Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Vi’s new home–for the next few months, at least–definitely has more than a few stories to tell. It’s old, and drafty, and is stuffed to the rafters with musty old antiques. Vi can see immediately why Babette sent her there, why her agent might hope that surrounding herself in this much history could finally lift the fog that had settled in Vi’s mind. She even allows herself to hope that it might work as she walks slowly through the halls, reaching out to touch a vase, to brush against a rifle mounted to the wall, to hope that one of them might spark a story.

She comes to a stop on the landing, staring up at the large painting hanging there. It’s a portrait, golden with age, of a woman standing with her back to the viewer, only half of her face visible over her shoulder. There is a hunting rifle in her hand, and a proud arch in her spine. There’s something about the woman’s expression that Vi can’t look away from–it’s soft, almost curious, but there’s an undeniable sharpness in her eye, like she’s staring right into Vi’s soul.

She’s also, at least from what Vi can tell by the angle of the portrait, exactly Vi’s type.

“Well, hey there, handsome,” Vi says under her breath.

“Good afternoon.”

The voice that responds is crisp, accented, and completely disembodied from anyone that Vi can see. She jumps about a foot in the air, head whipping wildly from side to side, but none of it changes the facts that 1) she is completely alone, and 2) she absolutely heard someone speaking to her.

She looks back at the painting, and for a moment, she wonders if she is about to be sick, because in addition to hearing voices, she’s apparently seeing double, as well.

The woman from the painting blinks slowly at her, her lips parting just slightly, in a way that eerily mimics the illustrated version behind her.

“Are you alright?”

No, Vi definitely doesn’t think that she is.

She spoke to the pink-haired woman out of reflex more than anything, a human instinct that even a hundred years of solitude apparently can’t knock out of her. The last thing she expected was to actually get a reaction.

It has been so long since someone looked at her that when it happens now, when powder blue eyes look not through her but at her, she loses control of herself for the first time in decades.

It’s a sort of tilting sideways sensation. The room they are standing in slides away, but her gaze stays locked on the woman until she disappears into the cold and echoing brightness.

“So…you’re dead.”

Caitlyn Kiramman tilts her head. If Vi didn’t know better–if she hadn’t already used the manor’s shitty wifi to discover that the woman standing in front of her had been born in the year 1895, and had been declared dead twenty-three years later after her mysterious disappearance–then she might think that it was a living, breathing human standing there.

It wasn’t until you squinted that you saw the very slight blur around the edges of her.

That, and the fact that she’d both disappeared into and reappeared from thin air right in front of Vi, makes it pretty clear that she’s not dealing with anything normal.

“I don’t…” Caitlyn stops, frowns, and tries again. “I don’t know.”

Vi’s eyebrows rise to her hairline. “Sorry, but…how do you not know if you’re dead?”

Caitlyn flushes, and Vi wonders, too late, if it’s rude to ask that of a ghost. “I just don’t, alright? One moment I was here, alive, and the next, I was…here, still, but…different.”

“Okay. Okay, I’m sorry, I just–this is so weird.” Vi says that last part mostly to herself, but it earns a snort from Caitlyn that shows just how much she agrees with the sentiment. “So, you’ve just been in the manor the whole time?”

“From the moment I woke up. I can go outside, but only about as far as the garden hedge.”

“What do you, like, do every day?”

This question earns another flush, and Caitlyn’s hands move to cup her elbows, protective. Vi notices again just how striking the woman is. The portrait hadn’t done her justice. She has cheekbones as sharp as the glare in her shining blue eyes, and Vi can tell, even in her old-fashioned clothes–a sweater with wide sleeves, tucked into a long split skirt with fabric buttoned across the front to disguise the billowy trousers underneath–that she has legs for days. Vi doesn’t know what passed as attractive in Caitlyn’s time, but today, there is no question that Caitlyn is a catch.

“What do you expect me to say? That I’ve decided to spend eternity rattling chains or…or possessing random passersby?”

“No,” Vi begins cautiously, because it’s clear that she’s hit a sore spot, but Caitlyn continues as if she hadn’t spoken at all.

“Let me make some things clear for you. I can’t fly, or mess with the lights, or open doors. I’m just…stuck here, and I don’t know why, and all I want is to be left in peace.”

Vi frowns, her confusion and her caution both melting away into anger. She’s the one whose entire understanding of the universe is being re-written, so why is Caitlyn the one throwing barbs?

“Hey, I didn’t ask for this. There’s not exactly a manual on how to handle a ghost suddenly showing up and getting all…Piltie on me.”

“I’ll tell you how to handle it,” Caitlyn says, drawing herself up to her full (and, damn it, considerable) height. “Stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours.”

Caitlyn stays away for the rest of the day, and most of the next. She paces aimlessly in her bedroom, which is nowhere near the guest room that she knows Vi has claimed as her own. By her second evening in the manor, though, Caitlyn’s curiosity has reached inescapable levels. Vi is by far the most interesting thing to happen to her in…well, Caitlyn doesn’t care to count the years. But in all that time, only a handful of people had given any indication that they’d seen Caitlyn, and not one of them had stayed around long enough to do anything about it. Not until Vi.

The opportunities that that opens up are too enticing to hold onto her anger for any longer.

Still, Caitlyn waits until Vi has left her bedroom before she approaches. She has always respected the privacy of the manor’s guests, even when they couldn’t see whether or not she did. It helps to ground her, to feel more human, when she observes the niceties like that.

Vi has set up camp in the sitting room when Caitlyn goes to find her, shoveling huge forkfuls of spaghetti in her mouth with one hand while some movie or another flickered on the television. She stops chewing when Caitlyn enters the room, cheeks full and lips pursed as she eyes Caitlyn warily.

“May I join you?”

A chew, a swallow, and a nod is her answer.

Caitlyn settles on the loveseat across from Vi’s, and they don’t speak. The movie Vi chose is truly awful, but Caitlyn is no stranger to being forced to deal with the questionable television taste of others for the sake of seizing whatever opportunity for entertainment she can. Normally, she would at least pay mild attention, but today her eyes keep straying towards the woman on the other sofa. She is even more striking up front than Caitlyn had realized in her initial spying. Enough people have wandered through the halls of Kiramman manor in recent years that the bright hair and tattoos no longer shock Caitlyn, but she finds herself unusually fascinated by Vi’s. There are gears on the side of her neck, and the hint of even more ink poking out from her pushed back sleeves. Then of course, there is the small ‘VI’ drawn on her cheek. Caitlyn wonders if it’s meant to be the Roman numeral, or Vi’s own name, or both. She wonders, too, if the splash of color in Vi’s eyes is grey, like it seems, or in fact a powder shade of blue.

Occasionally, she catches those eyes on her as well, but never for long enough to strike up conversation.

The movie is nearly over when Vi finally clears her throat. This time when Caitlyn looks at her, she doesn’t look away. For the first time since their meeting on the landing, their gazes hold.

“I know my being here is probably not ideal for you,” Vi begins, “but I think we need to figure out how to make it at least tolerable, for a while. I can’t leave until my work is finished, and you…”

“Can’t leave at all,” Caitlyn finishes for her, and Vi nods.

“How about we agree to just…try.”

Caitlyn can think of worse things, so she says, simply, “Alright.”

And then, figuring it’s as good a place as any to start, she sticks out a hand, and says, “Caitlyn Kiramman.”

She regrets the gesture immediately. It’s not as though Vi can actually shake her hand, and she knows enough about modern life to know that formal handshakes have mostly fallen out of fashion, anyway. But she figures it would be worse to retract the hand now, before Vi can decide what she wants to do about it. Vi stares at the hand for a beat, then another, before her eyes flick up towards Caitlyn’s face.

Her eyebrow–the scarred one–raises slightly, and a devastating half-smile reveals a flash of straight white teeth.

“Violet Cane.”

Caitlyn knew her first name already, of course. She had heard the property manager call her that when she’d arrived, from where she’d been listening from the top of the stairs, curious about the newcomer, but with no idea of what was about to happen.

“You can just call me Vi, though.”

And then Vi extends her hand, too, leaning forward until the tips of her fingers brush against where Caitlyn’s should be.

Caitlyn shivers, as if she had actually felt the warm touch of skin, instead of just the same nothingness she has felt for over a hundred years.

Vi is still looking at her, her eyes a little wider than they had been before.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Vi,” Caitlyn says automatically. She forces herself to retract her hand slowly, settling it politely in her lap rather than pressing it against her cheek, like she really wants to, to see if any of Vi’s residual heat might linger there.

“Yeah,” Vi replies, curling her fingers into her palm as she pulls her hand back. “Likewise.”

The room falls silent again, but it’s not as awkward as the first time. Caitlyn has spent many, many nights in this exact position, watching mindless television without a single word being spoken, but it feels different with Vi. Maybe because Vi actually knows she’s there and is choosing to spend the time with her, even in silence, but Caitlyn seems an odd sort of charge humming in her bones.

Eventually, though, Vi starts to yawn. Caitlyn offers a goodnight, but then, when Vi’s hand begins to reach for the remote, she surprises herself by adding, “Would you mind leaving it on, actually?”

She surprises herself even more when she responds to Vi’s quizzical look by explaining, “I don’t usually get to watch. Not unless someone happens to leave it on.”

Vi looks at her for just a moment longer before she shrugs, a small smile flickering to life at the corner of her mouth. “Sure.”

Caitlyn feels a flutter in her belly, which she attributes to this unimaginable treat of television on request, and settles back into the sofa to enjoy it when Vi speaks again.

“Do you want to put something else on?”

Caitlyn can only gape at her. The enormity of this opportunity is suddenly washing over her. She feels overwhelmed with choice, awash with memories of all the intriguing-sounding shows she’d watched previous inhabitants of the manor scroll right past, unable to pick just one.

“I don’t–I’m not–”

Vi is watching her with furrowed brows, so Caitlyn forces herself to complete her abbreviated thoughts.

“I’ve never been able to choose before, it was always just whatever they felt like putting on.”

“That sounds frustrating,” Vi says, very genuinely, and Caitlyn surprises herself again by responding with a short laugh.

“It’s not ideal.”

“How about, I scroll until you see something you like?” Vi offers, and Caitlyn feels that funny flutter in her stomach again.

She picks a documentary, something that Vi refers to as ‘true crime’. She makes a face when she says it, but Caitlyn is absolutely fascinated. She is swept up in the mystery of it, enchanted by the process that is solving a case in the twenty-first century. Even Vi stays for the entire thing, despite her earlier plans to retreat to bed, and then for another afterward.

It’s surprisingly easy to get used to living with a ghost. Caitlyn’s a pretty considerate roommate, all things considered, and she seems to find Vi at least as fascinating as Vi finds her. She is endlessly curious, peppering Vi with questions at every opportunity, most of which she has to look up to answer properly. And that just leads them down an entirely different rabbit hole, of things Caitlyn never even knew to want to ask, with Vi explaining what exactly a meme is and why people find them funny.

It might have been annoying, but Vi can’t help but feel sympathy for Caitlyn, who had spent over a hundred years unable to speak to anyone, an unfortunate side effect of being invisible.

Vi also notices that she doesn’t generally speak like someone whose education predated either World War. When Vi points this out, Caitlyn informs her that though she couldn’t speak to anyone, she’d listened plenty. The result was a somewhat stilted, but undeniably charming interpretation of twenty-first century dialogue.

“What’s life like in the village these days?” she asks Vi one day. “Is it lit?”

She asks the question a little awkwardly, but with total confidence, and Vi has to put an end to it immediately.

They’re in the sitting room again, watching an old sitcom that Cailyn has wanted to see the finale of for over twenty years. They haven’t bothered with the separate sofas for a few days now, so Vi is able to look right into Caitlyn’s curious eyes as she turns to face her.

“Caitlyn. Please. Never say that again.”

Caitlyn frowns, a gesture that involves furrowed brows as well as a pinched mouth. “Do people not say ‘lit’ anymore?”

“I don’t think people ever said it. At least not in real life.”

She receives a doubtful hum in response, and Vi can only pray that Caitlyn takes her advice to heart as she returns her attention to her laptop screen. She has been at the manor for two weeks, and Babette finally sent her a check-in email that morning, artfully asking if Vi’s insurmountable writer’s block has been surmounted without actually asking.

Vi had replied back with a cheerful assurance that things were going great, actually, nothing to worry about, and had been staring morosely at her laptop ever since. A few lackluster sentences, strung together with only the vaguest hope of plot, are all she has to show for the last two weeks of supposed work. She runs a hand over her face, feeling frustrated and restless, taunted by the image of her cursor blinking at her from a blank page.

She isn’t aware of making the decision to stand until she’s already done it. Caitlyn looks up at her, startled.

“I need some fresh air,” Vi says, a statement and an explanation. Caitlyn nods, already turning back to the television until Vi asks, “Would you like to take a walk with me?”

Caitlyn is clearly surprised by the offer, blinking at Vi for a moment before a slow smile spreads across her face. Vi is sure she sees a flush blooming across her cheeks again, but she decides not to look too closely.

“I’d love to.”

They stay close to the house. Caitlyn has long since memorized the boundaries she is allowed to cross, and she toes the line perfectly, walking along the edge like a trapeze artist on a rope.

“What happens if you try to cross it?”

In answer, Caitlyn takes a step to her right, and winds up pressed against an invisible wall. She lets her weight lean against it for a moment while Vi stares, open-mouthed, and then she rights herself once more.

“I don’t know how it works, I just know the boundary’s never moved. Not an inch in all these years.”

“How have you not lost your mind all this time? Trapped in one place like that?”

Caitlyn’s smile is sad, but her words are straightforward. “I suppose…what’s the point? There’s nothing I can do about it. And it’s not as though I know what I’m missing out on. Even when I was alive, I hardly ever left the estate in any meaningful way. My parents…they meant well.” She says this part quietly, as if reminding herself of the fact just as much as she was explaining it to Vi. “But they were…overprotective, I suppose you could say. They didn’t want anything to happen to their only heir.”

There is a small hint of bitterness in her tone, which surprises Vi. Caitlyn usually seems fairly well-adjusted for a ghost, but she supposes even old wounds can twinge now and again. But then a small smile returns to Caitlyn’s face.

“My friend, Jayce–he used to convince them to let him escort me down to the village whenever he could. We would spend hours just walking up and down the streets.”

“That sounds lit,” Vi teases gently.

Caitlyn grins, ducking her head with a slightly embarrassed laugh, but not before Vi caught a glimpse of her gapped front teeth peeking out from between her lips.

“It was. My mother was Jayce’s patron, she used to invite him to stay at the estate for months at a time so she could show him off whenever we had company, but he always made time for me.”

