A/N: I'm excited to share this story with you, you're in for a wild ride. This story takes a bit of world building and is slow burn. Rest assured, this is a CaitVi fic, despite the fact that Caitlyn is actually married. Reviews/advice/corrections are welcomed, but please be nice about it :)

Chapter One – Welcome to Piltover

The lasers cut incisively through the air, as if trying to split air molecules. One is particularly desperate to caress her cheek with its sizzling touch. She catches a whiff of burnt hair. Pearls of sweat clutch to her forehead, hanging on for dear life as she hurls herself across the room. She's off her game.

Another drone approaches. It enters her peripheral just in time for her to register its attack. This one launch daggers; daggers sharp enough to cleave an eyelash. She ducks as a knife steals the very tip of her ear along with a tiny lock of pink hair. The cut stings, like lemon juice rubbed into an open wound. The blood tickles along the shell of her ear. A familiar warmth runs down the side of her neck.

"I'm so not in the mood for you fucking things today," Vi mumbles irritated.

Sloppily, Vi grabs a dagger that is snuggly nested in the wall and hurls it at the drone. The dagger cuts one of its wings off and it crashes loudly against the floor, smoke rising from its tiny wind turbines. Air rests in her chest as she holds her breath, choking her lungs with the air they so painfully need. Vi starts running towards an assortment of rubbles. She recoils her muscles and with great force, flings herself upwards using the elevation of the rubble as a springboard. With a white knuckled fist, Vi punches one, two, three drones on her way down. She rolls forwards as she lands, quickly heaving herself onwards to take cover. The drones are knocked off course, their attacks neutralized. Vi catches her breath, checks the perimeter, and pushes her back up against a barrier while assessing the enemy. Drones keep rushing in, they drop out of a close-by airduct like candy from a broken gumball machine.

"Screw this," she pants.

Vi unstraps her gun from its holster strapped under her arm and plants a shot right in the central power unit of another drone and down it goes. The scrap pile collide with the ground, the sound of metal clanging against the floor satisfy her ears. She fires a few more rounds, the drones dropping like flies around her. Black smoke follows the machines like a line of charcoal. Vi covers her face with her forearm as she dodges a falling drone. It comes crashing to the ground with a loud thud.

An alarm blares for about a second.

The room turns bright and a computer starts blabbering.

SIMULATION COMPLETE. COMBAT TIME: 12 MINUTES AND 22 SECONDS.

That's her worst time yet. Vi watches as her name drops all the way down to the bottom of the ranking list. Even Mylo could beat this score. A drop of blood falls from her earlobe, and she wipes it with her shoulder before heaving her shirt over her head to press it to the wound.

Doors swoosh open and in storms a very angry tech guy.

"What the hell, Vi!" He yells.

"I told you, no drones. You could have sent anything else. Instead, you send in the only thing I can't fucking reach," she says and takes a swig of water after holstering her gun.

"You aren't supposed to break the equipment. Do you know how much these drones cost?!"

"Then you shouldn't load them with lasers and daggers," Vi deadpans. She wipes the sweat from her forehead.

"You're supposed to neutralize it!"

"Put it on my tap," she says while throwing the sweaty and bloody shirt at him. He wrinkles his nose so hard his glasses raise all the way over his eyebrows.

The tech guy puts his palm out. Vi sighs loudly and pinches the skin between her eyes. She forgot. Reluctantly, she hands him the gun. She doesn't fight it. Last week she probably would have, but not now. She doesn't want to deal with obnoxious tech guys. Not today. Today just needs to be done already.

Vi showers, changes, and straps on her empty gun holster. She's this close to staying in the shower forever. She can't. She has to keep going.

This is what she'll do: she'll go out there and do her duty. That's what the academy prepared her for. Loyalty, strength and service. She'll just have to keep repeating those values over and over again.

It's what she's meant for. It is, Vi knows it is.

She's still Vi, still Vi Stryker: Atlack Police Agent.

Where Vi's from, there are only three laws every citizen must obey. A failure to comply with these laws will result in death by being floated into space.

