It's not stealing if you give it back afterwards. That's what Vi tells herself when she sneaks out with an APF global report tablet after work. No one will miss it. She used to take one home all the time.
Vi goes somewhere she hasn't been in a long time. With the tablet strapped to her belt, she moves towards the outskirts of town. The air gets denser, dirtier, the further she goes.
She turns her jacket inside out to hide the police logos. Police aren't particularly welcome in these parts of town. Vi pulls her hood over her head.
Vi walks down a long sun deprived alley. Trashcans have been knocked over; rats infest the piles of filth kicked up against the buildings. A musty, thick, smell lingers in the air.
Vi takes a rock and throws it at a drop-down latter in hope to knock it loose. The fire escape doesn't budge, corrosion has swallowed up the metal in greedy rusting mouthfuls. She throws another. And another. Nothing happens.
As Vi picks up a fourth stone, she senses that she isn't alone anymore. A figure emerges from the shadows of the alley. A tall, grubby stranger approaches with a poisonous smirk.
"Having trouble, Baby Doll?" He asks.
His clothes are torn to shreds, eyes bulging from withdrawal.
"Fuck off," Vi says.
"Oof! Such a foul mouth for such a pretty lady."
Vi's eyes turn cold, eyebrows gather in anger. If only looks could kill.
"Say that one more time," she threatens, curling her hands into fists.
She makes it too easy for them – a temper like a firecracker, a few words like his easily light the fuse.
The man laughs. He pulls out a knife so nonchalant that Vi knows this is premeditated. He has probably been following her for a few blocks. There could be more of them. She prepares herself, scanning her surroundings and exits.
"Say, that's a mighty fine tablet you got there."
The knife is unimpressive, barely larger than the blades hidden in the tips of her shoes.
"Too bad it isn't yours," Vi spits.
More footsteps approach. The man smiles wickedly as backup arrives.
Three grunts block her only exit. One carries the remnants of an iron pipe. He slaps the pipe against the palm of his hand a few times.
"Give it here, Girl. And we'll let you leave unscathed," the man smiles broader. His teeth are rotting. "Mostly unscathed," he adds.
He laughs dryly, as if he has choked his lungs with smoke for decades. He takes a step forward, caressing her bangs with the tip of the knife.
Vi laughs, rolling her shoulder once, before swiftly grabbing the hilt of the knife. She jabs the bud forcefully into the bridge of his nose. A sickening crack reverberates just before blood gushes from his nostrils in concerning amounts.
Vi ducks immediately, knowing the goon behind her will start swinging his stupid pipe. Above her head, the pipe misses her as it travels through the air, just as she predicted. Missing its target, the pipe collides with the brick wall in front of her. Vi uses the momentum she has gathered from her crouched position to punch the rock in her hand into the temple of the pipe possessing goon. The blow shakes his very skull. Blood seeps from his head. There's blood on the rock in Vi's hand, it drips onto her shoes.
"Who's next?" Vi asks through gritted teeth.
The remaining two morons stare wide eyed at each other. Vi doesn't have the patience to wait for an answer. She throws the bloody rock into the jaw of the one furthest away. She heaves forward to tackle the last one standing. Vi pivots her body, forcing the asshole into a headlock. Her feet thrust off the ground and for a second, the motherfucker carries both of their weight. Vi squeezes her knees together and pushes off the nearest wall. Vi steers the person's head directly into the dirt.
She gets up, brushes the dust off her clothes and waits to see if the asshole has had enough. To her surprise, the idiot gets up.
"Go rot in Zaun, you filthy scum," he growls, holding a hand to the wound on his forehead.
The man draws a gun, and Vi's posture shifts. She adapts to the new threat.
With utmost precision, Vi steps forward, and slaps the firearm out of her line of harm with the back of her hand. She pulls her arm back, and with immense force, she uppercuts him with a jaw breaking punch. Blood spurts in a thick stream from his mouth as he falls backwards, landing on top of one of the others.
Vi grabs the gun, ejecting the cartridge skillfully and pockets the weapon. She'll turn it in tomorrow. Vi places a tracker on the unconscious pile of bodies and calls it is. A clean up team will be by later to bring them in.
