finding a way up, we found you."

Vi listens intently, processing the information slowly, her eyes welling up as she lets the significance of those words sink in. "So... if they hadn’t heard the explosion..." she murmurs, her voice trembling, "We could’ve... we could’ve been left there."

Caitlyn nods grimly, her expression hardening. "Yes. But I wasn’t going to let that happen. Not while I still had a chance. You were both still alive when we got there. And I wasn’t about to let you slip through our fingers."

Vi looks at Caitlyn, grateful but still overwhelmed. "You really saved us, didn’t you?"

"I just did what anyone would’ve done," Caitlyn says quietly, trying to keep her emotions in check. "But yeah. I guess I did." She glances at Powder, then back at Vi. "You two... you fought through the impossible. I couldn’t let that be the end of your story."

Vi chuckles with a smile, "I guess I'm the dirt under your nails Cupcake. You ain't ever getting rid of me then."

Caitlyn smiles softly, her eyes glinting with a mix of affection and exhaustion. "Guess I’m stuck with you now," she says with a teasing tone, trying to lighten the mood. "Wouldn’t have it any other way, Vi."

Vi grins, even though she’s still feeling the weight of everything that happened. "Good. ‘Cause I don’t plan on going anywhere either. You and me? We’re a package deal." She pauses, looking over at Powder, her smile faltering for a moment. "And I’m gonna make sure she gets through this. We’ve both got a lot to make up for."

Caitlyn’s smile fades a little as she looks at Powder, her expression softening. "We’ll get her through this. Together."

Caitlyn sits beside Vi, her voice soft and gentle as she looks at Powder, then back to Vi. "Vi," she starts, her tone filled with care, "I need you to know something important. It’s about Powder... or, Jinx."

Vi looks up, a mix of exhaustion and curiosity in her eyes. "What is it, Cait?" she asks, still trying to process everything that’s happened.

Caitlyn takes a breath, choosing her words carefully. "We’ve decided that she’s not going to face prison time. The Council agreed, and I pushed for it. I don’t want you to worry about her being locked away. She’s free."

Vi’s eyes widen, and for a moment, she just stares at Caitlyn in shock. "Wait, really? You... you convinced them?"

Caitlyn nods, her gaze never leaving Vi’s. "Yes. I couldn’t let them punish her after everything you both went through. She’s your sister, Vi, and she deserves a chance. We all do."

Vi takes a moment to let the words sink in, her chest tightening with a mixture of relief and disbelief. "I can’t believe it... after everything she’s done, they’re giving her a chance?"

Caitlyn’s expression softens. "Yeah. I know it might seem hard to understand, but she’s been through hell. And right now, the only thing that matters is making sure you both get through this. Together."

Vi exhales slowly, a shaky breath escaping her lips. "I never thought this day would come... but thank you. I owe you so much, Cait. You didn’t have to do this for us." She glances at Powder, her voice quieter now. "She deserves a chance. And so do I."

Caitlyn gives her a small, reassuring smile. "You both deserve it, Vi. And I’m not going anywhere. Not without both of you."

Caitlyn suddenly feels the warmth of Vi's hand as it gently cups her face, the softness of her touch taking her by surprise. Without warning, Vi leans in, pulling Caitlyn into a kiss. It’s slow and gentle, but there's a rawness in it—a mix of relief, gratitude, and the overwhelming need to feel close.

For a brief moment, Caitlyn freezes, her heart racing. It’s unexpected, but she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she lets herself feel it—the connection between them, the bond that’s been growing since they found each other on that ledge. Caitlyn closes her eyes and deepens the kiss slightly, a soft sigh escaping her lips.

When they finally pull away, Caitlyn looks into Vi's eyes, both of them breathing a little heavier, unsure of what just happened but knowing something has shifted. Vi’s smile is small but genuine, a flicker of hope in her tired eyes.

"Sorry," Vi mutters, her voice a little embarrassed. "I just... I needed to do that. To show you how much I appreciate everything."

Caitlyn laughs softly, shaking her head. "You don’t need to apologize, Vi. We’ve been through too much to worry about that."

Vi just nods, leaning back a little, her fingers still lightly brushing Caitlyn’s skin. "Just—don’t go anywhere. Okay?"

"I’m not going anywhere," Caitlyn reassures her, her voice steady and sincere. "Not now. Not ever."

Vi looks at Caitlyn, her gaze soft but filled with worry. She glances down at Powder, still unconscious, before looking back at Caitlyn.

“How bad is Powder? Will she wake up today?” Vi’s voice trembles slightly, a mixture of hope and fear, as she reaches for Caitlyn’s hand.

Caitlyn lets out a long breath, her heart aching at the question. She squeezes Vi's hand gently, trying to offer comfort, even if she doesn't have all the answers. "The doctors are doing everything they can, Vi. Her condition is... well, it's serious. But they’re hopeful. They haven’t ruled her out. They said it’s hard to say exactly when she’ll wake up, but the fact that she’s still here, still fighting... that’s something. We just have to trust that she’s strong enough."

Vi’s eyes search Caitlyn’s face, looking for any sign that there’s more hope than she’s letting on. "But there’s a chance, right? That she’ll come back?"

Caitlyn nods slowly, her voice steady but laced with emotion. "There’s always a chance. And if anyone can pull through, it’s Powder. She’s been through hell and still kept fighting. I have no doubt she’ll keep going."

Vi nods, but there’s an underlying sense of unease. "I just... I don’t know what I’d do without her. She’s my sister. We’ve been through everything together. Losing her now, after everything... I don’t think I could handle it."

Caitlyn feels her heart break for Vi. She tightens her grip on her hand, offering what little comfort she can. "You won’t have to handle it alone. We’ll get through this together, Vi. I’ll be here, for you and for her. I won’t let either of you down."

Chapter Text

The moment between Vi and Caitlyn is interrupted by the booming voice from the hallway, carrying with it a sharp, demanding tone. “Where the hell is she?! Where’s Jinx?” Sevika’s voice echoes down the corridor, her footsteps heavy as they draw closer.

Vi’s muscles tense immediately, her protective instincts flaring. Caitlyn’s hand tightens around hers as they both turn toward the door. A few seconds later, Sevika appears in the doorway, her broad shoulders filling the frame. Her expression is a mixture of frustration and concern, her eyes scanning the room as they land on Powder’s still body.

Vi’s jaw clenches as Sevika steps inside, uninvited, not waiting for permission. “You heard me,” Sevika growls, her eyes darting to Powder, to Vi, and back again. “I want to know where Jinx is. She’s not dead, is she?”

Caitlyn stands up, positioning herself between Sevika and Vi, her posture firm but calm. “She’s in recovery, Sevika. This isn’t the time,” she warns, her voice even but carrying authority.

Sevika doesn’t budge, her eyes narrowing. “I’m not here for your orders, Caitlyn,” she snaps, her tone cold. “Jinx—Powder—whatever the hell you call her now. Where is she? I’m not leaving until I know she’s alive and breathing.”

Vi’s fists clench, her voice barely a whisper but filled with venom. “You don’t get to barge in here and demand shit, Sevika. She’s alive, alright? But she’s fighting for her life. So, if you want answers, you can either wait your damn turn, or get the hell out.”

Sevika’s eyes flicker to Vi, then back to Powder. “I’ve been looking for her—” Sevika pauses, her posture shifting slightly as her gaze softens, but only just. “She’s the only one left who knows how to run things. We need her. I need her.”

Vi’s glare sharpens, the protective sister in her growing with each passing second. “You don’t get to treat her like some tool, Sevika. She’s not your weapon anymore. She’s not Jinx. She’s my sister, and I’ll make damn sure you understand that.”

Sevika exhales sharply, clearly frustrated but holding her ground. “Fine, but don’t act like this isn’t bigger than just you two.” She doesn’t look directly at Caitlyn, but there’s an unspoken understanding between them. Sevika doesn’t leave. She stays in the doorway, arms crossed, her posture more rigid now, as though caught between duty and something else—perhaps guilt, or something that might be more human than she cares to admit.

Vi breathes out through her nose, her voice calm but with an underlying threat. “You’re not welcome here if you’re just going to stand around and question everything. If you care about her at all, you’ll give her the space to heal. We’ll talk when she wakes up.”

Sevika finally glances at Vi, her lips pressing together, but she remains silent, her eyes lingering on Powder. After a long, tense moment, she steps back, but only just enough to show that she’s not leaving entirely. “Fine,” she mutters, her voice softer now but still carrying a weight. “I’ll stay. But you’d better not be lying to me.”

Caitlyn stands firm, keeping her eyes on Sevika as she holds her ground. “She’s not lying. We’re all just trying to get through this.”

Sevika doesn’t say another word, but she stays, watching them both, and the room remains charged with a silent tension. The only sound is the soft beeping of machines, the rhythmic reminder of life and the fragile hold they all have on it.

Vi winces as she tells Sevika with a touch of frustration, “She’s behind that curtain over there.”

Sevika’s eyes narrow as she studies Vi, who winces at the movement, clearly still in pain. She takes a step forward, her presence still commanding, but now with a touch of hesitation. “Behind the curtain, huh?” Sevika mutters, her voice thick with a mixture of anger and concern. She doesn’t move immediately, her gaze lingering on Vi’s fragile form.

Vi’s jaw tightens as she looks toward Powder, her sister still unconscious and fighting for her life. “She’s still in critical condition, Sevika,” she says quietly, her voice sharp despite the obvious exhaustion. “I don’t need you crowding her space.”

Sevika’s face softens just slightly as she looks at Vi, then over to the curtain that separates Powder from the rest of the room. “You two are always like this…” She mutters under her breath, but it’s not a scolding, more like an acknowledgment of their shared stubbornness. Her gaze flickers back to Caitlyn, who hasn’t moved from her position near Vi’s side.

After a tense pause, Sevika walks toward the curtain, her heavy boots clanking against the floor with each step. She pulls it back slowly, eyes narrowing as she looks at Powder’s still form on the bed. The sight of the girl, pale and battered, does something to Sevika. She huffs out a breath, the air around her heavy with suppressed emotion.

Her voice is low, almost vulnerable, when she finally speaks. “She’s still breathing…” Sevika’s words are almost a question, a quiet whisper to herself. But then, more firmly, she adds, “She can’t be gone. Not like this.” She stands there for a moment, just staring at Powder’s form, before turning back to Vi and Caitlyn.

“Is she going to make it?” Sevika asks, her usual tough demeanor replaced with something more uncertain.

Vi’s expression softens, though her tiredness shows in every line of her face. “She’s a fighter, Sevika,” she says quietly. “She fought through all of it to get us here, didn’t she?”

Caitlyn speaks up, her voice a bit more neutral. “The doctors are doing everything they can. It’s too soon to say, but…” She trails off, looking at Powder with concern. “She’s come this far.”

Sevika’s gaze lingers on Powder for a few moments longer, her face unreadable. Finally, she turns away, heading back to where Vi is lying. Her voice is quieter now, but still strong. “I’ll stay until she wakes up. Until you both wake up.”

Vi manages a faint smile, her exhaustion still evident. “You really don’t have to, Sevika.”

Sevika just gives a small, almost imperceptible nod. “Yeah, I do.” She says nothing more, but her posture softens just enough to show that she’s not the cold, unyielding force she once was.

Vi looks at Sevika closely, her gaze piercing but softened by the exhaustion in her eyes. She can barely muster the strength to keep her focus, but she hears Sevika’s words clearly. “I told her that if she would show up, The Undercity would rally together. That they could be united,” Sevika says, her voice low, and there’s a sharp edge to it. “It seems I was right, but I refuse for her to die like this. She can’t. Rather see her become one of those damn machines Viktor had than go out in a shit way like this.”

Vi winces at the mention of Viktor and the machines—it’s a stark reminder of the brutality they’ve all been through, the way their lives had been shaped by things outside their control. She breathes out slowly, her chest still heavy from the pain and exhaustion. “I know you care, Sevika,” she mutters, almost to herself. “But this isn’t about winning or losing the city. It’s about her… it’s about us.” Her voice wavers slightly, the thought of losing Powder still a raw wound.

Sevika’s expression darkens, her hands clenched at her sides as she faces Vi. “If she dies, it won’t be because of us. I promised her something, and I keep my promises, Vi. I don’t care how hard it gets.” She’s quiet for a moment, then adds with a certain bitterness, “I can’t lose her too.”

Vi’s eyes flicker over to where Powder lies, barely breathing, and a soft ache settles in her chest. She knows, deep down, that Powder has always been someone who needed protection—even if Powder refused to acknowledge it. And yet, despite all their pain, they’d survived this together.

“She’s been through so much…” Vi murmurs, her voice barely a whisper. “But she’s never been alone in this. Not really. She still has us.”

Sevika lets out a sigh, her shoulders sagging just a little bit. “Yeah. I guess we’re all stuck with each other, huh?”

Vi smirks weakly. “Seems that way.”

The air hangs heavy between them as they both focus on Powder. Sevika takes a step back, as if giving the space to Vi, but it’s clear she’s not going anywhere. The weight of the situation lingers—neither of them can change what’s happened, but they can stand by Powder’s side and fight for her.

Sevika turns her head slowly, her voice low. “We don’t let her go out like this. Not on my watch.”

Vi meets her gaze again, and despite everything, there’s a quiet determination in her own eyes. “No. We don’t.”

Caitlyn’s eyes widen as Sevika extends her arm towards Vi, her voice steady but carrying a heavy weight. “Truce?” Sevika asks, a flicker of something—maybe sincerity, maybe something else—in her expression.

Vi looks between Sevika’s outstretched arm and Caitlyn, her own emotions tangled. She feels the moment, the shift in the air, and for a split second, it feels like a fragile truce between old enemies—something that could mean the difference between life and death for Powder.

Caitlyn, standing just behind Vi, watches carefully. There’s a flicker of wariness in her eyes, but also something more—a sense of relief that, despite everything, there’s a possibility for solidarity now. This isn’t just about them, it’s about Powder, about making sure she doesn’t slip away.

Vi hesitates for only a moment before looking Sevika in the eye, her face softened by the pain and the fatigue, but with a resolve that’s unmistakable. She then extends her hand, shaking Sevika’s. “Truce,” she agrees quietly, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her.

Sevika nods, her expression softening just the slightest bit as she grips Vi’s hand firmly, something unspoken passing between them. “Let’s make sure she survives this, then we’ll talk about everything else.”

Vi gives a small, weary smile. “We’re gonna need all the help we can get.”

Caitlyn steps closer, her hand still resting gently on Vi’s shoulder as she watches the uneasy but necessary truce form between the two. It’s not what she expected, but it’s enough for now. The tension between them has been there for a long time, but right now, all that matters is that they fight for Powder.

“Good,” Caitlyn says softly, her voice almost a whisper. “Now let’s keep her alive.”

They look at one another—an unlikely team, bonded by their shared desperation to keep Powder from slipping away. It’s a fragile truce, but it’s one that could just be strong enough to get them through this.

Vi puts her head back on her pillow, her eyes scanning Sevika’s new arm with a mixture of curiosity and fatigue. She lets out a small chuckle, despite everything. “You got a new arm… Let me guess, my sister built that thing, didn’t she?” she asks, her voice tinged with that familiar dry humor. “Only she would come up with a slot machine inside a metal arm.”

Sevika looks down at the intricate design of the arm, the small slot machine embedded into the mechanism. She nods, a faint but wry smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “She didn’t have to make it, but she did,” Sevika says, her voice carrying a note of something almost fond, though it’s quickly masked by her usual tough exterior.

Vi watches Sevika for a moment, her eyes softening as she thinks about her sister. “Yeah… that sounds like Powder,” she murmurs, her voice softening as the memories of her sister flood back. “I didn’t realize she cared enough to do something like that for you.”

Sevika shrugs, her usual stoic expression still in place, but there’s a hint of appreciation in her tone as she answers. “She’s a complicated one. But she’s always had a way of surprising people. Guess that’s what makes her… well, her.”

Vi nods slowly, her thoughts drifting to Powder, lying behind the curtain, still fighting for her life. “Yeah,” she agrees quietly, her hand instinctively moving to the spot where she can feel the faint warmth of Powder’s hand. “She’s always been full of surprises.”

A quiet pause falls between them, the weight of everything hanging in the air. But even in the midst of the chaos and the uncertainty, there’s a strange sense of connection between Vi and Sevika—two people who, despite everything, find themselves standing on the same side for once. The unspoken truce between them still holds, for now, and it feels like just enough to get them through.

“She’s gonna make it, right?” Vi asks after a beat, her voice small, her exhaustion and worry clear in her eyes. “Powder… she’s not gonna die, is she?”

Sevika, her gaze steady, looks at Vi for a long moment before she answers, her voice low but firm. “We’ll make sure she doesn’t. We won’t let her.”

Caitlyn, who had been quietly observing the exchange between Vi and Sevika, finally speaks up, her voice heavy with a mix of concern and realism. “Remember,” she says, her tone firm but gentle, “Powder has to fight through this now. It’s not a matter of when she wakes up. It’s a matter of if her body lets her wake up.”

She looks at the others, her gaze briefly shifting between Sevika and Vi, trying to convey the seriousness of the situation. “She’s been through hell. It’s not just about her mind coming back… it’s about her body healing, and it’s going to take everything she’s got.”

Caitlyn exhales slowly, trying to steady herself, her own emotions on edge as she processes everything they’ve been through. “We just have to give her the space to fight, and hope that she can. But we can’t push too hard, or we’ll lose her.”

Her eyes flick back to Powder’s unconscious form, and there’s an almost unspoken hope in her words. “All we can do is wait and support her. But she’s got more fight in her than anyone I know.”

Caitlyn takes a deep breath before continuing, her gaze never leaving Powder’s still form. “You have to understand,” she begins, her voice steady despite the gravity of the situation. “The body needs energy to function, to fight. And with the state Powder’s in… she’s been running on pure willpower for so long.”

She pauses for a moment, glancing briefly at Sevika and Vi before speaking again, her tone a bit softer now. “Her body, her mind… they’ve been fighting for days. Without food, without water. When you’re starving, your body starts to consume fat reserves, but eventually, it eats away at muscle, even organs, just to survive. It’s not sustainable.”

Caitlyn shakes her head slightly, as if struggling to fully comprehend the extent of what they’ve gone through. “Powder didn’t just survive the ledge for those two days because of luck. Her body ate away at itself to keep going. It’s like a last-resort survival mechanism, but it can only go so far.”

She takes a steadying breath before looking up at the others, trying to impart some level of understanding. “She’s got to rebuild. Even if she wakes up, she’s not out of the woods. It’s going to be a long, slow recovery, and we have to make sure she has the strength to get there. We can’t expect her to just bounce back immediately.”

Caitlyn’s eyes soften as she looks at Vi, then Sevika. “So, we give her time. Let her body and mind heal at its own pace. But we can’t ignore the fact that if her body can’t catch up, she’s in danger. But I’m not going to give up on her. Neither should any of you.”

The head doctor enters the room, his face a mixture of exhaustion and determination. He takes a moment to assess the room, his gaze landing on Powder, then moving to Vi, Sevika, and Caitlyn.

“We’re seeing some progress,” he starts, his voice calm but firm. “Powder’s vitals are stable for now. She’s still in critical condition, but she’s hanging on. We’ve been giving her the necessary fluids and nutrients to start rehydrating her, but it’s going to take time before her body can even begin to process it all.”

He looks at Caitlyn, his eyes flicking toward Powder’s fragile form, then back to her. “You were right—she fought through the worst of it. Now, we need to make sure she doesn’t lose any more ground. But there’s something else I need to tell you all.”

The room goes quiet as everyone turns their attention to the doctor, waiting for what he has to say.

“The next 24 hours are critical,” he continues. “Powder’s body will need to regain strength quickly, or we risk the organs shutting down. She’s been through hell, and while the fact that she’s still alive is miraculous, it doesn’t guarantee that she’ll make it through the next phase. The challenge now is to keep her stable long enough for her body to regain the strength it needs to heal.”

He pauses, letting the weight of his words sink in. “But it’s not just about the physical. Her mind’s been through a lot too, and she’s going to need a lot of support when she wakes up, both physically and mentally. That’s something we can help with, but it’s also something only you—her family—can truly provide.”

The doctor gives them all a pointed look before stepping back, his tone softening. “All I can say is, prepare for a long road ahead. Don’t expect quick results.”

Vi’s head shakes the moment she hears “organs shutting down,” her voice breaking through the tense silence as she speaks up, “No. No, that can’t happen. Not after everything we’ve been through. She has to make it.”

Her eyes lock onto the doctor, her grip tightening on Caitlyn’s hand as if she could force her sister to survive just by willpower alone. “You’ve got to do something. Anything . Just don’t let her die like this.”

Sevika steps forward, her presence solid and unwavering, a silent show of support for Vi’s resolve. “She can’t go out like this. If there’s anything left in her, you better pull it out. She deserves to fight, just like the rest of us.”

The doctor nods solemnly but with a hint of uncertainty in his eyes, acknowledging the immense pressure on them all. “I know. But I can only do so much. It’s up to her now—her body, her strength. The rest of it is a waiting game, and we’re doing everything we can to make sure she has a fighting chance.”

Vi’s expression hardens, determination flooding her features. “I’m not waiting. I won’t. I’ll stay here. I’m not leaving her.”

Caitlyn looks at Sevika, the tension between them palpable, but she doesn’t hesitate. Her expression softens slightly as she meets Sevika’s gaze.

“No,” Caitlyn says, her voice steady, “I’m not here to arrest you.”

She pauses for a moment, letting the weight of her words sink in before continuing.

“Right now, we’re all in this together. You don’t have to worry about that. I can’t speak for what happens later, but not today. Today, we focus on making sure Powder, Jinx, gets through this. That’s the only thing that matters right now.”

Her gaze shifts to Powder, the unconscious girl in the bed, and then back to Sevika.

“We’ve all had our differences, but right now, it’s just about survival. For her. For you.”

Powder’s voice breaks through the stillness, so faint that if you weren’t listening closely, it would be easy to miss. The words come out as a breathless murmur, barely audible, but they carry a weight all their own.

“Vi… I’m sorry… I never meant for it to be this way…”

Her voice trembles in the quiet of the room, as if the exhaustion of everything she’s endured has finally caught up with her, and now, even in her unconscious state, she’s carrying the guilt of everything she’s done. Her face remains pale and still, but her lips tremble slightly as if she’s fighting off the words, trying to push them down, but they escape anyway.

Caitlyn stands frozen for a moment, caught off guard by the vulnerability in Powder’s tone. She knows that the girl in the bed isn’t just the same person that had caused so much destruction in the past, but hearing those words, hearing the apology—however small and faint—feels like a breaking point. Powder isn’t the monster everyone thought she was. She’s just a girl, a sister, and she’s been carrying a weight far heavier than most could ever imagine.

Sevika shifts uncomfortably at the sound. Her eyes flick to Powder, and for the first time, there’s something softer in her expression—something that isn’t hardened by anger or distrust. Powder’s apology, though soft and unclear, hits her differently. This isn’t just some dangerous figure she had hoped would join the fight for Zaun anymore. This is a broken, lost soul, and in this moment, it’s impossible for even someone like Sevika to ignore it.

Vi, still recovering from her own wounds, stirs lightly at the sound of her sister’s name, her head turning slightly, but the weight of her injuries and fatigue pulls her back into a shallow sleep. She can’t hear the words clearly, but something in her heart knows that Powder is still fighting her demons, even in unconsciousness.

Caitlyn swallows hard, her gaze softening, though her heart feels heavy. She doesn’t know if this apology will be enough for the people who have suffered because of Powder’s actions. She doesn’t know if anyone, including Vi, will ever fully forgive her. But she knows one thing for sure: the girl behind that curtain is no longer the same person who once reveled in chaos. There’s something buried deep beneath the surface—something fragile and human—that still wants to make amends. It’s there, even if it’s barely a whisper.

Caitlyn hesitates for a moment, considering the gravity of the situation. She doesn’t speak yet, choosing instead to let the silence between them linger, a quiet acknowledgment that, for all the pain and destruction caused, there’s still a possibility for healing. The room is still, as if holding its breath, and all that can be heard is the soft murmur of Powder’s unconscious words.

“Vi… I’m sorry…”

And just like that, the words hang in the air, haunting and soft, before the room returns to its uneasy silence.

Caitlyn’s heart races as she hears the soft, fragile apology slip from Powder’s lips. She can’t shake the weight of it, the raw vulnerability in the words that no one else had heard, but she knew she couldn’t ignore. She stands frozen for a moment, fighting against the sudden wave of emotion that crashes over her. It’s only when she notices Powder’s body beginning to tremble slightly again, that she springs into action.

“Dammit,” Caitlyn mutters to herself, her voice shaky as she pushes open the door to the hallway. Her steps are quick, her mind racing with the urgency of the moment. She’s already thinking of what to say to the doctor, trying to keep herself composed, but her breath is coming fast, panic creeping into her voice.

She doesn’t have time to question whether Powder’s words mean anything. She just knows she has to act. Powder’s vitals are fluctuating again. She can’t waste any more time.

The sound of her hurried footsteps echoes in the hallway as she rushes to find someone who can help. Her thoughts are a jumbled mess, but there’s one clear thing in her mind: she can’t let her die like this. Not now, not after everything they’ve been through.

“Doctor! Doctor!” Caitlyn calls, pushing through a door into the next wing of the hospital where she knows a team should be. She’s frantic, barely holding it together. “I need help! I think something’s wrong. I heard her—she’s talking in her sleep—she’s… she’s apologizing.”

Caitlyn doesn’t wait for a response. She’s already turning to lead the doctor back to the room, her pulse pounding in her ears. The words she heard from Powder echo in her mind, and all she can think is: Please, don’t let her slip away.