Law number one: you must not kill another human being or AI unless acting in self-defense.

Law number two: you are to live in peace with your fellow citizens. Disrupting the nation's peace under any circumstances, with any acts of theft, violence, or uprising will lead to your execution.

Finally, law number three: you must obey the Atlack.

Her world circles around these constitutions like soaring vultures scavenging for carrion. She lives to break the first law and enforce the remaining two. She lives to serve the people of Piltover. The country she was born, the nation she was raised to protect. A place that has known of war and chaos, as well as peace and harmony. It is her job to protect the people and obey orders from the Atlack.

The Atlack is the government. Piltover is ruled by oligarchy. According to Vi, the government has sprouted into a plutocracy (read wealthy dictatorship, but what does she know). Consisting of a carefully selected collection of individuals, the Atlack runs the nation from the capital city, Piltover City. Vi's viewpoint isn't entirely without premise. In truth, many of the current councilors weren't elected. Their seats were passed down to the next generation of their house. The council primarily consists of the oldest families in Piltover, many of whose ancestors founded the city. The very city Vi keeps her residence. Vi is a police agent for the Atlack Police Force, or APF, as they have branded on their sleeves. As they have burned into the flesh of their upper arm. It's a brand of honor. The patriarchic sign of devotion. That is all you need to know about Vi. For now, at least.

The elevator air is dry; specks of dust intrudingly inhabit her sinuses. She looks upon the city as she rises further up into the sky. She nearly surges above the smog. Everything is so dark. The color scheme tenaciously stays within the spectrum of greys. Only the red and yellow lights from the hovercrafts break the melancholic city. She's astounded by what Piltover has accomplished. Everything works. Everything functions, and everyone is efficient.

Even if it is a colorless world.

As she rises above the layer of smog and clouds, a whole scenery unfolds before her. She sees the ocean, grooves cut into the waves by the wind. She sees a far-flung horizon, a landmass filled with towering buildings and columns of industrial smoke. Vi sees the star-like glint of Zaun's air traffic control tower. Zaun, their neighboring country – an old enemy only a body of water apart.

Vi rests her thumb on the biometric scanner and watch the laser work beneath her skin.

LEVEL 87, APF HEADQUATERS. WELCOME, AGENT VI STRYKER.

The cybernetic voice is stiff to listen to. Its hiss scratches her cochlea daily. She endures these welcoming's everywhere she goes. Computers are everywhere. They are everything – their security systems, their navigation, their transportation, nannies, banks, doctors, farmers, even their teachers. Computers are their lifeline, and they trust them. More than they trust each other. Vi is just happy she can still be useful with all this technology around. Even though she still has the rush of blood pulsate in her eardrums, along with all the flaws a person is foreordained to live with. Humankind isn't something they are phasing out, luckily. But being human is often something that can be enhanced, one way or another.

Before the doors open, she takes one last look upon the city.

Ever since the inauguration of hovercrafts, the country has gone through drastic infrastructural growth. Once triphibious hovercrafts became ecofriendly and inexpensive enough for private use, roads hardly exist anymore. Their world now exists among the clouds, the ground merely used as a concrete foundation for a life on top of the world. Vi misses the sight of ground, good old dirt, beneath her feet. She misses the petrichor emanating from the wet soil. It still rains. But it's not the same. They haven't been able to see the ground for years. But it's still there. It is very much still there. In fact, they were reminded of that just last week, when one of their agents was pushed over the ledge near the Museum of Ancient Arts.

He was her friend. She misses him.

Vi walks into the office with the immediate sensation of wanting to retreat her steps and creep back into the elevator. The stares are gruesome. Their corneas shine with pity. Stop it, she thinks. Don't you fucking look at me like that. She suppresses a grim snarl. At last, she reaches her desk.

A newspaper tablet with the cover of The Piltover City Journal, the biggest newspaper in Piltover, sits on her desk. Vi's stomach sinks. She throws the tablet into another booth. She exhales loudly as she plummets into her chair and kick her feet up on the table.