Vi agilely uses the bodies as a lever to reach the latter.
"Thanks for the boost," she taunts, but her words fall for deaf ears.
Vi heaves herself up from the lowest step and starts climbing. When she reaches the top, Vi wipes the blood from her knuckles on her pants.
The rooftop is covered in a blanket of moss. Vials of whatever drugs people have been shooting up here litters the ground. An abandoned sleeping bag has been taken by the wind and curled around a utility pole.
Vi sets off into a sprint. She leaps from rooftop to rooftop. For the first time in her life, she doesn't look down. The height never bothered her before now.
Finally, she comes to a halt. She sees the ocean. The silhouette of Zaun's skyline. Piltover's harbor. The platform to the underwater train station. It's rough. It's rural. It's real. Vi takes a deep breath through her nose, smelling the smoke and polluted seawater.
She sits down and whips out the tablet. Here she sits for a long time, doing illegal research on a case that isn't hers. Vi's feet dangle over the edge, she rocks them back and forth. She's getting frustrated. She hates reading.
"Damn it, Ekko. You were always so much better at this than me. You could've left a fucking clue or something," she mutters to herself.
She means it. Ekko knew who he was hunting. He knew, Vi was certain of it. So maybe that in itself is a clue? Who did Ekko hang out with, besides her?
The sun is about to set. Clouds are turning an angry red.
An announcement pops up on the tablet. It's a link to a news broadcast. The APF communications department sends them out whenever they're relevant. Vi clicks the link. It's a livestream from the government building. Hordes of reporters are standing outside the council hall, impatiently waiting for the government to emerge.
Vi wonders if Caitlyn is there. Caitlyn is a political journalist for the biggest newspaper in Piltover, it would only make sense if she was there. She was promoted a few months ago to the Piltover City Journal and is one of the many acknowledged writers on the team. Vi isn't sure what the new job entails, hell, she doesn't even know if Caitlyn attends press conferences like this.
The camera zooms out, widening the shot. A line of security guards stands with their backs against the wall. There, next to a camera man by the far end of the corridor, Vi notices a head of dark blue hair. Caitlyn stands tall among the other reporters. She's in all black, tightly fitted clothes. Vi exits the window to find the channel Caitlyn is broadcasting from. She finds the live feed on The Piltover City Journal's broadcasting website. Caitlyn isn't in the picture; the camera is pointed at the door that is yet to be opened.
Vi hasn't given much thought to the fact that Caitlyn's mother is on the Atlack Government Council. Is she allowed to interview her own mother? Surely, there would be speculation of bias if that was the case. Vi wonders why the thought had never crossed her mind before.
The doors swing open, and the cameras go crazy. Reporters are shouting questions at the councilors who are exiting with tension looming over them. Vi can't tell whether the theatrics are real, or if the tension truly lingers in the atmosphere among the councilors. Government Councilor Cassandra Kiramman passes by the cameras of The Piltover City Journal. Her eyes linger on someone standing behind the camera for just longer than a second and nods. The councilor obviously acknowledges her daughter but moves on to answer questions from other reporters.
Unlike the other journalists, Caitlyn isn't shouting questions begging the councilors to answer. She's completely calm, says nothing, and waits patiently until she is approached. It looks as if one of the councilors makes eye contact with Caitlyn, and the woman approaches gracefully.
The councilor wears a golden capelet, and her fingers are covered in spiky golden jewelry.
"Government Councilor Shoola, how are you?" Caitlyn asks as if she's greeting an old friend.
"Very well, Miss Kiramman," Councilor Shoola answers politely.
"Am I correct in assuming that you have discussed the proposal of a new bridge connecting Piltover and Zaun?" Caitlyn asks.
"Yes, that's correct."
"Did you make any decisions upon the matter today, Councilor?"
"Not yet," Councilor Shoola answers.
"Do you see a bridge connecting our two nations in the near future?"
Councilor Shoola laughs light heartedly. The gold on her body clatters as she adjusts her capelet.
"No unfortunately, I do not. Zaun doesn't appear to have the resources necessary to fabricate a blueprint of such scale. Unless Zaun expects Piltover to cover all the finances," she chuckles as if the thought is absurd, "I don't believe this project will see the light of day until Zaun becomes a nation of greater economical sustainability," the councilor says.