She bursts into the room, nearly colliding with the doorframe as she rushes back to Powder’s bedside. The doctor follows closely behind, already pulling on gloves, assessing the situation. Caitlyn looks at Powder desperately, her eyes wide with concern.

“She’s fading again,” Caitlyn says, her voice catching. “She spoke… she spoke—you have to do something.”

The doctor looks over the chart, barely acknowledging Caitlyn’s words as they swiftly begin to check Powder’s vitals again. Caitlyn steps back, anxiety tightening in her chest, her hands trembling.

“Can you hear me, Powder? Please, just hold on,” she whispers, her voice barely audible as she watches the girl she’d once written off as dangerous—now as fragile as glass—fighting to stay alive.

The doctor remains focused, checking monitors, assessing her condition. He doesn’t respond right away, but his gaze flickers to Caitlyn, the weight of the situation clear in his eyes. He moves quickly, but Caitlyn feels the minutes stretch on like hours, the uncertainty hanging heavy in the air.

It’s a fight for time. And Caitlyn knows that she might lose this battle, but she won’t stop trying. Not now. Not when there’s a chance. Not when Powder’s barely spoken, and yet those words—those words matter more than anything she’s ever heard.

The doctor finishes checking over the monitors and adjusts a few machines before stepping back. For a moment, Caitlyn’s breath catches in her throat, waiting for the inevitable news. But then, the doctor looks at her, his face calm but with a glimmer of something that almost resembles hope.

“Caitlyn,” he starts, his tone steady but reassuring, “Powder’s vitals have stabilized. The intervention worked. She’s still critical, but she’s fighting through it.”

Caitlyn blinks, not sure she heard him right. She takes a shaky breath and steps closer, eyes locked on the doctor as if she’s afraid to hear something different, something worse. “What… what does that mean exactly?” she asks, her voice quivering with both relief and lingering fear.

The doctor nods, taking a moment before continuing. “It means that she has a chance now. We’ve stabilized her enough that her body is no longer in immediate danger. We still need to keep monitoring her closely, but this is the first good sign we’ve seen. She may be able to wake up in the next few hours if her body continues to respond well.”

Caitlyn feels a weight lift off her chest, but the anxiety still lingers. She exhales deeply, trying to process the news. For a split second, everything falls into place—the fear, the exhaustion, the helplessness—and now this flicker of hope.

“So… she’s not going to die today?” Caitlyn whispers, needing to hear it again, needing to believe it.

The doctor gives her a small, reassuring nod. “No, not today. We’ve bought her more time, and she’s proven that she can pull through. She’s a fighter.”

Caitlyn stands still for a moment, absorbing the words. Then, without thinking, she takes a deep breath and whispers, “Thank you. Thank you for not giving up on her.”

The doctor gives a small, almost imperceptible smile, then turns back to check on the machines one more time. Caitlyn’s eyes move from the doctor to Powder, who still lies unconscious, but the steady beeping of her heart rate is like music to her ears. For now, it’s enough.

“Just… just keep fighting, Powder. You’ve got this,” Caitlyn mutters, leaning in slightly, her hand reaching for the girl’s.

The worst isn’t over, but Caitlyn knows that the road ahead isn’t entirely bleak. There’s a chance. There’s hope. And for the first time in what feels like an eternity, Caitlyn dares to believe it.

The doctor looks down at Powder’s chart one more time, his fingers brushing over the information before he meets Caitlyn’s eyes again. His expression softens, a rare moment of vulnerability from someone usually so focused on the technicalities.

“She should’ve died a long time ago,” the doctor says quietly, his voice heavy with both awe and disbelief. “Her body—what it’s been through… She’s defied so many odds. The fact that she’s still alive now… it’s nothing short of extraordinary.”

Caitlyn’s breath hitches at his words. The sheer weight of the doctor’s statement hits her hard, the harsh truth sinking in. Powder had been through so much, far more than anyone should ever endure. And yet, here she was. Still fighting.

Caitlyn looks at Powder, her heart aching as she remembers everything the girl had endured—the betrayals, the loneliness, the near-constant battles that had taken everything from her. She should’ve been gone by now, but somehow, some way, she’s still here.

“I don’t know how,” the doctor continues, shaking his head. “The human body wasn’t meant to withstand that kind of trauma. Not without breaking… But she’s a miracle in the purest sense of the word. Whatever kept her alive—whatever’s keeping her here—it’s something beyond medicine.”

Caitlyn nods slowly, her fingers tightening around Powder’s limp hand. She doesn’t have words for this, for the enormity of it all. She doesn’t know what miracle or divine intervention is at work here. But she knows that, for whatever reason, Powder is still breathing.

She glances at the doctor. “You think… this could be it? The moment she’s been waiting for?”

The doctor sighs and glances at Powder’s still form. “I don’t know, Caitlyn. But she’s showing resilience I haven’t seen before. And if she pulls through this, if her body doesn’t give up… well, that’s something we won’t forget.”

Caitlyn looks back down at Powder, her heart aching and swelling with a complicated mixture of hope and fear. “Then I’ll keep believing in her,” she says softly. “Because she has to make it. She has to.”

The doctor gives her a nod, his gaze shifting between Caitlyn and Powder. “We’ll keep fighting for her too. Just… be patient. It’ll take time, but I think—just maybe—she’ll make it.”

Caitlyn stands there, the silence between them filled only by the steady beep of the machines. There’s still so much uncertainty, but in this moment, Caitlyn can’t help but feel that maybe, just maybe, this is the beginning of something better for Powder.

She whispers under her breath, barely audible, but sincere: “Hang on, Powder. You’re not alone anymore. You’ve got me.”

Sevika’s voice is low, almost grim, as she steps up to the bedside where Powder lies. Her metal arm rests at her side, the weight of the moment clear in the way she stands. She looks down at Powder, her eyes softening just slightly before she speaks again.

“If Silco saw her like this,” Sevika continues, her words heavy with unspoken history, “he’d start a war with Topside all over again for leaving her on the ledge. Good thing he’s not here.”

Caitlyn feels a chill run down her spine at Sevika’s words. The mention of Silco—of the past and everything that came with it—adds an extra layer of tension to the room. For all that he did, and for the damage he caused, there’s still something haunting about the thought of what he would’ve done if he were still alive. He had a way of making the impossible seem like a vendetta that could never be sated.

But then, Caitlyn’s eyes flicker to Powder, and her expression softens. She’s not the same girl she used to be, not the same one that Silco had tried to mold into something twisted. No matter what Sevika says about Silco’s potential actions, Caitlyn knows that Powder is no longer a pawn in anyone’s game.

Still, Caitlyn doesn’t reply immediately, her gaze lingering on Powder as the reality of everything they’ve been through settles in. It’s hard to even begin to comprehend how far this all has come—how much pain, how many broken promises, how many lives have been affected by everything that happened before and after Silco’s reign.

“I don’t think it’s just Silco who would have done that,” Caitlyn finally says, her voice steady but edged with something deeper. “There’s a lot of people who would see this and want to wage a war, Sevika. But I’m not sure that’s the answer anymore. Powder… Jinx, she’s not a weapon anymore. She’s just a girl, caught in the middle of all of this.”

Sevika’s gaze shifts between Caitlyn and Powder, her eyes narrowing slightly. The rough edges of her demeanor soften as she considers Caitlyn’s words. “Maybe you’re right,” she mutters, before turning back to Powder, her voice quieter. “But that doesn’t mean I’ll ever forget what they did to her.”

Caitlyn sighs, the weight of the conversation hanging in the air. “I don’t expect you to. But if you want a future for her, a real one… you’ll need to let go of that anger. She’s not the same person she used to be.”

Sevika doesn’t answer right away, and Caitlyn watches as her face flickers with a myriad of emotions, but ultimately, she gives a small nod. It’s as if the thought of letting go—of moving forward—isn’t easy for someone like Sevika, but she knows it’s the only choice if they want a different outcome for Powder.

“I just… don’t want her to end up like Silco,” Sevika says, her voice almost a whisper, as if admitting something to herself. “She deserves more than that.”

Caitlyn places a hand on Powder’s, squeezing it gently. “We all do. We just have to fight for it.”

Sevika watches them both for a moment before her gaze softens just a touch. She lets out a low breath, and despite the hardness in her features, there’s a hint of something different in her expression—a realization that maybe, just maybe, they all have a shot at redemption.

“Well,” Sevika says, her voice rough but quieter than before. “Then let’s make sure she gets that chance.”

———12 Hours Later———

Twelve hours have passed since the chaos of the morning, and the room is quiet now. Only the steady beeping of the monitors and the soft breathing of the two women in the room break the stillness.

Vi is lying in bed, still weak but slowly regaining some color in her cheeks. Her eyes flicker open, and she glances toward Caitlyn, who has been sitting by her side, her eyes never straying too far from Powder’s bed across the room.

Caitlyn notices Vi’s gaze and smiles, albeit tiredly. “Hey,” she says gently, her voice a soft contrast to the bustle that had filled the room earlier. “How are you feeling?”

Vi shifts slightly, a wince of pain crossing her face as she tries to sit up more comfortably. “Like I’ve been run over by a herd of stampeding animals,” she jokes, but the weak grin that follows it doesn’t quite hide the exhaustion in her eyes.

Caitlyn chuckles quietly, but there’s a trace of concern behind it. “Yeah, I can imagine. You went through a lot.”

Vi nods slowly, her eyes drifting toward Powder’s bed. She pauses for a long moment before speaking, her voice quieter now. “How is she? Really?”

Caitlyn’s smile fades a little, and she turns to look at Powder as if searching for the right words. “She’s fighting, Vi. She’s stronger than I think anyone expected.” Her voice cracks slightly. “But she’s still… she’s not out of the woods yet.”

Vi’s expression softens, and she takes a deep breath, her gaze never leaving her sister. “I never thought it would get this bad,” she murmurs, almost to herself. “I should’ve… I should’ve done more. I should’ve saved her.”

Caitlyn shakes her head, walking over to the side of Vi’s bed and sitting down next to her, her hand gently resting on Vi’s. “You did everything you could, Vi. Everything.” Her eyes meet Vi’s, and the sincerity in her words is clear. “You kept her alive. You kept yourself alive. You made sure she wasn’t left alone.”

Vi doesn’t say anything at first, her eyes still fixed on Powder, but her grip on Caitlyn’s hand tightens just a little. “I promised her we’d die together if it came to that,” Vi says softly, her voice laced with both guilt and determination. “But she’s… she’s not dead. She’s still here. And I’m still here.”

Caitlyn smiles gently, squeezing her hand in return. “You’re both still here. And that means something. It means we have a chance.”

The two sit in silence for a moment, each lost in their thoughts, as the weight of everything that’s happened lingers between them. Eventually, Caitlyn breaks the quiet again.

“You’ve been through so much, Vi,” she says quietly, her voice soft but steady. “I don’t think either of you will ever be the same after all of this, but you’re not alone. Not anymore.”

Vi glances at Caitlyn, the look in her eyes filled with a mixture of vulnerability and trust. “I know,” she whispers. “I… I’m glad you’re here.”

Caitlyn’s heart skips a beat at the words, but she smiles, her voice steady. “I’ll always be here, Vi. For both of you.”

Vi’s eyes flicker toward Powder once more, a brief flash of pain crossing her face before she blinks it away. “She deserves a chance at something better,” she says quietly, almost to herself. “We all do.”

Caitlyn nods in agreement. “We do. And we’ll make sure she gets it.”

For a long time, neither of them speaks, but there’s a sense of quiet understanding between them. Despite everything that’s happened, there’s a glimmer of hope in the room, a sense that maybe—just maybe—there’s a future for all of them.

And as Vi settles back against her pillow, her eyes fluttering closed once again, Caitlyn remains by her side, watching over the two sisters, knowing that the fight isn’t over yet—but they’ll face it together.

Caitlyn tells Vi softly with a smile, “Vi if she doesn’t make it, You made sure that her final moments were with you. That’s not failing her as a sister.”

Vi’s eyes flicker open at Caitlyn’s words, and she turns her head slowly to meet Caitlyn’s gaze. The weight of those words seems to hit her in a way that makes her chest tighten, but she doesn’t look away. Her voice is barely above a whisper, tinged with emotion as she speaks.

“I couldn’t even make her smile one last time,” Vi murmurs, the pain of the thought settling in her heart. “I couldn’t fix her, Cait. She was already so far gone when I woke up…”

Caitlyn’s expression softens, her thumb gently stroking Vi’s hand in a comforting motion. “You did everything you could, Vi. You made sure that even in her darkest moments, she wasn’t alone. You made sure she felt love, and that’s something. No one can ever take that away from either of you.”

Vi’s eyes well up slightly, and for a brief moment, she looks as though she might say more, but the words seem to stick in her throat. She takes a shaky breath, blinking away the tears that threaten to fall.

“I just… I wish I could’ve done more,” Vi admits, her voice cracking. “I wish I could’ve been stronger for her. She was always the one protecting me, Cait. And now… now it feels like I failed her.”

Caitlyn’s heart aches at the rawness in Vi’s voice, but she squeezes her hand tighter, speaking firmly, yet gently.

“Vi, you didn’t fail her. You were there for her when she needed you the most. That’s the most important thing. You were with her, every step of the way. Even when things felt impossible, you didn’t give up on her.” Caitlyn’s eyes meet Vi’s with unwavering sincerity. “And you still haven’t. You’re here, fighting for her, for both of you. That’s what makes you a great sister.”

Vi looks down for a moment, taking a deep breath, trying to steady herself. She can feel the weight of everything pressing on her chest, but Caitlyn’s words offer a measure of comfort, even if the guilt is still there.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Vi finally admits, her voice softer now. “You’ve been here for us through all of this. I don’t think I could’ve made it without you, Cait.”

Caitlyn smiles, her eyes filled with warmth and affection as she leans in just a little closer. “And I won’t leave, Vi. Not now, not ever. You and Powder… you’re my family, too.”

Vi’s lips tremble slightly, but she gives Caitlyn a small, appreciative smile. “Thank you. For everything.”

As the two of them sit there, the quiet between them feels comfortable, filled with a quiet understanding and connection. And though the future remains uncertain, Caitlyn knows that, no matter what happens, she’ll be there for Vi and Powder—every step of the way.

Caitlyn takes a deep breath before speaking, her voice soft but steady. “Sevika had to go get checked out by a doctor. I think she’s pretty shaken up about everything, but she’ll be back soon. She’s been through a lot, too.”

Vi nods slightly, her eyes scanning the room. “She didn’t have to do that. She’s tough, but I know it’s not easy for her either.”

Caitlyn shrugs, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “She may act tough, but everyone’s been through their own battles. Even Sevika. But she’s a fighter, and we all know she’ll be back.”

Vi glances at the bed where Powder rests, her face softening with concern. “I just… I wish I could’ve done more. For both of them.”

Caitlyn gives her hand a reassuring squeeze. “You’ve done more than enough, Vi. You’ve been there when it mattered the most. And that’s what counts.”

As Caitlyn and Vi continue talking, they remain unaware that Powder is slowly waking up. They are lost in their own conversation, focused on each other, as the silence of the room surrounds them.

Caitlyn leans in slightly, speaking softly, her voice heavy with concern. “You’ve done everything for her, Vi. You saved her. You kept her alive. She couldn’t have asked for a better sister.”

Vi looks down at her hands, fingers absentmindedly rubbing the soft material of her hospital gown. “I don’t know, Cait… I should’ve done more. I should’ve done better. When she was calling for me, when she was alone… I wasn’t there.”

Caitlyn shakes her head, her hand gently resting on Vi’s shoulder. “You were there when it mattered. That’s what matters. You stayed with her, even when things felt impossible. You both fought, and now she’s here, still with us.”

The words hang in the air, and Vi is silent for a long moment, her eyes fixated on the floor. As she speaks again, it’s almost a whisper. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without her. I just… can’t lose her. Not like this.”

As Vi’s words hang in the room, Powder’s fingers twitch ever so slightly. The faintest movement barely noticeable unless someone was watching closely. She groans quietly, the sound low but enough to be heard in the otherwise quiet room. But Caitlyn and Vi are still so lost in their conversation that they don’t catch it. Powder’s eyelids flicker slightly, but it goes unnoticed by them as they continue.

“I know, Vi. It’s terrifying. But we don’t know what’s coming next. We can’t control everything, as much as we’d like to,” Caitlyn says softly, her voice filled with empathy. “All we can do is hold on. Together.”

Vi raises her eyes and glances at Caitlyn, her expression pained but grateful. “Together,” she repeats softly, a faint but hopeful smile tugging at her lips. “You really mean that, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” Caitlyn says with a reassuring smile, her hand still on Vi’s shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere.”

In the background, as their conversation continues, Powder’s eyes slowly open just a little more. Her breath is shallow, but she’s aware enough to catch fragments of their voices, even if she can’t fully respond yet. Her fingers twitch again, but Caitlyn and Vi are too caught up in their moment to notice the small, imperceptible signs of life from Powder.

Vi takes a deep breath, her focus still on Caitlyn. “I’m scared, Cait. If we lose her… I don’t know what I’ll do.”

Caitlyn gives a small, supportive nod, though her heart is heavy with the weight of the situation. “You won’t lose her, Vi. I know you won’t.”

As the two of them continue to speak, completely unaware, Powder’s breathing steadies slightly. Her head shifts ever so slightly on the pillow, and her eyes flutter a bit more, trying to adjust to the light.

But still, Caitlyn and Vi do not see. The room remains quiet, save for the sound of their voices and the faint, slow rise and fall of Powder’s chest.

The room goes quiet, as if the air itself had thickened, and suddenly, a soft, raspy voice cuts through the stillness.

“Vi…”

The word is barely audible, a whisper laced with exhaustion and confusion, but it’s enough to stop both Caitlyn and Vi in their tracks. They freeze, both looking toward the bed as the sound of Powder’s voice lingers in the air, hanging heavy between them.

For a moment, there’s nothing. Just the sound of their breath, suspended in time. Then Caitlyn’s eyes widen, and she immediately looks to Vi. Vi’s expression shifts from worry to disbelief, her gaze flicking between Caitlyn and the bed, her heart racing in her chest.

“Did you hear that?” Vi whispers, almost afraid to believe it. She leans forward slightly, her eyes locked on her sister, who lies still in the bed.

Caitlyn, equally stunned, nods slowly. “I… I think she said your name.”

Vi’s hands tremble as she reaches out toward her sister, her heart pounding in her chest. “Powder?” Her voice cracks with emotion, a mixture of hope and fear flooding her. “Powder, can you hear me?”

There’s no immediate response, only the slow, labored rise and fall of Powder’s chest. Vi moves closer, her face full of worry, her voice barely above a whisper as she repeats, “Powder, it’s me. It’s Vi.”

The silence is thick for a long moment, as if the room is holding its breath, waiting. Then, just as they think nothing else will happen, Powder’s fingers twitch again, faint but undeniable. Vi’s breath catches in her throat as her sister’s eyelids flutter, and slowly, her gaze shifts toward Vi, though it’s weak, unfocused.

“Vi…” Powder repeats, her voice quieter this time, almost too soft to hear, but the sheer fact that she’s speaking is enough to make Vi’s chest tighten with relief.

“Powder!” Vi nearly chokes on the word, her voice breaking as she leans closer, her hand gently brushing against her sister’s arm. “You’re alive. You’re alive…”

Powder’s lips barely form a smile, though it’s faint and almost imperceptible, but it’s there. Just enough for Vi to see, enough for Caitlyn to witness, a small flicker of life returning to the girl who had been on the brink of death.

For a moment, nothing else matters. They’ve both fought so hard to get here, and now, against all odds, Powder is still holding on. Vi squeezes her sister’s hand, her eyes filled with emotion as she speaks through her tears.

“I’m here. I’m right here, Powder. I won’t leave you.”

Caitlyn doesn’t waste a second. The moment she hears Powder’s voice again, the weight of everything crashes down on her, and without hesitation, she rushes out of the room. Her feet barely touch the ground as she sprints toward the nearest doctor, her heart hammering in her chest.

“Doctor! Now! We need you in there!” she calls out urgently, her voice sharp and full of raw panic. She barely registers the footsteps that follow behind her, just knows that time is of the essence.

A few moments later, the doctor appears, startled by the urgency in Caitlyn’s voice. “What happened? Is she—?”

“She’s awake. She said Vi’s name. She’s responding. You need to get in there, now!” Caitlyn nearly breathes the words out in a rush.

The doctor’s face shifts from concern to immediate focus as they move quickly past Caitlyn, entering the room where Vi is still kneeling by Powder’s side. Caitlyn follows close behind, her eyes locked on Powder’s frail form.

The doctor doesn’t waste any time, quickly moving to check Powder’s vitals. Their fingers work efficiently, assessing the situation. Caitlyn watches with bated breath, unable to tear her eyes away from the small signs of life in front of her.

Vi’s hand is still gently holding her sister’s, and Powder’s eyelids flutter again, though weakly, as if she’s trying to force herself to stay conscious. The doctor steps back, surveying the situation with a practiced gaze, then turns to Caitlyn, offering a rare and cautious smile.

“She’s stable for now. But we need to monitor her closely. This is a good sign, though. A very good sign.”

Caitlyn exhales, her breath shaky, as she glances at Vi, who’s staring at her sister with a mixture of relief and disbelief. “Thank the gods,” Caitlyn murmurs softly, stepping closer to Vi. “She’s not giving up.”

Vi, still in awe of the sight of her sister waking up, nods, her voice barely audible. “She never does.”

Powder’s voice is barely above a whisper, weak but unmistakable, as she smiles faintly at Vi. “I’m just stubborn.”

Vi’s eyes widen, her heart catching in her throat. She squeezes Powder’s hand tighter, a mix of relief and joy flooding her chest. The room feels quieter, like the world outside is holding its breath as the sisters reconnect after everything.

“Powder…!” Vi’s voice cracks as she speaks, her eyes filling with tears. “You’re really here.”

Caitlyn steps back, letting the sisters have their moment, her heart swelling with emotion. Seeing them like this, together again after everything, it’s almost too much to bear.

Powder’s smile weakens, but it’s there—bright, even in her weakened state. “Couldn’t let you have all the fun, Vi,” she whispers, trying to sit up a little, her body still too weak to fully support the movement.

Vi quickly leans forward, helping her sister gently. “You don’t have to do anything, Powder. Just rest. You’ve been through too much.”

Powder’s eyes flutter, exhaustion pulling at her again, but she looks at Vi, the familiar bond between them unspoken yet so clear. “I’ll always be here, Vi… no matter what.”

Vi presses her forehead against Powder’s gently, letting the tears fall freely. “I’ll never leave you again.”

For the first time in what feels like forever, the weight that Vi had carried—the worry, the guilt, the fear—lifts, even if just a little. And in this fragile moment, with both sisters alive, together, it’s enough.

Powder’s voice is weak but clear, and she shifts slightly as she looks at Vi, her eyes searching her face. “I remember being in your arms… the letting my head fall. Next thing I know, I’m here.”

Vi’s face softens, a wave of emotion washing over her. She brushes a lock of hair away from Powder’s forehead, trying to steady her own trembling hands. The memory of those moments before everything went dark comes rushing back—the desperation, the helplessness, the fear of losing her little sister forever.

“You almost didn’t make it, Powder,” Vi whispers, her voice trembling with a mix of relief and sorrow. “I thought I’d lost you.”

Powder’s hand, weak as it is, reaches up to hold Vi’s, and she smiles faintly, trying to reassure her. “But you didn’t, Vi. You didn’t let me go. You kept me going.”

Vi’s tears spill over as she nods, squeezing her sister’s hand gently. “I wasn’t gonna let you go, Powder. I wasn’t.”

Caitlyn stands off to the side, quietly watching the exchange, a mixture of admiration and grief in her heart. She had seen these two girls go through hell, but now—now she sees the bond between them, the unspoken promises and strength that had kept them alive.

For a moment, time seems to stop. All the pain, the fights, the betrayals, and the losses don’t matter. The only thing that matters is that, against all odds, they’re together again.

“You’re stronger than I thought,” Powder murmurs, her voice growing faint again, as if the effort of speaking is taking its toll. “Stronger than me.”

Vi smiles softly, pressing a kiss to Powder’s forehead. “No, we’re strong together.”

Vi gently squeezes both of Powder’s hands, her thumb brushing over the back of her sister’s hand as she leans down to kiss Powder’s forehead. “You can rest now. Please,” she whispers, her voice thick with emotion.

Powder’s eyes flutter, her breath shallow, but she smiles faintly up at Vi, her eyelids heavy as the warmth of the kiss and Vi’s touch soothes her.

“Stay with me… Vi,” Powder murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Vi promises softly, brushing her sister’s hair back gently. “I’m right here. Always.”

Powder’s hand relaxes in Vi’s grip, and for the first time in what feels like forever, she seems at peace, the quiet hum of her breathing the only sound in the room.

Vi remains by her side, holding her close, as time slows, letting the weight of everything that’s happened—and the relief of knowing her sister is still here—wash over them both.

Chapter Text

Rest doesn't come easy for Powder. As a matter of fact, It's near impossible. Powder’s breathing is shallow, and every rise and fall of her chest seems labored, as though her body is still struggling to catch up with the torment it’s endured. Even though she’s conscious, there’s a tension that clings to her, a fight in every small movement.

Vi notices it, the subtle way Powder’s hand twitches or the slight grimace on her face as if she’s trapped in a dream, but unable to escape. Rest doesn’t come easily. It’s a battle just to stay awake, her body demanding to sleep but her mind fighting against the darkness that tries to pull her under.

Vi gently brushes a lock of hair from Powder’s face, her heart breaking as she watches her sister, so fragile, so worn. "It's okay, Powder," she murmurs, trying to reassure her, though her own voice trembles. "You don't have to fight anymore."