Vi hesitates for a moment before she asks, “He, ah. He disappeared, too, right? The same night you did?”

That fact had been all over the newspaper articles Vi had read on her first day at the manor. People were convinced that they had run away together, but Caitlyn’s presence here proves that wasn’t true pretty clearly, at least for Vi. What it doesn’t do is explain where exactly Jayce had disappeared to.

Immediately, Caitlyn’s expression shutters. Her spine straightens, and her hands clasp themselves behind her back. For the first time, she actually looks like a woman a century out of time.

“Yes,” she says, voice clipped.

It’s clear that that is all she’ll say about it, so Vi lets the matter drop, both of them walking on in silence. They are at the back of the manor now, approaching the meticulously kept garden. There is a fountain somewhere inside–Vi can hear the trickling water over the sound of her footsteps, but it’s hidden behind tall hedges and vining flowers.

“You know, if I had to pick somewhere to spend eternity in,” Vi says, staring up at the clear blue sky, “this isn’t a bad choice.”

Caitlyn startles a little, but she follows Vi’s gaze, her eyebrows raised slightly as if she is surprised by her surroundings. It’s possible that she hasn’t taken the time to look around herself like this in years, because a small smile pulls at her mouth, the line between her eyebrows lessening just a little.

“You never really said what brought you here,” Caitlyn observes after a few more moments of walking–quiet, still, but not the same kind of silence as before. Vi realizes that she’s right, and isn’t sure that she wants to correct that oversight. But Caitlyn had been vulnerable with her earlier, even if she’d pushed her too far in the end, so she sighs.

“My literary agent sent me here. She knows the people who own it, somehow? Friend of a friend kinda thing, I guess.” Vi is dancing around the issue. She knows it, and she can tell that Caitlyn knows it, too. “She thought it’d be…inspiring for me, to be somewhere new.”

“Do you need inspiration?”

There’s no judgement in Caitlyn’s tone, but there is curiosity, which makes it a little easier for Vi to admit, “Yeah. I was supposed to submit the first draft for my next book a while back, but I’m just…blank.”

Caitlyn takes this in for a moment. “Has it worked, being here?”

Vi holds back a sigh. “Not yet.”

They pass through a gap in the hedges, and the fountain comes into view at last. It’s a relatively standard design, a circular basin with a carved column in the middle spouting water from the top. But as they get closer, Vi can see that the basin is carved, as well. She bends down to run a finger over the stylized keys, interspersed with what she now knows is the Kiramman crest.

“My father had this commissioned for my mother when they were expecting me,” Caitlyn tells her, coming to sit along the narrow ridge of the basin. She dips her fingers into the pool, drawing patterns that do not leave a ripple. “When I was very young, I used to swim in the water. Then when I got older, my mother and I would sit here and talk. It was one of the few places we wouldn’t argue.”

Vi sits beside her, watching a wistful shadow pass over Caitlyn’s face. In the direct sunlight, it’s a little more obvious that there is something other about her. She almost glows, her edges fuzzier than usual. But when she looks at Vi, her gaze is as sharp as it ever is.

“This place is full of stories like that.”

Vi grins. “Funny, that’s exactly what I thought when I first got here.”

Caitlyn returns her smile, giving Vi a real peek at the gap between her front teeth this time. For some reason, Vi can’t tear her gaze away from it, and it takes her a second to realize that Caitlyn is speaking again.

“Well then, maybe you should borrow one of those stories for yourself.”

They start the very next day, making their way through the house room by room, Caitlyn pointing out anything she thinks the other woman will find interesting. She talks too much–she knows she’s doing it, but she’s incapable of stopping herself, too wrapped up in the novelty of having things to say and someone there to listen to it all. And Vi is an excellent listener. She pays attention to all of Caitlyn’s tangents with a soft smile on her face that Caitlyn can’t look too closely at without losing her train of thought.

She’s not sure that anything she’s saying is actually helping, but as the days wear on, Vi does seem to be spending more and more time in the sitting room, typing at her computer. Caitlyn is usually right there with her, sneaking glances at her while some movie or television show from the last century rambles on in the background.

Not one of them has turned out to be more interesting than watching the way Vi’s brows furrow in concentration, or how her hands rake through her messy hair while she thinks.

“This is you?”

Caitlyn flushes as Vi gapes at the painted version of her younger self. They’re standing in the library, one of Caitlyn’s favorite rooms in the house, looking up at the larger-than-life portrait taking up the majority of the wall. Caitlyn vividly remembers sitting for the portrait, though she’d been no more than six at the time. Mostly, she remembers the way her father’s hunting dogs–captured in the painting with their eyes set adoringly on their master–had fallen asleep during the long posing process, and that their snuffling snores had made Caitlyn fall out of position with her giggles. None of that, however, had been captured in the serene expressions on their painted faces.

“That rifle is almost taller than you were!” Vi continues.

Caitlyn chuckles. “My mother taught me how to shoot practically before I could walk.”

“That’s…wholesome,” Vi says dryly, and Caitlyn smiles.

“It was a product of the time, I suppose, but I loved it.”

She looks away from her own painted face to see that Vi’s eyes are already on her, warm with something Caitlyn isn’t sure how to read.

Instead, she asks, “Would you like to see something?”

She leads the way back through the room, heading straight for the stairs. Instead of turning left on the landing, towards the guest suites where Vi has been staying, she turns right, towards where the family rooms are.

Behind her, she hears Vi’s footsteps falter in surprise before they follow. Vi hasn’t come this way since her first day at the manor. She’s respected Caitlyn’s privacy as much as Caitlyn has respected hers, but still, Caitlyn can practically feel her curiosity as they walk past door after door, until Caitlyn comes to a stop at one at the very end of the hall.

“This was my bedroom,” she says, gesturing towards the doorknob.

Vi’s eyebrow raises just slightly, but she reaches forward without comment, twisting the knob until the door opens with a quiet click. Caitlyn is perfectly capable of walking through it if she wanted to, but she waits for it to open fully before she steps inside, Vi following close behind.

The bedroom is almost exactly as it had been on the day she’d disappeared. There is a four-poster bed along one wall, a writing desk and bureau in matching, rich mahogany on either side, and a single chair propped under the window. Hunting rifles are mounted above a fireplace, which sits dark and cold. Caitlyn walks past all of this, towards a door on the other side of the room.

“This was always my favorite part of the house.”

This time, she doesn’t wait for Vi to open the door first, stepping neatly through the dark glass.

It takes a moment for Vi to join her. These doors are stickier than the one that led into the bedroom itself. They groan a little when she pushes them open, carefully testing the balcony outside with first one foot, then the other.

Caitlyn stands a few feet away, leaning against the railing and watching Vi’s slow progress with a sly grin.

“It will hold,” she says assuredly. “Come on.”

The metal balcony squawks lightly when Vi puts her full weight on it, but when it makes no further protest, Vi allows herself to trust Caitlyn’s reassurance, coming to join her by the railing. The balcony isn’t enormous–large enough for the two of them to stand comfortably side-by-side, staring out at the view in front of them. They are on the south side of the manor, overlooking the vast woods that Caitlyn had once spent so much time in.

“Some of my happiest memories were spent out here,” she says.

A breeze rustles the trees moments before Vi’s hair shifts with it, and Caitlyn imagines that she can feel it, too, crisp and cool on her cheeks. She is aware of Vi’s gaze on her, but she keeps her eyes forward. Somehow, bringing Vi here, to this spot, feels more intimate than anything else she’s shared with the other woman. She leans forward, elbows braced on the metal, and Vi mimics her, still not taking her gaze off of Caitlyn’s face.

“I used to spend hours just sitting out here. It was one of the few places I felt I could be myself.”

“It seems really peaceful.”

“Mm.” Caitlyn hums in agreement. “I used to sneak girls into my room from here.”

She says it casually, but inside, she is shaken by her own admission. She knows that the subject is not as taboo as it had been in her time, but she’s never actually spoken the words out loud to another person before. She hopes that she has read Vi correctly, that she will accept the news with grace, if not enthusiasm.

What she gets is so much better.

“I used to sneak girls in through our kitchen window.”

Vi’s voice is amused, casual, as if the confession is nothing, that it means nothing more than exactly what she’s said.

Caitlyn finally lets her gaze slide over to her. Vi stares steadily back, and the silence stretches for a moment as Caitlyn sits with what’s just happened. Then, a small smile begins to spread across Vi’s face, one that Caitlyn feels herself returning instinctively, until they’re both just grinning at each other.

“So. Girls, huh?” Vi says, placing a teasing emphasis on the plural. “Sounds like you were a real heartbreaker, Cupcake.”

“Shut up,” Caitlyn laughs.

She stares back down at their hands, still resting on the railing, and for a moment, she’s sure that Vi’s fingers have shifted just a hair closer to her own.

Chapter Text

It becomes a routine, the two of them ending the day on the balcony outside of Caitlyn’s room. The light of the setting sun turns Caitlyn’s skin as golden as her portrait. Vi can’t tear her gaze away, her eyes lingering on the curve of Caitlyn’s spine, the way her fingers curl against her cheek when she pushes strands of blue hair out of her face.

After, back in what she’s come to think of as her room, Vi opens her laptop. She ignores Babette’s increasingly pointed emails, ignores the blank drafts languishing away in their folders.

She loses count of how many websites she crawls through, how many theories she researches and discards. But Vi refuses to be discouraged. Caitlyn has been alone–unseen and unheard–for over a hundred years. There has to be a reason that Vi is the exception, some way that she can be of use.

She just has to find it.

Caitlyn notices things about Vi. Whether it’s thanks to her century of solitude, forced to do nothing but observe the various manor occupants, or because she finds the other woman so fascinating, Caitlyn isn’t sure, but she is sure that something is going on with Vi.

She’s in the kitchen when Caitlyn finds her, staring absently at the coffee maker as it gurgles and brews, a large bowl of cereal in her hands. She is so out of it that she doesn’t notice Caitlyn come in until she clears her throat, and then she jumps, sending bits of milk-sogged cereal to the floor.

“Fuck,” she curses, moving her socked feet out of the way before they can be contaminated by breakfast foods.

Caitlyn watches the performance with something akin to both concern and amusement. “Good morning.”

Vi mumbles a return greeting as she fetches a rag, her cheeks pink–but Caitlyn is far more concerned with the dark shadows under her eyes.

“Is everything alright, Vi?”

Without thinking, she reaches towards her, managing to catch herself before Vi has time to notice. She curls her fingers into the sleeve of her sweater instead as Vi straightens up again, dumping the sodden rag into the sink.

“I’m fine, Cupcake. Just stayed up working later than I meant to.”

Caitlyn tilts her head slightly.

“Does that mean you’ve found your inspiration?”

Vi reaches for her bowl before she answers, swirling her spoon through its contents. “Maybe.”

Caitlyn isn’t quite sure what that means for them–she’s been enjoying their tours around the manor, even if they’ve spent more and more time just talking to each other than anything else. But there will be no reason for it to continue now, if Vi’s writer’s block has disappeared at last. She tries to be happy for it. She tells herself to be glad that the burden on Vi’s shoulders might finally be lifting, but she feels a pang of fear instead–fear that she might already be losing Vi, far earlier than she’d been expecting to.

Before she can say anything, Vi distracts her entirely by shoveling spoonfuls of cereal into her mouth.

Vi’s table manners are…lacking, to say the least, at the best of times. Tired and a bit grouchy, they’re practically nonexistent. She slurps at the milk in a way that Caitlyn staunchly refuses to think of as charming, brushing away a stray droplet from her chin before she looks back at Caitlyn.

“So, what’s the plan for today? Back to the library?”

For the second time in as many minutes, Caitlyn finds herself caught off guard, and then relief brings a smile to her face.

“Oh,” she says, “no, I had something even better in mind.”

She doesn’t quite manage to contain her excitement as she leads Vi outside. By the time they settle in the clearing—hauling the equipment Caitlyn had instructed Vi to liberate from the closet along the way—she is practically vibrating with it. A gentle breeze blows across the grass. The leaves rustle with it, and for a moment Caitlyn is transported back in time–to another day spent among these very trees, her father’s hounds sniffing the ground at her feet.

But today, it is not Caitlyn with her rifle tucked casually in her arm–instead, it’s Vi, who looks anything but casual.

Ordinarily, Vi inhabits her own body with an easy grace that Caitlyn envies her for. Now, though, her back is ram-rod straight, her knuckles white around the handle of the gun.

“So, what do I do?”

“First,” Caitlyn says, a wry smile springing to life on her face, “you should relax.”

Vi huffs, making a show of shaking out her shoulders, but she still holds the borrowed rifle in her hands like it might come alive at any moment. It makes Caitlyn laugh as she moves towards her.

“Here, like this–”

She adopts the proper stance. Vi mimics her well enough, lifting the rifle and pointing it roughly in the direction of the targets she had set up earlier.

Caitlyn watches with a critical eye, instructing Vi to pull her arms in, to hold the rifle more securely. She reaches out a hand, guiding the muzzle skyward without touching it.

“Better.”

Her declaration is met with another huff from Vi, but she does seem at least a little more at ease with the rifle in her grip. It’s an unsophisticated one, the current owner of the manor being a casual marksman at best–but it is more than enough to be getting on with for Vi’s first go. She’d seemed a touch apprehensive about the idea when Caitlyn had brought it up in the kitchen, but had relented to her enthusiasm without protest, following her instructions to the letter. Still, Caitlyn can feel a buzzing sort of energy coming off of her as she helps Vi to line up the shot.

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, Vi,” Caitlyn says.

She tries not to let her disappointment at the thought show. She’s wanted to share this with Vi more than she’s wanted to show her anything else at Kiramman manor. It isn’t about her family history, or even really about Vi’s novel–Caitlyn simply wants Vi to see the parts of her that few people ever had, the parts of her that had always felt the most authentic, the parts she knows that she can trust Vi to safeguard.

The thought of slipping back into her lonely life at the manor without having opened herself up to Vi in this way, to once again exist as nothing more than the missing Kiramman heir in stories whispered by the locals, fills her heart with dread.

But if Vi is uncomfortable–

“I do want to, Cupcake,” Vi interrupts her fretting with a crooked smile, “as long as you promise not to laugh at me when I miss.”

Caitlyn does laugh at that, but it’s not unkind, and Vi’s eyes soften at the sound of it.

“I would never.”

She steps forward again, gently directing Vi to face the target. She explains how the rifle works, what to expect once Vi pulls the trigger, just as her mother had done for her so long ago. She can almost hear Cassandra’s voice in her ear, clearer than it’s been in years as she steps back, and allows Vi the space to breathe, aim, and fire.

