Chapter Text
The first time she woke up from a proper rest after she got out, she cried.
There's this middle-place in between consciousness and unconsciousness. Where she's not quite there. Where she keeps sinking back into something more vivid, something dangerous.
She had been so exhausted from the day that not even nightmares haunted her as they usually did. The bed offered to her screamed of comfort, of safety, with its fresh sheets and dense pillows.
Stomping boots is really all she hears. Everything else slips away again.
Then, with habit ingrained into her skull deeper than the scars on her fists, the buzzer woke her up. 5 AM on the clock, every day, without fail. And, with habit ingrained into her shattered mind, Vi jolted awake with no moment of hesitation. It was a sharp type of resurface, one that ripped her to consciousness with a vengeance.
There's confrontation outside of the alleyway, people yelling. People cheering.
With habit ingrained into her battered body, Vi swung her legs over the side of the bed and tried to train her eyes on the bars.
A bottle shatters, someone jeers sharply.
Except there were no bars, just a dark, barely-dim room that Vi didn't recognize. With habit ingrained now broken, Vi felt the shot of adrenaline in her veins, the terrible wrongness of change. The unease of difference.
For a moment, just a moment, she hears laughter down the street.
The first thing Vi noticed was the bed, because of how soft it was. It wasn't a paper thin slab of cotton, or a concrete floor. It was a soft, pillowy bed with softer sheets. She second thing Vi noticed was the quiet, how the buzzer she'd heard had been nothing more than a forced memory.
Vi stirs, whines out a pleading sound. The wound on the back of her head has clotted and blood is dried around her face and neck.
The third thing Vi noticed was her clothes, loose and covering her, keeping her warm. They weren't a thin scratchy tank top and thinner pants. Her eyes wandered around the room, then. From her bare knuckles to the soft pillow she was sleeping on, suspended in a moment of disbelief.
The cloak around her offers more warmth than she's had in a very long time, and if Jinx had gone and left her to die, Vi's grateful that she at least left her with something warm to curl into. There's more laughter, closer now, followed by a poof of powder that sprays the ground outside the alley.
Then, the moment Vi had put everything together, the phantom sounds, the bed and warm clothes and private room, something cracked.
Boots stomp back into her resting spot, but they're too light to be her tormentors. Vi glances up, sees a wild-eyed Jinx and almost flinches.
"Still alive, fat hands?"
Vi was free, was out. Woke up safe and comfortable and if she wanted to, she could just lay back down and rest her fragile soul forever.
When Vi winces, Jinx helps her sit up against the wall. And now, Vi can hear it more clearly, the shouts of Enforcers running down the street. Her pulse splits in twos and threes and trips over itself, and suddenly, that looming feeling is back.
Jinx smiles, she's trying to put something sarcastic on her face but each crack of worry slips through. "See you whenever, Vi."
Vi hunched over, wrapped her hands around herself, and let the raw relief wash over her in waves. For the first time in a long time, she let herself feel. All the beatings, the starving, the cold night and endless, endless crying was over. There wouldn't be another night where she woke up to the sounds of the warden's baton. There wouldn't be another night where she would wake up to screams or the cell door opening and faceless ghosts haunting her.
Jinx grabs one of her bombs from her belt, and pulls the pin with her teeth. When she hurls it outside of the entrance, it explodes in a plume of bright pink, a beacon to a call that's answered with a rough, commanding yell. In a flash of purple Jinx scales the walls next to her, and the stomping boots find their way to the end of their needless chase.
There was no more meaningless abuse, and Vi let herself feel, didn't choke back the sob of relief and didn't wipe her damp face. Because nobody was going to hit her for it anymore.
Blue flashes in Vi's eyes now, and for a moment she wonders if it's real or not, when the Enforcer shrouded in shadow demands her attention with the barrel of a gun. Vi's slipping under again, she feels it eating at her neck.
"Where did she go?"
Vi can only tilt her head into the small amount of light the alleyway gave. There's silence in her ears. It's loud and sounds like static when she revels in the sound of the voice. Boots walk, not stomp, closer, and the sweet painful blue is all Vi sees before she goes under.
It was finally all over.
***
The buzzer at 5 AM wakes her up. She can't move, when the screeching refuses to leave her ears. It blends and morphs into something rushing, eats at her head and bleeds out her ears when it meets the blood under her nails. There's something shifting across her swollen eyes, and Vi can't move. It's a lattice work of bright and flashing and things that threaten to drag her back under, into the blood red skies and hands she can't open, muscles she can't control.
Air doesn't know which way to move, it only knows how to expel itself with each desperate pant and plead.
Blood mixes with saliva down her chin and sprays with the cry of a dead man's name.
Vander. Please.
There's hands around her arms, lifting her dead-weight legs from underneath her, something sharp presses into the crook of her elbow and it's like lightning, the way her world flashes behind her tear-swollen eyes. Her muscles tense against her will and her teeth break blood on her tongue. A rough, ragged sound drags its way out of her throat and the shapes move, the flashing continues and the world crumbles as she meets something solid and cold.