But even as she says the words, she can see the flicker of uncertainty in Powder’s eyes. The exhaustion in her body isn’t just physical—it’s something deeper, a residual fear she can’t shake off.

“I’m here,” Vi continues softly, her thumb brushing over Powder’s knuckles, trying to offer some comfort in the only way she knows how. “I won’t leave. Not now. Not ever.”

But no matter how much Vi holds her, or how much she whispers those assurances, Powder’s body betrays her. The stillness between her breaths speaks volumes of the toll this has all taken. The relief she found in waking up is short-lived, replaced by the exhaustion and the weight of everything her body has endured. And still, she doesn’t let go. 

It’s as if she’s fighting a battle inside herself, her body too tired to rest, but too afraid to let go completely.

Powder mutters to Vi in a weak and raspy tone, "I'm scared Vi..."

Vi’s heart clenches at the whisper, her eyes welling up with tears as she leans down closer, brushing her cheek against Powder’s hand.

“I know, Powder,” Vi whispers softly, her voice breaking. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” She tightens her grip on her sister’s hand, willing her presence to be enough. “You don’t have to be scared anymore. I won’t let you go.”

Vi fights to keep her voice steady, but every word feels like a promise, a vow to never leave her sister’s side again.

“Listen, you’ve been through so much, more than anyone should ever have to go through,” Vi continues, her voice barely a breath. “But you’re not alone, okay? Not anymore. Not ever.”

Powder’s eyes flutter, her brow furrowing in a mix of confusion and desperation, her voice barely audible as she whispers again, “But I don’t know... if I can keep... fighting.”

Vi’s heart shatters. She doesn’t have the answers, and part of her feels so powerless, seeing her sister in this state. But she leans in closer, pressing her forehead to Powder’s, a quiet tear slipping down her cheek.

“You don’t have to fight anymore, Powder,” she whispers with all the love she can muster. “Let me fight for you. Let me be your strength now. Please… just rest. You’ve fought enough.”

She kisses Powder’s hand gently, a quiet promise between them that no matter what happens, she’ll always be there, her sister’s protector. “I love you, Powder. So much.”

It’s a silent, fragile bond, but it’s all they have. The room feels heavy with the weight of their shared history, the pain, the fear, but also the love that’s always been there, despite everything. Vi can only hold on to her sister, and hope—hope that this time, it’ll be enough to pull her through.

Vi’s voice softens, a playful edge returning as she watches Powder’s weary, tired eyes struggle to stay open. Her hand still tightly clasped around her sister’s, she leans in closer, her tone gentle but filled with warmth.

“Hey, Powder,” Vi whispers, her lips curling into a small, teasing smile despite the heaviness in the room. “You know what? I’ve got a game for you.”

Powder’s eyes flicker, struggling to focus on her sister’s face, her body exhausted, but she tries to make sense of the words.

“A game?” Powder murmurs, her voice weak, almost as if she’s unsure if she’s still dreaming.

“Yeah, a game,” Vi replies softly, a light glint in her eyes. “All you have to do is shut your eyes for me, just for a second. Can you do that?”

Powder looks at her sister, her brow furrowing slightly. She’s confused, tired, and in pain, but the sound of Vi’s voice, so familiar and comforting, fills her with a sense of reassurance.

“You want me to shut my eyes?” Powder’s voice wavers, but she’s trying.

“That’s right. Just close them. Like we’re playing hide-and-seek, okay?” Vi teases softly, her thumb brushing over the back of Powder’s hand. “I’ll find you once you’re hidden. But you gotta keep them shut. Can you do that?”

Powder’s lips tremble slightly, the weight of everything pressing on her, but Vi’s playful tone seems to calm her. She nods slowly, her eyelids fluttering as she gathers the strength to close them, just as Vi had asked.

“I’ll try,” she whispers, her voice barely a breath. “But... what if I don’t... wake up?”

Vi’s heart aches at the question, but she smiles softly, kissing her sister’s hand before resting her forehead against it.

“You’ll wake up,” Vi reassures her, her voice steady despite the tears she’s holding back. “I’ll be right here, waiting for you. So, go ahead, close your eyes, and just rest. I’ll find you, I promise.”

Powder takes in a shaky breath, letting the calmness of her sister’s voice wash over her, as her eyelids finally close. It’s a small victory, a tiny step toward peace. Vi watches her, her heart full of love and gratitude.

“You’re hiding so well, Powder,” Vi whispers, a small chuckle escaping her lips despite the weight of the moment. “I’ll be waiting to find you when you’re ready to wake up.”

With that, she stays beside her sister, her hand still holding on, ready to fight for her until the very end.

Vi leans in closer to her sister, a gentle smile spreading across her face despite the emotional weight of the situation. She brushes a stray lock of Powder’s hair away from her face, her thumb grazing over the soft skin of her sister’s hand.

“No monster is going to get you now that I am here again,” Vi murmurs, her voice steady, a promise wrapped in reassurance. “You’re safe now, Powder. You don’t have to be scared anymore.”

Powder doesn’t respond right away, but there’s a subtle sense of relief in her breathing, a faint softening of the tension in her face. Her body may still be weak, her mind clouded, but she can feel the presence of her sister beside her, and for now, that’s enough.

However, Caitlyn, standing off to the side, watches the moment unfold between the sisters. Her eyes are fixed on Vi’s words, on the warmth of the reassurance. But when Vi says those words, Caitlyn's gaze drops slightly. She can’t help but wince, the weight of her own actions from the past—her decisions, her role in everything—crushing down on her like an invisible burden.

She closes her eyes, briefly, as if trying to block out a memory that’s been lingering just beyond the surface. It’s the look of guilt, a flash of self-doubt that’s too familiar. Was she, at some point, a monster to Powder? To Jinx? Her actions might have been motivated by duty, by what she thought was right, but was she any better than those who made the sisters feel abandoned, unwanted, or trapped?

She thinks of the moments she tried to enforce justice, of the choices made in the name of the law—and how they might’ve hurt the very people she wanted to protect.

Caitlyn shakes her head, her breath catching in her chest. She opens her eyes again, meeting the quiet, unwavering trust between the two sisters.

Maybe they were right. Maybe there was no need for her to put herself in between them, to draw lines. She was the one who’d been forced to see her as a villain, even if that wasn’t who Powder—who Jinx—was.

A soft sigh escapes Caitlyn's lips, her gaze drifting back to Vi, and then to Powder. Maybe it wasn’t too late for her to make it right. Maybe this was the moment for redemption, even if it wasn’t in the way she’d originally imagined.

Caitlyn’s voice is soft, but it carries a sense of finality. She steps closer to Powder, her eyes meeting the hazy, tired gaze of the younger girl. Her heart is heavy with the weight of the decision she’s about to make, but there’s no hesitation this time.

“There won’t be a trial,” Caitlyn says gently, her words laced with sincerity. “Because you’ve been pardoned of all your crimes... You’ve suffered enough. You’re not a monster, Powder. You’re not Jinx. You’re just a sister... who wanted to be seen, who wanted to be loved.”

Powder’s eyes flicker as the words slowly begin to sink in, her breath hitching in her chest. It’s as if a piece of her world is starting to realign—her face softens, and for the first time in what feels like forever, there’s a glimmer of relief in her expression.

Caitlyn watches her closely, her own emotions playing out in the quiet of the room. “You don’t have to run anymore. No one’s going to hunt you down. No more hiding. You’re free.”

It’s a promise, a vow. Caitlyn knows the weight of the word free—it means something different to every person, but for Powder? It might be the first time she can fully understand it. The chains of guilt, the burden of her actions, they all begin to fall away with those simple words.

“And your sister?” Caitlyn continues, turning her gaze to Vi, who’s still holding onto Powder with everything she has. “She’ll be right there with you, every step of the way. You two are together again, and that’s what matters most.”

Vi’s hand tightens around Powder’s, her voice barely a whisper, “I’m never letting go again, Powder. You’ve got me. Always.”

For the first time in a long while, a true smile crosses Powder’s lips, her chest rising with the slightest ease.

Caitlyn stands there, quietly watching, allowing the moment to settle. No trial, no punishment—just the recognition of who Powder truly is, and the chance for her to start again. It might be too much to ask for full healing, but it’s a start. And for now, that’s all they can hope for.

Vi’s voice is gentle but firm, her smile warm as she gazes down at Powder, her sister still weak but clinging to her words. She holds Powder’s hand, her fingers brushing softly over her knuckles, offering all the comfort she can.

“If Caitlyn can forgive you,” Vi says, her voice unwavering, “what’s stopping you from forgiving yourself?”

Powder blinks, the words hanging in the air between them, heavy yet soft, as though they’re meant to unravel the tangled mess of guilt and fear that’s been consuming her. She shifts slightly, eyes fluttering as she looks between Vi and Caitlyn, the weight of her past still haunting her, but now, for the first time, there’s a hint of uncertainty—a glimmer of hope.

“Forgive... myself?” Powder whispers, the question hanging on her lips like a fragile thought.

Vi nods, her smile never faltering. “Yeah. You’re not perfect. Neither of us are. But you’re still you. And that’s all that matters. You’ve got a fresh start, Powder. A second chance. And that’s something you can give yourself, if you let it.”

The silence in the room feels different now. Less oppressive. The air isn’t as heavy as it once was. The world outside might still be a mess, but right here, right now, Vi is offering something far more valuable than anything else—understanding.

Caitlyn watches, standing back but silently offering her support. She knows, more than anyone, the battle that’s still raging within Powder. But Vi’s words—those are the ones that could make all the difference. It’s the simple act of giving someone permission to heal.

Powder’s lips tremble as she tries to speak, the weight of Vi’s words sinking in. She’s not sure if she’s ready to forgive herself just yet. But maybe—just maybe—she’s starting to believe that she can.

And in that moment, that’s all she needs.

She looks up at Vi, a small tear sliding down her cheek. “I... I’ll try,” she whispers, her voice barely audible but filled with more strength than she’s had in so long. “I’ll try.”

As Powder moves her hands, she instinctively brushes over her chest, her fingers lightly grazing the area where her ribs should be. The faint pressure under her fingertips sends a shiver through her body. It’s not visible—she can’t see the bruising or the scars the doctors worked tirelessly to heal—but the sensation is undeniable.

She pauses, a quiet gasp escaping her lips as she feels the shape of one rib, slightly raised, still there beneath the surface. It’s a reminder of the pain, the struggle, everything she’s been through.

Her eyes widen, and she looks down at her hands for a moment, as if unsure of what to make of this new reality. The doctors had done their best, given her body the time to heal, but the marks of what had happened to her are still there. They always will be, in one way or another.

Vi notices the small shift in her sister’s demeanor and looks down at Powder, her eyes soft but filled with quiet understanding. “You’re gonna be okay, Powder. You’ve come so far already,” she says gently, brushing a strand of hair from Powder’s face.

Powder looks back up at her sister, a faint, uncertain smile tugging at her lips. “I feel it,” she whispers, still tracing the shape of her ribs lightly, “but... it’s like I’m not all the way back yet.”

Vi’s hand wraps around hers again, squeezing it with a warmth that promises she’s not alone in this fight. “You’re not alone. You’ve got me. And Caitlyn. And Sevika. You’re stronger than you know, Powder.”

Caitlyn, standing by, watches the exchange. She knows it’s not going to be an easy road for Powder, not after everything that’s happened. But seeing the bond between the two sisters, the strength in Vi’s unwavering support, she starts to believe that maybe, just maybe, there is a way forward for them—together.

Powder’s hand falls back to her side, but the slight touch to her ribs is still there, a reminder of the battle fought. But it’s also a reminder of her resilience. A sign that no matter how broken she feels, she’s still here. Still alive. And with Vi at her side, she might just be able to heal.

“Yeah,” Powder murmurs softly, more to herself than anyone else. “I’ll try... to keep going.”

Vi tells Powder with a curious tone,  "You mentioned a girl named Isha when we were on that ledge. That was the girl you were with the entire time when you went to save me from myself right? Think you'd be willing to tell me about her?"

Vi notices the silence that falls between them as soon as she mentions Isha's name. Powder’s eyes darken, her hand fidgeting with the edge of the blanket as if she’s trying to pull away from the question. Vi knows better than to push too hard, but the silence speaks volumes. Isha’s death is still too raw, still too close to the surface for Powder to face it head-on.

Vi doesn’t press her. Instead, she stays close, watching Powder, waiting for her to find her words when she’s ready. After a long pause, Powder’s voice comes, barely a whisper, and Vi leans in a little closer to catch it.

“She... she was everything to me, Vi,” Powder starts slowly, her voice thick with emotion. “She was my strength. The one who kept me going. I never... I never thought I’d be alone again after I lost you. But when I found her—when we found each other—it was like... like we had a second chance, you know? She helped me understand that I could still be someone. That I wasn’t just... broken.”

Powder stops for a moment, taking a shaky breath. She looks down at her hands again, fingers curling around the blanket, and for a moment, the pain of losing Isha comes crashing in, even though she tries to push it down.

“I tried to save her, Vi. I thought... I thought if I could just... get us out of there, things could be different. But I failed. I couldn’t save her,” Powder chokes out, her eyes filling with unshed tears. “I should’ve been better. I should’ve done more.”

Vi feels a pang of hurt at seeing her sister so vulnerable, so lost in her own grief. She gently reaches for Powder’s hand, squeezing it tightly in her own, her voice soft but unwavering.

“You didn’t fail her, Powder. You fought with everything you had. And Isha, she knew that. She knew you loved her. That’s what matters,” Vi says, her voice firm but tender. “You gave her everything, and you gave yourself everything, too. You weren’t alone in that fight. You had her, and she had you.”

Powder’s lip trembles, but she nods, as if trying to hold herself together, just long enough to make it through the conversation. “I... I miss her, Vi. I miss her so much. And now... now I don’t know what to do without her.”

Vi leans in, resting her forehead against Powder’s, her hand still tightly gripping her sister’s. “We’ll figure it out, Powder. We’ll get through it. Together.”

The weight of the moment hangs in the air between them, and though the sadness lingers, there’s a sense of something else growing in its place. Hope. The possibility of healing. Of moving forward, even if only one step at a time.

Powder nods again, the first genuine, if fragile, smile breaking through the layers of pain. “Yeah. Together.”

Powder asks Vi nervously to the point that she squeezes Vi’s hands as if she were to let go, Vi would disappear for good, "If I sleep, You promise you'll be here?"

Vi’s gaze softens, her heart aching at the vulnerability in Powder’s voice. The words are simple, but they carry so much weight—the kind of quiet fear that speaks to a deep need for comfort, for reassurance. Vi squeezes her sister's hand gently, leaning down just a little closer, as if closing the distance between them will make the promise that much more real.

"I promise, Powder," Vi says softly, her voice steady, but filled with the deep affection and devotion she feels for her sister. "I’ll always be here, no matter what. You’ve been through hell, but you’re not alone in this. Not now. Not ever."

She watches as Powder’s tired eyes flutter for a moment, like she’s still processing everything, trying to let it all settle into her heart. Vi smooths back a strand of hair from her sister's forehead, brushing away the stray tear that’s escaped.

"Sleep, if you need to. I’ll be right here when you wake up," Vi adds, her voice gentle and full of warmth. "I’ll be here when you open your eyes. No matter how long it takes, no matter what you need, I’ll be right here by your side."

Powder’s breath hitches, but she manages a small, tired smile, her grip on Vi’s hand loosening just enough to let her rest. “Okay… Promise me you’ll stay?” she murmurs, her eyes growing heavy with exhaustion, yet still searching Vi’s face, needing that final reassurance before she can finally give in to sleep.

Vi leans down, pressing a soft kiss to her sister’s forehead, her thumb gently stroking the back of Powder’s hand. "I promise. Always."

With that, Powder’s eyes flutter shut, her breathing evening out, her body finally giving in to the rest it desperately needed. Vi doesn’t move, doesn’t let go, watching her sister with a quiet intensity, knowing that this moment, this fragile peace, is something to be cherished.

No matter what happens in the future, no matter the struggles they both will face, Vi knows one thing for sure—she’s not going anywhere. She’ll be here, watching over her sister, for as long as it takes.

And that, in this moment, is all that matters.

It’s not even a minute after their conversation for Powder to give into sleep completely. Vi watches her sister’s eyelids flutter shut, the tension in Powder’s face finally softening as her breath becomes steadier, more rhythmic. It’s like watching the world slow down around them, everything settling into a quiet, almost sacred calm. The room, which had been filled with so much worry, fear, and heartache, now feels lighter, quieter. The weight of the world still hangs heavy in Vi’s chest, but in this moment, her sister is finally at peace—at least for now.

Vi takes a deep, steadying breath, feeling the relief flood through her, even as a new kind of exhaustion settles in. She watches Powder, her gaze unwavering, noticing the faint rise and fall of her chest, the small, almost imperceptible tremor in her sister’s hand as she continues to hold it. Vi doesn’t mind. She doesn’t move. She can’t. Not now. Not when everything they’ve been through, everything they’ve fought for, has come down to this quiet, fragile moment.

Vi brushes a few more strands of hair away from Powder’s face, her touch gentle, lingering. It’s hard to believe that this is the same girl who, just days ago, had been fighting for her life on that cold, unforgiving ledge. It’s hard to believe that just a short time ago, Powder had been lost—completely and utterly lost to the world, to herself, to everything around her. But here she is, alive. Still here. And for now, that’s enough.

Her heart aches as she looks at her sister, knowing that what they’ve both been through isn’t something they’ll easily shake off. The scars, both physical and emotional, will be there for a long time, maybe forever. But for now, the only thing that matters is that they’re here together.

Vi leans back in her chair, keeping her hand firmly on Powder’s, her eyes never leaving her sister’s face. The silence in the room feels almost sacred—no interruptions, no noise, just the quiet hum of the machines and the steady pulse of her sister’s breath. It’s peaceful, and it’s everything Vi needs right now.

For the first time in days, she allows herself to close her eyes, just for a moment, and breathe. She remembers that promise she made to Powder—the one that would keep her here, no matter what. She doesn’t break promises, not to her sister. And though Vi has no idea what tomorrow will bring, she knows this: she’s not going anywhere.

Not when her sister needs her.

Not ever.

The weight of the promise sits heavy in her chest, but it feels right, grounding her, giving her something solid to hold on to in the midst of everything. She exhales slowly, a long, drawn-out breath, and leans her head back against the chair, letting herself relax for just a moment. The fight is far from over. The road ahead will be long, and it will be hard. But they’ll face it together. Because they always have, and always will.

As the minutes tick by, Vi finds herself drifting—her eyelids growing heavier with every passing second, her mind unable to fight the exhaustion any longer. But she doesn’t want to fall asleep, not with Powder so vulnerable. Not now.

But the need for rest weighs on her, and despite herself, her eyes begin to close.

Just before she lets herself drift off, she whispers, almost to herself but just loud enough for Powder to hear—though the girl is far too deep in sleep to respond.

"I’m here, Powder. Always."

And with that, Vi lets herself rest, her hand still holding her sister’s, her breath steady and calm. The two of them, finally, at peace—for now.

Vi tells Caitlyn without looking at her as her eyes never leave Powder's fragile body, "She's asleep. If anyone deserves a peaceful rest, It’s my sister..."

Caitlyn, standing a few steps away, watches Vi with quiet understanding. She doesn’t push her, doesn’t rush her. The weight of everything is still so fresh, and she knows that sometimes, silence is the best answer. Vi’s focus, her undivided attention on Powder, says everything. Caitlyn doesn’t need words right now. She just nods gently, taking a few steps closer, careful not to disturb the moment.

“I know,” Caitlyn says softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’ve both been through more than anyone should ever have to bear.”

She glances at Powder, seeing the faint rise and fall of her chest, and then back to Vi, her gaze filled with a mix of concern and empathy. She steps closer, finally breaking the silence between them.

“Do you need anything? I’ll be here.” The words are simple, but they carry a weight of solidarity. Caitlyn means it. She’ll stand by them. She always has.

But she’s patient. She lets Vi decide what she needs, or if anything at all. For now, Caitlyn knows that sometimes, being there quietly, just like this, is enough.

Vi, her eyes never leaving Powder, shakes her head slowly. “Just need time. Time for her to rest. For us both.”

The exhaustion in Vi’s voice is hard to ignore, but it’s the calm that’s truly striking. This moment, with Powder asleep, is all Vi needs for now. To just hold onto this, even if it’s only for a little while.

Caitlyn offers a gentle smile, one that carries more meaning than any words could. “Take all the time you need. I’m right here.”

With that, Caitlyn leans against the wall, quietly watching over them both, respecting the moment Vi and Powder are having together. She knows that the road ahead won’t be easy for either of them, but in this small, fragile moment, they have peace. And Caitlyn is willing to give them as much time as they need to hold onto that.

Sevika steps into the room, her presence undeniable even in the stillness of the hospital. She’s a little worn, her metal arm still gleaming under the soft light, but she’s steady as ever. Her eyes flick between Vi and Powder, lingering on the sight of the two sisters, the fragile peace that they seem to be sharing. There’s a quiet recognition in her gaze, the kind that knows just how far they’ve come, and how much they still have to fight for.

She clears her throat softly, as if not wanting to break the stillness too abruptly, but her tone is direct. “How’s she doing?”

Vi doesn’t look up at first, her attention firmly on Powder, but she answers nonetheless, her voice soft but firm. “She’s resting… finally.”

Sevika approaches, her heavy footsteps slowing as she reaches the side of the bed. She pauses, looking down at Powder with a mixture of concern and something almost like admiration. “Good. She needs it.”

There’s a long pause, the tension of everything hanging between them, but Sevika doesn’t rush it. She leans in slightly, her voice dropping to almost a whisper, “She’s strong. Both of you are.”

Caitlyn watches the exchange quietly, her eyes flicking between Sevika and Vi. The atmosphere is thick, laden with emotions that haven’t been fully addressed, but there’s something grounding in Sevika’s words. They carry weight—weight that comes from understanding the struggle, the pain, and the resilience that all three of them have endured.

Vi exhales slowly, her lips tightening for just a moment before she nods, acknowledging Sevika’s words. “She’s stubborn. Always has been. But... this? This is different.”

Sevika gives a small, knowing grunt. “That’s one way to put it.”

There’s a brief moment of silence, and then Sevika adds, her voice quieter now, “You’ve been through hell, Vi. Both of you.” She gestures to Powder. “But there’s something about this… Something that’s changing. For the better. I can feel it.”

Vi finally looks up, her eyes soft but weighed down with exhaustion. “You think so?”

“I know so,” Sevika replies firmly, her gaze steady. “You’ve both had a hell of a fight, but you’re still here. And that means something.”

Caitlyn steps forward, offering a small but supportive smile to Sevika. “She’s right, Vi. You’ve done everything you could. It’s just time for her to heal now.”

Sevika, ever the realist, crosses her arms, glancing at both of them. “Just don’t let up. She’s not out of the woods yet. And neither are you.”

Vi nods, her gaze flicking back to Powder. “I won’t. Not until she’s standing beside me again.”

There’s a finality to the way Vi says it, a resolve that feels almost like a promise. Sevika, sensing the weight of the moment, steps back slightly, giving them space to breathe.

“Good,” Sevika replies, her tone softer now. “Then I’ll leave you two to it. But I’ll be around.”

Vi offers a faint, tired smile as Sevika begins to turn. “Thanks, Sevika. For everything.”

Sevika pauses, giving a curt nod. “You know where to find me.”

And with that, Sevika exits the room, leaving Vi and Caitlyn in the quiet once again. The air seems to settle around them, the heaviness lingering but softened by the presence of people who understand, who’ve fought their own battles and know how to give the time and space needed for healing.

Vi leans back in her chair, her eyes still fixed on Powder. “She’s gonna be okay, right?”

Caitlyn takes a deep breath and nods. “She’s got you. And you’ve got her. That’s all that matters now.”

Vi asks Caitlyn cautiously, “Will she be mad if I got some sleep as well?”

Vi finally lays in her bed and tells Caitlyn, “Alright tell the doctors I’m ready to get settled again.”

Caitlyn nods, brushing her thumb over Vi’s hand one last time before standing. “I’ll be right back,” she says softly, glancing at Powder to make sure she’s still peacefully asleep before heading for the door.

As she steps into the hallway, she flags down the nearest doctor. “Vi’s ready to get settled again,” she informs them. “She pushed herself sitting up for so long.”

The doctor gives a small nod. “We’ll get her comfortable and check her vitals again. She needs as much rest as possible.”

Caitlyn watches as they move past her into the room, feeling the tension in her shoulders ease just slightly. They weren’t out of the woods yet, but for the first time in days, it felt like the worst was finally behind them.

———8 Hours Later———

Powder blinks slowly, her vision adjusting to the dim lighting of the room. Her body still feels heavy, like it’s made of lead, but the sharp pain has dulled to a deep, aching soreness. She shifts slightly, just enough to turn her head, and the first thing she sees is Caitlyn—curled up on the couch, fast asleep.

It’s a strange sight. Powder had never seen Caitlyn at rest before. Every time they had crossed paths, Caitlyn had been tense, alert, either chasing her down or confronting her. Now, though, she looks… different. Peaceful. Even exhausted.

But Powder doesn’t dwell on it. She turns her attention to what really matters—to Vi.

Her eyes scan the room until she finds her sister, still lying in her hospital bed, chest rising and falling in slow, steady breaths. Powder lets out a shaky breath of her own. She’s still here. They both are.

For the first time since she woke up, she lets her body relax, just a little.

A small, tired smile tugs at Powder’s lips as she feels it—Vi’s hand, warm and firm, wrapped around hers even in sleep. She hadn’t let go. Not even once.

Vi had kept her promise. She never left.