The clearing echoes with the sharp crack! of the shot. Caitlyn can practically feel the vibration of it in her own hands as Vi rocks back on her feet, startled.

The bullet sails neatly past the target, embedding itself into the trunk of a tree behind it, which shudders from the impact.

“Well done,” Caitlyn says regardless.

Vi laughs, shocked and maybe a little exhilarated, and Caitlyn feels it in her bones. She lets the muzzle drop. Caitlyn imagines the heft of the rifle in her own hands, the feeling of the cool metal and smooth wood under her palms–something that had once felt as familiar as the touch of her own skin.

“I didn’t even hit the target.”

“It was only your first try. Here, let me show you.”

Caitlyn allows herself to close the distance between her and Vi more than she ordinarily would, settling close enough that her skirt brushes against the laces of Vi’s boot. Close enough that she sees the way Vi’s lips part ever so slightly, her eyes dipping down to where Caitlyn’s hand is brushing over her arm, still not quite touching her as she guides her back into position. Her other hand glides across Vi’s wide shoulders, and she straightens, as if somehow, she’d registered the brush of Caitlyn’s touch along her back.

Some part of her is screaming at her that this is too much, that she is being far too bold—but it is drowned out by the rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins, by the smell of gunpowder and Vi.

“Eyes forward,” she says, even as her own eyes drift away from the distant target, resting on Vi’s profile as she obeys Caitlyn’s murmured instructions. “Breathe in. And fire.”

There is a second crack! of gunfire. Caitlyn doesn’t have to look to know that this time, the bullet has just barely grazed the target. Instead, she allows herself to stare, to take advantage of Vi’s distraction to drink in the sight of her, the freckles on her cheeks and the scars across her eyebrow. She watches as Vi’s expression shifts from concentration into delighted surprise, a smile blossoming over her own face at the sheer excitement she sees on Vi’s.

She’s still staring when Vi turns to face her.

Their noses are hardly even an inch apart. Caitlyn finds herself looking right into those startlingly blue eyes, and then it’s no longer smooth metal she’s imagining under her fingers, but soft skin.

She imagines the way Vi’s eyes might widen slightly if she brushed her thumb across the curve of Vi’s cheek, the surprised gasp that would tumble from her lips if Caitlyn leaned forward until Vi’s body was pressed against hers, warm and solid–

It’s as though she can feel the dam cracking open in her chest, her entire body flooding with the feeling she has pushed away for a hundred years, for fear that it would drive her mad–the feeling she’s been pretending not to notice from the moment she set her eyes on Vi, but which there is simply no denying any longer.

Want.

Vi can’t sleep. Her stream of late nights have taken a toll on her, but still her aching, tired body refuses to give in. She stares at the ceiling of her guestroom instead, hands behind her head. She can’t stop thinking about Caitlyn–the way she’d smiled when she’d caught Vi humming a song under her breath, a poppy chart-topper from the playlist she’d been keeping of songs that Caitlyn liked.

The way it felt completely natural for the two of them to stand beside each other while Vi cooked dinner, and the way Caitlyn’s eyes had practically sparkled as they talked, distracting Vi long enough that she forgot about the vegetables slowly turning to ash in her pan.

The way Caitlyn’d bitten her bottom lip, trying not to laugh, and the way that Vi absolutely, impossibly wanted to taste those lips against hers.

She’s not sure what time it is when she finally gives in to the impulse that has been plaguing her for hours–just that it’s late, and the screen of her cellphone is hellishly bright in the dark room when she nudges it to life.

There’s a text waiting for her. It’s from her sister–a picture of Powder making a goofy face at the camera while Ekko peers over her shoulder, clearly caught unawares with a wrench clenched between his teeth. It’s the kind of random thing they send each other all the time, and ordinarily, it would make her laugh, maybe even send back her own silly selfie in return.

But instead, Vi just feels oddly caught off-guard by the reminder that while she’s been there, wrapped up in the manor and the mystery and Caitlyn, life has gone on.

And that her time here is running out.

The thought unsettles her enough to give up on sleep entirely, and she rolls out of bed, not bothering to turn on the lights as she steps out into the hall.

The manor is dark, and quiet, save for the distant sounds of the television. She’d left it playing through a true crime marathon the night before, even though Caitlyn had gone to bed first, just in case she woke in the night. When Vi reaches the sitting room, though, there’s no sign that Caitlyn’s been there at all. She’s pretending not to notice the way her heart sinks with disappointment when a flicker of movement on the staircase catches her eye.

“Can’t sleep?”

Standing on the very same landing where they’d met, Caitlyn sounds as tired as Vi feels. She offers Vi a weak smile, one that falls almost immediately, as if it had taken too much effort to even manage that pale imitation.

All of the exhaustion evaporates from Vi’s body as alarm bells begin to ring.

In an instant, she closes the distance between them. Up close, it's even clearer that something is wrong. Caitlyn’s skin is practically translucent in the moonlight streaming through the tall windows. Her eyes–usually sparkling, usually staring out at Vi with such fire, it takes her breath away–are flat, and dull. She blinks slowly at her, and Vi has to curl her fingers into fists to stop herself from trying to wrap her arms around her.

“What’s wrong?”

Caitlyn inhales, sharp and ragged. Her hands are clenched tightly around her elbows, but Vi can still see the tremble in her fingers.

“Caitlyn?”

“It’s…it’s nothing. I–”

She can’t seem to find the words, her lips tightening into a thin, frustrated line. She tries again.

“It’s just…it's hard, sometimes. To stay here. And I don’t want…I can’t–”

This time, when words fail her, she turns her face away, eyes squeezed shut and shoulders drawn. Vi’s heart pounds with the need to touch her, to cradle her face and assure her that everything will be fine.

“Cait,” she says instead, and even then, she can’t stop herself from reaching forward, only to stop with her hand outstretched between them, feeling worse than useless. “How can I help?”

A strangled sound tumbles from Caitlyn’s lips, a soft hah of disbelief as her eyes open again, roaming over Vi’s face.

When she speaks, her voice is soft.

“You already do, Vi. Just…you, being here. Talking to me. It helps more than you know.”

Vi swallows, and offers Caitlyn a shaky smile.

“Okay. Okay, then…let’s talk.”

Caitlyn has a complicated relationship with sleep. In the early days, when whatever force it was that kept her here fizzed beneath her skin like lightning, she’d resisted it entirely, tumbling violently into it only when she could no longer hold herself upright. She lost herself for days at a time, trapped in that other place with its echoing silence.

Even as her control over herself grew stronger, sleep was when she was most at risk of slipping away.

She’d felt it pulling on her that night–that strange, buzzing feeling that rattled her teeth and numbed her limbs. She’d resigned herself to a sleepless night, wandering the halls of the manor just like she had countless times before, each step forward a stitch to keep her tethered here.

But then, there was Vi.

Vi, who sits beside her in the moonlight, whose warm voice calms her racing heart.

Vi, whose eyes are the last thing Caitlyn sees before her own fall closed, and she sinks into a dreamless sleep.

The balcony outside of Caitlyn’s room has transformed from the empty landing it had been just days ago.

It started with chairs for the pair of them—rickety old ones that creak whenever Vi shifts her weight, but are still better than the hard ground for the hours they spend out there. Then, Vi had unearthed an old camping table to prop up her laptop on the nights they want to watch movies outside, or else to hold steaming cups of coffee on the mornings they settle outside for breakfast. The most recent addition–a potted plant that Caitlyn had mournfully watched whither away for months in a shadowy corner of the manor–flourishes in the sunshine, its leaves waving quietly as they talk.

Caitlyn has transformed, too.

The formal propriety that she’d clung to like armor early on has all but melted away. She laughs more easily now, the tense line between her brows giving way to wrinkles of amusement at the corner of her mouth. Even her hands seem more relaxed–she no longer uses them to hold herself in the here and now by sheer force of will, wrapped around banisters or pressed against walls. Instead, they flutter around her as she speaks, gesturing in time with the rise and fall of her voice.

In this moment, though, her hands are still, dangling elegantly off the arm of her chair, with only a few scant centimeters separating her fingertips from Vi’s.

For a moment Vi allows herself to imagine what it’d be like to close that distance and let their fingers touch.

“Do you need to get that?”

Vi had fully been planning to ignore the steady buzzing of her phone, but at Caitlyn’s question, she glances automatically towards it. She sees the moment the call rolls into voicemail, and the screen lights up with the missed call notification.

“Nah,” she says, “it’s nothing.”

The phone hardly has time to go dark before it illuminates again with another message, this time a text. Vi already knows what it will say–Babette has sent several of them already, each with an increasing level of exasperation. She’s been dodging the call for days, citing the manor’s terrible reception, but the excuse has clearly worn thin.

She’ll call her later and accept the patient chastising she knows she’s well overdue for, but for now, she lets the phone go dormant again, and turns to look at Caitlyn.

“It’s your turn. What do you want to know?”

Caitlyn tilts her head, considering.

“What’s your favorite food?”

Vi grins.

“That’s an easy one, Cupcake.”

There is a storm outside, and the soft rhythm of the rain against the windows has lulled Vi to sleep.

She’s curled up in the middle of the couch, her feet dangling over the armrest and her head resting on a pillow just beside Caitlyn. There is a movie playing in the background, but she hasn’t taken in a moment of it. Instead, she sits sideways on the cushion, watching the way soft wisps of pink hair rustle with Vi’s steady breaths.

A hundred years is a long time to get used to many things. The lack of human touch was not something Caitlyn had spent much time thinking about for decades, but these days she finds herself almost incapable of thinking of anything else. She’s practically aching for it as her hand floats above Vi’s skin, following the path of her arm down towards the tattoos visible beneath her sleeves.

Vi stirs in her sleep, and Caitlyn automatically moves to soothe her, fingers ghosting across her cheek.

With a quiet sigh, Vi settles back against the pillow.

“I never wanted to be a writer.”

They’re in Caitlyn’s room again, laying side by side on the mattress. Vi's skin is still cool from the evening air out on the balcony, where they had sat for hours. Her voice is scratchy from misuse by now, but it’s steady, matter-of-fact, as she continues.

“I enjoy it, I really do, but it was never the plan.”

Caitlyn had been laying on her back, but at Vi’s confession, she shifts onto her side, cushioning her head on the flat of her hand. “What was the plan?”

“There were so many,” Vi laughs. She mirrors Caitlyn and turns onto her side. “When I was a kid it was to be something cool, like…a paleontologist, or a carpenter, or a professional chef. Then I got older. For a long time, I really considered becoming a history teacher.”

“Why didn’t you?”

It’s an honest question, and a logical one, but Vi still feels it like a kick to her stomach. She hesitates, just as she has every other time the story had hovered on the tip of her tongue, afraid of what the answer might do to this fragile, hopeless thing they’ve been building between them. But she knows, somehow, that she won’t keep it from Caitlyn.

“I…I was arrested. My dad…”

She stops, swallows.

“My dad died, and the dickhead cops in my town thought I had something to do with it. It was bullshit, but I spent a while in jail while it all got figured out. By the time it finally did, they decided to charge me with some other stuff instead, to cover their tracks, I guess. The one who arrested me was gunning for the sheriff position, and he didn’t want it to get out that he arrested some kid for her own dad’s murder without cause.”

Her voice is hard as steel.

“Anyway, after I got out, I managed to get my diploma, but no one would hire me with my record.”

“That’s not fair.”

Vi’s mouth pulls up into a sad smile at Caitlyn’s indignance.

“It happened all the time when I was growing up. I was lucky. I had my sister on the outside, and I knew I needed to keep my head on straight if I was ever getting back to her.” She lets her eyes close, and swallows hard before opening them again. “She was in the system while I was away, but she had just aged out when I got released. Her foster family messed her up pretty good, and it took a while to get her back to a place where she could just be okay.”

“How is she now?”

“Powder’s great. She went back to school, absolutely crushed it, and now she’s working as a genius engineer back home.” There is no trace of jealousy in her voice, only pride. “Luckily, she got a bunch of scholarships, so all I had to do was make enough money to keep a roof over our heads until she graduated. I bounced around for a while, did some odd jobs. I never really planned to start writing, I just did. Powder thought it might help. When we were kids, I would make up all these stories to get her to sleep, and she thought it might be good for me if I just…I don’t know, pretend things were different, I guess? Pretend that I was able to go on and do all those things I wanted to do.”

Caitlyn hums, like she understands how it feels, to have dreams that will never materialize–because of course, she does.

“Did it help?” she asks.

Vi looks down, letting her eyes close as her fingers curl into a fist against the sheets. “For a while.”

Caitlyn doesn’t make a sound, but somehow, Vi knows that she is shifting. She opens her eyes and sees that Caitlyn’s hand is frozen halfway between them on the mattress. She meets Caitlyn’s wide-eyed expression with one of her own, unable to hold back a sharp exhale of surprise. Her heart flutters. For a moment, they just sit like that, looking at each other.

And then, Caitlyn reaches her hand forward.

Vi doesn’t know why, but she holds her breath as Caitlyn’s fingers slowly close the distance between them. They’re trembling a little, and Vi watches the tremor approach until she’s nearly cross-eyed, letting her eyes fall shut in anticipation of the touch. She imagines that she can feel it, a shock of cold caressing her cheek so softly, it’s like the wind. She exhales, sharp and fast, eyes flying open to see Caitlyn staring back at her, wide-eyed. Her hand is still on Vi’s face, and Vi knows that it’s impossible, but she swears she feels the weight of it.

She can’t stop herself from reaching up, too, and trying to take that hand in hers.

It doesn’t work–of course it doesn’t, but the shattered glass of hope in Caitlyn’s gaze breaks her heart, anyway.

Vi is late coming down to breakfast the next morning. Caitlyn hovers around the bottom of the stairs, waiting for her to arrive.

When she does, there are deep shadows under her eyes, and an exhausted slump to her shoulders.

“Are you alright?” Caitlyn asks, alarmed, her hands reaching automatically forward as if to cradle Vi’s face.

She stops it midway through, but not before she sees Vi catch sight of the movement.

“Didn’t sleep very well,” Vi says.

She avoids Caitlyn’s eyes, something that is so unlike her, Caitlyn finds herself reaching forward again on instinct, her fingers hovering centimeters above Vi’s shoulder. Vi’s breath catches in her throat. Her eyes flick between Caitlyn’s hand and her face.

The tips of her fingers skate across Vi’s knuckles, close enough that if she were alive, Vi would be able to feel the warmth of them.