Someone grips her jaw. Her wild eyes can only see green and blue.
They used to muzzle her.
Fight like a dog in a pit, fight like something wild and wounded and they'll let her go, they'll leave her alone. Thrash like the dead man will be right around the corner to save her, like he'll take her crumbling body and fight off the demons. That sharp thing in her arm tingles with the absolute wrongness of weakness slipping underneath her skin, before the pain is gone altogether. It takes mere seconds for something dense and thick to settle in her head. She can hear memories of her own screams, a voice too young.
Don't send me back.
Mom. Vander.
Muscles tense and she smells blood, can feel the connection in her shoulder rather than her fist, the hands holding her release and green shifts to purple and back to flashing.
'Run away.'
A broken and slurred cry escapes next, a final call for help when her legs buckle and she feels her half-numb body collapse under its own weight. The unnatural beast of a man saved her last time, from evil hands and complete weakness. He saved her and she needs him.
Nails chip and break against concrete, claw against pressure on her shoulders.
Don't send me back.
Death awaits her there, that's the only thing she does know. It looks like slate gray tiles and sounds like a never-ending buzzing bulb guarded in the ceiling by grates, it tastes like the pang of hunger on her tongue and the dry burn of thirst. Her head cracks against the grimy floor when she digs her bloodied nails into flesh. Blood seeps between her teeth, catching on dry lips. An outline forms in her unfocused eyes, faceless and dark. Gleaming brass mixes with the flashing in her eyes and Vi's boots scrape against the concrete when she fails to escape.
Please.
A ragged snarl catches in her throat as Vi cracks her skull against the outline, the pressure in her head immediately returns before all weight goes limp.
Come back. Don't let them hurt me.
Hands on her face, swiping away blood. She can't feel her jaw. She tries to pull away but only her neck twitches. A terribly broken sound seeps past her lips, a shattered sob echoes past the rushing in her ears.
"Vander!"
More sobs escape when the figures in her vision move away as she's tipped on her side. Everything else is muffled besides her own gasps for air. Hands on her shoulders, a pressing weight followed by the flickers of darkness that pulse with each pump of that wrong thing underneath her skin. Vi can't move. She fights it.
She loses.
***
Vander's holding her, the same way he did after he rescued them. 'You're okay, Violet.'
It's nice to hear his voice. It's been so long. She can't quite reciprocate the hug, her arms are dead weight, can't quite speak, either. Her tongue is lead.
'It's all going to be okay. I've got you.'
Water fills her charcoal-eyeline, it drips onto his stained shirt. The wounded thing inside her has finally found its way back to the pack, back to safety.
'You don't have to be scared. I'm not going to let anything hurt you.'
Tears soak into his shirt, a constant warmth that lights something long-dead within her.
'It's not your fault.'
Vi leans more into him, knows he'll support her weight.
'I was harsh, but it's not your fault. It never was.'
Some part of her knows this isn't real, that something is deeply wrong with her that's causing her to experience this, but she can't find it in herself to care. She's here. Vander's here. When she needed him the most, he came, and he's here now. Even if it means never going back to the world she knew, she'd choose to stay here instead, with her ghosts and the warmth of family, the warmth of something dead-
Wake up.
The paint is crusted and filthy on her face, tinted brown with blood. Her hands are numb. Trying to open her eyes fully is like trying to tear open stitches. It reverberates through her head until she squints. The only thing she can see is watercolor-darkness and a thin, strip of light coming from her left.
Everything hurts. She settles, now, in a wave of acceptance. She doesn't know where she is, doesn't quite care anymore. The weight of Jinx's cloak still covers her, she can't find the heart to find relief at not being back behind bars. Something is terribly, truly wrong with her. Something has been for a very, very long time. It's been a slow decay, a rot, chewing through her head until it reaches the stem and Vi gives up fighting.
She's given up.
If she dies now, whether from blood pooling in her brain or a trencher stabbing her in her sleep, she doesn't care. If she dies now, she only wants to go with Jinx's cloak around her.
A reminder that she once had comfort. That someone had once loved her, as she goes.
If she dies, she wants to die believing that someone is still here not for Vi, but for Violet. That someone is here for her when she was younger, more scared. When she wanted to be protected, with less hurt in her heart.
She twists her aching neck until half of her face is hidden under the cloak.
"You wouldn't stop thrashing until they put that on you."
Her sister's voice is tired, flat.
"Why can't you-" The words stick again, and Vi swallows hard. "Jus' let me die in peace." Vi rasps. She sounds unfamiliar to herself.
Her ghosts always haunt her, but they've never been this somber.
Even in Stillwater, when Vi was alone and starving half to death in solitary, the shadows of her sister and the looming figure of her mother never were this somber. They usually just screamed at her. Violent shadows that had her flinching, her mind rotting in the lowest cells they could offer. She'd flinch when lights flickered. They used to torment her about it.
"You don't deserve to go out forgetting how to breathe." Jinx responds. When Vi cracks open her eyes just a bit, she can only see the smudged outlines of pink eyes hiding in the corner. It's almost relieving in a way, to be able to see her ghosts again. It means that she can have that barely-there presence of what once was. It means she can have Mom back, Vander back.