Councilor Shoola bends her word with such professionalism, yet to Vi, it's easy to hear the ridiculing undertones.
It's obvious that the councilor adores the attention. She acts as if she's holding on to the best kept secrets in Piltover. She senses the interest around her, her eyes lap up the adoration. Caitlyn doesn't seem to share the same adoration as her competition. Instead, she asks her questions with actual interest, with hunger for knowledge. With a goal to uncover truth.
"Since Piltover left Zaun in economic decline for centuries, and they've only had fifty years to lead an entire nation into a prospering economy – during which they've had a civil war, multiple natural disasters, all of Piltover's toxic waste to dispose of and polluted air from the fissures to clean – don't you think Piltover could kindly sponsor the bridge? It would make import and export cheaper for all of us, tourism would prosper, and it would pose a safer work environment for all who work in logistics transportation," Caitlyn argues.
It's bold. Pride swells inside Vi's chest. The councilor's eyes become distant, uninterested. She raises an eyebrow.
"Are you suggesting that the work environment isn't safe for our pilots?" Councilor Shoola challenges.
"I'm suggesting that hovercraft air travel across a stormy open body of water isn't safe for our pilots."
"Using planes on such short distance is just financial, and environmental, suicide," Councilor Shoola laughs.
"All I'm saying is a bridge could benefit everyone. Rich or poor. Workers or tourists. Piltover or Zaun."
"You must remember, Miss Kiramman, Zaun has chosen this for themselves," Councilor Shoola lectures.
This conversation has taken a turn Councilor Shoola did not anticipate. Caitlyn's hair falls into the frame for just a second. The camera man tries to gesture to Caitlyn to cut the interview short. Caitlyn isn't having it.
"I respectfully disagree, Councilor. I doubt a society ever chooses to lead their people into poverty, to have their streets ravaged by drug lords and narcotics while suffering under an empire who patronizes them," Caitlyn says without missing a beat.
Councilor Shoola wrinkles her nose in disgust. She holds up a hand, the gold on her hands shines brightly in the light. Vi hates everything about the woman.
"Piltover owes Zaun nothing," Councilor Shoola says cooly.
The councilor indicates that she is done with the conversation, but Caitlyn isn't ready to let her go yet. There's more to be said. For the first time, Caitlyn pushes for attention. Vi supposes that it's impossible to avoid seeming eager in the field of journalism.
"Do you have any comments on the death of the APF agent last week?" Caitlyn urges.
Vi's blood runs cold. Somehow, she hadn't realized that the matter was to be discussed among the government councilors. Councilor Shoola is about to leave. Her face is cold, lacking any signs of emotion.
"No. No comments," the councilor announces.
Caitlyn pushes on, stepping in the same direction as Councilor Shoola as she tries to leave.
"So, the government council haven't discussed it?" She challenges. "It seems like an urgent matter to discuss."
"Of course, the government council has discussed it," Councilor Shoola says as if it's common knowledge.
Vi is curious as to what Caitlyn wants from this interview. What her angle is. Does she want the council to acknowledge the threat? Give their condolences? Is she trying to reveal the verdict of the council? Vi holds her breath.
"Should we be concerned about groups targeting our police force?" Caitlyn asks.
Councilor Shoola takes a breath and turns back towards Caitlyn. She folds her hands in front of her, adapting to a confident posture.
"It was a tragic event. I offer my deepest condolences to the ones that are left behind," Councilor Shoola says. It doesn't mean shit to Vi. "The case is still under investigation. However, as of what has been presented to me, I personally suspect no such thing. Accidents happen in this line of work; the agents are aware of the risks."
Vi's mouth drops open, her jaw slacks in disbelief. Her hands tighten around the tablet.
"You deem it an accident?" Caitlyn asks.
The councilor shrugs lightly, her posture never changes.
"I don't know. We will never know for certain. There isn't enough evidence to suggest it wasn't an accident," Councilor Shoola concludes. "But I don't believe it was a preliminary attack, if an attack at all. I'm positive our force isn't in any danger."