Caitlyn wants so badly for her to feel it, to be able to take Vi’s hand in hers and thread their fingers together and–

Vi steps away.

“I should try to get some work done,” she says, her eyes still fixed anywhere but on Caitlyn. “Do you want me to turn the TV on, or–?”

“No,” Caitlyn says softly, watching as Vi shifts her weight from foot to foot, “thank you.”

Vi can hardly leave the room fast enough, and Caitlyn watches her leave with one hand still outstretched, as if she could curl it around Vi’s wrist. She lets it fall back to her side, lets her eyes fall closed with it.

There’s a roaring in her ears, the same overwhelming sound that echoes in that other place. Caitlyn inhales, slow and steady, holding it for a moment before she lets the air out in a rush, opening her eyes to stare at the statue in front of her. She uses it like an anchor, something to hold her in this world without slipping out of it.

By the time the roaring quiets, Vi is nowhere to be seen.

Arms wrapped around herself, Caitlyn turns, and climbs the stairs.

It takes an hour for Vi to finally give up pretending to get any work done.

She’s been sitting in the study for all that time, staring at her laptop with blank eyes. Her hand dangles uselessly against her thigh, fingers reflexively curling in and out of a fist, as if trying to claim the touch that Caitlyn had so nearly offered. She runs it through her hair instead, feeling suddenly suffocating by this room, the walls pressing against her from all sides.

She doesn’t realize that she has a destination in mind until she is already there, already standing in the hallway outside of Caitlyn’s bedroom.

There are no sounds coming from inside, of course, but Vi is certain that Caitlyn’s there. Still, for a long moment, she just stands outside, hands shoved into her pockets.

She knows she hurt Caitlyn’s feelings with her abrupt brushing off that morning, but Vi just couldn't bear to look her in the eye, not when she’d spent yet another sleepless night trying and failing to find anything–anything at all–that might help pull her back into the land of the living.

She’s never been good at not being able to protect the people that she loves.

It's a pressure that no one but Vi would put on her own shoulders, least of all Caitlyn, but it’s there. It frustrates her, sets her teeth on edge.

But this–separating herself from Caitlyn just to hide away from the shame and the disappointment–is worse.

When she knocks on the door, there is a long pause before Caitlyn’s voice responds.

“Come in.”

Caitlyn is standing near the balcony doors when Vi lets herself inside. Her spine is ramrod straight, and she has her hands wrapped around her elbows. Vi recognizes the stance as one that Caitlyn adopts when she is deep in thought, or when Vi has accidentally pressed on a sensitive issue.

What she doesn’t recognize is the way she is looking at Vi–even in their initial days, she has never looked at her with this much wariness in her eyes. It makes Vi’s stomach twist.

She decides not to waste time on preamble. “I shouldn’t have acted like that this morning.”

It’s not an apology, so Caitlyn doesn’t accept it like one. Instead, she tilts her head, considering Vi’s words for a long moment.

“I know something’s been bothering you,” she says eventually, an observation that Vi doesn’t allow herself to shy away from.

“Yes. But I shouldn't have taken it out on you.”

Caitlyn’s hands flex around her elbows, and when they relax, her grip seems a fraction looser than before.

“Is it your book?”

“No,” Vi practically laughs the word out. “I haven’t written a word in weeks. My agent’s probably ready to drop me by now.”

Caitlyn frowns. “Then, what–?”

“Will you tell me what happened the night you disappeared?”

Whatever Caitlyn had been expecting her to say, it clearly wasn’t that. Her eyes widen, and her hands fall away from her arms completely.

“I’m sorry?”

“I’ve been thinking,” Vi says, the words tumbling out of her mouth now, “there has to be a reason that I can see you, when no one else has in all these years. So I’ve been researching things, trying to track down other stories like yours, looking for a way to bring you back. To bring you here.”

She pauses, and Caitlyn’s eyes are wide, her mouth slightly parted. The entire length of the room is still between them, until Vi closes the distance with one step forward, then a second.

“I didn’t want to say anything until I had something to show you. I didn’t want to get your hopes up, in case it–”

Vi cuts herself off, changes track.

“But it feels wrong to keep something like this from you.”

“Vi…”

“Please, Cait.”

Caitlyn’s jaw tightens. For a moment, she seems to be pulling herself inward, pulling away–but then her eyes open, and her lips part, and she stares at Vi with hope shining on her face, fragile but real.

The air in the attic is dustier than anywhere else in the house. Here, the manor’s history is less preserved, hidden behind sheets or buried under cobwebs. Caitlyn picks her way across the mess with practiced steps, Vi following behind less assuredly.

“Here it is,” Caitlyn says, pointing to an unassuming trunk buried far at the back of the attic.

She watches Vi crouch in front of it. There is a lock securing the lid, but Caitlyn had already led her to the key, and she watches now as Vi slides it out of her pocket and into the device, wiggling it until the lock gives with a quiet click.

Inside, there are journals.

“My mother had all of Jayce’s research secured shortly after our disappearance,” Caitlyn explains as Vi gently pries one of the books from its resting place. She opens it, and Caitlyn’s heart aches at the sight of Jayce’s familiar looping handwriting scrawled across the page.

“I don’t…I don’t recognize any of these formulas,” Vi says slowly, frowning at the equations. “What was he trying to do?”

Caitlyn hesitates before she answers.

“He called it hextech. He believed that there were…forces, I suppose you could call it, that could be harnessed to perform great works of science. I’m afraid I never quite grasped the finer points, but, essentially, he was trying to create magic.”

Vi looks up, eyebrows raised. “Magic?”

“Yes. He was very clever,” Caitlyn replies stiffly, with old protectiveness that time hasn't erased. “He made great strides in the months leading up to…to the accident.”

She sees the flash of curiosity in Vi’s eyes before she manages to bury it, but Caitlyn doesn’t hold it against her. This is the most she’s spoken of what happened the day of her disappearance in weeks–decades, in fact. A century. The words feel strange on her tongue, almost rusty, like a disused gate being pushed open.

“The land that this house was built on was apparently once considered a very spiritual area by the Janna people who lived here, but they abandoned it suddenly, centuries ago. No one knew exactly why, but once Jayce began to run his experiments here, he found an unusually high amount of arcane activity.”

“Arcane activity?”

“Runes,” Caitlyn explains with a shrug, “the source of the magic. He theorized that there must have been a surge of activity around the time the Janna left the area, that the arcane became too unpredictable for them to make a life here. It must have settled in the years between them leaving and my ancestors arriving here, but Jayce believed that another surge was approaching.”

Vi’s eyebrows are practically in her hairline by now, but she doesn’t question what Caitlyn is telling her. She looks down at the journal again, turning the page to reveal a complicated-looking diagram. Caitlyn smiles sadly.

“He believed he could use the surge as a catalyst to tap into the arcane, and harness the energy for his inventions.” Her heart beats painfully in her chest at the memory of Jayce explaining all of this to her, the earnest excitement on his face. “He had such incredible plans–he truly wanted to help people.”

“So, what happened?”

“The surge happened. I think it came quicker than he was expecting, or else it was stronger than he ever anticipated–I don’t know. All I know is that one moment, we were here, discussing his plans, and the next, the hextech device went haywire. Before he could do anything, there was this great flash of light, and I–”

She can’t bring herself to say the next words. Not yet, not even to Vi. The aching, echoing silence of the moments that followed–days, weeks, she was never quite sure–still haunts her.

Vi doesn’t press her, and Caitlyn is grateful for it.

“So, you’re trapped here because of magic?”

Caitlyn spreads her hands wide, helpless.

“I don’t know.”

That’s the truth of it. She doesn’t know exactly what triggered that damning reaction from the hextech device, or how its effect has lasted all these years. She doesn’t know why she has lingered all this time, while there’s been no sign of Jayce at all.

Vi accepts her uncertainty without question. Her gaze is back on the journal, brows now lowered into a thoughtful furrow. She turns one page, then another, her eyes scanning over Jayce’s notes with feverish intensity.

“If that’s what’s doing it–if that’s what you’ve been feeling all this time…”

Vi’s eyes are still moving, but they don’t seem to be following the words on the page in front of her anymore. Instead, it’s as though they’re chasing the thoughts running through Vi’s mind as her voice trails off, darting back and forth until finally, they snap back towards Caitlyn.

“This is everything?” she asks. “The diagrams, the equipment–it’s all still here?”

Caitlyn nods slowly.

“As his patron, all of Jayce’s research belonged to my mother. No one has looked at any of this since the day it was brought up here.”

Vi climbs back to her feet. The journal in her hand snaps closed, but neither of them can seem to tear their gazes off each other as Vi steps forward, her face open and earnest and so perfectly beautiful, Caitlyn almost manages to forget what has brought them here to this dusty attic to begin with.

But then Vi speaks again, her voice gravely with urgency, and it all comes rushing back to her like a blow to the chest.

“What if this is the key? What if whatever went wrong that day can be undone? We have Jayce’s notes. We can rebuild the device, and use the same energy that did this to bring you back.”

Caitlyn feels her own lips part in shock at Vi’s suggestion. Her heart begins to pound, but she isn’t sure whether it's in fear, or hope.

“It’s not that simple,” she says almost automatically. “It took Jayce years to get that far, we can’t just rebuild it–”

“Jayce had to start from scratch. He did the hard part for us already. My sister’s a genius, stuff like this–” Vi raises the journal, and the complicated equations inside it. “--is nothing to her. She’d help us, I know it. All we have to do is ask.”

Caitlyn tries to speak, but the words catch in her throat, and all she can manage is a choked gasp. She can hear the roaring in her ears again, louder than before, and frantic, rattling her bones.

She sees the way Vi’s eyes flicker with pained understanding, watches her fingers flutter like she’s tempted to curl them into a fist. But she doesn’t.

“We can fix this,” she says instead. Her voice is low, barely even a whisper, but Caitlyn clings to the soft sound like a lifeline, watching her scarred lips shape the words with quiet intensity. “Just…just trust me, Cait. Please.”

They're close enough now that Caitlyn can see the shine in Vi’s eyes, which are fixed on her even as she lifts her hand. The tips of Vi’s fingers trace the sharp outline of Caitlyn’s jaw, and Caitlyn allows her eyes to close, swaying forward as if she could press into the touch.

She imagines the warmth of Vi’s fingers against her cheek, the gentle way she knows her large hands would cradle Caitlyn’s face.

She imagines giving life to the words that she feels press against her teeth, the words that neither of them can say, but which hang heavily in the air between them–the words that might be possible if this mad plan actually works.

She opens her eyes, and sees Vi already watching her.

The roaring stops.

Chapter Text

Two days later, Caitlyn watches from the doorway as a dusty old van rolls on through the expansive drive to the house. Her fingers are twisting in the fabric of her sweater, her weight shifting from her heels to her toes as she sways anxiously. She doesn’t hear Vi approach, not until her voice rings out in the nervous silence, “Are they here?”

“Nearly,” Caitlyn answers, sure that Vi can hear the flutter in her voice, but not able to hide it any better.

Vi steps closer, joining Caitlyn in the doorway. Caitlyn is relieved to see that she looks nervous, too, as the van gets closer and closer.

Eventually, it pulls to a stop just a few feet away. A few seconds pass in echoing silence, and then the passenger door flings open.

“Hey, sis!”

A girl with bright blue hair climbs out, and Caitlyn experiences that strange falling-sideways sensation again. This time, though, it has nothing to do with her slipping away, and everything to do with the way Vi’s sister is dressed. She would have fit in perfectly with any number of the manor’s visitors from fifty years ago–denim shorts and a fringed vest, long blue braids swaying down her back as she jogs happily into Vi’s open arms. She is wearing large, circular sunglasses, but Caitlyn can tell from the crinkle in her cheeks that her eyes are squeezed shut with her smile.

“Sweet castle you got here,” the girl–Powder–says when their hug is finished, stepping back to take in the front of the manor.

Her eyes sweep up the facade, over the roof, and then drop back down to the doorway, where Caitlyn still stands. She holds her breath, holding out hope–but then Powder’s gaze drifts away again, landing right back on Vi.

“So, where’s the ghost?”

Caitlyn can’t help the disappointed rush of air that slips past her lips, her shoulders slumping forward before she catches herself, standing up straight again. She was foolish to think that Powder might see her, too, just because she’s Vi’s sister.

Vi turns to face her, and the disappointment in her face stings more than Caitlyn’s own.

“She’s right here.” Vi gestures towards where Caitlyn is standing. “She, uh, says hi.”

Powder’s eyes actually do land directly on Caitlyn, but she can tell by the slight vagueness in her gaze that it’s just by luck. She’s looking through her, not at her, like Vi does.

“How do we know you’re not just seeing things?” Powder asks, a hint of teasing in her voice. “Making up stories so you don’t go crackers, all alone in this big old house?”

“Ha ha,” Vi answers dryly.

“Seriously, can she, like, flicker a light? Rattle a window?”

“She’s standing right here,” Caitlyn says snappily, even though Powder can’t hear her.

Vi winces in sympathy before she tells her sister firmly, “I already told Ekko, it doesn’t work like that.”

“I look forward to figuring out how it does work, then.”

While they’d been talking, the driver’s side door had opened and closed, a skinny young man with snow-white hair stepping out of it. Caitlyn recognizes him from the handful of photographs that Vi has shown her as Ekko. He joins them with an easy grin and a hug for Vi, stepping back to stand beside Powder with an admiring whistle.

“Nice place.”

“Thanks. Come on, let’s get your stuff settled, then I can give you the tour.”

Caitlyn stands aside as Vi ushers Powder and Ekko through the door, all three of them merrily talking over each other. She listens to their wry exclamations as they step inside (“Jeez,” she hears Powder say, “do you think they liked guns?”), letting their voices wash over her as she takes in a steadying breath of fresh air.

It will take some getting used to, this whirlwind of sound and activity that has already overtaken the manor.

“Cait?”

She opens her eyes to see that she isn’t alone after all. Vi still stands in the doorway, looking over at her with concern.

“Is everything okay?”

“Fine. Just…needed a moment.”

Vi’s expression softens. She steps back out into the yard with Caitlyn as Powder’s voice continues to narrate their journey through the foyer. Her hands are tucked into her pockets, her posture loose and entirely comfortable as she folds herself neatly into the space that Caitlyn has automatically left for her.

It shouldn’t feel as natural as it does, this casual way they inhabit each other's space.

Caitlyn aches to actually feel the way Vi’s body might tuck itself against hers, to know for certain whether they fit together as well as she is sure they do.

But for now, she simply turns her head towards Vi, who has leaned in slightly, as if to press their foreheads together. They stand like that for a long moment, Caitlyn’s anxious heartbeat slowing to a steady, calming thrum.

