All I Am

by AnnieAnnProps

After the mugging of her father, Caitlyn has a special device installed into her hat. It records her thoughts at her command, allowing her to pull back every detail of the memory at a moments notice. But there are things that she does not realize that she needs to remember forever, not until the her love begins to forget them. (All I Remember, Caitlyn's story) Caitlyn x Vi

14. Log 14

10:34 pm Initiating Automated Black Box recording. Criteria(s) met: symptoms associated with 'love'

Her hair is unruly. Characteristic of Zaunites, a life with chemical laden water and polluted air breaks down protein. Unaltered humans don't live past 40 in the city.

No one in Zaun is unaltered.

Her hair does not fall under the cliché of 'fingers through soft hair', but it is nonetheless pleasant. There are knots, there are kinks, why would there not be? It is her hair; it is a page in her story book just like everything else about her.

A long scar at the part in her hair. It is raised, barely visible, but feels so painful under my fingers. As if prodding at it will help me understand.

What is the story behind it?

"I don't remember exactly."

She is learning how to read my thoughts. Though she smiles, her eyes are distant as she looks up at me. Her head rests back onto my stomach, her breath warm on bare skin. A sigh, before she begins.

She knows I am curious and she will tell me no matter how much grief it causes her.

"What happened to the other two subjects that were reportedly lost in the fire at Zaun."

The shift is fast. Her muscles tense, brows furrow, her back stiffens, the paper plate in her hand crinkles under the pressure of her fingers. She doesn't look me in the eyes; she simply stares behind me, narrow, lost in thought. I have brought up a delicate subject. She'll brush me off, more trust must be earned. I'll try again another time.

As fast as her demeanor darkens, it brightens back up, all evidence masked by a sudden cheeky grin and a flip of her hair. She straightens out and rolls her shoulders.

"That's a story for another time. I'll catch up with you in a couple days Sheriff." She waves to me and walks away. Her shoulders are raised, back slightly hunched; she is hurting on the inside.

"I don't remember much of my childhood. I remember our cell; two beds and concrete walls."

Our?

"It always smelled like death, on some days, it would smell like burning. The days after those were when we got our vials of brilliance."

Method of creation; intraocular fluid drained from human eyeballs and distilled with Hexcane Electroid fluid; most commonly harvested from Lowercity power tunnel workers who have 'cleaner eyes' due to long work hours in poorly lit tunnels.

Not workers, they harvested from terminated subjects at this facility. Dimly lit cells, an excess of dead humans and a multitude of living ones to keep under control. Cruel, twisted, economic, efficient. Understandable, but horrific.

Hands tighten around my waist. Fingers go back to stroking her hair, soothing, reassuring. She is scared.

"There are blank spots. Like….just nothingness in my mind where I try to remember something but nothing comes up. As if I never lived during that time. In first memory I have. I'm a kid, maybe 3-4, not sure but I was pretty fucking small. And I wake up and I'm on this cold table. There are lights everywhere. I can't move and there are hands holding my arms and legs. And I look down…"

A pause, she's reliving it right now. Her face grows warmer. Her voice shakes

"I look down and all I see is this metal thing holding my chest open. I can see my rib cage and tools jutting out between the bones. And and"

Shhhh. A kiss on the forehead. She's shaking, her breath is rapid. I want to stop her; I want to keep her from reliving the pain.

But I am too curious

Selfish

She needs this; humans find comfort in talking about their problems.

She's different

Treat her like a human

I am the cause of her pain right now

I need to understand

"I remember screaming. I remember screaming so loud when I could see my lungs go with every breath. But I didn't scream for my parents, no, no. I screamed a name. Just a name with no face; this person that I screamed for…I don't remember who they are, what they look like, why they were so important to me. Nothing."

They wiped her memory, not entirely, probably rudimentary removal of certain sections of the brain. If she tells me the name, I might be able to research it.

I ask her

"Jessie."

Research 'Jessie' in connection with Emerald Chasm Orphanage and any relation with the fire

Processing

"It hurts. It hurts so much not knowing why I screamed her name. I kept screaming for Jessie, asking where she was why she wasn't there to help me. I promised her that I would help her. But I don't know. I don't know why."

