*BONUS CHAPTER*

Hi everyone! This story is very special to me, and I thought it may be nice to add in a little bonus chapter! This story always made me a bit curious as to how my family would even react if I showed up at their doorstep as a talking animal, so here is a fun chapter to explore that weird concept. I hope you enjoy it!

Isabelle was glad her parents didn't own any pets. It was an odd thought that she hadn't expected to enter her mind, but it was certainly true. If she had to fight it out with a dog, or even another cat, she wasn't sure she could win without at least trying to use some magic. She also wasn't entirely sure if she could use magic on this side of the teleportation device. Was magic a thing on Earth without her realizing it? Was it like all of those stories of hidden societies hoarding the knowledge to themselves? She didn't want to have to test that theory.

Her parents usually kept a very clean home. The porch was swept regularly to take off any dirt that had been left by rogue winds and the lawn was mowed often to keep a regimented length. It was one of the first things Isabelle noticed once she looked around while waiting for the front door to open- following her three knocks. The front of the home was no longer the tidy idyllic picture she remembered. The lawn was overgrown and there were visible dirt marks all over the porch. It wasn't unsightly, but it was clear to someone that had grown up here that her parents had not been keeping up with their usual habits.

Isabelle had her mind split on whether she would have liked to have Book with her or not. It wasn't with her at the moment, and the absence made Isabelle realize just how much she had relied on its company over the recent weeks. It was a friendly presence that doubled as a good method of escape, if needed. She felt like she could use that presence now, but it seemed like Book wasn't capable of the trip for the time being. It also wouldn't help first impressions if there was a living, magical book as well as the talking, pink cat.

The lock of the door snapping open brought Isabelle back into the moment, looking up and watching the handle turn. It wasn't turning slowly, but Isabelle felt like it was taking an age to twist around.

Isabelle sat back and watched as the door opened, seeing her mother open it and look around for whoever had knocked. After a short moment, her mother looked down and saw her.

"What the heck?" Her mother said quietly, "what did someone do to you?"

Isabelle knew that her mother was likely talking about the vibrant shade of pink and purple of her fur. She was also aware of the fact that her mother had no chance to think it was actually her within this body. Neither of those thoughts stopped her from instinctively answering the question.

"It's a funny story actually," Isabelle said, "can I-"

She was cut off by her mother screaming. Isabelle, thankfully, had the reflexes to dodge her mother stamping towards her, before she slammed the door and left Isabelle back by herself on the porch.

Isabelle sighed. She kicked herself mentally for not expecting such an outburst of a reaction. How would she react if she was presented with a talking multicolored cat on her doorstep? Before the last few months, of course.

Isabelle walked off of the porch and made her way into the back garden of the home, hopping over the fence in order to get in. From there, she sat in the center of the garden, so that she was out of sight from other homes, and waited. She sat, staring up at her family home, trying to look as unthreatening as possible. Every once in a while, she would notice movement from behind the windows. She figured a slow-burn approach was best for the first meeting. Let her mother get used to the idea that there really is a talking cat in her garden waiting to see her. She would have to address it eventually.

It took her mother an entire hour of skulking behind curtains and peeking over at her to come out into the backyard and make it clear that she was okay to chat. She hovered by the open doorway and indicated for Isabelle to come over if she wanted to.

Isabelle happily accepted and began to approach, but she still took it slow, as if walking up to a cornered animal. She wasn't sure how her mother would react to anything that was to come and it should be easier for her than for Damien.

"So, what is this," her mother asked, "some sort of magical fairy story where you grant me three wishes and somehow ruin my life in the process?"

Isabelle shook her head, waiting patiently in front of the open doorway that her mother stood within.

"I think it would be better if you sit down before we begin our chat," Isabelle said calmly.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Her mother said, "you aren't like some vampire, right? Having to ask for entry before you're allowed into a home?"

"Do I look like a vampire?"

"Well… no, but the point still stands," her mother said, slightly flustered.

"I'll explain when we're inside," Isabelle said softly, "but I promise you that I won't be a danger to you."

"Where is the off switch?" Her mother started saying, talking to herself once again. She was looking intently at Isabelle, but not at her eyes. "This must be some stupid prank."