Jinx shifts from her corner, the colors stick behind Vi's eyelids. "I was worried about you."
Vi just stares, feels something bitter and sour roll through her. "Fuck you."
She can't quite see still, but she can see the way Jinx recoils at her words. And for a moment, it feels nice to finally say what she feels, rather than drown in a bottle or suture over the wounds and pretend the hurt doesn't exist.
"I've always given. A-always put everyon' else first." Vi grits out, biting through every stutter and wheeze. "After everything you did to me, how dare you?"
It was torment, to relive the deaths of her brothers with the sickening dolls littered about the table. The rope that bound her wrists left burns for days. The nightmares of blue eyes on a platter never leave, neither does her own voice begging Jinx to not shoot, begging Caitlyn to not kill her. Vi had put everyone before her to protect them, and in turn it was all for nothing. Her life meant nothing, when she was put behind bars to never be remembered.
She has a right to be bitter. To be tired.
Jinx is still in the corner, nothing but a faint pink glow coming from her eyes. Vi sighs, feels the sound echo through her teeth and wonders how much longer this hurt is going to last, how much longer it will take for that thing in her head to finally put her down like the animal the warden said she was.
"I love you." Jinx mumbles. "It doesn't change what I did. What I did to you. But I love you." She shuffles forwards, closer, and kneels so that she's eye-level with Vi's bloodied face. "I wish none of this never happened. Maybe if I had listened, it wouldn't have."
If the blood pooling in her head or a rogue trencher with a knife doesn't kill her soon, Vi's sure that aching feeling in her heart will. Nothing is clear anymore, nothing makes sense. Vi's forgotten what it's like to not talk to her demons and wishes, wishes she didn't see them, see Jinx. Vi doesn't know how to be human anymore.
"When you disappear, 'm I gonna be back there?" Vi can't help but ask. The bitter feeling merges with the sickness and Vi doesn't think she can handle it, if Jinx were to leave and leave Vi to wake up behind bars. Vi knows that the moment she sees the slate gray and hear that single buzzing bulb, there wouldn't be much left of her mind to recover.
"Disappear?" Jinx sounds incredulous.
"Don' wanna wake up there again." Vi clarifies. It doesn't work, with the way the glow of Jinx shifts. "I wouldn't be able to forgive y-you, if you put me there." Jinx takes in a short, sharp breath, before it escapes in a half-sob.
"We both see ghosts, huh?" Jinx whispers, a hand absentmindedly playing with the edge of the cloak covering Vi's body. "No ghosts here, sis. I promise."
Vi shivers, "You always lie t'me."
Jinx sighs. "I know. Not this time."
Paint streaks down her face and Vi refuses to believe it's from tears. "Don't send me back."
Jinx just stares at her, eyelevel and Vi isn't sure what's reality anymore. The figures she see never deny what they are, but she isn't sure how her own head works after everything. Jinx just looks at her the way she used to do when Vi was cold and bleeding on concrete floors. Silent, a heavy presence on her mind. Vi would scream and beg that she was sorry that she'll do better, but it would always be the same. Powder would just stare at her, Jinx would just stare at her.
Vi lets her eyes slip shut, and prays to an absent figure that she doesn't wake up in a cell.
***
When the world eats at her peace once again and she wakes, Vi can't feel her hands. They're numb from the forearm down. The room is still dark and something is missing now. The corner is a little too empty, the shimmering purple absent from the room.
And in place, is someone in brass and blue, sleeping against the foot of the cot Vi's resting on. Memory refuses to connect the face, and Vi jerks up despite the fact that every movement is threatening to send her back under. Her numb hands scramble uselessly against the dry material of the cot.
Blue eyes shoot open, and get caught when they meet Vi's.
Memory connects, then. Burning hate and helpless betrayal and desperate want, desperate need. Nights and nights of begging to a figment of nothing for comfort, because she was the only one to give Vi that luxury. It's like a smack in the face with everything that demands to be felt, and Vi blisters.
"What'd you do to me?" It's slow to escape Vi's mouth, she has to try not to slur each word. She has to put up a front, a shield to protect herself from more hurt, from more betrayal. It's the most conscious she's been in a while.
The room she's in clearly is a safehouse of sorts, with the maps and symbols pinned to the walls.
And Caitlyn.
Need you.
Get away from me
"What did you do to me?" Vi asks again, digging her nails into the crook of her elbow, where that sharp thing had pressed it's venom into her veins.
"Vi." Caitlyn breathes. And despite the hurt, the anger, the betrayal, Vi feels her heart ache at the pure want she feels. "Vi, I-"
"My hands." Vi pants out, gripping her own shoulders, hiding herself from danger. Jinx's cloak slips off of her and she tries to grab it, but can't. Her fingers refuse to move accurately, everything is fuzzy in her head.