"You look like shit," the man at the desk across from her speaks without looking away from his holo-screen.

"Thank you. I try."

This is a normal morning between Claggor and Vi. She's glad to see that hasn't changed. His chocolate colored eyes finally tear themselves away from the screen.

"What the hell happened to your ear?" he asks.

Vi's fingertips press to the wound on her ear, and crusty specs of blood sticks to her finger. The cut must've reopened when she tried to smooth her hair over it in the changing room. She'd thought she could hide it, since the wound wasn't on the side of her undercut.

"Occupational hazard," she answers as she wipes her ear with her sleeve.

"They already got you back in sim?"

"Already? I've been locked out for an entire week."

"You know what I mean," Claggor says gingerly.

It's quiet between them for a few moments.

"Shuriken?" he asks curiously.

"Dagger."

Claggor smiles playfully. Not with his eyes though. He usually smiles with his eyes too.

"I thought sim was 'as easy as pie'," he jokes.

"You know I never liked pie, so maybe that analogy wasn't exactly perfect."

Claggor sees how quickly the forced smile on her face melts away. He reaches into one of his drawers and tosses something to her.

"Here. Brought you a coffee."

Vi catches it effortlessly, feeling the squishy bag mold into her grasp.

"You sure know how to make a girl feel special," she says, shaking the bag of coffee until it turns warm.

Believe it or not, but this is actually quality coffee. She puts the coffee on her desk and rips the top open like a bag of chips. The bag forges into a cup, and she slurps cautiously at the scorching liquid.

"And all this time I thought you were a dude," Claggor sighs in an act of comedy.

For the first time that day, Vi smiles. For real.

Good one, Claggor.

He lets her drink her coffee in peace as she watches the sunrise. In reality, she's supposed to prepare for her hearing tomorrow. She doesn't see the point. Claggor turns to her the moment she finishes her coffee. His eyes are full of concern, but luckily his thick brown hair covers parts of them, making it difficult to see the grooves of worry on his forehead.

"What a lovely outfit you're wearing today," he compliments, clearly trying to brighten Vi's mood.

"We're wearing the exact same thing, genius," she shakes her head at him.

Of course, Claggor knows this. He pulls the same joke on her almost every morning. Today especially. He knows she'd hide behind a fictitious smile if she could even muster up the energy. Yet, it doesn't change the actuality that they are wearing the exact same black cargo slacks with build-in gun holsters, combat boots with retractable knife-tips and Bordeaux jackets with the official Atlack Police Force imprint on their sleeves. Their chests emblazon the Atlack coat of arms – a red-striped king snake coiling itself around the fabled gate that leads to the Atlack headquarters. The jackets are bulletproof, the filament made of bendable titanium. They reflect whenever light shines on them, just like metal normally would. The sleeves are padded with subtle barbed blades along the upper arm, an ironic endeavor to construct a suit equip with a latch-proof system in case an agent is knocked off the walk-platforms. They exclusively function when there is actually something to latch onto.

Claggor chuckles half-heartedly. He takes a sip of his coffee.

"Vander wants to see us in his office at eight," he informs.

Evander Warwick, better known as Vander, a name dubbed by his military unit, is the chief of the Atlack Police Force in Piltover City. He is a legend among APF agents for leading the operation that took down a Piltovian terror organization back in 2139 during the segregation between Piltover and Zaun. Everybody knows the story. The organization was infamous for circuiting the entire capital and try to hack into The Atlack's database to launce missiles towards Zaun to escalate the conflict, or maybe even start an outright war. Chief Vander dismantled the organization from within by maiming their leader's credibility. He spent five years undercover.

Zaun was once a part of Piltover, but fought for independence for centuries. In 2089, Zaun became its own nation, and the two countries were on the verge of war. Instead, Zaun blew up the bridge connecting the two nations. They didn't have the resources to go to war with Piltover.