Possible connections:

Jennifer A. Walker; current status unknown, relation; Valoran Peace keeper that inspected the Emerald Chasm Orphanage five years before the fire

Jenny Hight; deceased, relation; former orphan of the Emerald Chasm Orphanage, died at the age of 2 due to a severe allergic reaction to peanuts 10 years before the fire

Jerald Zacman; current status unknown, relation; researcher at Emerald Chasm Orphanage at time of the fire.

"That's what scares me the most."

I don't understand

"Sure they can cut me up; they can stick new arms and legs onto me. But I'll still be Vi. I'll still be me no matter what they do to my body. But what they did to my brain."

This is the first time she's ever told her fears to someone.

"I don't know who I am. The more I try to remember, the more I convince myself that I should just forget it all. I keep thinking to myself; they took my memories away, what's stopping them from putting new ones in?"

Ah

"What if I was a kid with a family and they just happened to get a hold of me. What if they stuck someone else's memories into my brain; that I grew up with a mother and a father instead of a cold dark cell. What if they put scars on me to make me believe these fake memories. Was that their experiment? That they could "create" a person by sticking whatever memories they could get a hold of into a body?"

Do memories make up the soul? What makes a person; their body or their mind? She is capable of philosophy at the very least.

"I could be fucking strapped to a table right now with needles stuck in my brain pumping in these thoughts. They could be teasing me, giving me false hopes. You could be fake, just my imagination to help me cope. And I just. Don't. Know."

There are tears on my skin, she's holding so tight now, like a child. It is true fear, not fight or flight, not a physical fear. But a constant one, gnawing away, making her doubt herself. She has had to live with this thought for her entire life.

She doesn't trust her memories

Trust

I lift her chin, catch her gaze. Her eyes are red, tears streak down her face. She's scared; both of her past and her future; nowhere to go.

Help her

"Vi. You are real. You are very very real."

Ground her, give her an anchor.

"It is 10:59 pm on August 20 and you are at my flat at 826 Sugar Bow Square. You are Vi, enforcer of the Piltover Police Force. You are 5' 10", 156 pounds, 25 years and 6 months old, with light brown hair that you dye pink every six months. Your favorite ice cream is mint rocky road and you can't decide what you favorite dink is, so you have two; Noxian Firewater and Conqueror on the Rocks. Your greatest fear is that you don't know who you are."

She keeps crying but she hangs onto every word I say.

I am here for you.

An exchange of information and trust

"I am Caitlyn, sheriff of the Piltover Police Force. I am 5' 7", 137 pounds, 32 and 3 months old, with naturally brown hair that the league changes to black whenever I am on the rift in my classic skin. My favorite ice cream is orange sherbet and my favorite drink is a Winged Martini. My greatest fear..."

Pause

Don't think

Trust her

"I am afraid of forgetting. I am afraid of getting lost in the chaos of the world; of finding myself alone."

Pause

Breath

Focus Caitlyn

Chest tightens

"I am afraid of not being prepared, of not knowing what's to come. I need control; I need plans, an idea of what's coming. I am scared that I will be powerless like the day my father was mugged."

I don't remember all the details, I wish I could, I would've been able to catch him sooner. I would've been able to recall every word my father blubbered out before he became addicted to catalyst. I would've caught the mugger days in advance, before he could murder that boy.

My lips press together.

"I don't want to lose you like I lost my father. I want you here with me, no matter whom you think you are. You may wake up one day and not remember who you are or how you got to there, but please, remember that you are Vi; you will always be Vi. And I will love you no matter what."

Confessions

It is true. She may be simple minded, brash, crude, unmannered, but she is real, she is human in every sense of the word; free to be who she is because that is she has.

She has no mask

Naked

Lips. All the passion, all the worry and doubt is poured into the kiss. She trusts me with her life; I am her proof that she is real. When she cannot remember anything else, she'll do her best to remember me telling her that she is real.

But I can remember every detail.

The way that she resettles onto my shoulder, her lips quirked upwards ever so slightly. Her left hand is intertwined with mine. Her eyes glow ever so slightly with the light smell of sunflowers.

That there is a scar on her scalp that has taken away her memories

An A.I. in my hat that record all of mine

I will remember everything that she is afraid to forget.

"The human soul is made up of nothing but memories. Once we lose those, then what do we become?"

"My mother once told me; cherish the past, live in the present, hope for the future."

She smiles, her breath steadies.

11:16 pm Ending Automated Black Box recording. Criteria(s) met: Brain functions shifting to sleep