“Ready?” Vi asks quietly.

Caitlyn exhales slowly, and they are close enough that it should brush against Vi’s cheek, should rustle the strands of pink hair that have fallen in her face. But it doesn’t.

“Yes.”

They set everything up in the ballroom. Ekko and Powder work like a well-oiled machine, comparing the scans of the journal that Vi had sent them to the real thing, talking seriously over fussy wires and ancient-looking cogs. Vi serves as translator between them and Caitlyn, filling in the few blanks that Jayce’s notes had left behind. Luckily, it seems that the hextech device had been left mostly intact both by the surge and by time, but Vi can tell by the wrinkle in Powder’s brow that there is still work to be done.

“This Jayce guy was way ahead of his time,” Powder murmurs. She’s sitting cross-legged in front of the hextech device, poking at a rusty socket with her pen. In her lap sits one of Jayce’s journals. “These theories are seriously complicated stuff for someone who wouldn’t know a hard drive if it bit him in the ass.”

Caitlyn, who’d been peering over Ekko’s shoulder, watching him fiddle with something on the device, scoffs. Vi has to bite her lip to keep from laughing out loud at the indignant scowl on her face.

“It’s like that, huh?”

Vi drags her gaze away to see that Powder is now looking up at her, a teasing smirk tugging her mouth to the left. At Vi’s raised eyebrow, she holds up her hands in a gesture of innocence, palms up.

“Hey, I figured there had to be a good reason for you to actually ask for help for once. Just didn’t expect it to be because you have the hots for a ghost.”

“Powder,” Vi groans, but she doesn’t deny it.

She lets her eyes trail back over towards Caitlyn. As if she can feel Vi’s attention returning to her, Caitlyn glances upwards, and their gazes catch. Vi feels warmth settle in her belly as the small smile Caitlyn offers her, one she can’t help but return.

Powder cackles.

“Wow. You’ve got it bad, sis.”

“--and then,” Ekko is saying, the words choked from the laughter he is only barely managing to hold back, “she looked him dead in the face, remember? And she said ‘I think you’ve got the wrong guy.’”

“She still had the paint on her hands and everything!” The wild smile on Powder’s face is identical to Vi’s, the side of her mouth crinkling in exactly the same way as she fights to catch her breath. “I thought for sure he was gonna blow a gasket.”

They dive back into peals of laughter. Caitlyn watches on in mild bemusement, her own grin tugging at her lips. She isn’t sure what she expected two brilliant scientists of the modern age to be like, but she is absolutely certain that both Ekko and Powder would have defied those expectations, anyway.

There is no doubt that they are, in fact, brilliant. Neither of them so much as blink at the complicated machinery that is the hextech device, diving into complex theories and equations that make Caitlyn’s head spin, and her heart hurt with missing Jayce. But what catches her off guard the most is how easily their thoughtful frowns morph into cheeky grins. They tease each other with the warm familiarity that comes with sharing a long history, with the energy that comes with being young and surrounded by people who love them.

In what feels like no time at all, the manor becomes a place of life and sound, where raucous laughter booms out from the dinnertable. It’s loud and warm and undeniably charming, the kind of affectionate family gathering that Caitlyn has always had to watch from afar.

There is no question that she is a part of it now.

Despite the fact that half of the table’s occupants can’t see her, it’s clear that the stories being shared across it are meant for her. Most of them feature Vi. Some of them even feature photographic evidence, glimpses of the versions of her that she’s shared with Caitlyn over the last few weeks, and some new ones that make Vi’s cheeks turn scarlet over Ekko and Powder’s delighted laughter.

When she catches Vi’s gaze, her face is still a faint shade of pink, but her eyes are soft and happy, and Caitlyn is so grateful to be able to see this side of her, too.

“Did you really have black hair?” she asks later.

Ekko and Powder had retreated to their rooms in the guest wing some time ago, but neither Vi nor Caitlyn had been quite ready to separate just yet. As much as Caitlyn had enjoyed the merry chaos of dinner, she’d been looking forward to this–she and Vi settled on their balcony–even more. They watch the sky fade from blue to inky black, their chairs much closer than they had been even just a few days ago–close enough that Caitlyn swears she can almost feel the warmth of Vi’s shoulder pressing against hers.

At her question, Vi huffs a short breath of laughter.

“Don’t expect any pictures. I made Powder swear to delete them under pain of death years ago.”

Caitlyn laughs.

“Why do it in the first place?” she asks, and Vi makes a thoughtful sound at the back of her throat.

”It was a little while after I got out. I was… sick of myself, I guess. Or at least I was sick of the version that everyone expected me to be.

She watches Vi’s smile grow soft, her eyes vulnerable as they dart shyly away from Caitlyn’s, then back again. It amazes her that this version of Vi—the one who taught Ekko how to ride a bike and cleaned Powder’s skinned knees, who got stuck rescuing their neighbor’s cat from a tree—is still there, after everything she’s been through.

“I quite like this version of you.”

She doesn’t intend to say it out loud, but she can’t bring herself to regret the words when they make Vi’s eyes widen like this, when they settle against Vi’s parted lips like the caress she so desperately wants to place there.

Their days go like this: in the mornings, Vi meets Caitlyn on the balcony, where she drinks coffee and Caitlyn watches the sun rise with that quiet, wistful expression on her face. Later, they join Ekko and Powder in the ballroom. Vi works on the hextech device alongside them both, watching from the corner of her eye as Caitlyn moves around the room, offering occasional commentary that makes Vi laugh and the others flash her knowing smirks.

Every evening ends the same way. They all pile into the sitting room, where they argue over which movies are required viewing before Caitlyn joins the twenty-first century.

Vi drapes herself across the sofa in a way that is meant to look casual, her legs dangling over the armrest, her arm loosely braced against the cushions. Only she knows that it’s Caitlyn’s face she’s watching rather than the television, or that their fingertips are resting just centimeters from each other.

Later, back in her room, she writes.

The idea had come to her that night on the balcony, when Caitlyn had looked at her with such warmth, and said with such honesty, I quite like this version of you.

Those words play on a loop inside her head. She’s written so many versions of herself over the years, folded herself into story after story crafted to satisfy the needs of someone else. For the first time in her life, she isn’t writing for anyone else. Not for Powder, or Babette, or even Caitlyn–her hands fly over the keyboard, and for once, the story that pours out of her is entirely her own.

Vi wants Caitlyn more than she’s ever wanted anything before. She wants her, and she can’t have her, not yet–so she writes about it instead, and it turns out that once she’s started putting words to the desires hidden away in her heart, she simply cannot stop.

It’s been so long since Caitlyn last heard the roaring sensation that when it does come again, she almost doesn’t recognize it.

She’s watching Ekko and Powder work on the hextech device when it happens, and at first, she dismisses the sound of the distant rumble as some part of its machinery kicking into life. But then her brain catches up to the tingling feeling in the tips of her fingers. She closes her eyes, squeezing them shut for a moment as she tries to ground herself.

“Cait?”

Vi’s voice pulls her back to the surface. When Caitlyn opens her eyes, she sees Vi is already crossing the room, coming towards her with an expression of concern etched across her face.

“Everything okay?”

“Fine. Just…caught me by surprise, that’s all.”

She knows she doesn’t need to clarify when Vi’s lips twist with understanding, so instead, she reaches out a hand in reassurance, letting it rest just above Vi’s sleeve.

Vi’s eyes follow the movement before returning to Caitlyn’s face.

Not much longer now, she finds herself thinking, and the swooping sensation in her stomach has nothing to do with the roaring sound fading slowly into the distance.

The hextech device looks almost unrecognizable from the rusted, ancient thing they’d hauled out of the attic. It’s larger, for one thing, and many of its more outdated parts have been replaced with modern ones. Vi watches as Powder carefully installs the most recent addition right into its center–a glowing blue stone.

Ekko and Powder had consulted on the design with an old acquaintance of theirs, a fellow scientist who Powder described as, “into this kind of odd shit.”

“He’s a genius,” Ekko had added a bit more reasonably, “and he won’t tell anyone what we’re working on.”

Neither Vi nor Caitlyn had seen any reason to argue, so they simply listened as the man glowering out at them from Powder’s laptop screen discussed the concept of magic as if it was an everyday occurrence, his voice clipped, and heavily accented.

“These runes appear to be unpredictable,” the man–Viktor–had advised them, consulting the scans of Jayce’s journal he’d been sent to review. “Your first priority must be to stabilize the crystals to ensure their effect is more controlled.”

“You’re sure about this?” Vi asks her sister now.

Powder carefully adjusts something on the device, securing the newly reconstructed crystal into place before she answers.

“For the hundredth time, Vi, yes. It’s just a test.”

Vi glances towards Caitlyn, a reflex she cannot deny, and sees her already looking in their direction. Their gazes catch, and hold, and Vi can see the same nervous energy on Caitlyn’s face that she feels in her own belly. This will be the first time they actually power on the hextech device–the first time they see whether or not everything they’ve been working on in theory will carry over into the practical.

It feels like a monumental step, something to be carried out with solemnity, so Vi is especially taken aback when Powder simply steps back from the device.

“Alright, that should do it. Fire it up.”

“What?” Vi sputters, whipping her head around to see that Ekko’s hands are already in motion. “Wait–”

Ekko flips a switch into the upright position, eyes fixed on the device as it hums to life. He carefully twists a dial, and the stone in the center seems to glow brighter. Sparks of electricity skate across its surface, but neither Powder nor Ekko seem surprised by this. Powder drums her nails against her chin, the bright pink polish shining in the blue glow of the hex crystal as she watches something on the tablet in her hand.

“Looking steady,” she reports, flicking her eyes up to watch Ekko move around the device. “How’s it feeling?”

“A little sticky. There’s some resistance on the high end that’ll need looking into.”

Their voices are calm, faces relaxed. The hex crystal glows a soothing, gently swirling blue, but Vi still can’t shake the feeling of dread.

She flexes her fingers, shaking out an uneasy tingle she can feel beneath her skin–and it’s only as she does it that she realizes that the feeling isn’t just nerves. It’s a physical tremble that she can feel deep in the pit of her stomach, a rattling pressure that seems to come from the very air around them.

Instinctively, Vi looks towards Caitlyn.

In the light of the hex crystal, Caitlyn looks truly ghost-like, muted and out of focus. Vi doesn’t have to think about moving towards her before she is already there, staring into Caitlyn’s pale face, reaching for her shaking hands with her own. The buzzing in Vi’s skull grows louder as the tips of her fingers skate across Caitlyn’s knuckles, and she has to grit her teeth to keep them from chattering before she speaks.

“Look at me, Cait.”

Caitlyn does. Her face is taut with concentration, and Vi knows it is because she is fighting not to slip into that other world. The crystal throbs with light, and Caitlyn squeezes her eyes shut, an almost pained grunt tumbling past her parted lips as Vi feels an echoing jolt in her own body.

“What’s happening?” She directs the question over her shoulder, towards where Powder is still frowning at the tablet in her hands.

“It looks like Viktor was right. The crystal is tapping into some kind of energy force, but the current design isn’t–whoa!”

The room lights up with a flash of blinding blue light, and Caitlyn doubles over, groaning, like she’d been punched in the gut. Vi swoops forward as if to catch her, both of them sinking to their knees on the hard wooden floor. Vi’s heart is racing in her chest, but she forces herself to keep her voice soft, and steady, murmuring absolute nonsense to keep Caitlyn’s attention on her as Ekko and Powder power down the device.

“It’s okay, Cait, just stay with me, okay? I’m here, I’m right here…”

Caitlyn opens her eyes again, dragging them over Vi’s face, drinking her in with an expression of such naked desperation that Vi feels every inch of herself flood with terror.

“No no no, we’re not doing that, come on, Cupcake, just hang in for one more minute.”

She sees Caitlyn’s hands curl into fists, watches the line between her brows deepen as she furrows them with renewed determination. Neither of them take their eyes off of the other until the buzzing noise stops, replaced with the hum of terrified adrenaline coursing through their veins.

It’s hours later, and Caitlyn’s fingers are still trembling.

They’ve long since moved out of the ballroom, but Caitlyn’s ears still ring with that all-too-familiar buzzing sound, making it practically impossible for her to concentrate as Ekko and Powder explain the results of the day’s test.

“The goal today was to test the device, make sure it actually works like Jayce’s notes expected it to. And by those parameters, it passed with flying colors,” Ekko says. “We know now that we can tap into the arcane, even conjure it. The next step is to try to control it.”

“And how do you do that?” Vi asks.

Her voice is tight, and when Caitlyn looks over at her, she sees that her entire body is still locked into a tense line, arms crossed across her chest. They’ve hardly looked at each other since leaving the ballroom, but now that Caitlyn’s eyes are on her she can’t seem to tear them away again, watching the muscles in Vi’s jaw flex and release.

It’s Powder who answers her.

“The runes. Jayce’s notes are full of them, what they’re called, and what they do. The one we started with…Jayce called it a summoning rune, and he seemed to think it could be used to summon the arcane itself, but we think that’s a mistranslation. It almost seems to be summoning Caitlyn into the arcane instead.”

“One of them should be able to nudge the arcane in the direction we want,” Ekko agrees, “convince it to push Caitlyn this way instead of back into the arcane. We just need to find it.”

Vi still hasn’t met Caitlyn’s eye by the time they leave the sitting room. Without discussing it, they turn right at the top of the stairs, retracing the well-worn path to Caitlyn’s bedroom. Ekko and Powder had opted to return to working on the hextech device, energized and excited by the events of the day. She’d recognized the gleam in their eyes, like a hound who’d caught the scent, but all she can feel is the heaviness in her limbs, the awful, churning feeling roiling in her gut.

It rises into her chest, then her throat, filling her mouth and pressing against her teeth until there is nothing left to do but let it tumble past her lips.

“Vi.”

Vi’s shoulders tense. The sound of the bedroom door clicking shut behind them is not quite loud enough to hide the way her breathing stutters before she turns her head, still not meeting Caitlyn’s gaze.

Caitlyn folds her hands in front of skirt, squeezing her fingers together.

“Vi,” she begins again, “I…if this doesn’t work–”

“It will work,” Vi interrupts her, blue eyes finally catching on Caitlyn’s face, blazing with determination. “It will.”

Caitlyn returns her fierce glare with her own wan smile.

“If it doesn’t, you can’t blame yourself.”

Vi’s expression pinches with pain. She squeezes her eyes shut, bracing herself for more, but Caitlyn knows not to press it any further. Not now.