So Piltover declared four new laws – three of which remain. The fourth law prohibited Zaunites to step foot on their land, and so the segregation between Zaunites and Piltovians began. Until the very mission Vander lead in 2139. The news of the mission, the terror group's intentions and the outcome, spread all the way throughout Piltover to Zaun. It started a civil rights movement in both nations. No more discrimination, no more closed borders, no more executions for mingling with the enemy, no more racism, no more political feuds. No more hate and prejudice. The people had had enough. There was a vote. A majority of then Atlack councilors agreed, enough was enough. That was the end of the segregation. Then came the era of healing. And Vander was trained and promoted to chief of police, recognized as a catalyst of progress and peace through his hard work.

At the mere age of sixteen, Vi was scouted and shipped off to the academy. Vander personally requested Vi join his unit after she finished academy training. Two years in the Piltover City police unit, he has made her one of his best agents. That's what he keeps telling her. She never truly believes him.

"Well, let's get going then."

Vi gets to her feet and heads towards the chief's office. Claggor is right behind her, downing his coffee. Vi's boots feel heavy today. They never used to feel this heavy. Now they feel like they are preventing her from moving forward. But she pushes through and keeps walking until they reach the familiar office door. She hovers her hand over the biometric palm scanner and the barricade slides open.

"Stryker, Marlowe," Chief Vander greets. "Have a seat."

The older man gestures to the two chairs in front of his desk. A desk that's made of real wood. Vi drops down into the one on her left, one leg hanging over the armrest, and stares at the floor. Chief Vander stands before them, facing them with a serious but kind expression. His thick greying head of hair shines whenever the sunrays escape through the smog. You can see the entire city from his office.

"First, I'd like to welcome you back, Agent Stryker. I hope the past few days off duty have done you some good." The Chief has his hands folded behind his back as he speaks.

"Just glad they're over, Chief."

Vi dislikes the way Vander makes it seem like a voluntary decision to take five days off work after the… after what happened. It makes it seem like it wasn't a mandatory beseeching. Like it wasn't an order. It made it sound like she enjoyed it. She didn't. She spent the time locked away in her apartment, not answering any of the million calls she received.

Vander frowns mildly, yet quickly recovers and adapts a more professional façade. His stature toughens; the back draw of his shoulders makes his belly stick out. He takes a deep breath before continuing.

"We lost a good man last week. A talented agent and a dear friend. Agent Calgon will be missed. But despite the hard times, we must fulfill our duties. As you might have guessed, I have taken the liberty to partner you two up. You've always made a great team, and I'm sure that is what Agent Calgon would have wanted."

It doesn't come as a surprise that Claggor will be her new partner. His partner recently retired, which makes him the perfect candidate. Apart from that, Claggor and Vi were recruited together ten years ago. She's actually surprised that they haven't been partnered up sooner.

"I agree, Chief Vander," Claggor says with a single nod.

Vi sits in silence; she has nothing constructive to contribute to the conversation. There is no way she can convince him that pairing her with any other agent is a poor choice. She has tried already. Tried explaining how massively she screwed up, but no one seems to believe her. They all just keep saying 'it wasn't your fault.' And somehow, she just can't get herself to believe that.

"You two will patrol the perimeter near Downtown Arret, the district C rotation. I will not assign you to any big cases in the near future. The loss of a fellow agent can take its toll on anyone. He was your friend too, Agent Marlowe. I think you both need a little time. I'll let you know when I think you're both ready to be reassigned to some of your old cases."

Great. Kindergarten. That is what they have been assigned to. Vi is almost insulted. A guard dog, that's how much she's worth now. Demoted to a barking pet to look out for the homeless and drunk.

Claggor and Vi nod in response. Chief Vander turns around, his shoulders brought back in a perfect posture, exuding confidence and authority. He takes a stern look at Claggor.

"I'd like a moment alone with Agent Stryker."

Claggor shoots Vi a look before carefully getting on his feet.

"Yes, sir," Claggor says, nodding politely at the chief as he gets up.

She hears the door swoosh open behind her only to close again. Chief Vander is standing with his back to her. He is looking upon the city. The room is quiet for a long time. The sound of Claggor's steps become distant until it vanishes entirely. Vi bounces her knee impatiently. Vi is not always as professional as she wants to be. But at this point she really doesn't care. She wants to groan with impatience, and sigh irritably like a child.