Powder tightens her fingers slightly, just enough to feel the familiar roughness of Vi’s skin against hers. It anchors her, soothes her in a way nothing else can. For the first time in what feels like forever, she doesn’t feel completely alone.

She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t make a sound. She just lays there, holding onto Vi’s hand like it’s the only thing keeping her tethered to the world. Because maybe, in a way, it is.

Powder’s fingers fumble slightly as she reaches for the remote resting by her side. The effort feels monumental—her limbs are heavy, her body weak—but she pushes through it, pressing the call button with a shaky breath.

The silence lingers for a moment before the soft sound of footsteps approaches. A nurse enters the room, her expression shifting to one of quiet surprise upon seeing Powder awake.

“Well, look who’s finally with us,” the nurse says gently, stepping closer to the bedside. “How are you feeling, sweetheart?”

Powder blinks up at her, the words caught somewhere in her throat. How was she feeling? The answer wasn’t simple. She felt exhausted, her body aching in ways she didn’t have the strength to put into words. But at the same time… there was warmth. A kind of security she hadn’t known in a long time. Vi’s presence, her hand still holding hers, made the heaviness a little more bearable.

The nurse seems to understand the hesitation, her gaze softening. “No rush, okay? You’ve been through a lot. I’ll check your vitals and get the doctor in here to see you. If you need anything, just let me know.”

Powder manages the smallest nod, her fingers unconsciously curling tighter around Vi’s. The nurse offers a reassuring smile before moving to begin her checks, her movements careful and precise.

For the first time in a long while, Powder wasn’t completely alone when she woke up. And that, at least, was something.

Powder swallows, her throat dry and scratchy, but she forces the words out anyway.

“Tired,” she whispers, barely above a breath.

The nurse pauses for a moment before nodding in understanding. “That’s completely normal. Your body’s been through a lot. You’re safe now, though. Just focus on resting, alright?”

Powder glances down at Vi’s hand still wrapped around hers, feeling the steady warmth of her sister’s grip even in sleep. A small, almost invisible smile flickers across her face.

“Vi…” she murmurs, her voice softer now, more fragile.

The nurse follows her gaze and offers a reassuring smile. “She’s been right there the whole time. Hasn’t let go of you once. However she’s gone through the same thing as you. She may have been able to be out of bed for a bit, but even Vi’s body had limits. She did however make sure Ms. Kiramman made sure you were holding each other’s hands.”

Powder closes her eyes for a moment, exhaling shakily. Vi had kept her promise. That simple truth settled something deep inside her, something that had been fractured for far too long. The fact that Vi went the extra mile to simply hold her hand? She didn’t know if she should be surprised or not.

She barely has the energy to speak again, but she manages a faint, “Thank you…” before the exhaustion begins pulling at her once more.

The nurse finishes adjusting Powder’s IV and checking her vitals before stepping back. “You’re doing well, all things considered. I’ll go get the doctor now, alright?”

Powder gives a weak nod, her fingers twitching slightly against Vi’s hand. She doesn’t say anything else, just watches as the nurse quietly steps out of the room.

A few moments later, the door opens again, and the main doctor walks in. She moves with practiced ease, her sharp eyes immediately scanning Powder’s monitors before settling on the girl herself.

“Well,” the doctor says, her tone measured but not unkind. “You’re more stubborn than any patient I’ve had in a long time. By all accounts, you shouldn’t have made it this far.”

Powder swallows, her throat still sore, but her voice is steady enough. “Yeah… I get that a lot.”

The doctor hums in mild amusement before continuing, “Your body has been through severe starvation and stress, but you’re stable. That’s the important part. Now, we need to take it slow—small steps. You’re not out of the woods yet.”

Powder’s grip on Vi’s hand tightens just slightly. “I don’t… I don’t want to be in here forever.”

The doctor softens, her expression gentler now. “I know. But your body needs time. If we push too hard, too fast, we risk setbacks. We’re going to help you through this.”

She makes a few more notes before looking at Powder again. “Do you feel up to answering a few questions? Just to make sure everything is functioning the way it should?”

Powder hesitates, but after a moment, she nods. “Yeah… okay.”

The doctor pulls up a small clipboard and begins to ask the questions with the same professional but caring demeanor.

“Alright, Powder, I just need you to answer a few questions to gauge where you’re at. First—how’s your head? Any dizziness or confusion?”

Powder tilts her head slightly, feeling the weight of her exhaustion. “A little… but I think that’s just from everything, y’know? The world’s spinning, but I can handle it.”

The doctor makes a note and nods. “Good. It’s normal to feel disoriented after a trauma like this. Next—how are your limbs? Any numbness or tingling?”

Powder moves her fingers slowly, testing the movement. “They’re sore, but they work… nothing feels weird, just really weak.”

“Good,” the doctor says. “Let me know if anything feels off. Now, what about your chest? Any pain or discomfort?”

Powder hesitates for a moment before answering, looking down at her body with a frown. “Yeah, my ribs hurt, but it’s not sharp. More like I got hit with a truck or something.”

The doctor nods again, making another note. “That’s to be expected after the strain you’ve been through. You’ll heal, but we’ll keep monitoring you for any signs of trouble.”

“Okay…” Powder’s voice is quiet now, but she’s still holding on to Vi’s hand tightly.

The doctor pauses and looks at her more intently. “Lastly, how are you feeling emotionally? I know that’s a big question, but it’s important too. You’ve been through a lot.”

Powder swallows hard, the weight of everything pressing on her chest. “I… I don’t know. I guess I’m just trying to make sense of it. I just want to be okay. I’m scared sometimes.”

The doctor gives her a small smile, not pitying, but understanding. “That’s perfectly normal. What you’ve been through… it’s a lot for anyone. Take it one step at a time.”

Powder nods, but the silence that follows is heavy. The doctor allows it for a moment before adding, “You’re doing well. We’ll keep monitoring you closely, but I have no doubt you’re going to get through this.”

Powder doesn’t respond immediately, her eyes focusing on Vi as the doctor finishes up and leaves the room.

As the doctor exits the room, the quiet stillness in the air is broken by the soft rustle of sheets. Vi stirs, her eyes fluttering open as she blinks at the unfamiliar light of the room. The gentle sound of breathing from both her and Powder fills the space.

She groggily lifts her head, her neck stiff from sleeping in an awkward position. Then, her gaze immediately falls to Powder’s hand in hers, still clutching tightly. It takes her a moment to fully register where she is, and a soft, relieved breath escapes her lips.

“Hey…” Vi murmurs, her voice still thick with sleep as she shifts slightly, trying to sit up. Her hand doesn’t leave Powder’s, though. “You awake?”

Powder turns her head slowly, her lips pulling into a faint but genuine smile when she sees Vi. It’s almost as if seeing Vi beside her makes everything feel a little more real.

“I’m here,” Powder replies softly, her voice a bit raspy from the earlier strain. “You really stayed… you didn’t leave.”

Vi chuckles quietly, her smile warm and comforting as she lightly squeezes Powder’s hand. “Of course not, Powder.” Her voice softens as she shifts to get a little more comfortable, leaning closer. “I promised you. I’ll always keep my word.”

Powder’s eyes glisten as she looks at Vi, her emotions running deep. “I remember… when you held me and told me everything would be okay. Even when I… thought I was gone.”

Vi’s heart clenches. She reaches out with her other hand, gently brushing Powder’s hair back from her face. “It’s gonna be okay, Pow Pow. You’re awake. And I’m right here.”

The world feels quieter, the weight of the past few days still hanging in the air, but in this moment, there’s a peace between them. A shared understanding that despite everything, they have each other.

Vi sighs softly, relieved and yet still a little raw from the fear she’s been holding. “We made it through, together.”

Powder nods weakly, her tired eyes never leaving Vi’s. “Together,” she echoes, the word a promise they both understand.

And as the silence settles back in, this time, it’s a quiet kind of peace, a moment where nothing else matters but the fact that they survived, and they’re here now.

Powder looks at a sleeping Caitlyn and asks Vi, “You love her don’t you?”

Vi glances over at Caitlyn, still asleep on the couch, her breathing steady and peaceful. The question hangs in the air, and for a moment, Vi is silent, as if letting the weight of it sink in. She bites her lip, her gaze softening as she looks at Powder.

“I… yeah,” Vi admits, her voice quieter than usual. “I do. I care about her more than I thought I would. More than I thought I could.” She takes a slow breath, trying to process her own feelings. “She’s been there for me, for us, when I didn’t expect it. When I didn’t deserve it.”

Powder studies Vi’s face, her eyes soft and thoughtful. “She’s good to you, isn’t she?”

“Yeah,” Vi says, nodding slowly. “She is. She’s… a lot of things. But, more than anything, she’s been someone I can count on.” She glances at Caitlyn again, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I’ve never really had someone like that before.”

Powder smiles faintly, then winces as she shifts in bed. “I’m glad. You deserve that.” She pauses, her tone more playful but filled with sincerity. “Just… don’t mess it up, okay?”

Vi laughs softly, shaking her head. “I won’t, Pow Pow. I won’t.” She squeezes Powder’s hand gently, then adds with a quiet laugh, “But don’t think I won’t need you to back me up when the time comes.”

Powder grins, her eyes sparkling with a touch of mischief. “Of course. I’m your sister. I’ll always have your back. Especially if you’re messing things up.”

Vi chuckles, feeling a warmth in her chest that she hasn’t felt in a long time. “Thanks, Powder. I’m gonna need it.”

The room falls into a comfortable silence again, but this time, it’s a peace that feels earned, a sense of belonging that’s been missing for far too long.

Powder tells Vi almost regretfully, “I wanted to end my life. That grenade I used as a signal? That was supposed to be for me. Ekko talked me out of it. He told me he learned something from someone very special that no matter what happened in the past, It’s never too late to build something new.  Someone worth building it for… He never told me who that special someone was, but I wish I could thank em.”

Vi’s grip on Powder’s hand tightens as she listens, her heart aching at the confession. Her mind races for words, but for a long moment, all she can do is sit there, letting the weight of Powder’s words settle.

“Gods Powder…” Vi finally whispers, her voice thick with emotion. “I’m so sorry you had to feel like that. I never knew you felt that way.” Her voice cracks slightly, and she has to take a steadying breath before she can continue. “But I’m glad Ekko was there for you. I’m glad he helped you see that there’s always more to live for. And I’m glad you’re here now. We still have a chance to make something better of all this. Together.”

Powder’s eyes glisten as she stares at her sister. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Vi,” she admits quietly, her voice trembling. “I was so lost. But I don’t want to be anymore. I want to get better… for you.”

Vi swallows hard, blinking back the tears that threaten to spill. She reaches over and gently brushes a stray lock of hair from Powder’s forehead, a soft smile playing on her lips.

“You don’t have to do this alone anymore,” Vi reassures her, her voice firm and full of love. “You’ve got me. And Caitlyn. And Ekko. We’re all here for you, Powder. You’ve already started building something new. And I swear, no matter what, we’re gonna make sure it’s worth it. All of it.”

Powder’s lips tremble, but the smile that spreads across her face is small, yet genuine. “Thanks, Vi. And… thanks to that special someone. Whoever they are. I hope they know they saved me.”

Vi asks Powder cautiously, “Where do you think Ekko is?”

Powder shifts slightly in her bed, her eyes narrowing as she tries to recall the last time she saw Ekko. The memory is blurry, and the weight of everything that happened since makes it harder to piece it all together.

“I… I don’t know,” Powder answers slowly, her voice tinged with uncertainty. “Last time I saw him, he was heading up to help Jayce fight Viktor. But that was before… everything happened. I’m not sure where he went after that. He was determined, though. Ekko doesn’t give up on people.” She shifts her gaze back to Vi, a soft, almost wistful smile on her face. “He probably found a way to survive. He’s got a way of pulling through, even when things seem impossible.”

Vi nods, a hint of worry crossing her face but she tries to hide it. “Yeah… Ekko’s tough. He wouldn’t leave us behind, not for anything. I’m sure he’s out there somewhere, fighting his own battles. But wherever he is, we’ll find him. We’ve been through too much for us to not stick together now.” She gently squeezes Powder’s hand, her voice soft but resolute. “No matter where he is, or what’s going on with him, we’ll get the answers. We’ll make sure Ekko’s okay. Just like we’re doing for you.”

Powder let’s put a genuine laugh for once as she tells Vi, “Or he’ll find us…”

Vi chuckles, the sound light and warm, her hand still gently holding Powder’s. “Yeah, knowing Ekko, he probably has some plan up his sleeve to show up when we least expect it, like he always does.” She smirks, the playful banter easing some of the weight in the room. “He’s got that knack for showing up in the nick of time, even if it’s just to save us from our own mess.”

Powder smiles wider, her laugh still lingering in the air. “I think that’s the plan. Ekko doesn’t miss much. He’s like a walking, talking time machine with all the things he knows.” She looks toward the door, almost as if she expects him to burst in any moment. “He always shows up when we need him the most, even when we don’t know we do.”

Vi nods with a knowing grin. “That’s Ekko for you. We’ll get through this, just like we always do, with him at our side.” She squeezes Powder’s hand once more, her tone a mixture of affection and determination. “We’re not stopping now, not after everything we’ve been through. And neither is Ekko.”

Powder pauses before she asks Vi cautiously, “Vi… If Vander wasn’t turned into that… thing. Would he be proud of us?”

Vi’s expression softens as Powder’s words hang in the air. She looks down at their intertwined hands, contemplating the question. Her voice is quiet but firm as she answers. “I think he’d be proud of us for sure. We’ve all been through hell, and we’re still standing. But more than that…” She glances up at Powder, a hint of sadness in her eyes. “He wanted us to be better than the life we were born into. He wanted us to have a future, something we could fight for. And even if he never got to see it… I think he would’ve been proud of the way we’ve stuck together and fought for each other.”

Vi squeezes Powder’s hand, her words sincere. “He always believed in us, even when we didn’t believe in ourselves. And I think, yeah… he’d be proud. I know I am.”

Powder stays quiet for a moment, letting the warmth of Vi’s words settle in her chest. She glances down at her hands, lost in thought. “I hope you’re right,” she murmurs. “I hope he knew we were trying to be better, even when we messed up.”

Powder chuckles this time looking at Vi with a smile, “You really won’t give up on me will you?”

Vi gives a soft chuckle in return, her smile matching Powder’s. “Nope, not a chance. You’re my sister, Powder. I’m not going anywhere. We’re stuck with each other, for better or worse.” She nudges her lightly with her shoulder, still holding her hand tightly.

“You don’t get to mess up and get rid of me that easily,” Vi adds with a playful wink, her tone light, trying to ease some of the heaviness in the room.

Powder’s smile widens, her eyes brightening a little as she watches Vi, her sister who’s been there through all of it. “Guess I’m lucky then,” she says softly.

Vi’s gaze softens, and she leans back a little, adjusting to get more comfortable as she continues, her voice more serious. “I’m lucky too, Powder. We both are.”

Powder tells Vi unsure how to continue, “You know… I had a nightmare. One where I was alone, I couldn’t hear anything and you wanted nothing to do with me. To make it worse I was in Stillwater and Caitlyn would come and tell me every day that you wanted nothing to do with me.”

Vi’s expression shifts, a deep sadness settling in her eyes. She squeezes Powder’s hand tighter, her voice softer, more intense as she responds. “That’s never going to happen. No matter what happened in the past, no matter how bad things get, I’m not leaving you. You’re my sister. You’re everything to me, Powder.”

She gently brushes a strand of hair from Powder’s face, her voice full of conviction. “Caitlyn wouldn’t tell you that. She’d never say that. She cares about you too. But I swear, no matter what anyone says or what you think, I’m always going to be here for you. Even when you’re at your lowest, I won’t go anywhere.”

Vi leans forward, her eyes softening as she searches her sister’s face. “You’re stuck with me. I promised you that, and I meant it.”

Powder’s eyes well up slightly as she takes in her sister’s words, her heart aching but warming at the same time. She manages a shaky smile, voice quiet but full of sincerity. “I’m scared, Vi. Scared that one day… you’ll get tired of me. But I guess I’ll hold you to that promise.”

Powder tells Vi fighting off tears “That wasn’t my only nightmare, but I’m not ready to talk about it just yet…”

Vi nods, understanding the weight of Powder’s words. She doesn’t push further, sensing that her sister needs space to heal and process at her own pace. She gently holds Powder’s hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Whenever you’re ready to talk, I’ll be here. No pressure, no rushing. We take things one step at a time, together.”

Vi leans back in her chair, her gaze soft but firm as she watches over her sister. “You don’t have to carry all that alone. Not anymore. Whatever it is, we’ll face it when you’re ready.”

The silence between them is comforting, a shared understanding that whatever nightmares or fears Powder still carries, they’ll face them as a team—sisters, as they always should have been.

Chapter Text

As the day stretches on, the room feels quieter, more serene, but something begins to shift within Powder. Her eyes dart around, a subtle twitch in her fingers. She starts to see flashes at the corners of her vision. Shadows moving where there should be none, flickers of faces—familiar ones. People she once knew, places she tried to forget.

The first flash is of Isha—her face as clear as if she were standing right next to her. It’s a reminder of the woman she lost, and Powder’s breath catches. The vision fades as quickly as it appeared, but it leaves her with a lingering ache in her chest. She blinks, hoping the sight was just a trick of her tired mind.

Then, there’s another, more haunting one—Vander. She sees him as he once was, standing tall, with that warm, protective smile. But it doesn’t last. His form morphs, changing into the monstrous version of himself, the beast she was forced to fight. Powder squeezes her eyes shut, trying to push the image away, but it doesn’t stop. His eyes, full of grief and regret, seem to follow her, never leaving.

The voices start next. Quiet whispers she can’t fully make out but are unmistakable in their tone. “ You failed him… You failed them… You’re alone…”

Powder shakes her head, trying to dismiss the thoughts. She reaches for Vi’s hand, grounding herself, and the touch of her sister’s warm fingers brings a fleeting comfort. But as she holds onto Vi, the room seems to warp again, and she swears she hears Caitlyn’s voice calling from somewhere just out of reach. She turns her head in confusion, but Caitlyn isn’t there.

“Not now,” she whispers to herself, trying to steady her breath. She tries to convince herself it’s all a side effect of her exhaustion, the lingering effects of the trauma and near-death experiences she’s been through.

Despite her best efforts, the visions continue, each more disjointed than the last. Powder’s mind is trapped in a cycle of memories, guilt, and fear, unable to fully pull herself out of the haze.

“Vi…?” she calls out, her voice weak and shaky. “I… I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

She gets no answer. As Powder’s heart races as her gaze shifts. She thought she was imagining things, but no, standing at the edge of her bed, clear as day, is Silco. His sharp, calculating eyes meet hers, and his presence sends a chill down her spine. For a moment, it feels like time stands still.

“Powder,” Silco’s voice is low, his words slow and deliberate, like a venomous whisper. “You never were meant to be weak. Look at you now. So fragile. How long will they pretend to care for you before they abandon you like they always do?”

Powder feels the walls closing in, the weight of his words suffocating her. The vision of him is too real, too familiar, and it takes everything in her to not turn away. His gaze feels like a sharp blade, cutting into her.

“You could’ve been great, you know,” he continues, leaning closer, his face just inches from hers. “But you let them break you. Let them make you feel like you don’t deserve this world. They all left you when you needed them most, didn’t they?”

The guilt starts to suffocate her again, threatening to drag her under. She tries to blink it away, but Silco is still there, watching her with that haunting, predatory smile. His presence almost feels like it’s pushing her down, drowning her.

“Vander’s dead, and I’m gone. No one will save you now. Not even Vi,” he hisses, his words twisting like a poison that she can almost taste on her tongue. “Not even your so-called family.”

Powder’s body trembles, her mind a swirling mess of confusion, but somewhere in the chaos, she hears the faint, steady rhythm of Vi’s heartbeat. It’s grounding, a reminder that she’s not alone.

She clenches her fists, trying to shake Silco’s image away. “You’re not real,” she whispers, the words shaky but firm. “You’re just… just a part of me… a part of the nightmare.”

Silco doesn’t respond at first. He simply watches her with that smug, cruel smile, but then he starts to fade, as if the vision is losing its grip on her. His words linger in her mind like echoes, but slowly, like a distant memory, they start to disappear.

Powder closes her eyes, trying to steady herself, to bring her mind back to reality. When she opens them again, the figure of Silco is gone, leaving only the quiet hum of the room.

Her breath is heavy, but she knows, deep down, that the true battle isn’t over. The fight for her mind, her sanity, her place in this world—it’s just beginning. And this time, she’s not facing it alone.

Powder’s breath quickens, her chest tightening as she feels the grip of the hallucination tightening around her. The world spins, and she feels herself slipping deeper into the nightmare. But then, through the fog, she hears it—Vi’s voice, raw and frantic, cutting through the haze like a lifeline.

“Powder, wake up! Powder? Powder, do you hear me?!”

The words break through the darkness, piercing through the veil of her fear. It’s like a spark in the darkness, flickering, trying to push the shadows away. Her heart races as she scrambles to hold on to Vi’s voice, clinging to it like it’s the only thing that can pull her back.

“Vi…” Powder murmurs weakly, her voice trembling, but it’s enough. The sound of her sister’s name is a lifeline.

In the quiet space between hallucinations and reality, she hears the familiar urgency in Vi’s voice, and it pulls her back. The vision of Silco starts to dissolve, like mist lifting in the morning sun.

“Powder!” Vi calls out again, this time softer, more desperate. “Please, stay with me. Come on, don’t do this.”

With every beat of her sister’s voice, Powder feels herself grounding back into the present, the room around her growing more tangible. She takes a shaky breath, fighting the lingering weight of Silco’s cruel words, and focuses on Vi’s voice, her presence. It’s real. Vi is real.

“Vi… I’m here,” Powder manages, her voice barely a whisper, but it’s enough to reach Vi.

Vi’s relief is palpable as she grabs Powder’s hand, holding it firmly, as if reminding herself that her sister is still with her. “I’m right here, Powder,” she says, her voice breaking through the silence. “I’m not going anywhere. I swear it.”

Powder blinks, fighting off the lingering darkness that still tugs at her mind. “I… I thought I lost you,” she says softly, her voice shaky but earnest.

Vi’s thumb brushes against her hand gently. “Not a chance. You’re not getting rid of me that easily, Powder. You hear me?”

Powder nods weakly, her eyes fluttering as she tries to shake off the weight of the fear still holding her. Vi is here. Vi is real. And in that moment, it’s enough to make the nightmare fade.

“Yeah,” Powder whispers, a weak smile forming on her lips. “I hear you.”

Vi looks at her worried and tells her with a concerned tone that only Vi could use, “You need to tell me what the hell is going on. You were talking to yourself Pow Pow. Like someone was talking to you, but you were saying it on their behalf.”

Powder’s eyes flicker with hesitation as Vi’s words cut through the remnants of the hallucination. She hadn’t meant to let it slip. She hadn’t meant for Vi to see her lost in the past, hearing things that weren’t really there. But the grip of the memories, the voices—she couldn’t help it.

“I… I thought I saw Silco,” Powder mutters, her voice distant as she avoids meeting Vi’s gaze. “He was here, talking to me. Like he never… like he never left.”

Her hands tremble slightly as she pulls them to her chest, rubbing at the space where the phantom pain of the old wounds still feels fresh. “He told me I failed. That I was weak. That you…” Powder swallows hard, her throat tight. “That you would never want me again.”

She pauses, her eyes darting around the room, as though the walls themselves might give her some comfort from the weight of the words. “I—I don’t know why, Vi. It felt so real. Like he was right here.”

Vi’s face softens, concern flooding her features. She pulls Powder’s hand into hers, squeezing it gently. “Powder, listen to me,” she says, her voice firm but filled with care. “Silco’s gone. He’s not here, and he’s not coming back. Whatever it was you were seeing, whatever was messing with your head… it’s not real. You’re not alone anymore.”

Powder’s eyes well up, the vulnerability creeping through her like an unstoppable tide. “I… I don’t know how to stop hearing him. I don’t know how to stop feeling like I failed everyone.”

Vi leans closer, brushing the stray hairs from Powder’s face, her gaze never leaving her sister. “You didn’t fail, Powder,” she says softly, each word heavy with conviction. “You’ve never failed me. And you’re not alone, okay? Not now, not ever. I’m not leaving you. I’m here. We’re gonna get through this, together. I’m right here, and that’s all that matters.”

Powder’s chest rises and falls as she tries to steady her breathing, fighting against the panic threatening to rise again. Vi’s touch grounds her in a way she’s never known, and it’s almost enough to make her believe that maybe, just maybe, things could be different now.

“I’ll be here, too,” Caitlyn’s voice cuts in gently from the side, her tone quiet but supportive. She’s been listening quietly, concern in her eyes. “I promise. Whatever you need, Powder, we’ll be here to help you get through it.”

Powder takes a shaky breath, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t want to hear his voice anymore… I don’t want to feel like I’m losing everyone.”

Vi leans in closer, wrapping an arm around Powder’s shoulders in a protective embrace. “You’re not losing anyone. Not me, not Caitlyn, not anyone who cares about you. And that’s a lot of people, Powder. You’ve got us.”

Powder leans into her sister, the weight of the moment heavy in the air, but this time, the fear doesn’t hold the same power. Not with Vi here, not with Caitlyn’s steady presence.

“Okay,” Powder whispers, her eyes closing as she finally lets herself believe it. “I’ll try. I’ll try not to let him win.”

Powder asks Vi unsure of what exactly happened in that exact moment, “You said I was talking?”

Vi nods, her expression still full of concern, but also a hint of relief as she tightens her grip on Powder’s hand. “Yeah,” she says gently, her voice calming. “You were talking… like someone was speaking through you. You said something about Silco, but you were also saying it on his behalf, like you were having a conversation with him.”