"It isn't a prank; can we please get inside already?" Isabelle said curtly, trying to not let her own temper rise to the situation. Although her mother appeared dead set on continuing the argument, Isabelle didn't wait to listen to what her next issue was. She was mere feet from the inside of her family home and not even her own parent would stop her from getting inside those walls. Isabelle darted towards her mother, causing the lady to yelp and start backwards, opening up the doorway further for Isabelle to rush through.

Isabelle then hurried into the living room and sat on the couch where she had always sat throughout the years she had lived there. Each family member had their own spot in the living room and Isabelle was going to sit in hers- so, she did.

"Hey!" Her mother shouted as she came rushing into the room after Isabelle, "get off there this instant!"

"Why?" Isabelle laughed, "is it reserved or something?"

"As a matter of fact," her mother snapped, "yes. Yes, it is."

"Now why would you go giving my seat away?" Isabelle asked, giving her mother a long stare and falling quiet to allow the words to properly sink in.

"It isn't… It's…" Her mother's voice trailed off.

"I think you'll be needing that sit-down, like I suggested," Isabelle said, with what she could best approximate as a sad smile, "we have a lot of catching up to do, mom."

Isabelle's mother shakily gripped the armrest of the couch perpendicular to the one Isabelle was sitting upon. She lowered herself into a sitting position, still speechless.

"Are you ready for me to start the tale?" Isabelle asked, "as I have a lot to get through before Damien arrives."

"You keep that-" Isabelle's mother had an instinctive and furious reaction to the name. She had, of course, mourned him, grieved him and accepted his passing. A look that passed between confusion and curiosity crawled over her mother's face. "What do you mean by that?"

"So, you're ready?" Isabelle asked.

"Yes. What is going on?"

"Buckle in," Isabelle smiled, "the only way you're going to believe any of what I'm about to tell you is thanks to the fact I'm now a talking cat."

Isabelle recited her tale of Runeterra, from the moment she woke up in the world, right up to when she travelled back home. Of course, Isabelle also left a lot of the violence to the imagination, reducing the intensity of some of the fights she had both seen and been a participant in. She didn't want to worry her mother, only to explain where she had been and why it had happened.

Eventually, Isabelle finished the story and her mother leaned back into the couch with a deep sigh; she didn't even realize she had been leaning forwards for most of the story.

"You said Damien is arriving," her mother said slowly, "when? And why so much later?"

"I'm not sure when, to be honest," Isabelle shrugged, "but he will be here at some point. He didn't want to just surprise you with an armed, talking walking fish person. We both figured a talking cat was abstract enough to break the ice."

"Well... You guessed right," her mother nodded, "but now I need to see Damien. If he's alive, anywhere, I need to see him. I know what…"

Isabelle's mother trailed off, talking to herself, seemingly forgetting about Isabelle for a moment. With her sharpened senses of hearing, Isabelle picked up enough information from the quiet rambling that her mother was planning a dinner. A family dinner. For the first time in however long it had truly been since Damien had gone missing that horrid day.

"Damien is now a fish person?" Her mother asked, perking up.

"Yes. I think I made that clear enough in the story."

"Do you know if he eats fish?"

"I doubt it, he can talk to them. I'd imagine it wouldn't be very pleasant for him."

"You're a cat. Do you eat fish?"

"I'll eat whatever you'd like to cook," Isabelle smiled, "I've missed your cooking."

"Not so picky anymore then?" Her mother awkwardly laughed.

"It's been… a long journey."

"Good, then let's make dinner and we can talk more about it while we wait for the others to arrive."

"I'd like that," Isabelle said, hopping off the couch, "I'd like that a lot."

Damien was back on Earth. He'd done some waiting in Piltover. He'd then struggled to wait around, and so he paced the streets of the city. He found himself sitting by the riverside. He wasn't looking for a conversation or company, this time, instead, he hoped he could find some part of his old self under these waves.

The last thing Damien had seen before waking up under the waters in Runeterra, was the thrashing waves of Earth. Had he been a good person before his death? Would his family even want him back after all this time? Even as a Yordle? He didn't know the answers to those questions, but they plagued his mind anyway, demanding a response. The only way he was going to find out and silence the questions, was to return and face his family.

It wasn't going to be pretty, but he had become used to that after these long weeks.

Damien hurried away from the middle of the street. It was darker now, and the sun was close to setting, so he had possibly gotten lucky to not be spotted for a second time that day.