Chief Vander turns around, his arms still assembled on his back.

"Before you leave this room, I want you to promise me two things, Vi."

He uses her first name. She doesn't like being first-named by her boss. The chief hits an octave so low that she's slightly intimidated. The sonorous command troubles her. She questions whether she'll be able to fulfill Vander's wishes. By the sound of it, she's in trouble. But she knows Vander only uses this tone with her because she has a talent for disobeying direct orders. She has had multiple reprimands over the past two years. Some she probably deserved. Some she really deserved. Others not so much. Honestly, it's not her fault that people are wrong all the time. She simply chooses to do what is right, despite what her orders suggest.

"I want you to promise me to behave yourself at the hearing tomorrow," Chief Vander demands.

Fine. She might also have a temper that can knock the wind out of people at times. If people would just stop being so aggravating it wouldn't be so difficult to control.

"Yes, sir," she says.

"I don't think you heard me. I need you to promise," Chief Vander eyes her harshly.

Vi sighs once.

"I promise to behave myself."

She tries to make it sound convincing.

The chief nods. His harsh stare softens. She's waiting for the second promise she must make, although she already knows what he is going to say.

"You're one of the few agents who can actually think for themselves. I've always admired that. You'll go far, Vi," Vander forces his gaze upon her. "But tomorrow is not the time to go rogue. Do you understand?"

Vi nods.

"Good," he says.

Those grey worn eyes are not to be mistaken to hold paternal endearment, albeit they occasionally linger with a father's worry. A stare of such fortitude coming from him only means one thing: rules must be obliged.

"For my final order, Agent Stryker," Chief Vander annunciates. "Under no circumstances, will you search for the person responsible for Agent Calgon's death."

Vi sits very still. Her hands curl into fists. She's not sure if she can make that promise. Chief Vander is denying her the opportunity to avenge her friend. He doesn't know that the only thought that have been running through her mind the past five days have been how she was going to catch this murderer. To watch the life leave their eyes. Chief Vander is clever like that though. He is always a step ahead. He knew if he assigned her to the case, the criminal probably wouldn't be caught alive.

"Vi. I need you to promise me you won't go looking for the person who killed Agent Calgon. If you do not promise me here and now, you will not be granted your badge and gun back. I won't go into the severity of the consequences if you defy my orders."

He doesn't know what he is asking of her. The chief walks to the chair next to her and sits. His eyes asudden turn gentle.

"I've already put my best senior detectives on the case. We will catch this criminal. But I don't want you or Claggor involved. It's too personal for you two. That's going to cloud your judgment, and I won't risk two agent's safety because of poor judgment."

Vi remains silent. Her jaw is tight. She hates him because he is right.

The chief leans over to put a hand on her shoulder.

"I know that you're angry. I know that you blame yourself. And you shouldn't." He pauses briefly. They look each other in the eye. "I can arrange for someone to talk to if you'd like. But I know if I did, you wouldn't show up. So please do me a favor and talk to your parents or your brother. Or even Claggor."

How many more things can he ask of her? The two promises weren't enough, now he wants her to do him a favor. She's already up to her neck. Just behaving tomorrow will stand to be a struggle.

Yet, she nods again.

"I promise."

Never have two words tasted so nasty. They are enough to satisfy Vander though. That is a victory in itself. She's excused a moment later. He gives her her badge and gun before she leaves. She thanks him, albeit she's not sure what she's thanking him for. It just seems like the thing to do at that moment. She has earned that badge and that gun. She shouldn't have to thank him for getting it back.

Claggor is standing a few corridors down waiting for her. Vi straps her gun under her arm inside her jacket as she walks down the hall. Claggor wants to talk. She's not in the mood. He asks her what the chief said to her. She only tells him the part about the hearing.

"Are you nervous?" He scratches the back of his neck with his big hands as they walk. Claggor brushes his hair away from his face, but his bangs return to hover before his eyes.