Vi watches Powder closely, trying to gauge whether she fully understands what happened. “It was like you were in a trance, Pow. You weren’t really here with me. You were… somewhere else. I need to know what’s going on in your head, because it didn’t seem like you were just seeing things. It was like you were hearing him, too.”

Powder blinks, her thoughts still hazy from the aftermath of the hallucination. She swallows, trying to piece together the fragments of her mind. “I… I don’t know. It was like I was talking to him, but he was just… there. It felt real, like he was right beside me again. Like nothing had changed. I—I don’t know why I said those things.”

Her voice trembles, and she looks at Vi, searching for some kind of understanding. “I didn’t mean to freak you out. I swear, I didn’t know what I was saying.”

Vi shakes her head gently, brushing a strand of hair away from Powder’s face. “Pow, I’m not freaked out. I just need to know what you’re going through so I can help. I hate seeing you like this. I don’t want you to feel like you’re all alone, especially with everything you’ve been through.”

Powder looks down at her hands, fiddling nervously with the blankets. “It felt so real, Vi. Like he was still here, still telling me what I was supposed to do, even after all this time. And when I said it, I didn’t know if I was talking to him or talking through him, or if it was just my mind playing tricks on me.”

Vi leans in closer, her voice steady but filled with love. “It’s okay, Powder. You don’t have to figure it all out right now. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. We’ll get through this, alright? No matter what your head’s telling you, you’ve got me, you’ve got Caitlyn, and you’ve got people who care about you.”

Powder nods slowly, still unsure of everything she just experienced, but a sense of comfort beginning to take root in her chest. “Thanks, Vi,” she murmurs softly, her voice filled with a vulnerability she doesn’t often show. “I’m trying. I just… I just want to stop hearing him.”

Vi squeezes her sister’s hand. “And you will, Pow. You will.”

Vi tells Powder as if to reassure her, “Caitlyn went to tell what’s left of The Council you survived. She’ll be back later today. Don’t worry she didn’t leave you.”

Powder nods slightly, her fingers tightening around Vi’s hand. She’s still processing everything, but hearing that Caitlyn stayed behind gives her a small sense of comfort. “She didn’t leave…” Powder whispers to herself, as if repeating it could make it more real. She wasn’t sure what she expected when Caitlyn went off to handle things, but it felt like a relief to know Caitlyn would return.

Vi notices the soft change in Powder’s demeanor and smiles gently. “She’s got a lot to do, but she promised she’d be back. Just like I promised.”

Powder’s eyes flicker to Vi, gratitude swelling in her chest. “I know,” she says quietly, the weight of everything still hanging over her. “Just… it feels like it’s all too much sometimes.”

Vi leans in a little, her voice warm and steady. “I get it. But no matter what happens, you’re not doing this alone, Pow. You’ve got me, Caitlyn, and anyone else who’s out there willing to help. We’ll figure it out together, okay?” She gives Powder’s hand a reassuring squeeze.

Powder manages a faint smile, looking down at their intertwined fingers. “Thanks, Vi. I—I really don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Vi’s expression softens, her gaze never leaving her sister’s face. “Well, lucky for you, you don’t have to find out.”

Powder’s eyes widen, her pupils dilating as she stares at something only she can see. Her breathing grows shallow, her body tensing as if she’s preparing to flee, but she doesn’t move. “Vi… Vi, I—I see him again. I can’t stop seeing him!” Her voice cracks with fear, her hands trembling as she grips the sheets, her knuckles white.

Vi immediately shifts closer, her tone commanding but soft, trying to anchor Powder back to the moment. “Powder, listen to me. This is real. Whatever you think you’re seeing, it’s not. It’s just in your head. Look at me. I’m right here.”

Powder’s eyes flicker between Vi and the unseen figure before her, her breaths coming faster as she tries to make sense of it. “He… he’s not gone, Vi. I see him standing right there. Silco… he’s watching me. He’s always watching me.” Her voice quivers with a mix of confusion and terror.

Vi grips her sister’s hand tightly, refusing to let go. “Powder, Silco’s gone. He’s not here. I’m here. You’re safe. I’m not going anywhere. I won’t let anything hurt you.”

Powder’s gaze locks onto Vi’s, a flicker of doubt in her eyes. “But… I can hear him, Vi. He’s saying things. He’s… he’s telling me I’m weak, that I’ll never be good enough.”

Vi’s face hardens, and she shakes her head. “He’s wrong, Pow. He never deserved your loyalty, not when he treated you like that. He was a toxic manipulator that used you, and you’re stronger than that.” She leans in, her voice softer now. “I know it’s hard to believe, but the only voices that matter now are the ones of the people who really care about you. You’ve got me, Caitlyn, Sevika, everyone who’s been by your side through all of this. That’s real. Silco’s just a shadow, and shadows only have power if you let them.”

For a moment, Powder’s face softens, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly as she looks at Vi, her breath slowing down. “You really think that? You think I’m stronger than him?”

Vi nods firmly, her gaze unwavering. “I know you are. And I’m not going anywhere. We’ll get through this together.” She gently brushes a lock of hair from Powder’s face, her eyes soft but determined. “No matter what, I’m here, and I won’t let you face this alone.”

Powder’s expression falters, her lip quivering for just a second before she swallows hard, nodding in response. “Okay… okay, I’ll try. I’ll try to believe you.”

Vi asks cautiously as if she doesn’t want to know the answer, “Who else do you see Powder? I need to know if I’m going to help okay?”

Powder’s eyes flicker to the side, her gaze distant and unfocused, as though she’s seeing something just beyond the room. She hesitates for a moment, her lips trembling before she speaks in a barely audible whisper.

“I… I see Isha too.” Her voice cracks, the name tasting bittersweet in her mouth, as if speaking it brings a flood of memories she’s not ready to face both happy and sad. “She’s still there, Vi… She keeps saying it’s my fault, that I couldn’t save her from saving us. That I wasn’t strong enough.”

Vi’s heart tightens at the mention of Isha’s name. She doesn’t speak right away, giving Powder the space to process her emotions, but the concern in her eyes is clear. She leans in, her voice gentle but insistent. “Powder, listen to me. Isha… she wouldn’t blame you. I didn’t know her long, but the way you two hung out around each other? I could tell she meant a whole lot to you. And don’t you dare say this is your fault. None of this is your fault. You didn’t choose this. You’ve been through so much already, but you’re still here, still fighting. That’s what matters.”

Powder’s eyes fill with tears, the weight of the grief and guilt heavy on her chest. “But I… I couldn’t save her, Vi. She… she was trying to protect us, and I couldn’t… I couldn’t do anything.” Her voice breaks as she presses her palms to her face, the raw emotion spilling out. “I failed her, just like I failed you.”

Vi takes Powder’s hands gently, pulling them away from her face, making sure their eyes meet. “No, Powder. You didn’t fail anyone. Not Isha, not me. You were there when you needed to be, and you did your best during the time you had with her no matter how short it was. And I know it’s hard, but you need to forgive yourself. I’m not angry at you anymore, I never should have been. And I promise, Isha wouldn’t want you to carry this guilt. She would want you to live, to heal.”

Powder’s shoulders shake with quiet sobs as she looks at Vi, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I don’t know how to… how to move past it. How do I keep going when all I see is them? Silco, Isha… I… I keep thinking I’m not worth it.”

Vi brushes away the tears that streak Powder’s face, her tone unwavering. “You’re more than worth it, Powder. You’ve got me, and I’m not going anywhere. You’re not alone in this, okay? We’re gonna figure this out together. One step at a time. You don’t have to carry all of this by yourself anymore.”

Powder sniffles, her hands trembling as she grips Vi’s tighter. She nods slowly, though doubt lingers in her eyes. “I’ll try. I don’t want to be stuck like this forever… I don’t want to feel this way anymore.”

Vi smiles softly, her voice filled with warmth and understanding. “I know you don’t. And you won’t. We’ll get through this, Powder. I’m right here, every step of the way.”

Powder wipes a tear and tells Vi with a nervously, Almost like she is afraid that she will be judged, “That nightmare I had that I didn’t want to tell you about? I’m still not ready, okay? But I promise I’ll tell you soon.”

Vi watches as Powder wipes the tear from her cheek, her fingers trembling slightly. She can hear the nervous waver in her sister’s voice, see the weight pressing down on her even now. Vi doesn’t push—she just nods, her grip on Powder’s hand firm and steady.

“Okay,” Vi says softly. “I won’t ask until you’re ready.”

Powder swallows hard, her eyes flickering between Vi’s face and the ceiling, as if grounding herself. “It’s not that I don’t trust you…” she mumbles. “I just… I don’t know if I can handle saying it out loud yet.”

Vi shifts closer, making sure Powder knows she’s not going anywhere. “You don’t have to explain, Pow. Just know that when you are ready, I’ll be right here.”

Powder takes a shaky breath and nods. “Okay… Just—just don’t let me slip away before then, alright?”

Vi squeezes her hand, her voice firm and unwavering. “Not a chance in hell.”

———Meanwhile In The Council Meeting Room———

In the middle of the most heated debate since the vote to give Zaun freedom, Caitlyn is having a heated discussion with Councilors Mel Medarda and Shoola. Caitlyn tells them both “With respect Councilors, As we are entering a new era in Piltover with Powder being pardoned of her crimes and Zaun and Piltover coming together to fight off a common goal the fact that we need to have a discussion about a girl’s recovery and what comes after is absurd.”

Mel Medarda leans forward, resting her chin on her fingers as she studies Caitlyn with an unreadable expression. “With respect, Former Commander Kiramman, this isn’t just about Powder’s recovery. It’s about the future of Piltover and Zaun. You speak of a new era, but do you truly believe that the people—on either side—will simply accept this? Powder may be pardoned, but she was once Jinx, and that name carries weight. Fear.”

Caitlyn’s eyes narrow, her voice sharp with conviction. “She was a girl manipulated and weaponized by a war that none of us stopped. Powder fought against the very thing that nearly destroyed us all. If Piltover and Zaun are to truly come together, we cannot pick and choose who is worthy of redemption.”

Councilor Shoola sighs, adjusting her spectacles as she considers Caitlyn’s words. “You may see her as a girl in need of healing, but others will see her as a risk. You ask us to turn a blind eye to the destruction she caused—”

“I ask you to acknowledge that she was never given a choice!” Caitlyn interrupts, her frustration boiling over. “Powder was left behind, abandoned, and shaped by a world that never gave her a chance. And yet, she still found the strength to fight for something better. If we deny her a future now, then what does that say about us? About this Council?”

Mel sighs, tapping her fingers against the table. “It says that we remember. That Piltover does not forget so easily. You ask us to lead by example, but leadership requires more than idealism. It requires trust, and Powder has yet to earn that from the people.”

Caitlyn stands taller, her voice unwavering. “Then let her. But we don’t start by condemning her before she’s even had the chance to prove who she really is. If Piltover wants peace, we must be the ones to extend it, not just in words, but in action.”

Shoola watches her for a long moment before shaking her head. “The Council will deliberate. But you fight for her as if she were your own.”

Caitlyn’s expression hardens. “Because I know what it’s like to be judged by those who don’t know you. And I won’t let Powder be punished for surviving.”

Caitlyn’s frustration boiled over as she addressed the council members. “Also, what Council?! There are two standing members left! I’m only an acting member because we need a third person to pass votes.”

Mel Medarda’s expression remained composed, though a flicker of concern crossed her features. “Councilor Kiramman, we are acutely aware of our diminished numbers. The recent attack has left us all reeling.”

Councilor Shoola nodded in agreement. “Rebuilding the Council is imperative, but we must proceed with caution. Each decision we make now carries significant weight for Piltover’s future.”

Caitlyn took a deep breath, her voice steadying. “I understand the gravity of our situation. But focusing on punishing a girl who was as much a victim as anyone else is not the path to healing.”

Mel leaned back, her gaze thoughtful. “Perhaps, instead of dwelling on past transgressions, we should consider how Powder can contribute to our city’s recovery. Redemption through service.”

Shoola raised an eyebrow. “You propose integrating her into our efforts? That could be… controversial.”

Caitlyn nodded. “It will be. But showing mercy and offering a chance at redemption might be exactly what Piltover needs to heal and move forward.”

Mel exchanged a glance with Shoola before turning back to Caitlyn. “Very well. Let’s explore this path cautiously. For now, we must also prioritize restoring the Council to its full strength.”

Shoola added, “Agreed. We should identify suitable candidates to fill the vacant seats promptly.”

Caitlyn felt a glimmer of hope. “Thank you, Councilors. Let’s work together to rebuild a better Piltover.”

Caitlyn’s voice now goes firm, her frustration barely concealed as she delivered her final point. “I also want to point this out. Noxus would have occupied both Piltover and Zaun if Powder didn’t fly in and rally The Undercity to help with the fight. She’s the reason we are standing here.”

Mel Medarda studied her for a long moment, fingers interlocked as she leaned forward. “You’re asking us to put our faith in someone who once brought this city to its knees, Caitlyn.”

Caitlyn met her gaze without flinching. “No, I’m asking you to recognize that she saved it.”

Shoola sighed, rubbing her temples. “You make a compelling argument, Kiramman. That doesn’t erase what she’s done, but it does complicate things.”

Mel exhaled slowly, nodding. “For now, Powder’s pardon remains intact. But the people of Piltover will demand answers, and they will not be so easily swayed.”

Caitlyn crossed her arms. “Then I’ll be the one to give them answers. I’ll make sure they understand the truth.”

Mel exchanged a glance with Shoola before nodding. “Very well. We will reconvene when the time comes to discuss her future.”

Caitlyn gave a sharp nod before turning on her heel, exiting the chamber with her head held high. She had won this round. But she knew there were more battles ahead.

Mel suddenly calls out for Caitlyn at the last second causing her to stop. Slowly, she turned back around to face the councilor, her expression unreadable.

Mel leaned forward, studying her. “You once called Powder a ‘deranged lunatic.’ Do you still believe that to be the case?”

For a moment, Caitlyn said nothing. The words she had once spoken echoed in her mind, a stark reminder of the past and everything that had led them to this point. She exhaled, her voice quieter but no less firm. “No. I don’t.”

Mel arched an eyebrow. “And what exactly changed?”

Caitlyn met her gaze without hesitation. “I saw the person behind the chaos. The girl who was manipulated, broken, and left with no other choices. I saw her fight—not for destruction, but for something better. For her family. For Zaun. For all of us.” She paused, her jaw tightening. “I may have thought that back then, but I now know Powder isn’t a lunatic. She’s a survivor.”

Mel studied her for a long moment before giving a slow, approving nod. “That’s what I needed to hear.”

Just as Caitlyn was about to leave, Shoola’s voice stopped her in her tracks. “Caitlyn,” she called, her tone calculated. “Before you go, there’s one last thing I need to ask.”

Caitlyn hesitated but then turned back to face Shoola.

Shoola’s expression was more neutral than Mel’s, but her sharp eyes were scrutinizing. “You said you saw the person behind the chaos. That means you understand the weight of what’s happened. So, tell me this—how do you plan to ensure Powder doesn’t fall back into the same patterns, the same destructive path?”

Caitlyn’s eyes hardened, her stance shifting slightly. She didn’t flinch at Shoola’s questioning tone. “I’m not naïve, Councilor. I know the risks. But what matters now is what we do next. We can’t continue to treat Powder as a threat. We need to help her heal. She’s already fighting for her place, for a chance at something better. That’s more than most people can say.”

Shoola leaned back, her gaze intense but thoughtful. She seemed to consider Caitlyn’s words for a moment. “And how will you ensure the city sees it that way?”

Caitlyn squared her shoulders, her resolve unwavering. “One step at a time. We start by supporting her recovery and letting her prove who she really is. Piltover and Zaun have to understand that redemption is a process, not an instant fix.”

With that, Caitlyn gave a slight nod and turned to leave, the weight of the conversation settling on her shoulders as she walked out of the room. 

Yet something made Caitlyn’s footsteps pause for just a moment before she added with a calm, almost reassuring smile, her back still turned to them. “I am my mother’s daughter, Councilors. If anybody in this room knows politics better than most people? It’s me.”

Mel watched Caitlyn walk away, her smirk barely hiding the approval she felt for the girl’s determination to not just keep Powder safe, But protect her mother’s legacy as well. “I’ll give you this, Caitlyn. You’ve got the fire of your mother. But let’s see if it’s enough to navigate the rest of this mess,” she muttered under her breath. She then waved dismissively, signaling that the meeting was officially over. “You’re dismissed, Caitlyn. For now, anyway.”

With that, the tension in the air slowly lowers as Caitlyn makes her short walk back to the hospital to rejoin Powder and Vi. As she looks around Piltover, She sees people rebuilding, shops destroyed and bodies still being recovered from the battle. It’s a somber sight seeing the town she grew up in being forced into this state of disarray. To make it worse, One of Piltover’s brightest scientists was behind it all. She mutters to herself as she sees a family limping down the street “I still can’t believe Viktor of all people did this…” 

She couldn’t think of that at the moment however. Powder and Vi are still in the hospital. If anybody needs her attention? It’s them. And finally as Caitlyn stepped into the hospital, the familiar sterile scent filled her senses, but it wasn’t what caught her attention first. Just down the hall, a pair of enforcers stood near the reception desk, speaking in hushed yet clearly agitated voices.

“I still can’t believe they just pardoned Jinx,” one muttered, his voice laced with frustration. “After everything she’s done? The destruction, the chaos? If it were anyone else, they’d be locked up for life.”

The other enforcer scoffed. “Yeah, well, guess being a war hero wipes the slate clean. Doesn’t sit right with me. Just because she helped doesn’t mean she’s not dangerous.”

Caitlyn’s jaw tightened as she slowed her steps, listening. She knew this wouldn’t be easy—Powder’s pardon was controversial, and there were bound to be those who saw it as an injustice rather than a step toward peace. Still, hearing it spoken about so openly, like Powder was nothing more than a criminal who got away with it, made her blood boil.

Taking a deep breath, Caitlyn squared her shoulders and approached. The enforcers barely had time to register her presence before she cut in sharply.

“If you have complaints about official Council decisions, I suggest you bring them to the appropriate channels,” she stated coldly. “Otherwise, I’d advise you to remember who you’re talking about.”

The first enforcer shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. “No disrespect, Former Commander Kiramman, but—”

“No, you don’t get to ‘but’ your way around this,” Caitlyn interrupted, her tone firm. “You weren’t there. You didn’t see what she went through, what she sacrificed. Powder fought for this city. For both cities. She nearly died for it. So unless you’d rather go back to riding a desk, I suggest you start seeing her as One of the main reasons we’re even standing here today still free and not under Noxus control or worse, As Viktor’s So called ‘Evolved Machines.’”

The two enforcers exchanged a look but said nothing. Caitlyn held their gaze a moment longer before turning on her heel and continuing down the hall. She had more important things to worry about than a couple of disgruntled enforcers. 

Finally once she arrived at their room, Caitlyn took a steadying breath before pushing open the door to Vi and Powder’s hospital room. The soft beeping of medical monitors and the muted hum of the city outside were the only sounds in the quiet space.

Vi was sitting up slightly in her bed, her arm still resting protectively near Powder, who looked more awake than before, though exhaustion still clung to her features. Their hands were still loosely clasped together, a silent reassurance between them.

Vi was the first to notice her, her tired eyes meeting Caitlyn’s with a hint of relief. “Took you long enough, Cupcake,” she murmured, her voice carrying the usual teasing edge but softened by exhaustion.

Powder turned her head, her pale blue eyes flicking to Caitlyn before quickly looking away. She didn’t say anything, but there was no hostility there—just uncertainty.

Caitlyn stepped further into the room, her sharp gaze scanning them both, assessing. “How are you both feeling?” she asked, keeping her tone steady.

Vi shrugged, wincing slightly. “Been worse. Powder’s the one you should be asking.”

Powder shifted under the blanket, still not meeting Caitlyn’s eyes. “Tired,” she admitted quietly. “But… I guess that’s expected.”

Caitlyn nodded, glancing between them before stepping closer to Vi’s bedside. “The Council meeting was about what I expected—frustrating, but nothing I couldn’t handle.”

Vi smirked faintly. “Did you threaten anyone?”

Caitlyn folded her arms. “No need. I simply reminded them of the facts. Your sister being here is the reason we’re not under Noxian occupation right now. Some people need to be reminded of that.”

Vi chuckled. “Bet that was fun.”

Caitlyn sighed, rubbing her temple. “Not as fun as listening to enforcers whisper about how they don’t agree with Powder’s pardon the second I stepped into the hospital.”

Upon hearing that comment, Vi’s expression hardened, but it was Powder’s reaction that caught Caitlyn’s attention. She tensed, her hands gripping the blanket tightly. “They’re mad I’m not in prison,” she muttered, almost to herself. “Not surprised.”

Caitlyn hesitated before stepping closer, her voice calm but firm. “Let them talk. They don’t matter. What matters is that you’re here. Alive. And you have people who believe in you.”

Powder finally met her eyes, searching for something in Caitlyn’s face. Whatever she found, it made her swallow hard before nodding. She didn’t say anything, but the tension in her shoulders eased just a little.

Caitlyn exhaled softly, glancing between the two sisters. “I told you I’d be back,” she said, almost as an afterthought.

Vi gave her a knowing smile. “Yeah, you did.”

Powder takes a deep breath and tells them both nervously almost afraid she will be judged, “That nightmare I told you about? The one I was afraid to talk about? I’m ready….”

Vi immediately straightened, her grip on Powder’s hand tightening just slightly. Her eyes searched her sister’s face, taking in the way her breath wavered, the way she seemed to be bracing herself.

Caitlyn, standing nearby, crossed her arms but didn’t speak. She simply watched, waiting, letting Powder set the pace.

Vi’s voice was gentle when she finally spoke. “Alright, Pow-Pow. Whenever you’re ready.”

Powder swallowed, looking down at their hands for a moment before drawing in a slow, shaky breath. Her fingers twitched against Vi’s.

Caitlyn took a quiet step closer, her expression softer now. “You don’t have to rush,” she reminded her. “Just say what you need to say.”

Powder’s hand trembled as she clutched the blanket draped over her. Her breath grew unsteady, her fingers tightening around the fabric as if grounding herself was the only thing keeping her from breaking apart. Her voice wavered, filled with both fear and sorrow.

“I’ve had terrible, terrible dreams,” she admitted, her gaze darting between Vi and Caitlyn. “However, this one was the worst. I can’t get the image of it out of my mind.”

She swallowed hard, her grip tightening as if she could squeeze the nightmare out of existence. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I see Viktor standing in front of me while I’m in the wreckage of the Clocktower. I try to call out to you both, but you… you walk away from me.”

Her breath hitched, her body trembling now. “You walk away, and you watched as he put his hand on my head and made…” She shut her eyes tightly, as if saying it out loud solidified the horror. “He made me one of his machines.”

Her voice cracked, and tears welled in her eyes. She wiped at them quickly, but they kept coming. “I remember feeling so weird. Like my body wasn’t my own anymore. And when it was done?” Her voice shook, barely more than a whisper now. “He made me attack you both. And you couldn’t stop me. You let me become one of his things…”

A single tear slipped down her cheek as she finally looked Vi in the eyes. “And you couldn’t save yourself after the fact…”

Her breath trembled as she forced herself to continue. “And I can see your face every time I shut my eyes.” Her chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths. “Terror. Pure and absolute terror.”

She sucked in a deep breath, her hands gripping the blanket as if she were holding onto the last piece of herself that still felt real. Her lips quivered, her body shaking from the weight of the nightmare she had finally spoken into existence.

Vi’s throat felt tight, her chest heavy as she watched Powder unravel before her. She had seen her sister afraid before—terrified, even—but this was different. This wasn’t just fear. This was something deeper, something clawing at Powder from the inside, threatening to consume her whole. Vi realized one thing. Powder thinks Vi would let that happen.

Vi swallowed hard and, without hesitation, reached for Powder’s trembling hands. She covered them with her own, squeezing just enough to remind her that she was here. That she was real.

“Pow,” Vi started, her voice softer than it had been in a long time. “I don’t know what’s worse—the fact that you had to see that, or the fact that you really believe we would let it happen.”

She leaned in, searching Powder’s tear-filled eyes. “I need you to hear me, alright? No matter what you saw in that nightmare, that ain’t us. I would never walk away from you. And Caitlyn? Despite your damn differences, She wouldn’t either.” Vi glanced briefly at Caitlyn, who looked just as shaken but resolute. “There’s not a damn thing Viktor—or anyone—could do to make me leave you behind again.”

Her grip tightened, not out of force, but out of sheer desperation to make her sister understand that she isn’t alone. “And even if he tried to take you? I’d tear Zaun apart before I let anyone turn you into one of his machines.” Vi exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “Hell, Powder, I already fought the whole damn city to get you back. You really think I’d stop now?”

She reached up, brushing away a tear that had slipped down Powder’s cheek. “You’re here, with me. With us. And I swear to you, I won’t let anything like that happen. Not in this life. Not in any life.”

Vi let her forehead gently rest against Powder’s, closing her eyes for a brief second. “You’re safe. And you always will be.”

Meanwhile, Caitlyn hadn’t moved at all. She hadn’t blinked. It was like she had been frozen in place, her breath caught somewhere between her chest and throat. Powder’s words had hit her like a bullet, straight through her ribs, rattling her bones. She had always known Powder had suffered, that she had been through unimaginable horrors—but this?

This was beyond suffering.

Caitlyn finally exhaled, but it wasn’t steady. Her hands clenched and unclenched at her sides before she forced herself to take a step closer. Powder was shaking, Vi holding onto her like she was the only thing keeping her from falling apart completely. And maybe she was.