He padded his way down the sidewalk toward his old home. Hopefully, as he hadn't heard anything from Isabelle, her approach had worked and the parents would be ready for him.

As if he were simply just another guest rolling up to the house, Damien jumped up onto the porch and knocked at the door. He put on a smile to hide how nervous he was, and waited. There was no going back. Well, there was, but he wouldn't be welcome at his family home if he screwed this up now.

The door hesitantly creaked open after the latch was engaged. An eye, that looked just as anxious as he felt, stared down at him from the ajar doorway.

"Hi!" Damien smiled, "long time, no see?"

"Isabelle!" Damien's father's voice rang out from somewhere close to the eye, but obscured by the door, "is this Damien?"

Damien heard quick pattering footsteps and Isabelle appeared by the door, too, closer to his own head height.

"Yes," Isabelle said, "now, please let him in before the neighbors see."

"Oh, yes, right," their father said, unsure how to act normally in such a new situation.

"Good timing," Isabelle said to Damien as he walked in, "we were just about to serve dinner."

"Oh, yes!" Damien grinned, "it's been so long. I missed mom's cooking."

"That's what I said," Isabelle nodded, trotting ahead of Damien, who was walking ahead of his dumbstruck father, still standing by the front door. Damien was going to have to do a lot of explaining over this dinner. He shuddered at the thought, but was far too happy at the prospect of being properly welcomed by his family once again. He didn't want to push his father just yet. Seeing a fish person is daunting for first-timers. From their reactions, it was apparent that Isabelle had done at least some preparatory explaining before he'd arrived. Good thing he had taken so long to return.

"Damien?"

Damien could hear his mother's hesitant voice before he saw her. He turn the corner into the kitchen and could see her face. She didn't recognize him. He couldn't blame her, but it stung all the same.

The dishes were set atop the table and Damien and Isabelle took their seats as if it were just a normal family meal. Looking down at the plates and realizing that one of them had paws, reality set in quite quickly. Damien looked from Isabelle's troubled look at the plate, to the staring and almost bulging eyes of their parents looking across the table at the pair of them.

Damien decided it was his turn to try and break the tension.

"So," he said with a grin, "how's the weather been?"

It was an incredibly poor attempt at humor and his mother broke down into tears almost as soon as he'd finished his sentence. His father, however, looked on- furious.

"What sort of sick joke is this?" He asked, shaking ever so slightly in his anger.

"What do you mean?" Damien asked.

"What do I- What do I mean?!" Damien's father nearly erupted from his chair in his fury, his mother sobbing even louder. "Look at you two! One of you is a damn cat for crying out loud. I don't even know what you are. How can I tell if this isn't some messed up dream conjured up to haunt us over our dead children?"

"They're missing, not dead," their mother corrected the father.

"We're right here," Isabelle said quietly, "we aren't missing anymore."

"If it helps, I was dead," Damien said, and then recoiled as Isabelle swiped her claws at him, "sorry. I can't really handle situations like this without humor."

"You didn't really make jokes before," their mother said, looking up.

"I know, right?" Damien chuckled, "I was such a stick in the mud."

"What changed?" Their father said, in an almost accusatory tone.

"Perspective," Damien said, shrugging. "I'm not trying to be some wise guru, don't worry. I've died at least twice by now and I've had to deal with a lot of suffering of those around me. Someone has to be the light to guide others through the darkness and, I hope, I can bear that burden."

"You realize you're speaking utter garbage right now?" his father said dismissively, "we mourned Damien, we mourned Isabelle, and now you two come in claiming to be them and expect me to just be okay with it?"

"I get that it's hard to grasp," Isabelle began before her father cut her off.

"It isn't the grasping that's difficult," he snapped, "it's the nonchalance you two are showing with this whole thing. It's madness and you're just walking and talking like it's just another Tuesday!"

"I can explain why," Damien said calmly, "if you'll allow me to?"

His father just nodded, clearly trying to control his anger while his mother was gradually managing to get her tears under control and wipe them away.

"It's more simple than you would first think," Damien explained, "we have both already experienced our panic and confusion at the situation that we've been dealt. We've had weeks to contemplate how to move and interact with the world in our new bodies. How to accept what happened to us in our old bodies. What we would do when we finally got back home, to you two. How much we would risk to get back home in the first place. This conversation has been on our minds constantly ever since we woke up in these new bodies. We only appear calm because we've prepared ourselves for this. We can help you two through it too."