"Why would I be nervous? I already gave them my statement. All I need to do is say exactly what I've already told them."

Claggor is being annoying. She doesn't want to talk about the hearing tomorrow. She doesn't want to talk to anyone. Maybe except…. No. She can't think like that. She's not allowed to think of her.

Get out of my head.

"I know…. I'm just worried what they might ask is all," Claggor continues relentlessly.

Her mind is elsewhere. Her mind is where it shouldn't be. It's with her, and she's about to shoot herself in the foot for allowing that to happen. This goes against her codex. It goes against the law. This is the fourth law here in Piltover City. But this law only exists in her head. The law clearly states that she can't be in there. She can't be on her mind.

Claggor is still here, she remembers. She has yet to answer him. She feels like she's just repeating herself. If only people would listen to her when she lies to them. It would make life so much easier.

"I can handle myself, Clag."

"I know you can," he assures. "But it doesn't change the fact that you're in a vulnerable position."

"What makes you say that?"

The way he tilts his head knowingly makes her want to look away. It makes her want to punch something.

"C'mon, Vi. You put on a good show, but I know how terrible you're feeling."

How would you know?

Claggor knows nothing. No one knows how terrible she feels.

"I'm fine," she says. Sternly. Anger is starting to eat at her.

Stop. Please just… stop.

Claggor is only trying to help, she knows. He wants her to open up. But she refuses. She's an oyster. She's protecting her pearl. Anyone trying to steal it from her will have to splinter her shell. And that won't happen without a fight.

Claggor is talking again. He is saying something along the lines of her not being fine. But she just told him that she was, why does no one ever listen to her? Apart from the fact that she's a horrible liar. But that's irrelevant. She's telling a lie. He should respect that.

"Look, I know what you're thinking," he continues, "but you can't think like that."

They're standing in the elevator. She presses her thumb against the green scanner. They're going down.

LEVEL 23, APF HOVERCRAFT BASEMENT. WELCOME, AGENT VI STRYKER.

"Please enlighten me," she challenges as they exit the lift.

Claggor stops up and expects her to do the same. She's two steps too late. He talks to her back.

"I know you blame yourself. But you couldn't have saved Ekko, Vi," he says.

She's glad he can't see her face. He would've seen the flare of self-disgust that arose when he said it. The absolute horror that she'll feel from now on whenever she hears Ekko's name. With a deep inhale she takes a breath of air through her nose, she turns around.

"I was there, Claggor. If not me, then who?"

She sees the shock on his face. He is surprised she finally admitted it. Vi is surprised too.

"He ran ahead. You were both off duty. He knew what he was doing went against protocol. You couldn't have predicted-"

"Look. There's a murderer on the loose. We need to catch them. Then we can talk about how I couldn't save my partner."

She knows she promised Vander. Some promises are just meant to be broken.

Claggor and Vi go on patrol without uttering another word.

The exhaustion aches in Vi's muscles. She swipes her palm across her front door. It unlocks with a tiny jingle. Darkness is all that meets her. She holds her jacket by the collar, dragging it after her as she lugs her feet across the floor. The door shuts behind her. With a leap of faith, Vi lets herself fall over, hoping the bed will catch her. She lands on the foot of the bed. The edge of the mattress caresses her jaw. It doesn't soothe her.

She's too tired to eat.

She's too tired to shower.

She's too tired to even sleep.

Restlessness has accumulated in her joints, in her mind. The moment her eyes close, the haunting image of Ekko falling, dying, tears into her very core. She sits up abruptly, gasping for air. Her hands are clutching the sheets. Vi feels like she's bleeding from the inside out. The pain is everywhere and nowhere at the same time. She curls up, pulling her knees to her chest. There's no escaping these feelings, they won't leave her body. It becomes too much for her. She punches the pillows. Punches the mattress. The wound on her ear has reopened and there is blood on the sheets now. This angers Vi even further. She punches the wall. The nightstand. She throws a lamp. It shatters loudly against the kitchen table. There's blood on her clothes, on her knuckles.