Caitlyn swallowed down the lump in her throat and finally found her voice, though it was quieter than usual. “Powder…” she hesitated, almost unsure how to continue, but the words pushed forward on their own. “That… that wasn’t real. None of it was real. But the pain you felt? The fear? I can see it in your eyes. That was real.”

She took another step, slow and careful, like approaching a wounded animal. “I can’t even begin to imagine how terrifying that must have been. To feel like you were losing yourself, that you had no control. And the thought of you thinking we would walk away from you?” Caitlyn’s jaw tightened as her hands curled into fists. “That isn’t who we are. That isn’t who I am.”

She lowered herself to eye level with Powder, making sure their gazes met. “I need you to understand something, Powder. I have spent so much of my life chasing ghosts—trying to fix things that were already broken beyond repair. And I made mistakes. I see that now. But you? You are not a ghost. You are not beyond repair. You are here. And I swear to you, I will never turn my back on you. No matter what.”

Caitlyn’s breath trembled, her voice barely above a whisper now. “You didn’t deserve that nightmare, Powder. But it’s over now. And we’re still here.” She reached out, hesitated for only a second, and then gently placed a hand over Powder’s. “We’re still here.”

Vi’s voice suddenly goes firm, yet it is also gentle, as her hands tightened around Powder’s. She could feel the slight tremor in Powder’s body, and it only made her grip more reassuring. Powder’s eyes were filled with so much uncertainty, so much fear—it reminded Vi of the little girl she had tried to protect all those years ago. But this was different. The girl in front of her wasn’t the one who had made that monkey bomb that killed Mylo, Claggor and Vander, Pulled the trigger on the minigun that killed Silco or even the same girl that fired the rocket that killed Caitlyn’s Mother and two other Councilors. This wasn’t Jinx. This was Powder, still carrying all of her scars, but trying so desperately to put them behind her.

Vi leaned in closer, her voice softer now but no less steady. “Listen to me, Pow. I don’t care what your nightmare showed you, or what Viktor tried to do to you. It’s not real. None of it.” She paused, her thumb gently brushing over Powder’s knuckles. “Viktor’s dead. He can’t hurt you anymore. And neither can anyone else. You are still you. ”

Vi’s eyes never left Powder’s as she spoke, making sure she had her full attention. “What I think Cait’s saying is that we’re not going anywhere. Not ever. You may have felt like you were alone in that dream, but that’s not reality. You’ve got us, Pow. Always.”

She squeezed her sister’s hands a little tighter, pushing away the gnawing guilt in her chest that she hadn’t been able to stop all this from happening sooner. “I don’t know how I’m going to help you get through all this… but we’ll figure it out together. You’re not gonna go through this alone. Not while I’m here.”

Vi’s voice faltered just slightly, but she quickly steadied it. “So no matter what happened, no matter what you dream or what you think, don’t you ever think I’d leave you. We’re family, and family doesn’t run away.”

Powder asks Vi a question that she knew would be hard to answer, but she had to. Her voice cracked as she asks Vi “Then why did it feel so real…?”

Vi’s heart tightened at Powder’s question. The weight of the emotion in her sister’s voice was enough to bring tears to her own eyes, but she pushed them back, staying strong for Powder. She understood how real nightmares could feel—especially ones like these, where every shred of fear and insecurity gets magnified.

Vi took a slow, steady breath before answering. “I know it felt real, Pow. Nightmares… they don’t play fair. They dig into your fears, your doubts, the things you’re scared of most. And because you’ve been through so much already, it doesn’t surprise me that those dreams would feel like they could happen all over again.” She paused, making sure to keep eye contact, hoping it would help reassure her. “But just because something feels real doesn’t mean it is. What happened to you in that nightmare? That’s not who you are, and that’s not your future. Not anymore.”

Her thumb brushed over Powder’s hand again, slow and steady. “I get it. You’ve been through a lot, and it’s hard to shake those feelings. But you’re awake now. You’re here. You’re with me, with Cait, with everyone who cares about you. And we’re gonna make sure you don’t have to face anything like that ever again. Not alone. You don’t have to carry all that by yourself.”

Vi’s voice softened, her eyes searching Powder’s. “I know it’s hard to believe sometimes. I know it feels like you’ve been fighting this fight on your own for so long. But you’re not alone anymore. You’ve got me. Always.” She gave her sister’s hand one last reassuring squeeze. “I’m not going anywhere, and neither is Cait. Whatever comes next? We’re facing it together.”

She hoped Powder could hear the truth in her words, that the nightmare wasn’t real, and that the life they were going to build—together—would be the one they both deserved.

Vi finally says softly “Screw it” and pulls Powder into a large hug. Powder was taken off guard at first, the sudden warmth of Vi’s arms wrapping around her pulling her out of the depths of her panic. For a second, she stiffened, unsure of how to respond. The world felt heavy, and even though she was surrounded by the people she loved, it often felt like she was still battling alone. But as Vi’s embrace tightened around her, something inside her loosened. The weight on her chest didn’t feel as suffocating.

For a long moment, Powder stayed still, her hands awkwardly at her sides, until she finally let herself relax into the hug. Slowly, she allowed herself to believe, just for a second, that things could be different. That maybe, just maybe, it was okay to feel safe.

Vi held her tighter, whispering softly, “You’re not alone, Powder. Not ever again.”

And for the first time in so long, Powder felt a flicker of hope rise inside her chest—a tiny spark that started to burn brighter the longer Vi held her. It was the same feeling she’d had when she was younger, when Vi was always there to catch her when she fell, even when things felt impossible.

“Thank you,” Powder mumbled, her voice thick with emotion. “I… I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Vi chuckled, pulling back just slightly to look at her with a soft smile. “You’re stuck with me, sis. Always have been. Always will be.”

Powder let out a shaky breath, feeling the tears in her eyes start to blur her vision. It wasn’t just the nightmare she was afraid of—it was everything that had come before. But in this moment, with Vi holding her close and Caitlyn standing nearby, a part of her knew things would be okay. Maybe not perfect, but for the first time, she had a chance to heal. A chance to rebuild.

With a final sniffle, Powder wiped her eyes and looked up at Vi. “I think… I think I’m ready to try to let you both in.”

Caitlyn took a step closer, her voice softer now, more tentative, as she spoke. “It’s not just about being ready to try, Powder… it’s about taking it one step at a time. You don’t have to do it all at once. You have us now, both of us, and we’re here for every step of the way.”

She paused, giving Powder a moment to absorb the words, watching carefully for any sign of hesitation or doubt. “I know it’s going to be hard. It already has been. But… you’re not the same person you were, and you don’t have to carry all of that on your own anymore.”

Powder looked at Caitlyn, her expression a mixture of gratitude and vulnerability. She could feel Caitlyn’s sincerity in her words, the weight of the trust she was offering, and a sense of warmth settled in her chest. “I don’t want to be that person anymore,” Powder whispered, her voice wavering but determined. “I just want… I want to do better. For you both. For me.”

Vi squeezed her a little tighter, a silent affirmation of Caitlyn’s words. They were a team now, bound by more than just shared history—they were bound by the promise of something better, something they could build together. Slowly, the fear in Powder’s eyes began to fade, replaced by a glimmer of resolve.

“One step at a time, Powder,” Vi said, her tone soft yet firm. “We’re all in this together.”

Powder smiles faintly as she tells Vi as her voice is slightly shaky still, “Somewhere Mylo and Claggor are laughing…”

Vi’s expression softened, a nostalgic glint in her eyes as she nodded slowly. “Yeah,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “They would be. I can almost hear Mylo’s laugh now.”

She pulled Powder a little closer, letting the moment linger for a while. “They’d be proud of you, you know? And they would never let you forget it,” Vi added with a small, bittersweet smile.

Caitlyn stood silently at the side, her gaze drifting between the two, sensing the weight of the unspoken words that hung in the air. She didn’t need to add anything—this was a moment for Vi and Powder. Caitlyn simply gave them the space to share it, her quiet presence a reminder that she was here, supporting them both in ways that were hard to express.

The faint smile on Powder’s face grew just a little, and though it wasn’t much, it was enough. “Thanks, Vi,” she whispered softly, still clinging to the warmth of the moment. “I think… I think I can try now.”

Vi gave her a gentle squeeze, as if to say, You already are trying.

Chapter Text

As they sit there in silence for a bit, Vi cups Powder’s cheek and puts her forehead against Powder’s. All the bad blood between them is gone. They may not be perfect, but one thing they both know is that no matter what they will always love one another. Powder whispers to Vi “Are We Still Sisters?”

Vi’s face doesn’t change. She knows why Powder is asking that. She needs to know for a fact that she won’t be abandoned again. She doesn’t want to be used again. Or worse, See everything she has now fall apart. So Vi shuts her eyes and simply tells Powder with the utmost certainty “Nothing is ever going to change that.” 

Vi wants to make it clear, once and for all—no matter how much they’ve been through, no matter what happens next, she will never leave her again.

The line is simple. It’s a simple sentence, but it speaks volumes to Powder. Nothing will keep Vi away from her. No monsters. No enforcers. Not even The Council. However before Vi can continue, something happens with Powder.

Almost out of the blue, Powder shakes her head as if she’s fighting something off. She makes fists with her hands on and off again like she is trying to fight something. Caitlyn’s eyes widen, her pulse racing as she watches Powder’s body tremble. The weight of the situation hits her like a freight train. No… not again. She’s seen this before. Without a second thought, she jumps into action, her voice cracking as she calls for help. The worst case scenario has occurred. 

Powder is having a Severe Panic Attack.

Caitlyn’s eyes widen in alarm as she watches Powder’s hands clench and unclench, her breath becoming erratic. “Powder?” she calls softly, her voice laced with concern. But Powder’s gaze is unfocused, her whole body trembling as she starts to hyperventilate.

“Hey, stay with me, Powder,” Caitlyn says, trying to keep her voice calm despite the rising panic in her chest. She stands up quickly, her heart racing as Powder’s body tenses further. Powder’s eyes dart around the room, her breaths sharp and frantic, as if the walls are closing in on her. It’s like she’s trapped in some invisible nightmare once more.

Vi’s body stiffens as she watches Powder’s sudden shift, her mind racing. What’s happening? Is this something she did? Her instincts scream to help, but she’s frozen in place, unable to process what’s going on.

However, Caitlyn doesn’t hesitate. She turns on her heel and bolts toward the door, shouting for help. “Nurse! I need a nurse, now!” Her voice rings out, almost frantic, as the panic sets in—They can’t lose her again, not like this. Not after everything Vi and Powder fought through together. This can’t be how her story ends.

Within seconds, a nurse rushes in, followed by a couple of others, their faces instantly serious as they take in the situation. Powder’s hands are still clenched tightly, and her breathing is shallow and erratic, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

Caitlyn steps aside, allowing the medical staff to take control. One of the nurses gently but firmly guides Powder’s hands out of the tight fists she’s made, speaking softly to her in an attempt to ground her, but Powder’s eyes are wide, distant, and she doesn’t seem to hear.

“I think she’s having a panic attack,” Caitlyn breathes, her voice shaky as she watches helplessly.

The nurse nods quickly, turning her focus to Powder’s condition. “We’ll help her through this. You can’t help her if you’re panicking. Let us work with her.”

Caitlyn steps back and Vi collapses back onto her bed, her chest tight and breath shallow as she watches the nurses work. Caitlyn paces the floor, her fingers trembling at her sides, a cold sweat breaking out on her forehead.

As the nurses work, the seconds stretch on, each one weighing heavier than the last. Vi and Caitlyn watch in silence, their worry thick in the air. Vi knows they have to trust the medical staff, but it’s hard to let go of that control. She takes a slow, steadying breath, her eyes drifting over to Caitlyn. The tension between them is palpable, both of them frozen in their own fear, but they know they have to stay calm—for Powder’s sake.

As the nurses continue to stabilize Powder, Caitlyn’s thoughts spiral back to the countless promises she made to herself since they found Powder and Vi on the ledge. The vow to Vi and herself to protect Powder no matter what. And now, here she is—helpless. Vi, on the other hand, is barely holding it together. She watches the scene unfold, every fiber of her being hoping that she’s caught in some horrible dream. They can’t lose her. Not after everything Powder’s survived: Jinx, the ledge, the moments that nearly tore them apart. Not now.

Vi’s eyes flick to Caitlyn, searching for answers, for reassurance—anything. But all she sees is Caitlyn, standing rigid, her hands balled into fists at her sides, her breathing just as uneven as Powder’s.

Vi swallows hard, her voice low but urgent. “Cait… what the hell is happening?”

Caitlyn doesn’t answer immediately. She’s too focused on Powder, on the way her chest rises and falls in short, sharp gasps. The way her hands tremble even as the nurses work to soothe her. Finally, Caitlyn tears her gaze away and meets Vi’s.

“She’s spiraling,” Caitlyn says, her voice barely above a whisper. “She’s been through too much—her body, her mind, it’s all catching up to her.” She exhales, pressing her fingers to her temple. “We should’ve seen this coming…”

Vi clenches her jaw, her whole body tense as she looks back at Powder. “Damn it,” she mutters under her breath, guilt pressing down on her like a weight. “I should be able to help her. She shouldn’t have to go through this alone.”

Caitlyn steps forward slightly, her voice softer now. “She’s not alone, Vi. You’re here. I’m here. She just… she needs time.”

Vi shakes her head, frustration evident. “Time’s what I’m afraid of, Cait. Every second she’s in this—this hell—who knows what’s going through her head?”

Caitlyn doesn’t argue. She knows Vi is right. She knows how fragile Powder is right now. And that terrifies her.

They both fall silent, watching as the nurses continue their work, their quiet reassurances barely reaching Powder as she remains caught in the grip of panic. Vi exhales sharply and runs a hand through her hair, her heart pounding.

Caitlyn glances at Vi again. “We’ll get her through this,” she says, and though there’s conviction in her voice, there’s also fear. Because for the first time in a long time, Caitlyn isn’t sure what happens next.

Vi sits up immediately as the nurse approaches, her body tense from the moment she hears the soft footsteps nearing her bed. She rubs her tired eyes and swings her legs over the side, bracing herself.

The nurse offers a small, reassuring smile, but Vi sees right through it. She doesn’t want reassurances—she wants answers.

“How is she?” Vi asks, her voice rough from exhaustion.

The nurse glances toward Powder’s bed before meeting Vi’s eyes again. “She’s stable for now. The panic attack was severe, but we managed to get her breathing under control. Her vitals are holding steady.”

Vi exhales a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. “But?” she prompts, because she knows there’s always a ‘but.’

The nurse hesitates before continuing. “Mentally, she’s still in a fragile state. Whatever triggered this—it ran deep. She’s exhausted, but she’s afraid to sleep again. We’re keeping a close eye on her, making sure she feels safe, but…”

“But it’s not enough,” Vi finishes, running a hand down her face.

The nurse’s expression softens. “She needs time, Vi. And she needs you. Right now, you and Caitlyn are her anchors. Just being here is helping more than you know.”

Vi clenches her jaw, her gaze drifting toward Powder’s bed. She can still see the remnants of fear in her sister’s posture, even as she lays there, her breathing finally steady.

“She won’t be alone,” Vi says quietly, more to herself than to the nurse. “Not again.”

The nurse nods. “That’s all she needs right now.” Then, after a brief pause, she adds, “Get some rest too, Vi. She’ll need you at your best.”

Vi doesn’t respond immediately. She just watches Powder, the weight of everything settling deeper in her chest.

Finally, she nods. “Yeah… I’ll try.”

The nurse doesn’t push her, just offers a knowing look before walking away, leaving Vi alone with her thoughts and the quiet sound of Powder’s breathing.

Caitlyn catches one of the nurses just before they walk away, her voice edged with concern. “What did you mean when you said Powder was afraid to sleep?”

The nurse hesitates, glancing between Caitlyn and Powder’s bed before sighing softly. “She kept fighting it. Every time she started drifting off, she’d jolt awake. Kept muttering things—begging not to go back. From what we could gather, she’s terrified of what she’ll see if she closes her eyes.”

Caitlyn’s stomach twists uncomfortably. She remembers Powder’s words from earlier, the way she described her nightmare—how real it felt to her.

“Is there anything we can do?” Caitlyn presses.

The nurse shakes her head gently. “For now, we’re keeping her comfortable, monitoring her closely. But fear like that? It doesn’t just go away with medicine. She needs reassurance, a sense of safety. That’s going to have to come from you and Vi.”

Caitlyn glances toward Powder, watching as her fingers twitch slightly, still restless even in exhaustion.

The nurse gives her a knowing look. “Just being here, talking to her, reminding her she’s not alone—it’ll help more than you think.”

Caitlyn nods slowly, absorbing the weight of it all. “Thank you,” she says quietly.

The nurse gives her a small, sympathetic smile before stepping away, leaving Caitlyn standing there, her mind racing with thoughts of what she can possibly do to help Powder find peace again.

Just as Vi was about to talk to Powder again, She feels Caitlyn’s hand on her shoulder. She simply watches as she steps in front of her with a smile politely not to be rude, but the face Vi sees makes her realize one thing. 

This conversation has to happen.

Caitlyn takes a slow breath as she settles into the chair in front of Powder, her movements deliberate and calm. Powder, still visibly shaken, meets her gaze but says nothing.

The silence between them is thick—weighted by years of conflict, misunderstanding, and the fragile reality of the moment. Vi, watching from her bed, can feel the tension crackling in the air. This isn’t just a conversation. It’s something deeper.

For a long moment, neither Caitlyn nor Powder speaks. They just stare at each other, studying, measuring, as if trying to understand the person sitting before them.

Caitlyn’s expression is unreadable, but her eyes hold something different than before. Not duty. Not judgment. Something else entirely.

Vi exhales quietly, her hands resting against the sheets, resisting the urge to intervene. This is between them now—the Commander and her former target.

Powder shifts slightly, fingers curling around the thin blanket draped over her. She looks away for just a second before forcing herself to meet Caitlyn’s gaze again.

Caitlyn finally leans forward, her voice steady but softer than it’s ever been when speaking to Powder.

“…You’re afraid of me, aren’t you?”

It’s not an accusation. It’s not even a question meant to be answered right away. But it hangs in the air between them like an open wound, waiting for whatever comes next.

Powder doesn’t answer at first, but when she does, She answers with another question asking almost hesitantly, “Depends…. which version of me are you asking? Powder or Jinx?”

Caitlyn exhales through her nose, her fingers lacing together as she keeps her gaze on Powder. She expected hesitation, maybe even deflection, but not that.

She leans back slightly, studying the girl in front of her—the girl who had once been a ghost she chased through the streets, a threat she swore to neutralize. And yet, here she was, broken but alive, asking a question Caitlyn wasn’t sure how to answer.

A part of her wants to say that it doesn’t matter, that Powder and Jinx are the same person. But that would be a lie, wouldn’t it?

Instead, Caitlyn keeps her voice even, her expression calm.

“…Whichever one needs an answer.”

She doesn’t push. She doesn’t demand it. She just waits.

Powder studies Caitlyn almost as if she’s looking for signs of deception. When she finds none, Powder finally tells her with her voice trembling “I am terrified of you… I am terrified you will take Vi from me. That you will just arrest me when this is done. I am so scared.”

Caitlyn feels a tight knot form in her chest as she hears Powder’s trembling voice, a raw honesty that cuts through the distance they’ve kept for so long. She had expected a lot from Powder, but never this kind of vulnerability. It’s almost too much to bear, but she can’t look away, can’t ignore the cold hard truth behind those words.

She takes a step forward, her hands folding together in a gesture of reassurance, not authority.

“I’m not here to take Vi from you, Powder,” Caitlyn says softly, trying to hold the girl’s gaze. “And I’m not here to arrest you either. You’ve been through enough. This—this is about you healing, not punishment.”

Caitlyn takes another careful step closer, her voice steady but gentle, trying to provide the comfort she never knew how to offer.

“I can’t promise you the world, but I can promise I won’t do that. I’m not the enemy. Not anymore. You’ve made mistakes, but so have I. That doesn’t mean you have to be afraid of me.”

She lets the silence settle between them, hoping Powder might hear her sincerity in the words, in the quiet moment that follows.

Caitlyn looks back at Vi as if seeking permission to continue. All she sees is Vi watching closely. Her eyes haven’t left Powder’s. Finally Caitlyn  asks Powder softly, “Do you mind telling me who answered that question? Powder or Jinx?”

Powder’s eyes flicker away for a moment, her hands clenching the blankets as she tries to steady herself. She shifts slightly, as if unsure of how to answer. The question Caitlyn asks seems to weigh heavier than it should, like it’s stirring something inside her—something deep and unresolved.

She bites her lip before finally speaking, her voice barely above a whisper.

“It was both,” she admits, the words slipping out before she can stop them. “Sometimes, I don’t even know who’s answering anymore. Sometimes I feel like Powder’s in here, and other times, it’s like Jinx takes over… like there’s this wall between me and her. I just want it to stop… but I’m scared it won’t. I don’t want to be that monster anymore.”

Her eyes drop to her hands, her voice faltering as she finishes, “But… sometimes I can’t tell where one of us ends and the other begins.”

Caitlyn doesn’t say anything at first, but the silence feels almost like an answer in itself. She watches Powder, her heart aching for her, for all the years she’s spent running from herself. She knows this isn’t easy, and it’s not something that can just be fixed. But she also knows one thing—Powder’s struggle isn’t just with the world, it’s with herself.

Caitlyn takes a deep breath, then reaches out gently, placing a hand on Powder’s shoulder, offering comfort without saying another word. This is a battle she can’t win for her, but she’s here for the fight.

Caitlyn looks at Powder and asks her cautiously “Mind if I ask you something?”

Powder looks up, her gaze uncertain, but she nods slowly, her voice still trembling. “What is it?”

Caitlyn shifts slightly, choosing her words carefully. “You mentioned being afraid of me… afraid that I might take Vi away from you. I understand why you might feel that way. But I need to know… is it just that? Or is there more to it? Are you afraid of me for something else?”

Powder looks at Caitlyn for a long moment, her expression conflicted. She pulls her knees closer to her chest, her voice quiet as she responds.

“It’s not just that,” she admits, her words laced with vulnerability. “I… I’ve been afraid of you for a long time. It’s not just the law. It’s not just what you represent. It’s… you remind me of the people who made me feel like I wasn’t good enough. Like I’d never be enough. When you first came after me, it felt like you were another one of those people who wanted to fix me… or punish me.”

She pauses, looking at Caitlyn for any reaction. “But I see now… maybe you’re not like them. But it’s hard to let go of that fear, especially when I’m still scared of what I might do.”

Caitlyn listens, feeling the weight of Powder’s words settle in her chest. She doesn’t respond immediately, letting the silence hang between them as she processes everything. Finally, Caitlyn speaks softly, her voice full of understanding.

“I’m not here to fix you, Powder. I’m here because I believe in you. And I’m not going to arrest you, or lock you away. Not unless you let yourself become the person you were afraid of. But that’s not who I see when I look at you. You’ve already shown me you’re stronger than that. And I’ll be here, no matter what you’re afraid of.”

There’s a pause, then Caitlyn adds, “But if you ever need someone to talk to, to just listen, I’ll always be here for that too.”

Powder looks up at Caitlyn, eyes searching her face for any hint of insincerity, but she finds none. Finally, she nods, the tension in her body easing just a little bit.

“Okay,” she whispers, “I’ll try.”

Powder breaks the tension finally in the room as she smiles ever so slightly and looks at Vi. She tells her, “Just so you know, I get the appeal now…”

Vi raises an eyebrow at Powder, slightly confused. “The appeal? What are you talking about?”

Powder grins, the mood shifting slightly as she teases, “You know… being all serious and thoughtful like Caitlyn. I mean, you both are a lot more intimidating when you actually talk things through, instead of just punching your way through problems.”

Caitlyn chuckles lightly, her expression softening as she watches the exchange between the sisters. Vi, still processing Powder’s words, lets out a small laugh as she rolls her eyes.

“Right, well, don’t get used to it,” Vi says with a smirk. “I think I’m gonna stick with my ‘punch first, talk later’ strategy.”

Powder laughs, the sound filling the room with a sense of warmth that hasn’t been there in a long time. It’s a fleeting moment of normalcy for them, a brief pause from the chaos that’s so often around them.

“Fair enough,” Powder responds, her smile growing wider. “But hey, maybe someday I’ll convince you to at least listen to me first.”

Vi gives her a playful shove, not enough to hurt, just enough to send a clear message. “We’ll see about that, Pow Pow. But I’m starting to think you’re the one who’s got the brains around here.”

Powder’s smile stays in place as she watches Vi, her voice soft but filled with gratitude. “I’ve always had the brains, Vi… just never the right people to share them with.”

Caitlyn watches the exchange, her heart warmed by the connection between the sisters. She stays quiet, allowing them their moment, feeling a sense of hope for the future, one where Powder can truly start to heal.

Vi cups Powder’s face softly and tells her sister, “Do me a favor? I just want you to shut your eyes. I’ll talk to you the entire time. Just shut them and tell me what you see or hear.”

Powder hesitates for a moment, looking into Vi’s eyes as if weighing her sister’s request. She’s used to shutting herself off, to facing her fears alone, but the warmth in Vi’s gaze is different now. Powder slowly nods and, with a shaky breath, closes her eyes.

Vi’s voice is soft, gentle, a contrast to the usual brash tone she uses. “Just listen to me, Pow. You don’t have to do anything but be here. Whatever happens, I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere.”

Powder’s hands, still trembling slightly, curl into the blanket as she focuses on her sister’s words. She’s always been afraid of what happens when she lets herself truly rest, but something about Vi’s voice makes her feel safe, makes her want to trust.

“Focus on your breath, alright? In and out. Deep breaths. Everything’s alright, you’re alright.” Vi continues, her voice steady and calming, like a lighthouse guiding Powder through the storm.