"Vi." Caitlyn urges, she comes closer and the full body flinch Vi gives in response is enough to make both of them stop in their tracks. Something terribly broken comes across Caitlyn's face, and a quiet, bitter part of Vi can't help but feel relief that Caitlyn finally feels remorse. "It's the painkillers." Caitlyn explains. Vi doesn't believe her. "You were in pain, I couldn't-"
"Since when do you care?" Vi tries to argue, but it comes out so, so weak instead. It comes out more as a plead, a beg, than a demand. "Since when-" Her voice breaks, and is cut off with a sob.
They used to hit her when she cried. Vi snaps her head up, ignores that strange feeling eating at her neck again, and bores her bloodshot eyes into Caitlyn's. They used to have a harder time hitting her whenever she stared them down.
Caitlyn doesn't move. Something so, so heartbroken creases her face. "I'm not going to hurt you."
Vi's red eyes narrow, blurred with tears. "What, then? You gonna arrest me?" Vi spits out, and it takes just those words in her own voice to make her heartbeat split into three, for her breath to catch and in a desperate move, for her to back away further from Caitlyn. "Don't send me back."
Water fills Caitlyn's eyeline, she blinks it away, and Vi wonders if she can see it too, the desperate animal trying to find its way home. "I won't. You're injured, you're just outside of Zaun." She explains, wringing her hands around each other "I... I couldn't leave you like that. You were so scared and I just-"
"I needed you." Vi whispers. She doesn't mean to say it but the sobbing drained her. She doesn't feel real. "I hated what you did to me, but I needed you."
"Vi."
What happened to her, it's not your fault.
I never wanted to be a lapdog.
Caitlyn's kneeling next to her cot, hands loose against the material. "I was just so angry. I never wanted to chase you away." The first hiccup in her breath cuts her sentence short, "I couldn't look at what you had become after what I did to you." Caitlyn rests her forehead against the cot, takes a shuddered breath in, "I'm so sorry, Violet."
Liar.
"You needed a doctor and I know Zaun had none. I was... scared."
How dare you?
Need you.
"Please. Just until the spasms stop. Please let me help you." Caitlyn looks up from the cot, eyes red rimmed and tears streaking down eyebags that weren't there before. "For the times when I couldn't be there. When I wasn't there."
How can I trust you after what you did?
Need you.
The pain medication is making her head fuzzy. Vi doesn't respond, can't respond. For every minute she's conscious and aware, she has 3 minutes lined up where the world ceases to make sense again. She can't register much besides the numbness in her hands, the quiet, barely there shaky breaths of Caitlyn, and soft hands returning the cloak back to it's resting point on Vi's shoulders.
Hate you.
Don't go.
Vi can't say no. She can't decline Caitlyn her wishes because even if she wanted to, she has no more strength to fight her off. Even if she wanted to, if that bitter part of her won over and Vi tried to leave, she knows that she wouldn't make it 2 feet from the bed before she fell. She's a desperate stray forced to trust that Caitlyn won't hurt her more, won't look at her with cold eyes and a devil on her shoulder demanding she put Vi away.
The thought makes her cower again.
"Don' send me back."
It's a weak form of agreement and a plea. It takes the rest of Vi's voice and leaves her shivering.
***
It gets worse.
Vi comes to shivering, breathing too fast and too hard to have a clear mind and is covered in a cold sweat. She's not real, there's no way she is. She doesn't know what's happening, and the sudden brightness of a light being turned on makes her head jerk into the pillow, sensitive eyes avoiding the light.
"Move her on her side, just in case."
The world shifts underneath her and the voice is the only thing that comes past the ringing in her ears.
Her voice.
Vi doesn't realize she's started sobbing until there's hands wiping away tears from underneath her swollen eyes. It's a touch she's been begging for ever since she learned what soft and warm was. The hands stay, they do not hurt her.
"Oh, Violet. I'm so sorry."
The hand traces over Vi's bruised face, catches on paint and drags it across her nose and up to her forehead when a palm rests there. It pulls away quickly, and with it another broken sound tears out of Vi's fragile chest.
"There isn't enough to help her here. I can't help her here."
Vi manages to crack open her eyes for a moment, her gaze glassy as it darts around the room.
"I'll get you somewhere safe." That sweet, desperate voice whispers near her ear, "You're going to be okay." And for a moment Vi can hear Vander in those words. For a moment he's promising to protect her again.
The fever eats through her wakefulness and it lulls Vi back into a false sense of security. She isn't fully conscious when she's being moved but some thrashing part of her, the part that still hides from loud sounds and screeching gates, it demands her to stay awake, it begs for her to be aware that something is happening and someone is moving her.
It's like the water that rolls under the bridge, white and green lights merge into one and everything that Vi should separately recognize all blurs into one. Sounds and sight are nothing but static, even the taste of blood in her mouth refuses to make itself known. The only thing that is real is the fear.
Don't take me.
Not again.
Every time those thoughts rise, every time a whimper slips past her lips, her voice responds.
Vi doesn't know if it's real or not. She only knows that it's the only thing that's preventing her heart from breaking into two. It makes the shivering less intense, when she thinks she feels a palm on her cheek, on her forehead. She hates herself for trusting Caitlyn. But she can't help it. She can't walk, can't even think. She can't open her eyes and can only trust Caitlyn to take her somewhere safe, or at least dump her in an inconspicuous spot.