There are tears in her eyes.

Her heaving breaths come out as wheezes as her throat is trying to close in on itself. She's clawing at her neck, running her hands through her hair, ripping at the neckline of her shirt. She needs air. But it won't come. She pulls her shirt off, hoping the relief of the clothing will help the air flow to her lungs. It doesn't.

Vi's phone buzzes.

The phone she has refused to look at for a week.

She grasps it like it's her final lifeline.

It's a message from her mom. One out of twenty-four messages from her mom.

She's still gasping for air. The tears have started leaking.

Vi scrolls through her phone.

She has forty-one missed calls. Most of them are from her parents. Some are from Claggor. There are three from Mylo. Fourteen from her brother. Two from Vander.

And five from her.

The dizziness of the excess oxygen in her blood is catching up to her. She sits down on the edge of the bed. Feet heavily planted on the ground. Her throat is tight, it's hard to swallow. Vi clicks on the name. Her name. She leans back, putting the phone on the bed next to her head.

"Play messages," Vi pants.

The phone plays a short jingle. An automated voice starts talking.

"You have five unheard messages from ID 319 201 225 14. First unheard message. Thursday at 07.08: Vi, I'm aware that it's early, but please call me. I heard what happened."

Vi closes her eyes. Her fingers are intertwined on her stomach. Her lungs are untangling themselves. Gooseflesh spread across her body, it rolls over her stomach, she feels her skin prickle beneath her palms. Her knee is bouncing. The salt stains on her cheeks have started to dry.

"Second unheard message. Thursday at 16.55: Hello, Vi. It's Caitlyn. I just…," it's quiet on the line for a few seconds. Then there's a heavy sigh. "I don't even know what I was going to say. 'I'm sorry' doesn't seem like enough. Just know that… I'm here. If you need me."

Vi shivers by the sound of her name. Caitlyn. Caitlyn, Caitlyn, Caitlyn. Her throat loosens, the agony begins to subside.

"Third unheard message. Friday at 10.40: Hi. It's Caitlyn. Again. We're all very worried about you. I'm worried about you. I know you probably need time."

Her breathing quiets. She heaves air in through her nose. Out through her mouth. The image of Caitlyn hides behind her eyelids. Her gentle gaze. Her gap-toothed smile. The bangs framing her face.

"Fourth unheard message. Saturday at 10.46: It's me again. Vi, I won't pretend to understand what's going on inside of you. I don't believe anybody can ever understand that. But when you're ready, I'll do my utmost to try. I hope you're trying to take care of yourself," after a few seconds, very quietly, Caitlyn adds, "please take care of yourself."

For the first time in a week, Vi feels true exhaustion about to succumb her. The kind of exhaustion where the body begs to let go completely. It feels safe enough to drop the reins and let unconsciousness guide her into a brief intermission of peacefulness.

"Last unheard message. Yesterday at 20.24: Vi. It's Caitlyn. I'm honestly not sure whether you'd prefer I didn't leave all these messages. But my focus has been so utterly obscured this week, I find my mind has been drifting to you whenever it could. The reason I'm calling is there's one last thing I needed to share with you. Then I'll leave you alone, and let you heal in peace," there's a small pause. Vi imagines that Caitlyn sits down. Maybe her fingers are playing with a lock of her hair. "For the longest time after my father died, I considered grief to be… an inconvenience. An enemy even. But… grief isn't an enemy. There's a giant hole where Ekko used to be, I know. Unfortunately, our suffering isn't finite. You will never fill it. But it will get smaller, I promise."

Vi rolls onto her side and pulls her legs up to her chest, curling into a ball. The tips of her boots hang over the edge of the bed. She rests her head on her arm, breathing calmly. Her ear has stopped bleeding.

"Play last message again," Vi says.

"Replaying last unheard message from ID 319 201 225 14. Yesterday at 20.24: Vi. It's Caitlyn. I'm honestly not sure whether you'd prefer I didn't leave all these messages. But my focus has been so utterly obscured this week, I find my mind has been drifting to you whenever it could…"