"That's right," Isabelle nodded, "Damien helped me through some struggles of my own with coming to terms with things. Do you… have any questions?"

"How are you speaking, when you're a cat?" Her mother asked quickly, as if the thought had only just surfaced. Her eyes were red raw, but other than that she had fought back the tears.

"I'm quite a bit more than just a cat," Isabelle said, smiling proudly, "I can do magic, like I explained in the stories earlier. I think I'm not really a cat but something else. Sort of like how Damien is something called a Yordle, but there are all kinds of different looking Yordles."

"Are they all fish people?" Her father asked, curiosity beating frustration for the speaking role for once.

"No," Damien said, shaking his head, "I haven't met another Yordle without fur yet. One I did meet had large ears like a bunny rabbit, while another had a thick moustache that covered his mouth."

"Dr… Helmanringer?" Their mother said slowly, nodding and looking like she was trying to piece what Damien was saying back to what Isabelle had described.

"Heimerdinger," Damien said, "but well remembered."

"You're so... different now," their mother commented, "not just in looks, but there's something else about you."

"An adventure like the one we've been on, changes you," Damien said, "but I promise underneath all of this, it is still me. Still your son."

"I can barely take anything you're saying seriously," their father said, settling back into his chair. "You look ridiculous."

"Sure," Damien said, "but I can also live for unimaginably long amounts of time, swim to unparalleled ocean depths and fight a horde of pirates by myself."

"Let's not start resorting to sarcasm," their mother sighed.

"I wasn't. I've done all that and more."

"And yet you have this," Damien's mother said, reaching around the table and grabbing at Damien's tail.

Truth be told, Damien had almost forgotten it was there. He'd become used to the alterations to his form. His tail instinctively batted her hand away.

"Sorry," Damien smiled, "it's got a bit of a mind of its own, sometimes."

"Does it help you swim?" His mother asked.

"I guess so," Damien said, "although I don't really think of it as swimming anymore. I can teleport with water, too."

"I thought Isabelle said she was the teleporting one?" Their mother asked.

"Sure, I am, but some of our skills can overlap a little," Isabelle said. She had resorted to picking up bits of food by spearing them with her claws.

"It's going to take some time," their mother said, "but we really are happy you two are back and safe."

"Even with... whatever your appearances may be," their father agreed.

Damien was elated to hear this. Any sort of positive response at all was all he was hoping to hear and soon, everyone else at the table was laughing.

"What?" Damien asked, "what's the matter?"

"Your tail," Isabelle snorted.

Damien looked around and, like the tail of a dog, it was reacting to his extreme happiness. Waggling around, almost dancing in the air of its own accord.

"Stop it, you," Damien muttered trying to grab at his tail as the others laughed at the absurdity of the situation they were now in. This was definitely the most interesting family in the neighborhood now.

The dinner continued on with polite conversation. The tension broken by the jokes, the family now began to settle back into it as if it were just another night together and that the past few months had been but a fleeting dream.

Eventually, however, Damien and Isabelle retreated upstairs to give the parents some time to recollect themselves- as well as to check out their old rooms, having been gone for so long.

Neither room had been tampered with at all. It was as if they had never left at all.

Damien's room was tidy and well-organized. A distinct difference to his personality now. He thought back on what he was like before his deaths and he struggled to truly remember.

He had changed so much in such a short amount of time. He had inhabited this body, but this body had helped to morph him into something entirely different. Something better than he used to be.

He took his time sitting down on his bed and absorbing the atmosphere of the room. He had memories of a life lived within these walls. Different decorations told the stories that made up who Damien used to be. He fought to recognize it now. He lost that fight. He wasn't the same person and it was impossible to pretend otherwise. He had been through too much. He had died. This was no longer his life, but the life he had left behind- willingly or otherwise.

As Damien sat, attempting and failing to reminisce, he heard the muted, quiet sniffs of stifled tears coming from Isabelle's room. It was time to be the big brother once again.