She steps forward instead, her footsteps utterly silent as she crosses the room. She doesn’t stop until she is standing in front of Vi, close enough that when she reaches her hand forward, the tips of her fingers skate over the lines of Vi’s tattoo, following the pattern to the gear drawn against her neck. Vi inhales sharply, as if she can feel the warmth of Caitlyn’s hand cradling her cheek. Her eyes fly open, darting over Caitlyn’s face, looking for something that Caitlyn desperately hopes she finds.

They haven’t yet put words to the tension strung tightly between them–Caitlyn has wanted to wait until this final barrier between them fell away, and she is sure that Vi has, too. But the thought of her disappearing without once letting Vi know exactly what was in her heart is impossible to bear.

She feels her lips part, as if to tempt the words out into the open.

Vi’s eyes drop down to stare as Caitlyn’s teeth sink into her bottom lip, and it’s then that she realizes the way they’ve curled towards each other, pulled together by the same instinct that has Caitlyn’s fingers brushing over the tattoo on Vi’s cheek.

Slowly, slowly enough that Vi has time to pull away if she wants to, to stop what now seems to be inevitable–Caitlyn lets her hand drift.

She curls her fingers around Vi’s neck, and tries not to think about the way her hair should be tickling her skin as she presses forward. Their mouths are centimeters apart. Caitlyn should be able to feel the brush of Vi’s rapid, shallow breaths against her lips as she tilts her head down, their noses almost touching now. Vi sways forward, her eyelashes fluttering as a shaky exhale fills the air between them.

It’s not a true kiss. It can’t be, but Caitlyn’s pulse is still racing and her heart is still thundering and they’re still leaning into each other, taking what they can, which is not nearly enough.

Vi’s hands are hovering over Caitlyn’s waist like she wants to pull her even closer. Caitlyn closes her eyes, imagining it, and she can’t help the soft sigh that pours out of her.

“I’ve wanted this,” she admits. She lets her thumb swipe a gentle arc over Vi’s cheek, picturing its warmth as she gazes into Vi’s stunned eyes. “You have no idea how–”

“Me too,” Vi whispers urgently, shifting, and Caitlyn shivers as she imagines the touch of her fingers running up her spine, “fuck, Cait–”

Caitlyn’s heart is thundering in her chest. She leans in even further, letting her lips brush over Vi’s as she pleads, “Show me.”

They stumble their way towards the bed, torn between wanting to touch each other and knowing that they can’t. Vi lets her hands trail over Caitlyn’s body anyway, imagining the heat of her beneath her palms, until Caitlyn steps back, reaching for the waistband of her skirt, her fingers fumbling over the clasps. The heavy fabric falls soundlessly to the ground, followed swiftly by her sweater. Vi’s eyes widen, drinking in the sight of Caitlyn’s bare neck and shoulders, the sliver of thigh she can see above her stockings. By modern standards, she’s hardly naked, but Vi still feels struck dumb by want from the way her breasts press against her corset with every heaving breath.

When Caitlyn steps forward again, Vi doesn’t hesitate to bring her hands up to cup her jaw, and Caitlyn follows the pull without thought, neither one of them willing to separate more than is absolutely necessary as they take off what remains of their clothing.

Vi finishes first, stripping off her shirt and jeans without ceremony. Caitlyn’s fingers make quick, expert work of hers, kicking off her boots and stockings before she reaches for the ties of her corset. Even through the haze of lust that has come over her, Vi takes a brief moment to be grateful that she does not have to figure out the maze of clasps and buttons as she crowds her towards the bed.

The thought makes her smile, which makes Caitlyn smile, and then they are both laughing giddily against each other's mouths.

The lightness of it settles something inside Vi’s chest. Desire still courses through her veins, but it’s less desperate now, less fearful that whatever this is will be ripped away from her at any moment.

Caitlyn’s corset lands at their feet, and Vi lets her fingers chase the hem of her chemise as she draws it up over her body, settling with her hands above her waist. She sways forward before the fabric even has the chance to hit the floor, needing to know, needing to see how their bodies fit together.

They climb onto the bed, a tangle of eager limbs and soft lips. The mattress creaks softly under Vi’s weight as she crawls over Caitlyn. She leaves fluttering kisses everywhere she wants to touch—Caitlyn’s thigh and her belly and the mole she finds just above her hip. She catalogues the colors of her body, the dark strands of Caitlyn’s hair splayed across the mattress, her perfect brown nipples, the pale skin of her chest flushing dusty pink beneath Vi’s lips.

She can’t bring herself to be embarrassed about the eager way she reaches for her, how her hands linger over her skin–not when Caitlyn is so clearly just as desperate, cradling Vi’s face between careful hands as Vi settles between her spread knees, and lowers herself to brush her lips along her clavicle.

“How are you so perfect?” she murmurs against the hollow of her throat. “God–I won’t be able to keep my hands off of you.”

The soft whine that Caitlyn responds with is more than enough encouragement for her to keep going.

“Would you like that? Do you want my hands on your tits, Cait?”

“Yes,” Caitlyn gasps, pressing her head back into the pillow to expose more of her neck to Vi’s questing lips.

Vi obliges, nuzzling her nose into the skin beneath Caitlyn’s ear.

“Play with them. Show me what you like.”

Caitlyn’s eyes flutter closed as she moves to do exactly that, cupping her own breasts in shaking hands. She bites her lip to muffle her soft moan, but Vi isn’t having it–if she can’t have the feeling of Caitlyn’s skin beneath her touch, then she’ll have the sounds pouring from her lips instead.

“No. I want to hear how you sound when you touch yourself for me.”

A flush spreads across Caitlyn’s face, but she doesn’t hold back the next gasp that tumbles forward, rubbing one pert nipple with her thumb while the other hand snakes down her abdomen, coming to rest just above the soft bed of curls between her legs. Vi hums an approving sound, ghosting kisses over Caitlyn’s cheek as she slides her fingers down into her cunt, her folds parting with a hot, slick sound that makes Vi’s knees feel weak. She reaches down to palm herself almost absentmindedly as she listens to Caitlyn’s stuttering breaths, watching her fingers make slow, careful circles.

It’s hot–so incredibly hot, and so much better than anything Vi had been able to imagine before now that Vi feels her skin burn with it, molten desire coursing through her veins.

“Fuck, Cait, you drive me crazy,” she says, widening her knees so Caitlyn can see exactly how wet she is already as she drags two fingers through her pussy. “All I want to do is touch you.”

“What would you do if you could?”

Vi groans, low and guttural, forgetting for a moment that she cannot touch her as she leans down, her lips seeking Caitlyn’s on wanton instinct. She only barely manages to catch herself before they can make contact, her mouth hovering just out of reach from Caitlyn’s. Everything she’s spent the last few weeks imagining flashes through her mind–her mouth on Caitlyn’s tits, tongue teasing her nipples to stiff peaks. Caitlyn’s legs wrapped around her head, her slender fingers tangled in Vi’s hair while she wraps her lips around her clit.

It is torture to be so close to what she’s wanted all this time and still be unable to feel her, but it’s a torture that Vi is more than willing to endure, one she knows that she will reach for again and again if it means she has Caitlyn here with her like this.

She lets her lips part, imagining the heat of Caitlyn’s mouth brushing against hers as she speaks.

“I’d tease you first. Get my hands on all the parts of you I’ve been dreaming of.”

Caitlyn makes that sound again–the soft, perfect gasp that Vi wants to taste against her tongue. Her fingers continue to draw slow circles around her clit, and Vi mimics her pace, imagining that it’s Caitlyn’s body beneath her fingertips, her wet heat sliding against her skin.

“I’d wrap these perfect fucking legs around my waist,” she continues, leaning in to press her lips against Caitlyn’s throat, “let you ride my thigh while I work you up, kiss your pretty neck–”

“Yes.” Caitlyn throws her head back, as if she’s playing along with Vi’s murmured imaginations. “Oh, god, yes, I want that, too–”

Vi’s lips part against her skin, as if she really is going to bite down on the curve of Caitlyn’s shoulder, to suck bruises into her skin that will last for days. She moans at the thought, bucking her hips into her own hand.

“What else do you want from me?”

Caitlyn answers with a whimper that sends a violent shiver rattling through Vi’s entire body. “Your–your hands.”

“Yeah?” Vi practically purrs. She shifts her weight to let her free hand roam, dragging the tips of her fingers down the center of Caitlyn’s chest. “Like this?”

Caitlyn makes a choked-off sound, one that Vi knows means yes, of course she wants Vi’s touch against her skin, but also–

“Inside,” she begs, tilting her hips upward, and Vi imagines it for a moment, how it would feel to slide into Caitlyn’s body, her pussy tight and wet around Vi’s fingers.

“Show me.”

She watches as Caitlyn removes her hand from her breast and slides it down between her legs, her breath hitching as she pushes an experimental finger inside herself. It’s quickly followed by a second, and Vi has to brace herself against the mattress once again as she watches Caitlyn fuck herself, soft little whines falling from her lips.

“Fuck, you look so good like this,” Vi says, her fingers moving faster now over her clit. “So fucking perfect–”

Caitlyn turns her head, both of them panting against each other's mouths as their bodies strain towards each other. Caitlyn whines, the sound desperate and frustrated, and Vi aches to kiss it from her lips. She curls her hand into a fist, imagining that it’s the soft flesh of Caitlyn’s nape she’s squeezing instead.

“Vi,” Caitlyn pants, her legs shaking now, eyes squeezed shut as she circles her clit in frantic, uneven circles. “Vi, Vi–”

Vi lets her head drop, the bridge of her nose dangerously close to Caitlyn’s, letting her next words ghost across her lips.

“You make me so fucking wet, Cait, all for you, want you to feel what you do to me–”

Caitlyn arches forward, her mouth open on a wordless cry as her orgasm washes over her. Vi feels her own core throb with need as she watches Caitlyn fuck herself through it, only lasting another moment longer before she screws her eyes shut, coming with a muffled cry against her mouth. She imagines wrapping her arms around Caitlyn’s trembling frame as they come down together, how Caitlyn’s hands would feel against her cheek as they press their mouths together in tired, hungry kisses.

Her eyes open, looking down at Caitlyn’s beautiful face, recognizing the look of longing on it. She can’t resist leaning down again, her name falling from her lips and ghosting across Caitlyn’s in the only caress she can offer.

“Cait.”

Chapter Text

It takes hours for Caitlyn to fall asleep that night, but for once, it’s not the relentless pull of that other world that has her fighting against the exhaustion washing over her. It’s Vi, looking at her from across the pillow that they share with a soft smile on her face, their hands resting side-by-side between them as they talk well into the night.

When sleep finally claims her, it is peaceful, and dreamless.

She wakes to the sight of Vi still asleep beside her, lying on her stomach with her face turned towards Caitlyn. Her shoulders rise and fall with the steady rhythm of her breathing, and for a long moment, Caitlyn simply watches the way the gears inked into her back shift along with it, her hands curled into the sheets to hold herself back from reaching out until she remembers that she can.

Vi sighs as Caitlyn’s fingers drift along the curve of her spine, her eyes blinking slowly open and meeting Caitlyn’s gaze with an open sort of wonder, as if she, too, can’t quite believe the way it feels so natural to wake up in each other’s arms.

“Hey.”

Caitlyn smiles and lets her knuckles brush against Vi’s cheek.

“Hello.”

“Sleep well?”

“Mm. Very.”

Vi blushes ever so slightly, and Caitlyn is so delighted by the sight of it that she simply has to lean in and let her lips hover just above hers. Vi sighs into the not-kiss, letting her eyes drift shut again as they breathe against each other in the morning light.

Eventually, they manage to peel themselves away from each other, if only to dress presentably enough to escape to the kitchen. As much as she would prefer to waste the morning away in bed, they’d already skipped dinner the night before, and Caitlyn refuses to allow Vi to miss two meals in a row on account of her. Still, she smiles when Vi leans in to press her lips over the exposed nape of her neck, allowing herself to linger there, indulging just a moment longer in this new closeness between them. But when she turns her head to nose at the shaved side of Vi’s hair, she sees that some of the melancholy they’d chased away overnight has crept back into Vi’s gaze, her smile turning rueful as she meets Caitlyn’s eyes.

Caitlyn feels her heart squeeze in her chest as she reaches forward, letting her fingers rest just above the tattoo on Vi’s cheek.

They slip out into the quiet hallway, intending to sneak there and back without alerting Ekko or Powder to their presence–an intention that goes awry when they step into the sitting room, and see Powder sprawled across the sofa cushions, still in the clothes she’d worn the day before.

Immediately, Vi’s brow puckers with concern.

“Pow?”

Powder mumbles something unintelligible, turning to bury her face into the pillow. Vi kneels beside her, shaking her gently by the shoulder.

“Powder.”

“What?”

The younger girl reluctantly raises her face from the cushions, rubbing a tired hand over her face. Caitlyn can see the circles under her eyes even from where she’s standing, which Vi of course narrows in on immediately.

“Were you out here all night?”

“Hm. Yes?”

Powder seems deeply unconcerned about this, yawning as she pushes herself into a sitting position. One of her spacebuns has come loose, giving her a slightly lopsided appearance as she stretches her arms above her head.

“We were making good progress with the runes, I didn’t want to stop and ruin the momentum. And,” she adds pointedly, when Vi looks prepared to launch into a lecture, “you’ll be glad I didn’t–I think we found something.”

Vi’s eyes widen. “You did?”

“Mhm. We would’ve told you earlier, but you weren’t in your room.”

She says it lightly, but even Caitlyn can hear the tease in her voice, and see the smirk that pulls her lips to one side. Vi can’t seem to resist glancing towards Caitlyn, who is equally incapable of looking away from her as Powder gets to her feet.

“Well, since you already woke me up–we need to run some more tests to make sure we’re on the right track. You don’t mind helping out with that, do you, Cait?”

“That’s fine,” Vi answers for her when Caitlyn nods her assent. Powder beams, throwing her arm around Vi’s shoulder.

“Perfect! Why don’t you get us some coffee while we get started, eh, sis?”

Caitlyn sees the slight narrowing of Vi’s eyes as she takes in her sister’s perfectly innocent expression, but she disappears in the direction of the kitchen without protest, leaving Caitlyn to follow Powder towards the ballroom. It looks almost as it did when they’d left it the afternoon before, but for the mess of papers strewn across the floor, scribbled over with what Caitlyn recognizes as both Powder’s spikey handwriting, and Ekko’s neater penmanship.

“Make yourself at home,” Powder says cheerfully, diving into the chaos of it all, her heavy boots stepping through the mess towards the device while Caitlyn hovers around the edges. “I just need to get some readings with you in the room so we can calibrate the device properly.”