As Powder breathes in, then out, she starts to relax, the tension in her shoulders loosening. The feeling of Vi’s hands on her face is grounding, like a reassurance that she isn’t alone in this moment.

“I’m here. Just us now,” Vi whispers, “No monsters, no nightmares. Just us.”

Powder’s heart beats faster, but not from fear. It’s the first time in so long that she feels like maybe, just maybe, she can let herself be vulnerable without worrying that it will all come crashing down.

Vi leans forward slightly, her forehead resting gently against Powder’s. “You’re safe here, I promise. Now, tell me what you see when you close your eyes.”

There’s a pause. Powder stays still, her face relaxed but focused, taking in the warmth and the sound of Vi’s steady voice.

And then, with a hint of curiosity, Powder whispers, “I don’t hear anything. But… I think I hear you.”

Vi’s heart swells at her sister’s words. “That’s all you need to hear, Pow. Just me.”

Vi helps Powder lay down and she tells her softly with a tone that tells Powder she genuinely wants to help her, “Now do me a favor and focus on this next part. I want you to hold onto my hand tight. That way you know I’m not going anywhere. I want you to do that and just fall asleep. Don’t fight it.”

Powder looks at Vi, her eyes soft with a mixture of trust and lingering fear. She nods slowly, feeling the weight of the request but also the warmth behind it. The world around her is hazy, her thoughts scattered, but there’s something about the way Vi speaks to her—so calm, so sure—that makes her want to give in.

Vi gently takes Powder’s hand and places it in hers, her grip steady but comforting. “I’m not leaving you, Pow. I’m right here, okay?” she says, her voice low and steady, the words carrying a sense of unwavering support. “Just hold on to me, and let go of everything else.”

The touch of Vi’s hand is grounding, like an anchor in the storm that’s been swirling in Powder’s mind for so long. She feels her breath slow as she focuses on the warmth and strength in Vi’s grip. The tightness in her chest starts to loosen, and the weight of her worries begins to fade, bit by bit.

“Don’t fight it, Pow. Just breathe, and when you’re ready, let yourself rest. I’m here.”

Powder closes her eyes once more, the exhaustion from the day beginning to catch up with her. She holds on to Vi’s hand as though it’s the only thing keeping her tethered to something real. The tension in her body unwinds, and her breath becomes deeper, more even.

For the first time in a long time, Powder doesn’t feel like she has to fight. She doesn’t feel the need to be alert, to be ready for anything that might go wrong. With Vi beside her, she feels safe enough to let go, to fall asleep without the constant fear that has haunted her for so long.

“Just sleep, Pow Pow,” Vi whispers softly, her thumb brushing across Powder’s knuckles. “You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

And with that, the last of Powder’s worries begin to drift away, as she finally succumbs to the sleep she’s been too afraid to face.

Caitlyn smiles as she tells Vi, “You did it. She’s asleep.”

Vi looks down at Powder, her hand still gently holding hers, a soft smile spreading across her face. There’s a quiet relief in her eyes as she hears Caitlyn’s words. It’s a moment of calm amidst all the chaos and fear that’s been swirling around them.

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” Vi responds softly, not looking at Caitlyn but instead focusing on Powder’s peaceful face. “She just needed to know she wasn’t alone. She needed to feel safe.”

Caitlyn nods, her expression softening as she watches the bond between the sisters. “She’s lucky to have you,” she says, her voice gentle but filled with admiration.

Vi gives a small, almost imperceptible shrug, as if it’s nothing. “She’s my sister. I’ll do anything for her.”

For a moment, there’s a quiet understanding between them. Caitlyn glances at Vi, noting the exhaustion in her eyes, but also the quiet strength that radiates from her. Vi’s devotion to her sister is clear, and Caitlyn feels a sense of respect for the woman who has been through so much, but still holds on so fiercely to the ones she loves.

“She’ll be okay,” Caitlyn says softly, her words almost a reassurance to herself as much as to Vi. “We’re all in this together.”

Vi looks at Caitlyn, meeting her gaze for the first time in a while. There’s a flicker of gratitude in her eyes, something she doesn’t always show. “Thanks,” she says quietly. “For everything. For being here.”

Caitlyn smiles back at her. “Always.”

Vi looks at Caitlyn and asks her cautiously as if she is afraid she is going to overstep, "Do you think you have any clothes that could fit us? I want her to be comfortable."

Caitlyn blinks, caught slightly off guard by the question, but she quickly recovers. She glances down at Powder, still sleeping soundly, and then back at Vi, noting the genuine concern in her expression.

“I… Yeah, I think I do,” Caitlyn replies, her voice softer now. “I can go back home and grab a few things for both of you. It won’t take long.”

Vi nods, clearly relieved, but there’s still hesitation in her eyes. “I just… I don’t want her waking up in this hospital gown. She’s been through enough.”

Caitlyn’s gaze lingers on Vi for a moment, reading the unspoken weight behind her words. “I understand,” she says sincerely. “I’ll find something comfortable.”

Vi exhales, as if she’s been holding onto that worry for too long. “Thanks, Cupcake.”

Caitlyn rolls her eyes at the nickname but doesn’t argue. Instead, she just offers a small smile. “I’ll be back soon.” And with that, she turns toward the door, already running through the things she’ll bring back. Something soft, something warm—something that might make Powder feel a little less like a patient and a little more like herself.

As Caitlyn leaves, Vi decides to lean back in her chair. She runs a hand through her hair as she watches Powder sleep. The silence is unsettling. After everything—Powder’s panic, her nightmares, the heavy conversations—it feels almost unnatural for things to be this still.

She almost forgot what it was like without Powder doing something. Whether it was a panic attack, waking up suddenly, or simply talking, there was always something happening. Now, the room felt… off.

Vi sighs quietly and glances at their still-clasped hands. Powder’s grip had loosened slightly in sleep, but Vi didn’t dare let go. Not after everything. Not now.

She studies her sister’s face. Peaceful for the first time in what felt like forever. The tension in her features had faded, if only for a little while. Vi wishes she could freeze this moment, make it last—because she knows when Powder wakes up, reality will come crashing back down again.

With a deep breath, Vi leans her head back against the chair, still holding onto Powder’s hand. The quiet might feel strange, but maybe—for now—it wasn’t such a bad thing. 

Vi shuts her eyes for just a moment to take a deep breath, But she quickly opens them not even a minute of having them shut. She calls for a nurse using the remote as she breathes quickly to keep her composure. What she saw as her eyes shut was unnerving. 

Vi saw herself fighting for survival on that damn ledge she was stuck on.

A nurse arrives quickly, noticing the tension in Vi’s posture and the way her chest rises and falls a little too fast. “Miss Vi, are you alright?” she asks gently, stepping closer.

Vi swallows hard, trying to steady herself. “Yeah, I just—” She exhales sharply, running a hand through her hair. “I just need some water. And… can you check on Powder again? Just to be sure?”

The nurse gives her a knowing look but doesn’t press. “Of course.” She moves toward Powder’s bedside, quietly checking her vitals while Vi grips the armrest of her chair.

Her hands are still shaking. The daydream—no, the nightmare —felt too real. The sensation of sitting on the ledge, the hope slipping away despite herself constantly putting out a SOS, the sheer helplessness—she’d fought so hard not to think about it. To focus on Powder instead. But closing her eyes for even a second had dragged her right back.

She glances at Powder, still asleep, still breathing. That should be enough to ground her. But it isn’t.

The nurse returns with a glass of water, offering it to her. “You should try to rest too,” she says softly.

Vi nods but doesn’t respond. She just grips the cup, staring at the water like it might have answers. Yet directly after she clenches her jaw, staring at the water in her hands as the realization settles deep in her chest. For the first time, she truly understands what Powder must have felt all those years. The fear, the helplessness, the feeling of losing control over reality itself.

Hers wasn’t as grand—just a brief moment, a cruel trick of the mind—but it was enough. Enough to make her feel small, like she was slipping through the cracks of her own consciousness. Enough to make her wonder how Powder had endured it for so long. She looks at Powder now, her younger sister, curled up and finally getting some much-needed rest. Vi wonders how many times Powder had felt this way before, how many times she had reached out for Vi only to find no one there.

A lump forms in Vi’s throat. She sets the cup down on the bedside table, rubbing her hands together as if trying to shake off the feeling. She won’t let this break her. More than ever, she understands. And now, more than ever, she refuses to let Powder go through it alone.

Vi swallows hard, forcing herself to steady her breathing as she grips the blanket covering her legs. The lingering sensation of that daydream still clings to her skin like a cold sweat. She hesitates for a moment before pressing the call button again, her fingers tightening around it before finally letting go.

It doesn’t take long for a nurse to step inside, offering her a polite but concerned look. “Miss Vi? Is everything alright?”

Vi shifts uncomfortably, glancing toward Powder’s sleeping form before turning back to the nurse. Her voice is lower than usual, almost hesitant. “I... I just need to ask you something.” She rubs her palms together, still feeling the phantom weight of that rock in her hand. “Is it normal? To—” She exhales sharply, frustrated with herself. “To see things? Not like Powder does. But... I had this—this daydream just now, and it felt real. Too real.”

The nurse listens carefully, nodding as she pulls a chair closer to sit beside Vi’s bed. “It’s not uncommon, especially after experiencing something traumatic,” she explains gently. “The mind tends to replay events, sometimes distorting them, sometimes making them feel even more vivid than when they happened. Your brain is trying to process it.”

Vi’s jaw tightens. “But it didn’t even happen that way. Not exactly. Powder was sleeping when what I saw happened, But in the vision, I—” She stops herself, pressing a hand against her forehead before letting it drop back to her lap. “I was trying to send out an SOS by scratching at the ledge with a rock. Like I thought no one was coming when in reality I had hope Caitlyn would still come..”

The nurse gives her a small, understanding nod. “Even if it wasn’t what physically happened, your mind might be fixating on the helplessness you felt in that moment. Maybe it’s trying to make sense of it, or maybe it’s surfacing feelings you didn’t fully acknowledge at the time.” She pauses before adding, “Have you been getting enough sleep yourself?”

Vi scoffs quietly, shaking her head. “Not really. Been too focused on her. ” She gestures toward Powder.

The nurse offers a sympathetic smile. “That’s understandable. But you’re going to need rest too, Vi. Your mind is clearly carrying a weight you haven’t put down yet.” She places a reassuring hand on Vi’s shoulder before standing. “I can bring something to help if you need it. But even if you don’t want anything, try to breathe, ground yourself. Remind yourself of where you are.”

Vi nods, but her mind is still racing. The nurse gives her one last reassuring glance before stepping out. Vi leans back against the pillow, running a hand down her face.

She hates this feeling. The feeling of being trapped in her own mind. But if this is even a fraction of what Powder has been going through… she finally gets it.

Vi sits there for a long moment, her fingers idly gripping the blanket, her body tense despite the exhaustion weighing her down. The room is quiet—eerily so. Powder isn’t stirring, Caitlyn hasn’t returned yet, and for once, nothing chaotic is happening. But Vi can still feel it—the restlessness in her chest, the way her heart pounds a little too fast for someone who should be winding down.

She glances over at Powder, who is still curled up, her breathing steady. That should be comforting. It is comforting. But Vi feels like if she lets herself drift off, she’s going to see it again. That awful vision. The scratch of the rock against the ledge, the helplessness, the gnawing fear that no one was coming. It wasn’t real, but it felt real. Too real.

Vi exhales sharply through her nose, rubbing at her face. She knows she needs sleep. The nurse was right—she’s been too focused on Powder to really take care of herself. But closing her eyes feels like an invitation for her mind to drag her right back into that nightmare.

Still, she doesn’t have much of a choice. The longer she sits there, the heavier her limbs feel, the deeper the exhaustion sinks into her bones. Her body is demanding rest even if her mind refuses.

Reluctantly, Vi shifts onto her side, tucking her arm under her head as she lets out a slow breath. She keeps her other hand close, fingers flexing against the sheets, grounding herself. She listens to the soft hum of the hospital, the distant sound of footsteps in the hallway. Anything to remind herself that she’s here , not back on that ledge, not lost in some twisted daydream.

Her eyelids grow heavier. She fights it at first, blinking rapidly, but eventually, the weight is too much. Her breathing slows. The room fades in and out of focus until finally, she lets go and allows sleep to finally take her. As for the nightmare? Vi thought she was rid of it. But her mind had different plans.

Vi's body tensed in her sleep, her fingers twitching against the blanket as the nightmare pulled her under.

She was back on the ledge. The same ledge. The same cold, hard stone pressing against her back as she sat there, holding Powder’s frail body against her. Powder’s breath was shallow, her lips parted as if she wanted to say something but didn’t have the strength.

“No, no, no,” Vi whispered, her voice breaking, her arms tightening around her sister. “You’re gonna be okay. Just—just hold on, Pow.”

But there was no strength left in her. No fire, no fight. Powder’s fingers barely twitched as Vi grasped them, desperately trying to hold on, as if keeping her from slipping away could stop the inevitable

Tears streamed down Vi’s face as she shook her head. “Don’t do this. You can’t do this. Don’t leave me!”

But Powder's body was still and cold.

It was happening all over again. The same scene, the same helplessness, the same gut-wrenching, soul-crushing loss. And just like before, when the realization crashed down on her, Vi’s body trembled. Her breathing came in ragged, uneven gasps. The horror twisted inside her, a pressure so suffocating that she couldn’t hold it in—

She let out a scream.

It ripped through her, raw and primal, filled with every ounce of rage, grief, sorrow, fear, and disappointment she had inside her. It was the sound of losing everything all at once.

And in the nightmare, as her scream faded into the void, a terrible silence followed.

Vi looked down at Powder’s still body, her hands shaking, her vision blurred with tears. And then, slowly, the weight of exhaustion pulled at her. Her limbs felt heavier. The cold seeped deeper into her skin.

She was next.

The nightmare gave her no relief. No mercy. Just the cold, unshakable truth—she wasn’t going to make it either.

And as the darkness closed in, Vi felt it. The same emptiness. The same finality.

Just like Powder.

Just like before.

Just like—

Vi’s body jerked violently in the hospital bed as she gasped awake, her heart hammering against her ribs, her throat raw, her breath coming in sharp, shallow gulps. Her hands clutched the sheets, fingers digging into them as if she was still trying to hold onto something—someone—who wasn’t there.

Her whole body trembled, drenched in cold sweat.

It took her a second to realize where she was. To remember she had made it. That Powder had made it. But the nightmare still clung to her, wrapping around her lungs like a vice, making it impossible to breathe.

Vi finally blinked a few more times, trying to shake off the remnants of the nightmare. Her chest still heaved as she struggled to catch her breath, her skin clammy from sweat. The hospital room came into focus, dimly lit by the soft glow of the nightlight in the corner.

Caitlyn was right there, leaning over her bed, concern etched across her face. Vi could see the way her brows were furrowed, the way her lips were pressed together like she was trying to hold back from saying something frantic. A piece of luggage sat at her side, but it was clear that whatever reason Caitlyn had brought it in had momentarily been forgotten.

"Vi, are you okay?" Caitlyn’s voice was softer now, but still tinged with worry. "Your heart rate was through the roof. The monitors were going crazy. They made me step back to get you stable before I even had a chance to think."

Vi rubbed her eyes, her hands shaking slightly as she wiped the dampness from her forehead. She swallowed hard, trying to push past the tightness in her throat. " Yeah ," she croaked out, but it didn’t sound close to convincing, not even to herself.

Caitlyn didn’t look convinced either. She sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Vi hesitated, running a hand through her damp, messy hair. She wanted to say no. Wanted to brush it off like she always did. But the weight in her chest told her she couldn’t keep burying it. Not this time.

She exhaled shakily and looked down at her hands. “It was the ledge,” she muttered. “But different this time.”

Caitlyn stayed quiet, waiting. Letting Vi take her time.

Vi clenched her jaw, staring at the sheets beneath her fingers. “Powder… she didn’t make it.” Her voice cracked slightly. “And then neither did I.”

Caitlyn inhaled sharply, her expression shifting to something even softer—almost pained. She reached out, placing a gentle hand over Vi’s. “Vi…”

Vi shook her head quickly. “I know it wasn’t real. But it felt real.” Her voice was raw, full of exhaustion and something dangerously close to fear. “And for a second, when I woke up, I—” She let out a shaky breath, her throat tightening. “I thought I lost her all over again.”

Caitlyn squeezed her hand. “But you didn’t ,” she said firmly. “She’s still here, Vi. You both are. Powder is still sleeping like you left her.”

Vi swallowed and nodded slowly, though the phantom feeling of that nightmare still clung to her.

Caitlyn gave her hand one more reassuring squeeze before gesturing to the luggage beside her. “I brought you both some clothes like you asked,” she said gently, trying to shift the mood. “Figured you’d want to be comfortable.”

Vi huffed out a weak chuckle, running a hand down her face. “Wow I really didn’t expect you to find something to fit me. You really have something for everything, don’t you?”

Caitlyn smirked slightly. “I am my mother’s daughter, after all.”

For the first time since waking up, Vi managed the smallest of smiles. It wasn’t much. But it was something. And that sure as hell was better then nothing at all. 

Chapter Text

The hospital room was quiet, the only sound the soft beeping of the monitors and the occasional shift of the bedsheets. For the first time in what felt like years, both sisters were truly at peace. The weight of their past, their battles, their fears—seemed to momentarily fade as they lay side by side. Vi’s breathing was slow and steady, and Powder, who had been through so much, finally seemed to find rest.

The beds they lay on were simple, but to them, it felt like a small luxury after everything they had endured. No more cold floors, no more desperation. Just the softness of clean sheets, the warmth of the room, and the comfort of knowing that they were no longer alone.

Outside the room, the world continued to turn, but inside, for a brief moment, all was still. Vi, who had spent so many sleepless nights fighting for survival, finally allowed herself to rest, her body sinking into the bed as the nightmares of the past began to loosen their grip. Powder, who had always been haunted by her own demons, finally felt safe enough to close her eyes and drift into a peaceful sleep.

They were healing—physically and emotionally—and for the first time, they both allowed themselves to feel the gentle embrace of care and healing. The fear, the tension, the constant survival instinct had quieted, and in its place, there was the faintest sense of hope.

They had fought so hard to get here, to this moment, to this chance at peace. And now, for just a little while, they could rest. Together.

Meanwhile just outside the hospital, Unbeknownst to the calm sisters and even Caitlyn, Word somehow leaked out that Powder has been pardoned and she is being treated in the hospital. 

The news spread quickly, as news often does in Piltover. Rumors, whispers, and glances exchanged between the right people led to the story reaching the wrong ears. It didn’t take long for the word to leak out that Powder, the girl who had once been Jinx, the one responsible for so much destruction, had been granted a pardon. Not only that, but she was receiving care in the very heart of Piltover, in a hospital where people were supposed to feel safe.

Some couldn’t believe it. After all, how could someone like Powder—someone who had wreaked havoc, a criminal responsible for so much pain—just be allowed to walk free? The mere idea felt like an affront to everything they knew about justice and retribution. Others, though, were more pragmatic. They saw a new opportunity, a chance to use the situation for their own gain. As the news spread, the murmur of people began to echo down the corridors of Piltover's streets.

The Council, which had already been divided over Powder’s pardon, became the subject of even more scrutiny. Mel Medarda, who had voiced her concerns about the decision, would likely face even more pressure now. There were those who would rally behind the cause, thinking that the pardon was a sign of hope and progress, a symbol of forgiveness. But there were just as many who would see it as a betrayal, a mistake, a failure to uphold the law.

Outside the hospital, tensions began to rise. Piltover’s enforcers received word that people were starting to gather in small groups around the hospital, some out of curiosity, others out of suspicion, and a few looking for answers or even confrontation. The air was thick with uncertainty. No one was quite sure what to make of this new development, and the fear of the unknown bred rumors that only fanned the flames of unrest.

And then there were those who had a more personal interest in the situation. Some of the families affected by the destruction Powder had caused, their loved ones lost to the chaos she had unintentionally set in motion, began to stir. They wanted justice. They wanted answers. They wanted to know why, after everything, Powder—Jinx—was being allowed to live while their pain remained unacknowledged. In some parts of Piltover, the anger was simmering just beneath the surface, and it was only a matter of time before it boiled over.

Caitlyn, still unaware of the growing unrest outside, worked tirelessly within the hospital to ensure that Powder and Vi were safe and cared for. She hadn’t yet realized how volatile the situation had become, how deeply the decision to pardon Powder had unsettled the delicate balance of power and trust between Piltover and Zaun.

Back in the room with Powder, Caitlyn stayed focused on her sisters, ensuring that they had everything they needed to rest and recover. But outside the hospital’s walls, a storm was brewing—a storm that Caitlyn and the others would soon have to face, whether they were ready or not.

As the tension in Piltover had reached a boiling point. The streets outside the hospital were growing more chaotic by the minute. What started as murmurs and whispers soon evolved into an unmistakable noise—shouting, angry voices calling out in unison, each one carrying a different sentiment, but all of them laced with frustration.

At first, it was small groups that seemed peaceful enough. A few people huddled together, exchanging their thoughts about the decision to pardon Powder. Then, it became a mass of people, their numbers swelling like a tide of dissent. A crowd formed, some with their fists raised, some shouting expletives, others merely standing, watching, their faces contorted in disbelief.

“ What’s she doing in there?! ” one voice shouted from the front. “ She deserves to rot in a cell! ”

Another voice shouted back, “She’s a monster! She should never have been pardoned!”

The mob was growing restless, an almost primal anger taking over as they became more emboldened, less afraid of the authorities. People were being pushed forward, carried by the wave of fury that rippled through the group. The murmurs turned into chants, some filled with hate, some filled with fear.

“ Jinx deserves justice! ” a man yelled, his voice hoarse.

“ She’s not welcome here! ” another shouted, his face flushed red with emotion.

As the crowd continued to swell, Piltover’s enforcers, normally a calming presence, now found themselves struggling to maintain control. They had been called to the scene, trying to keep the peace, but the situation was escalating fast. The more they tried to move the crowd back, the more it surged forward, like an uncontrollable force of nature.

“ Back up! Stay behind the lines! ” one of the enforcers shouted through a megaphone, but it was too late. The anger had already taken hold, and the mob was no longer listening.

With a sudden push, one of the protestors reached the hospital’s entrance, grabbing the door handle and attempting to force it open. The door rattled violently, the glass behind it shaking as the mob’s force collided with the building’s fragile defenses.

“ Let us in! We want answers! ” someone shouted, banging their fist against the glass.

The enforcers quickly reacted, rushing forward to protect the entrance, but it was clear they were outnumbered. The crowd only grew bolder, and the air was thick with the stench of fear and fury. Some of the more rebellious figures in the front started to break away from the pack, throwing objects at the glass and pushing against the walls of the hospital, desperate to make their voices heard.

Inside, Caitlyn was oblivious to the chaos unfolding just outside. The only sounds she could hear were the steady beeping of machines and the quiet whispers of comfort between her, Vi, and Powder. But as she passed through the hallways, she noticed a slight shift in the atmosphere—something was off.

It was the sound of boots stomping, a distant rumble of shouting, and the tension that had seemed to hang in the air. Her instincts kicked in. She stepped toward the window and peered out, seeing the movement outside. Her breath caught in her throat as she watched the crowd grow, pushing against the barrier.

A large group of protestors, their faces contorted with anger, were now trying to push their way inside. They had gathered so quickly that the enforcers stationed around the hospital couldn’t maintain order. They shouted slogans, taunting the officers, their voices a chorus of outrage. One protester attempted to climb over a barricade, only to be knocked back by the enforcers. But the momentum of the crowd continued, undeterred.

The people at the forefront were pushing against the barricades, trying to force their way past, desperate to find a face to blame. Powder’s name as ‘Jinx’ screamed out again and again. It wasn’t just anger at her pardon anymore—it was a primal fear, a belief that the very foundation of Piltover’s justice system had crumbled in their eyes.

Caitlyn’s heart pounded as she backed away from the window. She rushed to find a guard, her mind racing. “Get the enforcers in position! Lock down the exits!” she shouted.

But even with the best efforts of the enforcers, it seemed like the crowd wouldn’t be contained much longer. The door rattled again, and Caitlyn knew the crowd wasn’t far from breaking through. The chaos outside mirrored the turmoil inside, where the hospital’s staff worked feverishly to keep the situation under control, unaware of the storm gathering just beyond the walls.

The tension was palpable. People had come for answers, but they were now demanding more than that. The air itself felt like it was about to crack. Caitlyn’s eyes darted from the window back to the hall, and she knew that it wasn’t just the hospital’s reputation at stake—it was Powder’s life that was being weighed in the balance, and there was no telling who would be the first to make a move.

Caitlyn stood at the front of the hospital, her heart racing as she pointed her rifle at the swelling mob. The barrel of the gun gleamed in the dim light, its cold metal reflecting the chaos around her. The crowd, now a sea of angry faces and raised fists, was growing louder by the second. She could feel the pressure building. The weight of her responsibility was crushing her, but she had no choice—she needed to keep the peace.

“Everyone get the hell back now!” she shouted, her voice cutting through the din of the mob. Her grip tightened around the rifle, her finger hovering just above the trigger, though she hoped it wouldn’t come to that. “I am the lead officer, and I will arrest anyone who even tries to hop this barricade!!!”

The crowd hesitated for a split second, uncertainty flashing across some of their faces. Some stepped back, but others only grew bolder, their anger fuelled by Caitlyn’s stance. A few men in the front of the mob started shouting louder, egging the others on.

“ She’s protecting that monster! ” one man yelled, pointing an accusatory finger at Caitlyn. " She’s one of them! "

Caitlyn’s expression darkened, her jaw tightening. She took a step forward, keeping the rifle aimed and steady. “You want answers? Then calm down ,” she snapped, her voice laced with authority. “You’re not going to get anything by destroying this place.”