Isabelle had entered her room and, due to not being within Runeterra for as long as Damien, had had a completely different reaction. This was the room she had been longing for, for so long. Damien had left this world behind along his journey, but Isabelle's entire journey had been to get back here; to this room. She struggled for a moment, as the change in perspective made everything look different and a little strange. She was the size of a large cat now, instead of a normal person. She would have to get used to it, but she would get used to it.

Isabelle walked through her room and hopped up onto her bed. Slowly, thinking over all of the different issues that had come her way in these recent months, she began to cry. She curled up into as small a ball as she could and tried to hide the sounds she was making as she cried upon the bed she had dreamed about reaching, once again, for the past few months.

There was a knock at the door. Isabelle hadn't closed it fully, just in case she couldn't re-open it. She had lost track of time and wasn't sure how long she had been crying, but she tried to hide any evidence of her tears on her face by rubbing her head into the bedsheet.

"Come in," Isabelle said, her high-pitched voice sounding ragged.

"Hey," Damien said as he walked in hesitantly, "how are you holding up?"

"As well as could be expected."

"Same, but this always meant more for you than it did for me. Let me be here for you."

"Thank you," Isabelle said, smiling sadly up at Damien.

Now, with the support of Damien beside her, Isabelle let herself feel the pain she had been trying to bottle up since the first days of her transformation. What had she done to deserve such a price? She had been clinging onto the hope that travelling back to Earth would reverse the transformation and she would only be a cat in Runeterra, but somehow, she was still a cat now. It was unfair. She struggled to eat food with the family. She would need someone to cut up her food like a child, or feed it to her in a bowl like a pet. Utterly demeaning. She couldn't open doors and all of a human's past-times required hands and fingers to use. She was too short and too incapable to be able to look after herself and enjoy her life on Earth once again. It was the cruel cost of trying to do right by her brother. The reality of this cost was only just settling in with Isabelle and she began to cry anew. Damien rested a hand on her back as she shook slightly through the tears.

"It's horrible," Isabelle said, "I'm going to be like this forever."

"Could be worse," Damien replied, "you could be in a body that needs a glass of water splashed over it every once in a while to avoid drying out like old paper."

Isabelle laughed weakly.

"I can see why that would suck, yeah."

"Come on," Damien said with a light-hearted tone, "are you really going to let this one obstacle stop you? After all that we've overcome?"

"I guess I'm not feeling my best after a whole afternoon of being looked at like an alien by my own parents."

"That's reasonable, but how about we remind you of just how awesome you are?"

"How would you do that, then?"

"A trip down memory lane?" Damien said. Isabelle couldn't place his tone. He seemed to be picking somewhere between joking and sorrowful himself. She didn't want to be made fun of, but she didn't think Damien had it in him to make fun of her in these sorts of moments anymore. He had matured- in some ways- beyond that sort of pettiness. He was kinder and more empathic. Perhaps he had always been empathic, he had just needed these recent experiences to show him that, too. "Where do you want to start?"

"Look, I really don't see how this is going to help things," Isabelle said, "we're stuck as deformed little beings in a world that won't accept us and isn't built for us."

"We aren't stuck in either," Damien replied, "we have the ability to pass between the both of them. We can get the best of either one. We can test the wonders of magic in a world that hasn't been fully explored yet, and then be home for dinner with the family we had thought we'd never see again. How is that a negative?"

"You saw their faces at dinner. Hell, you saw how I struggled to eat a simple meal."

"Everything has a learning curve," Damien said softly, "they will get used to the new way of things and, as they do, it'll become second nature to prepare your meal in a way that helps you out. You're no less a person, just because you have fur. I have gills and a damn flipper tail."

"You're so much better at this than I am," Isabelle said.

"I had help," Damien replied, gently squeezing a reassuring hand on Isabelle's back. "You do, too. Now, about why you're awesome. Remember when you single-handedly organized and directed a terrified mob of people away from a potential mass-murdering demon?"

"I feel like that's a bit of an exaggeration, Oh Captain Fish."

"What were your first thoughts when you saw me as a fish?"

"Other than, oh sweet! A large dinner?" Isabelle laughed, coughing a little through the tears, "that was a joke, don't worry. You don't look tasty anyway. I didn't know it was you, of course. I was certainly shocked at seeing any creature as unique as a walking, talking, karate fish with a spear."

"I don't know karate," Damien said, "and it's a trident. What do you mean I don't look tasty? Go on, try me!" Damien started to push his hand in front of Isabelle's face while laughing. His attempts at breaking through the tension and getting Isabelle to relax a little were slowly starting to pay off.