Caitlyn doesn't dump her. There's three loud knocks and it reverberates through her head so violently that it makes her gag. Nothing comes up, she doesn't remember the last time she ate.
"Don't make me go back." It's a whimper, a helpless beg. A cry of a child that was once buried deep.
Caitlyn's voice is right by her ear, "I won't. Just try to stay awake."
Liar.
Do you feel like the hero now?
There's so much hate in her eyes still. Vi can sense it.
Her eyes are too swollen from blood and tears to see clearly, so Vi just closes them and shivers in the arms of whoever is holding her. In front of them, there's the sound of something heavy being pushed open, the hinges creak against each other.
They never open the main doors unless they're bringing you in unless they're bringing you back-
Another whimper. A shiver makes its way through her bones, up her legs and to her back. It sticks, sprouting a cold sweat and Vi can't stop herself from trembling. There's no hiding the fear in her heart, there's no hiding the hurt that's making her quiver like an abused animal.
Soft and warm is caressing her face again. "Do you know where we are right now?"
"I-I can't- please- d-don't leave me here-" It's all one word, barely understandable, wet with begging and tears Vi just can't stop shaking.
When fever bright eyes open again, the room is painted in greens and marrons. Vi chokes on a breath.
"We're in my home, Vi. I'm not leaving you anywhere." Caitlyn's brushing Vi's hair out of her face. She's all Vi can focus on.
Liar.
The world around her shifts and moves again before she's resting on soft and warm. It screams of vulnerability and 'it's not your fault'. Caitlyn's voice is mumbling something to someone else, and finally, the door clicks shut.
Vi's still trembling. It's too quiet.
"I don't know if you remember, but a doctor checked you over." Caitlyn explains. Now that it's just them, now that it's quiet, Vi can finally focus. She chooses to focus on Caitlyn's eyes, because her room is too bright. "You have a major untreated concussion. There isn't much that can be done besides rest and... and monitoring." Caitlyn gently, barely touches the back of Vi's hand. "There's things you can take to stop the shaking- the spasms. I want to know if it's alright with you."
When do you care?
Vi nods. Doesn't quite care anymore, so long as the meds will make the pain stop.
Caitlyn looks up, blinks hard a couple times with a shaky breath. "Okay. Good." The fingers resting on top of Vi's hand find their way between her fingers, intertwining them, and for a moment Vi is very, very glad she still wears her wraps. "It should have never come to this." Caitlyn whispers more to herself than to the Brawler. Vi just looks at her, tired eyes and half-cried off paint doing a poor job at hiding the bruising. Vi's always done a shitty job at hiding. "You're safe. You can let go, you can rest once we get the meds in you."
Need you.
The gentle permission speaks so loud to her.
"I will be here when you wake up. You're going to be okay."
Vi curls into herself, tucks her knees close to her abdomen so nobody will gut her in her sleep. The door opens again and someone bulky and wearing brass steps over the threshold. It's all Vi sees of him before a violent flinch forces her eyes closed.
"It's alright, I'll take care of it from here." She hears Cait whisper to him, followed by a low "Thank you." as he leaves. The door shuts and Vi feels Caitlyn barely slide her hand up her forearm, can feel her shuddered breath against her nose. When she opens her eyes, Caitlyn suddenly finds an interest in the IV bags in her hands. "It's a liquid tonic. I couldn't get anything else on such short notice, I hope that's alright."
Vi's eyes dart to the needle packaged against the sloshing bags. A bitter memory rises and Vi has to force herself to forget it. Out of all the things she's been forgetting lately, she just wishes she'd forget every aching moment of Stillwater. Even if it means erasing 7 years of who she is, even if it means forgetting what she's fought for. She'd take a thousand hits to the head just for the chance to never remember the way the warden's greasy hand felt on her cheek when he feigned care, or the way his filthy baton crushed her knuckles. With a grimace, Vi turns her head away and blinks away tears. If she pretends that she's not scared, then she won't remember. She offers her arm out to Caitlyn and pretends that the shaking in her hand is coming from exhaustion.
She wonders if Jinx is afraid of needles. She wonders if Mylo would have ever gotten over his fear of them.
There's a sharp prick in the crook of her elbow and Vi's heart immediately beats in twos and threes. She pretends she's not scared. She wants to die pretending that she's strong, like she used to be.
"Done." Caitlyn's voice sounds far away. Vi only realizes why when her lungs burn and she takes a sharp, desperate breath in. "You're going to feel drowsy. I want you to know that I am not going to take you anywhere, alright?"
Caitlyn was the only one who knew about how Vi had been taken away. She had looked at Vi with so much heartbreak in her eyes, so much pain, and promised that she'd never let anyone hurt Vi like that again. Now here Vi is, broken and bleeding and barely hanging on to the will to wake up. She's afraid that if she slips under, she won't want to wake back into the world where the good had lost, where she had lost herself.
Time slips by like it's rope being pulled out of her hands. Each moment burns and aches but she can't let go, no matter how much it bleeds.