She pauses, as if to give Caitlyn room to respond, before she seems to remember that Caitlyn can’t, at least not in a way that Powder will hear. The moment stretches a beat, then two, and then Powder laughs a little, shaking her head.

“Okay, well…I think we can both agree that this is a little awkward, so I’m just going to assume that you’re good to go.”

Caitlyn smiles, laughing quietly both at Powder’s blunt statement and the absurdity of the moment they’ve found themselves in. Powder’s grin widens, like they’re both in on the joke, and some of the awkwardness in the air bleeds away. Caitlyn is glad for it. She’s grown quite fond of the girl while she’s been at the manor, the way she clearly loves Vi as much as Vi adores her. Her particular brand of affectionate needling is something that Caitlyn supposes she’ll have to get used to, if–

She forces herself not to complete that thought as Powder turns her attention to the device. Caitlyn feels the faint buzzing beneath her skin as it hums to life, but the feeling stays distant, the arcane merely stirring to attention rather than pulling at her. She remains standing in the center of the ballroom, her hands loosely clasped in front of her skirts while Powder adjusts something. The silence between them is comfortable, interrupted only by the quiet clack of keys as Powder works.

“You know,” Powder says without looking up, “I’ve never seen Vi act the way she does when she’s with you.”

Caitlyn goes very still. She watches as Powder continues to move her hands over the device, toggling a dial with a deliberately casual air. Caitlyn isn’t fooled, though. She can see the steel in Powder’s downcast eyes, the careful way she holds herself as she continues to speak.

“She likes people to think that she’s strong. And she is,” Powder allows, a faint note of fondness bleeding through, “but she shouldn’t have to be. Not all the time. Not if there’s someone who makes her feel safe enough to be a little softer.”

Powder finally lifts her gaze, and somehow–luck, or intuition–her eyes land on Caitlyn’s face.

“There haven’t been many people like that in her life. Definitely not as many as she deserves. Just…promise you’ll be one of them.”

“I will,” Caitlyn responds solemnly, not caring that Powder has no way of hearing her.

“You will what?”

Caitlyn turns to see Vi standing in the doorway. She’s holding a steaming mug in each of her hands, eyeing the two of them with the same suspicious squint she’d had earlier. It softens just a touch when she glances in Caitlyn’s direction.

“She will let me know if things start to feel a little weird,” Powder lies breezily, flipping a dial on the device that elicits the low hum of electricity sparking to life. “And I will take my coffee, thank you very much.”

It takes three more days before Ekko announces that they’ve made a breakthrough. Three days of falling asleep wrapped around Caitlyn in any way she can, and waking up to watch the sunrise cast golden shadows on her skin. Three mornings spent watching Caitlyn trace patterns in her palm as they sit on the balcony, pretending not to feel the chill of early autumn air against her skin, rather than the warmth of Caitlyn’s touch.

On the second day, she attaches the initial pages of her book to a blank email, and sends it to Babette with the subject line “something different”. She stares at her screen for a long moment afterward, then turns and slides into bed beside Caitlyn, who welcomes her with a single hand against her cheek, a quiet smile meant just for her. This time, their movements are gentler, their voices softer. Vi tangles her fingers in the sheets and imagines it’s the soft strands of Caitlyn’s hair, an anchor while she falls apart with Caitlyn’s lips against her temple.

Babette calls her the next morning, when they’re walking through the gardens.

“You weren’t kidding.” Babette’s voice comes down the line a little distorted, and Vi can’t quite place her tone when she adds, “This isn’t like your old stuff, kid.”

Vi holds the phone tightly against her ear, her other hand curling nervously around her hip. A heavy silence comes through the phone before Babette breaks it.

“Seems like your stay there’s been good for you.”

Vi looks up, her eyes settling immediately on Caitlyn where she’s sitting near the fountain, her face tipped up towards the sun. As Vi watches, though, her eyes open, and she turns, returning Vi’s gaze with a soft smile that makes her heart flutter in her chest.

“Yeah. It’s…yeah.”

Babette almost seems to hold her breath, before releasing it in a long stream. Vi can picture her bringing her ever-present cigarette to her lips as she says, “Alright. Let me make some calls. You keep working on it, and we’ll talk when you’re back home.”

Vi’s heart does a funny little flip in her chest at the thought. Home. Her tiny apartment, with the toaster that burns the left side of the bread every time, and the radiator that rattles in the colder months, and–if she’s lucky, if everything goes the way she desperately hopes it does–Caitlyn, wrapped up in the middle of it all.

She doesn’t have time to think any more about it, or even to rejoin Caitlyn by the fountain–she’s barely even shoved her phone into her pocket before she hears her name being shouted across the gardens.

“Vi!”

She turns to see Ekko and Powder spilling out of the manor. Their expressions are wild, and excited, and Vi knows what they’re about to say before they even set their eyes on her. She feels rather than sees Caitlyn move through the hedges to join her, an impossibly solid presence coming to stand just behind her. Vi reaches one hand backward, letting her fingers linger where she already knows Caitlyn’s hand is waiting for her.

They have hardly stepped inside the bedroom before Caitlyn crowds Vi against the wall, her mouth hot and open against her neck. Vi responds immediately, dropping her head back with a low moan, her hands grasping desperately for Caitlyn’s waist.

“Please,” Caitlyn breaths against her lips, to the universe or the arcane itself, perhaps, but certainly to Vi, almost feverish with want as she presses her hands against the wall, imagining the texture of the wallpaper is the roughness of Vi’s jeans as she sways forward. “Vi–”

“Come here,” Vi almost growls, rushing forward to turn them both around, so it is Caitlyn now with her back against the wall.

Ekko’s words still cling to the edge of her mind–the runes that they’d found, the threat of a new surge of arcane energy in less than twenty-four hours, and what that means for her, for them–but she pushes them away, focusing on the way Vi cradles her so softly, the moans she presses against Caitlyn’s throat.

They both know the risk that tomorrow brings. They both know that their plan has every chance of falling sideways, and that even this–straining helplessly towards each other, desperate gasps falling from their lips–can be ripped away from them. But if Caitlyn only has so many hours left to her, then there is no doubt how she wants to spend them.

She watches Vi’s body reveal itself, running the palms of her hands over bare skin, imagining the give and flex of her muscles as she moves, her strong arms bracketing Caitlyn’s waist, caging her in. She lets her eyes fall shut, locking into memory the way Vi murmurs her name against her lips, reaching down to touch herself as Vi drags kisses over her jaw.

Caitlyn comes with Vi murmuring praise against her ear, clawing at the wall behind her and wishing that it was the spread of her shoulders instead.

She stays there, draped between the wall and Vi’s hot, firm body for only as long as it takes to catch her breath, and then she presses Vi towards the bed. Vi goes willingly, happily, letting the tips of her fingers brush along Caitlyn’s waist as she falls down onto the mattress. Caitlyn lets her look, her eyes trailing over Caitlyn’s body in lieu of her hands, before she drops to her knees.

“Fuck,” Vi groans, her legs opening automatically to welcome Caitlyn’s head between them, revealing herself to Caitlyn’s hungry gaze. “God, Cait–”

Caitlyn leans forward as Vi’s hand drifts over her muscular body. She watches as she spreads herself, wishing it was her touch pulling the perfect sighs from Vi’s lips as she slowly begins to circle her clit. Vi’s hand twitches against her leg, fingers curling like she’s picturing tangling them in Caitlyn’s hair, and Caitlyn obliges the fantasy by leaning in, looking up at Vi from under her lashes as she turns her face, presses a kiss to the inside of Vi’s thighs.

Her hips stutter as she returns her hands to her own sensitive folds, teasing herself the way she imagines she would tease Vi. She sinks her teeth into her lip, muffling a soft moan as she drops her gaze back down to watch Vi touch herself, her fingers shining as she circles them against her slick, shining pussy.

“God, I want to taste you,” she murmurs reverently.

Vi whines, widening the spread of her legs so Caitlyn can crawl even closer to her. Her mouth opens with a needy moan when Caitlyn takes her own hand from between her legs and presses her fingers against her tongue, lapping at them, imagining that it’s Vi’s arousal she can taste instead.

“Cait, yes, please–”

Vi drops her head back, laying flat on the mattress now as she chases her release, her spare hand visibly shaking as she holds herself back from reaching for Caitlyn. Caitlyn trails kisses higher and higher until her lips are just short of her dripping cunt, letting her tongue dart out as if to lick a stripe through her folds. Vi’s back arches, a garbled shout falling from her lips as her body shudders with her orgasm, and Caitlyn surges upward, dragging her palms across the blankets as though they’re the soft skin of Vi’s stomach and chest, rising and falling with the rapid rhythm of her breathing.

I want this, she thinks as she brushes kisses against the tattoo inked onto Vi’s neck, the truth of it settling so heavily on her heart that it aches.

She turns her face, burying it into the crook of Vi’s neck so she does not see the tears as they prick at the corner of her eyes, sending one last prayer out into the universe.

Please.

“Do you really think this will work?”

It’s not the first time Vi’s thought the question, but it’s the first time she’s allowed it to slip out into the open, hovering awkwardly in the air between her and Powder as they get the hextech device ready. It had undergone even more transformations over the last few days, including a brand-new dais that Ekko had constructed to channel the arcane, direct it towards Caitlyn rather than leave its journey to chance. Vi is assisting Powder in its final adjustments, crouched beside the squat metal plinth while Ekko works nearer to the device’s controls. She glances upwards, towards where Caitlyn walks a slow circle around them, unable to assist but equally unable to stay still in any way, her fingers curling into and out of the sleeves of her sweater.

They’d slept badly last night, if they’d slept at all. Vi’s eyes had drifted shut only to rip open again moments later, her heart hammering in her chest as if startled by some unheard alarm. She knew what it was, had seen it written in Caitlyn’s eyes when she turned and saw her already awake, slender hands already reaching out for Vi, brushing against her face in comfort.

The arcane was restless and eager in preparation for the surge. Vi can still feel it now, coiled beneath her skin.

At her question, Powder leans back onto her hands, taking a moment to consider her answer, which Vi is grateful for–she’s not sure that a simple platitude would have been enough to settle the nerves rioting away in her stomach.

Finally, she looks up, her expression entirely open, and entirely sincere.

“Yeah. I really do, Vi.”

Vi exhales slowly, then nods. She watches Caitlyn begin a new circuit around the room, feeling a tug right at the center of her chest that she knows has nothing at all to do with the arcane. She drops her gaze back down to see that Powder’s eyes are still on her, though now with a spark of amusement in them.

“I think that’ll work, too, if you’re wondering.”

Vi feels her shoulders loosen just a touch as her sister grins at her. “Thanks, Pow.”

“Any time,” Powder says, then, a little more seriously, she adds, “and I mean that. You’ve helped me more times than I can count, it’s about time you let me return the favor.”

Vi laughs, a short huff of amusement that is nevertheless genuine. Powder’s grin widens, and she leans over to bump Vi’s shoulder with her own. Vi looks at her, and she sees the same little girl who’d looked to her for comfort when their parents had died, wide-eyed and terrified–the same mistrustful teenager she’d crawled through hell to protect. And she sees the young woman that she is now, happy and safe, no longer in need of protecting.

And still, when Vi opens her arms, Powder fits herself into them easily, settling into the hug just like she had when she was six years old. Vi cradles the back of her head just like she had then, squeezing her arms around Powder’s shoulders.

“I love you.”

She feels Powder’s smile press against her shoulder.

“Love you, too, sis. Always.”

Caitlyn folds and refolds her hands in front of her, her eyes fixed on the ballroom windows, and the line of trees beyond it. She’s spent a hundred years staring at these trees. They lie just beyond the boundary, their proximity and their absolute inaccessibility a torture. What will it feel like to finally stand beneath those branches again?

She feels someone approach, and knows without turning that it is Vi.

“Are you ready?”

Vi’s voice is low, concerned, and Caitlyn barely hears it over the buzz of nervous energy rattling around in her skull. She does hear it, though, turning her head to look Vi directly in the eyes for what feels like the first time in hours.

“Yes.”

She’s surprised by how firm her own voice is, but it’s true, she is ready. Either their plan works, or it doesn’t. It’s Vi she’s more worried about. She brings her hand up to cup the side of Vi’s face, thumb brushing over her tattoo.

“Are you?”

Vi answers with a short, harsh laugh, her eyes trailing over Caitlyn’s face.

“Numbers are starting to climb,” Powder announces from over near the device, “we better get started or we’ll miss the window.”

Caitlyn and Vi share one last, long look before Caitlyn steps forward.

She settles onto the dais, feeling the arcane rustle beneath her skin as she steps over the runes etched along the edges.

“Ready.” Ekko’s voice is steady, completely clinical, as he types away at the device in front of him. Powder flicks a few more switches, her eyebrows meeting in the middle before she, too, nods.

“Ready.”

Caitlyn shifts her weight, but she doesn’t move from her spot on Ekko’s dais.

The machine erupts into life. The arms surrounding Caitlyn begin to spin, gaining speed so quickly that the hem of Caitlyn’s skirt whips around her legs, her hair flying into her eyes. She pushes it back to see sparks of light dancing in between the pillars, illuminating the ballroom in bright blue electric light.

Vi is standing just a few feet away, her own hair whipping back and forth across her face, but she doesn’t take her eyes off Caitlyn. Her hands are curled into fists, and Caitlyn holds onto the thought that soon, if all goes well, she’ll finally be able to hold those hands in hers.

“Levels climbing,” Ekko reports from his station.

Vi forces herself to breathe. Her heart races in her chest as she watches the blue light dance over Caitlyn’s head, looking for any sign of pain or fear on her face. A bright flash of light bounces between the pillars at the same time that Caitlyn cries out. She stumbles, catching herself before her hands could come into contact with the still rapidly spinning pillars.

“Vi, you have to stay back!”

Powder’s voice shouts out over the rushing sound roaring in Vi’s ears, and it’s only then that she realizes she’s moved at all, rushing forward as Caitlyn rights herself. She grits her teeth, but obeys, watching Caitlyn peel her eyes open. She’s only distantly aware of Ekko speaking to her, the words distorted by the wind generated by the device, but Vi doesn’t need to comprehend the words to understand their meaning. She can feel the arcane writhing beneath her skin, pulling at her as the surge rapidly approaches. The air is thick with it, but she ignores it, ignores everything that isn’t Caitlyn’s eyes boring into hers.