"Ew! Stop it already!" Isabelle complained as Damien laughed.

"You know, with that kind of body," Damien said, "there are all kinds of things you could do here that a normal human can't. And people won't be able to question it either. You're a pink cat, they'd be more worried about them seeing things than trying to chase you down."

"I could create a new urban myth," Isabelle chuckled.

"So, could I! Oh, that's a great idea."

"Did you ever think this would be what would get us talking like this?" Isabelle asked. She appeared to be done with crying for the moment, but Damien wasn't going to let up on the affection until it was a certainty.

"What would? Multiple deaths, reincarnations in other worlds and an angry goth rabbit?"

"I didn't really get the chance to talk to Vex," Isabelle said thoughtfully, "what was she like?"

"Intense," Damien said, "but I didn't really get the chance to talk to her much, either. It was more me talking at her, while she glowered away in the corner of whichever cell we were being kept in at the time. She was brilliant though. She cared a lot more about others than she let on. Somehow, out of all the people, I think it was her that helped me become more empathetic over my time in Runeterra."

"Not Lux?" Isabelle asked, and she felt Damien tense up slightly at the name, "sorry."

"No, don't worry," Damien said after a short pause. "Vex showed me that caring for others doesn't always have to be a visible thing. It doesn't matter how you're viewed, as long as you stay true to what you believe and do what is right when it counts. Lux was so much the polar opposite of Vex. Lux had none of the freedom Vex had, until suddenly she had it all and Vex and I were captured. Lux risked everything to help us and then risked everything again and again for others in need. She is the drive that will keep me going. Vex is the heart, and Lux is the soul. Similar, but ever so different."

"I don't really get what you mean," Isabelle said slowly.

"I didn't think you would," Damien shrugged, "I knew both of them longer than you did, after all."

Isabelle nodded and looked up to see how Damien was doing. The conversation had shifted from being something to help her, to something raw and personal to him. She was, in a way, glad that she glanced up. She saw Damien wiping away stray tears with his free hand. He had been trying to hide the fact he was crying, even if it wasn't a lot.

"Hey," Isabelle said, "thanks for trying to cheer me up."

"No problem," Damien said, "how are you feeling now?"

"Rough, but better than you look."

"Don't worry about it."

"You might be the big brother," Isabelle said sternly, "but that doesn't mean I can't do my job and cheer you up, too."

"It's just- It's tough," Damien admitted, "it'll take some time for me to truly get past the grieving process."

"Both of our parents had to," Isabelle said, "heck, even I did, for you. I'll help you through it."

"We can help each other."

"Did you see mom's face when your tail started to go berserk?" Isabelle laughed.

"Nice attempt at a segway," Damien chuckled, "and yes, yes I did. I really had no idea it did that. Why didn't you tell me at any point over the past few weeks?"

"I thought you knew," Isabelle said and then doubled down as Damien rushed into a playfight with her for a moment, "honest! I swear!"

"Sure, you did," Damien said sarcastically, "at least I know now though. I can't be having an embarrassing tail episode if I've just defeated a band of pirates or something similar. It would entirely ruin the aesthetic I'm trying to create. I'm meant to be a menace to seafaring bandits everywhere. How can I do that with my tail spinning around like a helicopter?"

"Well, I think it's hilarious," Isabelle said.

"That's the problem," Damien laughed.

The two of them sat there, on Isabelle's bed, just thinking back over their wild adventure together. Neither would have imagined it would ever happen to them and, instead, it had happened to them both.

"I'm glad you were there," Isabelle said, "I'm not sure how I would have survived without you coming along."

"You were doing quite well before I did," Damien replied, "but yeah, likewise. It would have been difficult to make it through without you there, too."

Isabelle slowly got up from her position on the bed and pushed up next to Damien, like he had seen other cats do in the past. Damien had never owned a cat, so he didn't have any personal experience of what to do in this situation. So, as any brother would, he just leaned over and hugged his sister tightly.

They had been through so much together and had so much more to go through. The one thing they both knew was certain is that they would go through it together.

"I love you, Damien," Isabelle said. Damien was unsure if he'd ever heard her say those words before, but now, after everything, it just felt right.

"I love you, too."