She's young, playing with her mother around a crowded market stall.
She's older, knocking Mylo off her back after he had launched onto her, before he created a boy-sized dent in the wall.
She's in Stillwater, staring down the Warden as he tries to make her flinch.
She's in Caitlyn's room, pouring her regrets out before soft hands and even softer lips kiss her and touch her soul with a softness she's never felt before.
Caitlyn has kept true to her word, though. Vi has not been moved from her spot on the bed. The only time's she's been moved is when she comes to shaking, trembling so violently that Caitlyn turns her onto her side and just stares at her, keeps a painful watch over her until the shaking stops, until she's sure Vi's okay. There's so much muted grief in her eyes whenever Vi stares back.
The fever dies down with Caitlyn's persistent monitoring. At one point, Vi thinks she hears her talking to her father outside the doors, and wonders if he would ever want to see her bruised face in the house ever again. Vi wonders if Caitlyn will just throw her out once this is all over, wonders if Caitlyn is doing this out of some sick sense of pity. Even she has a hard time believing that when Caitlyn looks at her with such regret deepening the lines on her face.
At one point, she sees Vander over Caitlyn's sleeping shoulder. He doesn't say anything, and just looks at her coldly. His eyes are the brightest thing in the dark room. The moon refuses to cut shadows across him.
"Vander." Tears spring to her eyes and she doesn't know what she's saying, all she knows is the hurt from the disappointment. "I'm sorry," she chokes out. Bruised hands dig themselves into her hair and she can't stop begging, pleading for his forgiveness.
"Easy, Violet."
Vi sobs. She doesn't know what she's saying, the words coming out are just a jumbled mess, but she knows she needs to make Vander understand. She needs him to forgive her, to not hate her for what she's done.
Caitlyn's voice is soft, gentle as she reaches out to stroke Vi's hair, hands getting caught in the blood-caked mess in the back of her head.
"Do one thing for me?" She asks
"I can't- please- please I can't-" Vi cries.
"Just stay right here, okay? Give me one moment and stay right here."
Vi nods, and in a moment of weakness she presses herself into Caitlyn's touch while she tries to control her breathing. Caitlyn's stable hand leaves and Vi opens her eyes to an empty room. Reality is like a splash of cold water against her face and she feels disgusted at herself, for crying out to a dead man. When Caitlyn returns with a bowl of water and a cloth, Vi knows what she's offering.
The world tilts a bit when she sits up, and the tears haven't quite stopped yet. She knows her eyes are bloodshot and swollen when Caitlyn gently maneuvers her chin up and facing her. For the first time in a long time, Vi feels some amount of life in her, with the way she stares at Caitlyn like there's nothing else in the world.
She closes her eyes again when Caitlyn stops wiping the black stain off. More tears roll over her fingers and onto the cloth.
"Don't go."
Feels nice.
The plead is barely there, but it's so loud in its silence. The rest of the black stain lifts off her face and onto the cloth before Caitlyn tosses it to the side, before cupping Vi's cheeks with both hands and wiping the endless tears off of the heavy bags that darken Vi's face. The touch lights her up from the inside out, she whines.
"Doesn't this hurt?" Caitlyn asks. She gestures to the wraps around Vi's chest with her chin.
"It does." Vi knows it's not healthy, she knows the bruises under the wraps are abnormal. The pain is like a safety net, a constant reminder of her mistakes and how she’s atoning for them. She ignores everything else, the way her ribs constantly hurt, the way it's always hard to breathe.
"Come on." Caitlyn urges, slowly pulling Vi's swollen arm over her shoulder. "Some of your wounds are infected. A shower will do you good for the swelling as well."
The moment Caitlyn mentions it, Vi feels the shiver start again, and is forced to ignore that weak feeling that makes her afraid of being alone. And when Caitlyn comes back with clothes from before, ones that used to he hers, something bitter eats up her throat until Caitlyn leaves.
Vi has to force herself not to spiral. She grabs her hair, pulls hard and feels the tender skin of her head bite back at her actions.
Showers.
Beatings.
Solitary.
Don't send me back.
Showers were always the worst part of her week.
She does not keep the water warm. The steam might boil her alive. Instead, she keeps it as cold as it gets and despite being sober, she feels like she's going to sink into the floor and never come out. There's a sickness eating at her that's forcing the shake and tremble and the shadows she keeps seeing out of the corner of her eye. The poison she pours into her veins bleeds out her ears and demands to be known with each tear that rolls down face.
Her face is clean. Caitlyn cleaned it.
She can't bare to look at herself in the mirror.
By the time Vi's done, the cold water has numbed everything surface level until the complete wrongness of the throbbing in her head is making her nauseous.
She does not don her chest wraps. The clothes from before don't fit like they used to anyways. They're more baggy, and try to cling to missing mass.
Scars throb. Caitlyn's waiting for her when she hobbles out and hesitantly sits back on the bed. She knows soon that she's going to have to get a new IV, and she tries not to show the apprehension on her face when she looks at the sterile bag.
Caitlyn doesn't make eye contact with her as she fiddles with a box in her grip.