But her words fell on deaf ears. The mob’s anger was too thick, too raw. Someone from the back of the crowd threw a rock, hitting one of the enforcers who was stationed to help hold the barricades. The crowd erupted in cheers, the excitement rippling through like a wave.

“ We’re not afraid of you! You can’t stop us! ” someone shouted.

Caitlyn’s heart raced faster as more voices joined in, and she could feel the mob’s resolve solidifying. The barricades were their only defense now, but they wouldn’t hold for much longer if this continued.

She took a breath, holding the rifle steady. “Last warning,” Caitlyn called out. Her voice carried over the growing noise, strong, unwavering. “Get back. I don’t want to use force, but I will if you try to breach this building.”

For a moment, the crowd seemed to falter. Some of the more rational voices in the mob began shouting for people to fall back, urging them to listen to Caitlyn’s warning. But the chaos didn’t stop—it only shifted, like a pressure cooker waiting to explode.

Someone from the back threw another object, this time a bottle, smashing against the concrete just next to Caitlyn’s feet. The sound of glass shattering rang out, louder than before.

“ Get her! Take her down! ” another voice yelled, and the mob surged forward.

The air became charged with violence, and Caitlyn’s heart pounded louder than ever as she raised her rifle higher, her stance firm. She had to keep her cool. She had to maintain control. There was no telling how far this could go.

She looked around at the enforcers behind her, each of them struggling to keep the crowd at bay. It wasn’t enough. Not yet. The barricade wouldn’t hold much longer. Caitlyn’s pulse quickened as she braced herself for the worst.

The mob was ready to fight. But Caitlyn knew, deep down, that she would do whatever it took to keep the hospital standing. Even if it meant firing a warning shot to make them back down. But she hoped she wouldn’t have to go that far. Everything was on the line. And Caitlyn couldn’t afford to fail. Not now.

Caitlyn's hand moved like a reflex, drawing her pistol from its holster and leveling it in the air. Without hesitation, she pulled the trigger.

The sharp crack of the gunshot echoed through the streets, cutting through the chaos like a lightning strike. For a moment, the world seemed to pause. The mob froze, stunned by the deafening blast that had shattered the air. The sound reverberated off the walls of the hospital, making the crowd flinch and take a collective step back.

“ Get back! ” Caitlyn roared, her voice carrying a new edge of authority. “I warned you.”

Her gaze swept across the crowd, her eyes hard and unyielding, daring anyone to take another step forward. The rifle was still raised, her finger now resting just above the trigger. But her message had been made clear—she wasn’t afraid to shoot if they pushed her too far.

The air was tense, thick with the electricity of impending violence. Several in the crowd began to mumble among themselves, the initial shock wearing off as they looked to one another, uncertain. The mob’s energy shifted, the anger turning into hesitation. People glanced nervously at Caitlyn, unsure of whether to continue or back down.

One by one, they began to retreat. Those closest to the barricades stepped back, glancing over their shoulders as if expecting someone to challenge them, but no one did. The mob’s momentum had been halted.

Still, Caitlyn’s finger hovered over the trigger. She wasn’t going to let them think they could test her again. Not like this. Not while Powder, Vi, and the others were still inside.

Her breath slowed, but the adrenaline coursed through her veins, the weight of her authority heavier than ever. The air had settled into a tense quiet, punctuated only by the distant murmur of voices as the crowd backed away.

“ Move out of the way, ” Caitlyn ordered sharply, directing the enforcers to start pushing back those still lingering. The crowd complied—just barely.

As the mob finally dispersed, Caitlyn didn’t lower her weapon. Her eyes scanned the street, every muscle in her body tense, ready for anything. But it seemed the storm had passed. The protesters had been silenced, at least for now.

When she finally lowered the pistol, the weight of it felt different—like she’d been holding onto more than just a weapon. She took a breath, feeling the tension leave her shoulders, but only a little. The threat wasn’t over, not entirely. Not yet. But for now, the immediate danger was over.

She kept her eyes trained on the streets, watching for any sign that the mob might turn again. If anyone wanted to try anything else, they’d find out the hard way that Caitlyn wasn’t someone to back down from a fight.

Without a single second thought, Caitlyn wastes zero time as her boots hit the ground with a sharp thud when she hopped over the barricade, the rifle still firmly in her hands. She didn’t miss a beat, her voice cutting through the air like a whip.

“ Clear the streets! ”

Her command rang out, authoritative and filled with the weight of someone who wasn’t used to giving second chances. The enforcers behind her moved swiftly to reinforce her words, using their presence to push the remaining protesters back. They spread out, forcing the crowd to break apart, creating space between the barricades and the hospital.

The people who had been daring enough to stay began to scatter, some running off, others walking quickly with heads down, no longer willing to challenge the law. Their faces told the story—fear had replaced their anger, and confusion replaced their certainty. They hadn’t expected this level of resistance.

As the protesters cleared out, Caitlyn scanned the streets, her gaze sharp. The tension was still there, hanging thick in the air, but for now, the immediate threat was over. Her rifle remained aimed in a neutral position, her fingers resting lightly on the trigger guard, but she was ready to act if any more trouble came her way.

The enforcers worked in tandem, checking the area for anyone trying to sneak past the barricades, ensuring there would be no sudden confrontations. Caitlyn nodded to one of the enforcers nearby, signaling for them to maintain their perimeter.

She turned back toward the hospital entrance, her focus still razor-sharp. "We don't have time for this. Keep this area clear. Now." Her voice left no room for debate. The situation wasn’t over yet, and she couldn’t afford to let her guard down.

With a final sweep of the street, Caitlyn stepped back toward the barricade, the rifle slung over her shoulder, but her eyes remained vigilant. The storm had passed, but she knew it wouldn’t stay calm for long. This was only the beginning.

As Caitlyn was turning to head back toward the barricade, her sharp ears caught the sound of a shout. She froze, every muscle in her body tensing as the words cut through the air, harsh and bitter.

“ There goes the Commander! The one who thinks she knows what’s best for us! ”

It hit her like a punch to the gut. Her heart skipped a beat, and for a brief second, time seemed to slow. The word Commander —that title she had tried to bury, the identity that haunted her every decision, every action. It was like a shadow she couldn’t escape, one she didn’t want to face.

She clenched her jaw, but her fingers tightened on the rifle in her grip, not because she was ready to raise it, but because she needed to feel something solid, something she could control in that moment. The name—the title—reminded her of everything she hated about herself. Of the decisions she made under that banner. Of the things she’d lost, the trust she’d broken, the people she had hurt.

A part of Caitlyn wanted to turn around and confront that protester, to demand they shut their mouth, to tell them they didn’t know anything about her. But deep down, she knew they were right, in some twisted way. She had been the Commander before, in a different life, and that title still followed her. It didn’t matter how hard she tried to shed it, to be something better, to be Caitlyn Kiramman again. The Commander was always there, lurking just behind the surface, ready to pull her back in.

But Caitlyn wasn’t the Commander anymore. Not in the way they thought. She was more than that, she had to be more than that. She couldn’t go back to who she was, not if she wanted to hold on to the people she cared about now. Not if she wanted to be the person who was protecting Powder—no matter how difficult it was.

She forced herself to look away from the protester, refusing to let the words sink into her bones. Instead, she raised her voice, her tone cold and measured.

“ That’s enough, ” she called out, addressing the crowd with the authority she had always carried, but this time without the weight of the Commander hanging over her. “ This ends now. Get out, before you make things worse for yourselves. ”

She didn’t need to turn around to know that the protester had likely gone silent, their words losing their bite as the reality of the situation set in. Caitlyn wasn’t that person anymore. She was someone who would protect her people, who would stand firm in her convictions, but she wouldn’t let herself be swallowed by the past again. Not this time

Caitlyn unloaded her rifle and walked back into the hospital but as she looked up her eyes widened in shock as she saw Powder walking past her, the IV tube still dangling loosely from her arm, the lines of medical equipment trailing behind her. The sight was surreal—like everything she had done to try and help Powder, to keep her safe, had been disregarded in an instant. It didn’t seem real, but there Powder was, stumbling toward the door as if she wasn’t supposed to be there at all.

“Powder!” Caitlyn called, hurrying to catch up, her voice sharp with concern. “What the hell are you doing? You need to be in bed, you're not—”

But Powder didn’t stop, didn’t even look back. She walked straight through the doors, her steps unsteady, her breathing shallow, and then she was outside.

Caitlyn’s heart skipped a beat as she followed. There, standing on the steps of the hospital, was Powder. Her gaze was fixed ahead, not on the chaos around her but on the street, where the crowd of protestors was slowly dispersing. She stood there, her eyes distant, as if everything going on around her didn’t matter.

For a moment, everything fell quiet for Caitlyn. She watched the girl she’d fought so hard to protect, the girl who had suffered so much, standing alone amidst the remnants of the chaos. Powder didn’t look terrified. She didn’t look angry. She just looked... lost. Almost resigned.

The protestors who had once been shouting now seemed like distant echoes as they began to realize the scene in front of them was shifting. Caitlyn's hands clenched into fists, frustration welling up in her chest. She had tried to hold things together, tried to keep Powder safe, but the girl was out here, in the middle of it all, as if she had decided to take matters into her own hands.

"Powder," Caitlyn said softly, her voice now laced with more emotion than she intended. "You can’t be out here, not like this. You need rest... you need help."

Powder finally turned to face her, and Caitlyn could see the tears welling up in her eyes, the exhaustion in her stance. Powder’s lips quivered slightly as she met Caitlyn’s gaze. It wasn’t anger or defiance that Caitlyn saw, but something much more haunting—something that Caitlyn could never have prepared for.

“I’m not a damn kid anymore,” Powder said quietly, her voice barely a whisper, though Caitlyn could hear the pain in every word. “I’m not the one who needs to be saved.”

Caitlyn opened her mouth to say something, to try and make sense of this, but no words came. She watched as Powder took a deep breath, her eyes scanning the now-empty street, before she turned and walked back into the hospital, the protestors now gone, their voices silenced.

Caitlyn stayed outside for a moment, feeling the weight of everything settle into her chest. The responsibility. The guilt. The fear. The anger. All of it.

The world felt quieter somehow, the storm outside just a reflection of the storm inside her own mind. She stood there for a few more moments, until the door closed behind her, and the stillness that filled the air seemed to swallow her whole. What had she missed? What has gone wrong? And most importantly... What would happen to Powder now?

Caitlyn retorts calmly saying to Powder the moment she catches up with her, "But you're still weak. You aren't invincible Powder." 

Powder’s gaze flickered, and for a moment, it seemed like she might actually acknowledge Caitlyn’s words. But then, she straightened, wiping her eyes quickly, as if trying to shake off the vulnerability that had overtaken her for a split second.

“I know,” Powder said, her voice quieter now, though still carrying a stubborn edge. “But I’m done hiding. Done being told what I can and can’t do. I’m tired of being treated like some fragile thing that needs to be wrapped in cotton.”

She paused, her eyes scanning Caitlyn's face, as if looking for any sign of the same softness she had seen in Vi’s expression earlier. “You think I don’t know I’m not invincible? I do. But I’ve been afraid of what happens next for too long. I’ve been afraid of myself, of everyone else. I just need to breathe, Caitlyn. I need to feel like I actually have a say in my life for once.”

Caitlyn’s shoulders slumped, her rifle now resting in her hands, and she let out a slow breath. Powder’s words hit her harder than she expected. She couldn’t imagine what it had been like for her, being tossed between fear and guilt and hatred. Being treated like a villain when all she wanted was to be seen for who she was.

Caitlyn wasn’t sure what she could say to make this better, to make it all go away. She hadn’t prepared for this—not for the girl who had hurt so many and had been hurt so deeply to stand before her like this, trying to find her place in the world again.

“I don’t want to keep you in a box, Powder,” Caitlyn said softly, stepping closer, her tone still firm but gentle. “I just want you to understand... You don’t have to prove anything to anyone, least of all yourself. You need to heal. And that... that takes time. I just don’t want you to forget that.”

Powder didn’t respond right away, but her eyes softened for just a second, the walls she’d built around herself cracking. She was quiet for a long moment before she finally spoke again, her voice so low Caitlyn almost didn’t hear it.

“I’m trying,” Powder whispered, her hands trembling slightly as she pulled her sleeves over her wrists. “But I don’t know how.”

Caitlyn watched her for a beat, the weight of everything hanging between them. Finally, she took a step back, giving Powder a little space.

“You don’t have to have all the answers, Powder,” Caitlyn said, her voice steady now. “You’re not alone in this. We’ll figure it out... together.”

There was a pause before Powder gave the smallest nod, her shoulders lowering a fraction, the tension in her body easing just slightly. It wasn’t a resolution, not yet, but it was a step. And in that moment, Caitlyn knew that was all they could ask for.

Caitlyn watched as Powder, though still a little shaky, motioned toward the nurses. They stepped forward with a look of both caution and understanding, ready to help guide her back to her room. 

Powder glanced back at Caitlyn one more time, her expression softer than before, and nodded once more, signaling that she was ready to go. The nurses carefully helped her turn around, ensuring her steps were steady as she made her way back inside.

Caitlyn stood in the same spot for a moment longer, watching the scene unfold. There was something significant in how Powder had taken that first step forward, even if it was small. Caitlyn knew the road ahead for her wouldn’t be easy—but at least now, she wasn’t facing it alone.

As Powder and the nurses entered the building, Caitlyn felt a sense of relief wash over her, though a quiet concern still lingered. She didn’t have all the answers, and neither did Powder. But they were both trying—and for now, that was enough.

With one last glance at the dissipating crowd outside, Caitlyn turned back toward the hospital doors. She knew it was time to focus on what really mattered now: being there for Powder and Vi as they navigated the hard parts ahead. But for now, Caitlyn allowed herself a brief moment of peace, knowing they had made it through this together.

Finally in the hospital, Powder sits back down in her bed and the nurses rush around her to get her wires back in place with her IV.

Powder let out a quiet sigh as she sank back into the hospital bed, her body still weak from exertion. The nurses moved swiftly around her, their hands steady but urgent as they reattached the IV and checked her vitals. One adjusted the heart monitor, while another carefully placed the oxygen clip back onto her finger.

She barely reacted to the wires being placed back in, too exhausted to protest. Her body ached, her head felt heavy, but her mind was still racing. The moment outside had drained her, but it had also given her clarity—she knew now more than ever that the world wasn’t just going to let her move on.

Caitlyn stood just inside the doorway, arms crossed but her expression unreadable. She had watched Powder fight against every restraint since waking up in this hospital, but now? She was letting them help her. That was something.

Vi stirred slightly in her own bed across the room, shifting in her sleep but not waking. Powder’s eyes flickered to her sister, and she felt the familiar pang of guilt settle in her chest. She had left her. Even for just a moment, she had walked out of that room without a second thought, and if things had gone wrong out there…

She closed her eyes and let the nurses work, forcing herself to breathe. One step at a time.

Caitlyn walks up to Powder and says bluntly, "That was reckless. And you know it was."

Powder let out a small, tired chuckle, shaking her head slightly. “Yeah, well… reckless is kinda my thing,” she muttered, her voice hoarse from exhaustion. She didn’t meet Caitlyn’s eyes, instead watching the nurses as they finished securing her IV.

Caitlyn wasn’t amused. She stepped closer, her arms still crossed. “That’s not funny,” she said sharply. “You tore out your IV, walked out there alone, and if they had turned violent—if they had decided to rush you—what then?”

Powder finally looked up at her, her blue eyes dull but unwavering. “Then I would’ve handled it,” she said simply, though there wasn’t as much confidence behind the words as she wanted there to be.

Caitlyn scoffed. “Handled it?” She leaned down slightly, lowering her voice. “You barely made it ten steps before realizing you weren’t ready to stand on your own, Powder. That crowd wasn’t just angry—they were scared. Desperate. People like that do stupid, dangerous things.”

Powder exhaled slowly, sinking further into the pillows behind her. “I know,” she admitted, the fight draining out of her. “But I had to see it, Cait. I had to know if they…” She hesitated, struggling to find the right words.

“If they still saw you as Jinx,” Caitlyn finished for her.

Powder swallowed hard but nodded.

Caitlyn sighed, some of the hardness in her expression softening. She sat down on the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb the wires and tubes. “Listen to me,” she said, quieter now. “You can’t prove anything to them in a day. You can’t just walk outside and expect them to see Powder instead of Jinx. It’s going to take time.”

Powder bit her lip, her fingers fidgeting with the blanket draped over her lap. “I don’t know if I have that kind of time,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Caitlyn didn’t hesitate. “You do,” she said firmly. “Because we’re going to make sure of it.”

Powder looked at her then, searching her face for any sign of doubt. But Caitlyn’s eyes were steady, unwavering. And for the first time in a long time, Powder believed her.

Caitlyn exhaled sharply, straightening up as her expression hardened just slightly. “Powder, listen to me,” she said, her voice taking on a firmer edge. “What you did out there was reckless, and I won’t sugarcoat it. You’re in no condition to be pulling something like that again ever.”

Powder flinched but didn’t look away.

Caitlyn pressed on. “Do you have any idea what would’ve happened if that crowd saw you and turned on you? If even one of them decided you didn’t deserve that pardon?” She gestured toward the door. “I had my rifle unloaded and was in the lobby so I wouldn’t have made it out there in time. Vi is asleep and hooked up to wires so she wouldn’t have been able to help. And you? You wouldn’t be sitting in that bed right now—you’d be in a morgue waiting for a coroner to determine the cause of death.”

Powder swallowed hard, her fingers gripping the blanket tighter. “I just needed to see for myself,” she muttered, barely audible.

“I understand that,” Caitlyn said, her tone still strict but not unkind. “But you need to think. You’re not invincible, Powder. You can’t just act on impulse and hope for the best anymore. That’s not how this works.”

Powder clenched her jaw, looking down. “I know that,” she muttered.

“Then start acting like it.”

Powder looked back up at her, something flickering behind her eyes—shame, frustration, something else Caitlyn couldn’t quite place.

Caitlyn sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose before lowering her hand and leveling her gaze at her. “I’m not saying this to be cruel,” she said, her voice softer now. “I’m saying it because I care. Because Vi cares. Because we almost lost you once, and I refuse to let that happen again.”

Powder blinked rapidly, as if trying to keep her emotions in check. She finally exhaled, slumping back against the pillows. “Okay,” she mumbled. “Okay. I get it.”

Caitlyn studied her for a moment before nodding. “Good,” she said simply, before leaning back slightly. “Because next time? I will have you restrained to that bed if I have to.”

Powder huffed out a breath, half-annoyed, half-amused. “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been cuffed,” she muttered.

Caitlyn shot her a sharp look, but there was the ghost of a smirk behind it. “Don’t push your luck.”

Powder asks Caitlyn curiously, "How did they find out I was here?"

Caitlyn sighed, running a hand through her hair as she took a seat next to Powder’s bed. “I don’t know,” she admitted, frustration evident in her voice. “But someone leaked the information. This wasn’t just an accident—word doesn’t spread that fast on its own.”

Powder frowned, gripping the blanket as her mind raced. “Do you think it was someone from the hospital?”

Caitlyn shook her head. “Doubtful. The doctors and nurses here follow strict confidentiality rules. And Vi and I made sure only a handful of people knew where you were being treated.”

Powder swallowed. “Then who?”

Caitlyn’s jaw clenched. “Could’ve been an enforcer with loose lips. A council member who didn’t agree with the pardon. Maybe someone from the undercity looking to stir the pot.” She exhaled sharply. “Whoever it was, they wanted this to get out. They wanted that reaction outside.”

Powder looked toward the window, eyes flickering with something unreadable. “They want people to hate me.”

Caitlyn was quiet for a moment before responding. “Some already did. This just gave them something to rally around.”

Powder’s fingers twitched slightly. “So what now?”

Caitlyn’s expression hardened. “Now, we keep you safe. We find out who let this slip, and we make sure it doesn’t happen again.” She leaned forward slightly, her voice firm but steady. “I don’t care what they say out there, Powder. You’re not alone in this. And you sure as hell don’t have to fight this battle by yourself.”

Powder stared at her for a long moment before nodding slowly. “Okay.” Her voice was quiet but certain. “Okay.”

Caitlyn exhaled, the tension in her shoulders finally easing as she stood up. She reached out, gently adjusting Powder’s blanket, her expression softening. “But first?” she said, her voice leaving no room for argument. “Sleep.”

Powder opened her mouth to protest, but Caitlyn raised an eyebrow, daring her to challenge the order. With a small huff, Powder sank deeper into the pillows, her body betraying just how exhausted she really was.

“Fine,” Powder muttered, closing her eyes. “But only because I’m tired… not because you told me to.”

Caitlyn smirked, shaking her head. “Sure, Powder. Whatever you say.”

She lingered for a moment, watching as Powder’s breathing slowly evened out. Then, satisfied that she was finally resting, Caitlyn turned on her heel and quietly left the room, already planning her next move.

Councilors Mel Medarda and Shoola arrive just as Powder falls asleep and from the moment she sees them Caitlyn sighed. She knows exactly what is coming. She starts rubbing her temples before stepping outside the room and gently shutting the door behind her. “Councilors,” she greeted, keeping her voice steady but firm. “This really isn’t a good time.”

Mel crossed her arms, her golden eyes studying Caitlyn carefully. “It never seems to be, does it?” she said smoothly. “Yet, here we are.”

Shoola glanced past Caitlyn toward the hospital room. “We came to see her for ourselves,” she stated plainly. “To assess whether this pardon was truly the right decision.”

Caitlyn’s jaw tightened. “She’s asleep,” she replied sharply. “Which is what she needs more than political scrutiny.” She folded her arms across her chest. “Why are you really here? Because if this is some attempt to satisfy your own doubts, I suggest you take a long walk back to the Council Chamber.”

Mel smirked slightly at Caitlyn’s fire. “No need to be so defensive, Sheriff.”

Caitlyn’s fingers twitched, but she kept her composure. “I’m not being defensive. I’m protecting someone who fought for this city when no one else could. Someone who nearly died doing it.”

Shoola regarded her thoughtfully. “And yet, people are rioting in the streets because of that very same person.”

Caitlyn took a step forward. “Then maybe instead of questioning her, you should be out there trying to fix that.” Her voice was low, firm, and unyielding. “This city is on the brink. And right now, the last thing Powder needs is more people making her feel like she’s still a criminal.”

Mel raised an eyebrow, exchanging a glance with Shoola. “You’re quite passionate about this,” she observed.

Caitlyn inhaled sharply. “Because I know what’s right.”

For a moment, the Councilors were silent, studying Caitlyn with unreadable expressions. Then, Mel gave a small nod. “Very well. We’ll leave her be… for now.”

Shoola turned without another word, her heels clicking against the floor as she strode away. Mel lingered a second longer, her gaze lingering on Caitlyn. “You’ve changed,” she mused.

Caitlyn didn’t waver. “Maybe I just see things clearer now.”

With a slight smile, Mel finally turned and followed Shoola down the hall, leaving Caitlyn standing there, her fists slowly unclenching at her sides. She took a breath, then exhaled. They weren’t done with this. Not by a long shot.

Caitlyn sighs and walks back up to the Councilors. Reluctantly she tells them, "You have five minutes. That’s all you get.”

Mel and Shoola exchanged a glance before turning back to Caitlyn, clearly surprised by her sudden change of heart. Mel tilted her head slightly, a knowing smirk forming on her lips. "Five minutes? How generous of you."

Caitlyn didn't return the smirk. Her face remained stone-cold, her eyes unwavering. "Make it count."

Mel let out a small chuckle but didn’t push further. Instead, she nodded toward the door. "Shall we?"

Caitlyn stepped aside reluctantly, watching as the two councilors entered the dimly lit hospital room. Powder was still asleep, her breathing steady but fragile, as if the weight of the world hadn’t fully let go of her yet.

Shoola studied her closely, her usually stern expression unreadable. “She looks… young,” she murmured, almost to herself.

Mel folded her arms, her gaze softening just a fraction. “She is.”

The room remained quiet for a moment, the only sound the rhythmic beep of the monitors.

Shoola finally turned to Caitlyn, lowering her voice. “Do you truly believe she’s changed? That this isn’t just another storm waiting to crash down on the city?”

Caitlyn met her gaze head-on. "I believe she deserves the chance to prove that she has. Just like we all did."

Mel raised an eyebrow. “A bold statement, considering the way the city feels about her.”

Caitlyn's jaw tightened. "Then it's up to the city to decide if they want to be better than the people who cast her aside in the first place."

Shoola considered that for a moment, before finally sighing. "This won't be easy."

"It never is," Caitlyn replied.

Mel took one last look at Powder, then glanced at Caitlyn with something close to approval in her eyes. "You always did know how to make things interesting, Sheriff."

Caitlyn rolled her eyes. "Your time is up."

Mel chuckled as she and Shoola moved toward the door. "We'll be in touch."

As they stepped out, Caitlyn exhaled, rubbing her temple again. This was far from over. But at least, for now, Powder could rest.

Just as Mel reached the door, she paused, glancing back at Caitlyn with that ever-present, unreadable smirk. But this time, there was something else in her expression—curiosity, maybe even concern.

"Tell me, Sheriff," Mel asked smoothly, tilting her head slightly. "If it ever comes down to it… if the city turns on her again, what will you do?"

Caitlyn stiffened. The weight of the question pressed on her, but she didn’t hesitate. She already knew the answer.

"I'll protect her," Caitlyn said firmly, her voice unwavering. "No matter what it takes."

Mel studied her for a long moment, then let out a small, almost amused hum. “Interesting.”

Without another word, she turned and walked away, Shoola following close behind.

Caitlyn stayed rooted in place, watching them disappear down the hallway before finally glancing back at Powder, still fast asleep. No matter what it takes.