The light pulses over their heads–Vi takes an automatic step towards her as Caitlyn’s knees buckle once again. She’s hardly regained her footing when a second flash forces Vi to avert her gaze, followed by a shockwave that rattles through Vi’s skull like a blow. Her ears begin to ring, and it takes a moment for her to realize that the faint whistling sound is coming from the runes themselves.

She wrenches her eyes open again, and sees the runes are no longer pulsing, but illuminated with a bright, constant glow, sparks still rocketing between the pillars like lightning. Caitlyn is slumped forward now, hands clasped around her middle like she is physically holding herself onto the dais.

“Cait?”

Vi’s voice is ripped from her lips by the wind buffeting them both, but Caitlyn’s eyes snap towards her anyway, wide and tense, her entire body locked with concentrated effort. Vi feels her own body shudder with the next flash, a sharp sting staring in the pit of her stomach, quickly radiating out to the tips of her toes in seconds, at the same time that Caitlyn lets out a soundless cry.

She’s running before she’s even aware of making the decision. Powder shouts after her, but Vi doesn’t turn, doesn’t take her eyes off of Caitlyn as she rushes forward.

There’s another great flash of light–brighter than the others, a blast of arcane energy that rushes over Vi’s skin and swallows the room in blinding white, but still Vi doesn’t stop, reaching a hand out towards the figure she knows is there.

“Cait!”

It’s cold, and bright, and loud–Caitlyn opens her eyes with a gasp that is swallowed by the constant hum that reverberates through this place, her entire body trembling with the force of it.

Time moves differently here. How long has she been standing there, tense with fear as she fights against the pull still thrumming in her veins? A moment? A day? Caitlyn doesn’t know, and she doesn’t let herself contemplate it long enough to pull her attention away from the task at hand, until she feels something seize her by the wrist.

She whips her head around, and of course it’s Vi–beautiful, impossible Vi, staring back at her with her powder blue eyes that are wide with shock as they both realize that Vi is actually touching her, her large hand wrapped around Caitlyn’s arm like an anchor in the swarming sea. She is already moving when Vi reaches for her, already taking Vi’s face between her shaking hands as Vi’s fingers sink into her hair, their bodies crashing together as the arcane flashes around them. Caitlyn grips Vi tightly in her arms as another surge washes over them, muffling her grunt of pain by burying her face against the shaved side of Vi’s head, the short hairs tickling her skin.

“Vi–”

“I’ve got you,” Vi whispers against her ear, taking Caitlyn’s weight into her strong arms as her knees give out, “I’ve got you, Cait. I promise.”

Caitlyn squeezes her eyes shut at the blinding, pulsing light surrounding them somehow grows even brighter. Her stomach rolls at the same time that Vi shudders, staggering under the force of the arcane and their combined weight, but Caitlyn is entirely unable to hold herself upright. She clings to Vi as she continues to murmur against her ear, “I’ve got you. You’re okay. I’ve got–”

The rest of her sentence is swallowed by a low moan as the arcane pulses around them, the force of it rippling through their bones. Caitlyn’s head spins as Vi’s legs finally buckle, and a bright flash turns their world to white, and she is falling, falling–

Vi’s knees crash against the dais.

She grits her teeth at the sharp pain, eyes still shut tight against the wind buffeting her from the arms whirling around the dais. Her ears are still ringing, but she can hear Ekko and Powder’s voices shouting over the din.

“Don’t move, Vi! We’re powering down the device, just…hang on!”

Vi isn’t given much of a choice. Her limbs are leaden, shot through with pins and needles as the effects of the other world slowly ebbs away, replaced by adrenaline as the events of the last few minutes catch up to her. Her heart is thundering in her chest, but she is otherwise paralyzed in place by fear and disbelief–until the woman in her arms sags bonelessly against her, and she rushes to catch Caitlyn before she slips off of the dais.

“You’re alright,” she soothes her as Caitlyn gasps, her chest heaving as she hauls in great lungfuls of air. When Vi cradles her closer, Caitlyn’s hands curl into the fabric of her shirt, clinging to her as her entire body trembles. Around them, the pillars continue to circle, slower now, the runes no longer sparkling but glowing dimly. They give off one last pulse of energy, and Caitlyn flinches, curling towards Vi as she makes soft hushing noises.

“Shh, hey, you’re okay–you’re here,” she says, her voice breaking on the realization that Caitlyn really is in her arms, warm and solid–that she really is running her hands over the curve of her quivering spine as Caitlyn’s breathing slowly evens. She presses her lips into the crown of her head, whispering against her hair, “You’re here, Cait–”

Caitlyn sobs. She pulls back, gently disentangling herself from the tight grip that Vi has around her shoulders so she can meet her gaze instead. Vi says nothing, just watches with her heart in her throat as Caitlyn uncurls one hand from the front of Vi’s shirt and–slowly, shakily–lifts it up to hover just above Vi’s cheek.

She hesitates for a moment, and Vi holds her breath until she feels the brush of Caitlyn’s fingers against her skin, and then it comes barreling out of her in a rush, a harsh laugh that rustles the flyaway strands of Caitlyn’s hair as Vi reaches for her, too. She lets her hands slide over Caitlyn’s jaw, cradling her face–she is completely incapable of holding herself back for a single moment longer, leaning forward and pressing her lips against Caitlyn’s in a brief brush of skin against skin that nevertheless sends Vi’s heart into overdrive.

She pulls back, not wanting to overwhelm her, but Caitlyn follows, kissing Vi with a ferocity that takes her breath away. Her hands have curled around Vi’s shoulders, and Vi drops hers down to Caitlyn’s waist, hauling her closer, drinking in Caitlyn’s gasp. And the feel of it, of Caitlyn in her arms, finally–fucking finally–kissing her, makes a giddy laugh bubble out of her. She feels Caitlyn hesitate, and soothes her confusion with another kiss, then another, peppering her mouth with them until it’s Caitlyn laughing against her lips.

Vi doesn’t want to stop, but she can feel Caitlyn still shaking underneath her palms, so she gently pulls away, sweeping in for one last peck when Caitlyn makes a soft sound of protest.

Carefully, she helps Caitlyn to her feet, guiding her off of the dais as Ekko and Powder rush towards it.

“Are you guys okay?” Powder asks hurriedly, her gaze flicking between Vi and Caitlyn–and that in itself, the fact that she is so clearly looking at Caitlyn, sends another wave of incredulous relief washing over Vi.

“We’re fine,” Caitlyn assures her.

At the sound of her voice, both Ekko and Powder seem to recognize exactly what had just happened.

“Holy shit,” Ekko says, staring at Caitlyn’s face with a gobsmacked expression, at the same time that Powder throws her fists in the air, shouting triumphantly, “It worked!”

It’s a cold night. Caitlyn marvels at the goosebumps rising on her arms as they walk among the trees. The summer is drawing to a close, autumn swift on its heels–a few leaves have already begun to fall, and they crunch beneath her feet. Caitlyn can’t resist it, reveling in the novelty of it, the acknowledgement from the universe that she is here, that she is part of the world once again.

It’d been overwhelming at first, the way all of her sensations had come rushing back at once. But now she breathes in the crisp night air, the smell of the forest and the feel of the grass, and she smiles, face tipped up towards the moon.

Warmth blankets her back as Vi slips her arms around her waist, pressing a kiss to the skin behind her ear. Caitlyn turns her face towards her, and smells the minty scent of her shampoo as she nuzzles her nose against her temple. She knows hers smells like it, too, from the shower that they’d shared, where Vi had pinned her back against the tiles and peppered her skin with fiery kisses. There is a bruise blooming on her hip that is the perfect shape of Vi’s mouth, and Caitlyn can’t resist pressing against it, just a little, shivering with delight at the sting of it.

“We should go into town tomorrow,” Vi is saying, her lips still pressed against Caitlyn’s shoulder. “You can get some new clothes.”

Caitlyn glances down at the clothes she is wearing–a t-shirt and boxers, both Vi’s–and grins.

“You just want your shirt back.”

Vi laughs, sliding her hands under the hem of said shirt so she can run her fingers over the soft skin of Caitlyn’s stomach. Caitlyn leans back against her chest, sinking into her solidness as Vi kisses her shoulder.

She looks up at the silhouette of the manor peeking out from between the trees. It had been her home once, though it had been her prison longer. There were good memories within those walls, and she knew that some part of her would always miss this place. Still, as her gaze lands on the soft glow of a lamp coming from her bedroom, she can’t help but think of all those nights she had spent at that window, yearning to be standing exactly where she is now.

“Violet?”

Vi hums inquisitively. Caitlyn turns to face her, letting her arms settle around Vi’s shoulders as Vi easily shifts her grip, their bodies slotting together like two pieces of a puzzle.

“Tell me more about Zaun.”

The apartment in Zaun is tiny, its sole bedroom even more so. The early morning light coming through the window illuminates the queen-sized mattress that takes up the majority of the space, and the two figures curled around each other underneath the covers. It’s quiet, and peaceful, warm with domesticity.

A phone resting on the nightstand lights up, chirping a mechanical melody. The blankets shift. A grumpy mumbling comes from within its depths, before a hand shoots out to silence the alarm. The phone falls blessedly silent, remaining illuminated a moment longer on the homescreen. It’s a picture of Vi, her pink hair as wild as her grin, her arms wrapped around a Caitlyn that is just barely in frame, the edges of her matching smile nevertheless caught on camera. It’d been taken just a few weeks ago, on an impulsive road trip they’d taken to celebrate Vi’s submission of her latest novel. They’d spent two days by the sea, chasing each other through the shallows that were still frigid from the last of that winter’s chill, falling asleep in a room that smelled like the ocean.

Caitlyn lets the phone go dark as she settles back beneath the covers. Vi grumbles behind her, tugging her back against her chest. They’re tucked together head to toe, and Caitlyn smiles when she feels Vi’s nose nuzzle in behind her ear.

“Good morning.”

A sleepy sigh rustles the hair at the nape of her neck. She tilts her head back, letting her body press gently against Vi’s until she shifts just enough to let Caitlyn turn around, but not enough that she leaves the circle of her arms, pulling her back in the moment that she settles. Their lips brush together once, then again more purposefully, the last traces of sleep chased away by the morning chill and the warmth of their bodies pressed together.

Vi leans in, rolling Caitlyn onto her back and settling her weight on top of her, all without breaking their kiss. Caitlyn hums approvingly as she runs her hands over the tattooed skin along Vi’s spine, drawing her even closer. In the last few months, they’ve explored each other in more ways than she can count, but this–feeling Vi above her, their bodies pressed together–remains her favorite. Vi knows it. She grins against Caitlyn’s lips as she rolls their hips together, anticipating Caitlyn’s sharp gasp, pressing their mouths together in a hungry kiss so she can taste it as they pull at each other’s clothing.

The moment Vi settles back against her, this time gloriously naked, Caitlyn wraps her legs around her hips in invitation, knowing that Vi’s fingers are already moving, sliding past dark curls to tease at the wetness gathering between her legs. Caitlyn lets her head fall back against the pillow, and Vi immediately brings her mouth down to Caitlyn’s neck, nibbling at the skin beneath her jaw. When she sinks into her, Caitlyn sighs, a soft, “Oh,” of pleasure that she knows Vi can feel vibrate in her throat as she presses her lips against it.

“Yes,” Caitlyn moans when Vi adds a second finger, pressing in deeper, making sure Caitlyn feels the heft of her body as she fucks her. Her hands find the long strands of Vi’s hair, tangling them around her fingers. “Violet–”

Vi answers by moving down to wrap her lips around her nipple, biting and sucking at the soft skin. She brings her thumb up to circle Caitlyn’s clit, and Caitlyn cries out again, not in pain but in pleasure, the kind that sends heat shivering over her skin.

She doesn’t even try to last as Vi returns her mouth to Caitlyn’s, fucking her through her orgasm, teasing her until at last she collapses back against the mattress. They trade lazy, messy kisses, and Caitlyn lets her hands continue their journey over Vi’s body–curving over the firm muscles of her arms, toying with the piercing studded in her nipple until she gasps, biting down on Caitlyn’s bottom lip. The moment her breathing steadies, she hooks them around Vi’s thighs and tugs until Vi chuckles, and obeys the silent request.

Caitlyn hums happily as Vi settles with her knees around her head. She keeps her eyes fixed upwards to watch Vi’s face as she drags her tongue over her pussy, and Vi’s mouth drops open with a guttural moan. Her hips roll forward, chasing the pressure of Caitlyn’s tongue, but Caitlyn keeps her touch light and teasing until, with a frustrated whine, Vi settles her full weight against her. Caitlyn rewards this, encouraging Vi with a firm grip on her thighs as she flattens her tongue, laving it over her clit with just enough pressure to make Vi give in and brace herself against the headboard.

Caitlyn watches hungrily as Vi rides her face, dragging her gaze over her body, drinking in the way her tits bounce and the flesh of her thighs dimple under Caitlyn’s fingers. She doesn’t back down when she feels Vi’s orgasm approaching. If anything, she leans in even harder, circling Vi’s clit with her tongue as she throws her head back and cries out towards the ceiling, her fingers curling into Caitlyn’s hair.

The sharp tug of it makes Caitlyn moan, and Vi tumbles over the edge with a muffled shout, Caitlyn’s name tumbling past her lips as she spills over Caitlyn’s tongue.

Vi can’t take her eyes off of Caitlyn. It isn’t an uncommon problem, but it is an inconvenient one, considering they came to this coffee shop under the guise of letting her work on her next novel. Caitlyn, however, has kept her eyes diligently on her laptop the entire time. Vi watches as she types something with one hand, using the other to bring her iced coffee to her lips, and she looks for all the world like a woman who had spent her entire adult life living in the twenty-first century. Like a woman with a job and a favorite coffee shop and a girlfriend who she has spent the better part of the year begging to adopt a dog, because she is.

Without lifting her gaze, Caitlyn nudges the tip of her boot against Vi’s shin.

“You’re staring.”

“Mhm,” Vi agrees easily, propping her chin on her hand so she can do it properly.

Caitlyn does look up then, a slow smile spreading across her face, revealing that perfect gap between her teeth. Vi wants to lean in and kiss that smile, so she does. Caitlyn laughs as their lips press together, but she leans into the kiss, cupping Vi's cheek with her hand as she pulls away, brushing her thumb over her tattoo.

"You're up to something," she says with teasing suspicion. "What is it? Did Powder change my ringtone to Casper the Friendly Ghost again?"

Vi laughs, and shakes her head.

"No, I swear. I'm just...really happy."

Caitlyn's eyes soften. She drops her hand down to to tangle their fingers together, squeezing Vi's gently, like it's the most natural thing in the world.