"May I see your hands?"
They take the wraps when you're going into the hole, they make you put down your weapons-
"No."
The word slips. If Caitlyn is shocked, she doesn't show it.
Scars make her hands tougher, so that she can't feel the punches, so that she can't remember what it felt like to hurt Powder. Anything to destroy them helps, and Vi thinks it's more of an addiction than the poison in her veins.
She was losing her mind in Stillwater when she sliced her palm open just to forget the way her little sister's face felt under her knuckles. The burn, the ache, punching walls and letting her knuckle bleed over and over was the only release she could use. Her palms and knuckles scarred with pockmarks and slices, burns and breaks, torn skin and scratches or whatever she could use at the time, soaking her bloodied hands in alcohol just to scream. Just so they'd feel numb.
She punched a mirror and the sweet lick of blood felt better than the constant agony in her chest. It brought her back to reality, when her knuckles wept crimson.
Maybe she has no strength left, maybe she's not good at keeping her word, but she slowly, so slowly, holds her hands out in resignation, palms up like she's giving herself up for arrest.
Vi hasn't seen her hands in a very long time, the same way she hasn't been able to look at herself in the mirror. They're worse than she remembers, the sight of mangled skin prevents her from pulling away.
Caitlyn doesn't say anything. She just wraps her palms with clean cloth.
She was the only one who ever took it seriously. The one Enforcer who had looked at her only checked out of necessity, and declared that as long as it was only her hands, it wasn't his problem. Caitlyn was the only one to look at her palms, and ask if Vi wanted to talk about it. Vi will never forget about it, the way Caitlyn had kissed her knuckles with reverence, tracing the lines of Vi's palm with a calloused trigger finger, before trailing to her lips and kissing her like there was something to love.
"I won't be far." Caitlyn whispers after it all, once Vi's half-asleep from the painkillers. "I promise, I won't be far."
Vi believes her.
***
When Vi was young, she used to pray to Janna. She never believed it would change much, but the barely-there hope meant most to her. She'd sit on her bunk, surrounded by the noise of the bargoers late into the night while her sister and brothers slept, and would ask that they be protected, that someone, something, would keep them safe for as long as she lived. Vander would check in on them every once in a while, see if any of them were having night terrors, and then retreat back to the bar to serve the undercity. When the bar would finally quiet, Vi would slowly sneak out of bed and wander her way into the main area. Some nights, Vander would tell her to go back to sleep, the rest he would toss the cloth off his shoulder and have Vi clean the glasses. Vander would never say much in those moments, but Vi could see his gaze, his pride in his family, in her, when she'd help close up for the night.
When Vi was in Stillwater, Vander was just as quiet. She had stopped praying, then, and resorted to begging instead. Starving in solitary and losing her mind, Vi would just talk. Whether it was to Janna or to another absent god or to Vander, she would talk to them just to fill the quiet, so she wouldn't lose her mind. When the hallucinations started, Vander would look at her the same way he used to do in the bar, the same way she used to look at Powder when she was tinkering on her projects, at Mylo when he'd work on his lockpicking, at Claggor when he would ramble about some textbook he stole from a Piltover library. For a very long time, that comfort was all she had. When the begging shaped into pleading, Vander's look became colder, distant, hateful. Vi would flinch away from the shadows and paint the walls with her knuckles until the look left her head. Until the memories of their corpses wept away like the crimson staining her skin. Vander would look at her and Vi would wonder why it wasn't her who had died, that night.
Tonight, Vander's looking at her with regret. It's a deep type of stare, one built out of sadness not because of her, but for her. Her father looks at her like it's an apology, like he's trying to say 'I'm sorry.'
Like he's trying to say 'I love you.'
Vi's long given up talking to her shadows and expecting a response.
The past few days haven't made much sense, Vi hasn't had half a mind to care even if they did. She's been half-awake, screaming when she wakes up and trying, failing, to leave Caitlyn's home. She doesn't need her. She doesn't need anyone. She needs to be left to rot at the bottom of a drop rather than be forced to take the damage of betrayal again and again by the same two people who refuse to leave her side.
She doesn't deserve love, she's not worthy of love.
The fire she's sitting in front of is eating her alive. She feels like she's trapped in the way it looks, in the way it threatens to consume the whole library she's in if one spark were to land wrong. It's dark out, cold from rain. Vi blisters at the fact that if she were still in Zaun, she would have probably froze by now. She glances down at the coffee table, glares at the pitcher of water on the wood like it is the issue to all her problems. She wishes in her hands was a glass of liquor, yet she still tries to appreciate the clean, clear water in front of her. It's definitely unnatural, but it doesn't stop the itching underneath her skin. She doesn't remember who told her, if it were Caitlyn or a doctor, but she knows drinking will make it worse. There's been better moments and worse moments these days. She's still taking something to make sure she doesn't shatter again, so that she doesn't lose control of her body like before.
Every waking moment is another painful throb in her battered head.
Two gentle knocks echo throughout the room, and the door opens. Vi doesn't hide the flinch, and she bows her head when Caitlyn comes and sits near her on the couch. A slight glance to her left reveals Caitlyn's dead-tired form, and in her hands, a bundle of cloth.
"I found this when clearing out the safehouse." She starts, "I figured Jinx gave it to you. You wouldn't calm down until you had it." She absently rolls the edge of the cloth between her fingers, and Vi finally looks up at her. It's a peace offering, a sign that shows she's listening and that she's conscious. "Seeing you down there, I had two options. Either go after Jinx, finally get back at her for what she's done, or help you." Caitlyn looks up for a moment, blinking hard, "The moment I recognized you, it was like that hole I had tried so hard to stitch over was reopened, and I could only think of "What have I done?" She clenches her fists in the cloak, and Vi doesn't miss the waver in her voice. "And I hate that the only way I felt I could atone for that was this. You don't deserve to be hurt so badly that you couldn't tell what was reality or not." Her clenched fists bring the cloak to her forehead, head bowed, "You deserve safety, to be warm and healthy and- you don't deserve what I've done to you, and I'd give everything so that you could have the life you deserve." The first tear falls from blue eyes and Vi doesn't stop staring. "You deserve your family, your sister and father and I... I don't deserve you."
When the blood pooling in her head didn't kill her, Vi's sure the tears of Caitlyn might.
"No good deeds can undo our crimes." Caitlyn brings the cloak down from her face, eyes reddened and a scowl etched into her skin, "Maybe I'm selfish, but I hope you can find some peace with my words."
Vi knows then, that she can't respond the way Caitlyn wants her to. But she tries her best.
Slowly so that she doesn't overexert herself, Vi peels the cloak out of Caitlyn's hands. She responds the only way she knows how, and she tilts her body so that her head gently comes to rest across Caitlyn's lap. With the cloth in her arms and her head resting against Caitlyn, something feral finally settles within her. The wounded animal is safe, and protected.
Caitlyn's hands shake when they slowly drag themselves across Vi's scalp, and her body shivers in a sob when Vi tilts into the touch. Things finally unwound, the air of warmth seeps into her very structure and every word disintegrates without sound. The structure, the simplicity of it all. Vi sighs and closes her eyes and for the first time in a very, very long time, her thoughts lift away into steam. There's nothing else.
"Thank you, Violet." It comes out quiet, like the mere breath in her words will break the fragile trust that's been built. "Thank you so much."
Vi tilts herself so that she's pressed more against Caitlyn's body. The hands in her hair threaten to take everything else away. "You came for me, Cupcake."
***
The area around Vander's statue is empty when it's cold out. Vi was barely able to make the trek herself, with the way each long jump caused vertigo and nausea. But she had to come here. There was no denying herself that, to look at a physical memory of her father, rather than a ghost. The realness of it makes it hard for her to look him in the eyes, and for a moment, she feels a lot younger than she actually is. For a moment, she's in the bar, wiping shot glasses and cleaning the nozzles of the beer kegs with her old man, while her siblings sleep safely downstairs. Just for a moment, it's only them. She winces and pulls Jinx's cloak tighter around herself. The cold makes it hard to think.
"Wondered if you'd still be around."
The voice comes from the other side of the statue, and Vi takes a deep breath to regulate her brain.
"Me too."
"Still seeing ghosts?"
Vi looks at Vander's statue, wonders if he counts. "Not right now."
Glowing eyes glance at her from the darkness that Vander's giant frame offers. Powder always looked so small compared to Vander, and even now nothing's changed. "Do you hate me, Vi?"
Vi closes her eyes and shudders out a sigh. "I hate what happened to us." Caitlyn's words come back to her and her eyes burn with unshed tears, "We deserved better. I don't hate you." Vi puts her hands in her pockets, rocks back on her heels and bites the inside of her cheek.
She wishes often that things would have been different, she begged for it every day in Stillwater. Those memories are never going to leave her, neither are her mistakes. Neither are Jinx's.
"Thank you." Vi starts, "I... I think you saved me."
Jinx emerges from the shadows, and Vi notes the paleness to her sister's skin, whether from the cold or the shimmer, she doesn't know. "I was scared." Jinx admits, and Vi can hear Powder in those words, at how young they sound.
"Me too." Vi repeats.
Jinx flings herself into Vi's arms, pulling her tightly into a hug so quickly that it makes Vi's head dizzy again. She reciprocates the embrace. Not only has the feral thing in her found its away back home, but it's also found its family. She pulls Jinx closer, wraps her in the tightest hug she can imagine because for a chunk of time, Vi wasn't sure if she'd ever hug her sister again. In Stillwater, she stopped begging for it, lost that hope so, so long ago. After their fight, Vi never expected Jinx to care for her enough to get help, and when Vi was half-dead on a street in a ratty cloak-
"I love you, too." Vi finally whispers. Jinx chokes out a sob into her shoulder, and it feels like maybe things will be good again, maybe after all the starving, the freezing, the abuse and loneliness, she has her sister again. "We'll be okay." Jinx nods her agreement into the stolen cloak, and Vi closes her eyes.
Under the watch of Vander's statue, there's finally a moment of peace.