Vi hurls the tablet from the roof. It falls like a frisbee into an alley deep down below. Vi shakes with anger. How fucking dare they? Vi gets to her feet. She's standing on the edge, one step from a free fall into certain death. She stands there staring at the drop before her. She sees Ekko hanging in the air as clearly as she saw him that night. She feels his fingertips brush hers, his hand just out of fucking reach.
Vi runs her hands through her hair.
"Fuck!" She yells, kicking some of the vials on the ground.
Her phone rings. She's just about to hurl it over the edge of the building too. Instead, she answers it.
"What?" She asks.
The sound of Claggor's voice snaps her out of her tantrum.
"Where the hell are you?" He asks. "I've been waiting outside for twenty minutes."
Vi rubs the back of her neck. She's scouting for the tablet she threw. She doesn't see it. If she doesn't want any more angry tech guys, she probably has to go get it.
"What? Why?" She asks.
"You said you'd cut my hair, dumbass. Before you go to dinner tonight? We talked about this like, three hours ago."
Vi doesn't recall the conversation. She says she'll be there soon. She hangs up.
"Shit," she mumbles.
Maybe I'm a different breed
Maybe I'm not listening
So blame it on my A.D.D. bab-
"Would you turn that shit off? What year is that even from, it's so depressing," Claggor says. He walks around the freshly cut brown locks that litter the floor. He kills the music. "Why are you listening to this crap?"
"I don't know. I like it, I guess," Vi mumbles dismissively.
She swipes over the screen, and new documents are projected onto the wall. The tablet, miraculously, still works. She found it near a dumpster two alleys away. Claggor finds some irrelevant rock song to put on. Vi is looking over a police report of an attack that occurred earlier this week in Downtown Arret, near the air cargo harbor. That part of Downtown Arret is district A rotation which another APF team paroles. Which makes her a very naughty agent, because firstly she's not supposed to be looking at murder cases, and secondly, this is another team's turf. The description of the criminal is scary similar to Ekko's murderer, but Vi knows that's hardly a lead. Vander would be so disappointed if he could see her now. Luckily, he won't ever find out, because she's as close to finding the murderer as Claggor is to becoming a swimsuit model. In other words, not close at all.
Vi groans irritably and swipes the reports off the walls. Claggor notices and before she knows it, he leaves the music alone and comes to join her at the table. He drops down across from her and crosses his legs. He swirls the soda in his hand, trying to get some of the fizz out. His eyes are trying to penetrate through and break whatever zone Vi is hiding in. His dark brows furrow in an expression that can only be described as disquietedness.
"Is this about Ekko?" He asks gently.
"Is what about Ekko?" Vi says distantly.
"This...," he gestures to her.
"This what?" She's distracted by another criminal fitting the description. She swipes the report onto the ceiling, throwing her head back and her legs up on the dinner table. Her eyes dart over the pages, hands resting on top of her hair.
"It's just… not you," Claggor whispers.
The sound of her boots hitting the floor startles Claggor. Vi's eyes don't squint in concentration any longer, but in anger. Claggor remains calm, surprisingly so. He isn't foreign to Vi's temper, but more often than not, he never wishes to be on the receiving end.
Vi is maddened by his intrusion and concern for her feelings. She doesn't like that he is trying to understand them. Truth is, she doesn't understand them herself, and she would prefer not to try to explain them to anyone else.
"And suddenly you decide what is me?"
Vi gets up. She knocks the chair over. She needs to walk around. She's scared of what she might do if this anger isn't tranquilized soon.
"That's not what I'm saying, I'm just-"
"Just what? Trying to tell me how to feel?"
"Vi, you know that's not true!" Claggor says.
"Why do you even ask?" Vi rejoinder.
Hands on her hips, Vi roams around the apartment. She takes a lap around her bed and back again. Claggor looks lost in thought for a moment. She's assuming he is trying to find a way to express himself in a calm, collected way. But Vi thinks he realizes that no matter how he delivers his message, she'll be ready with a defensive counterattack, despite how nice he is trying to be.
Vi watches him as he reaches out for an empty food container to put it aside. This place is a mess.
"Because I don't think this is about Ekko," he alludes. "You've been shutting down long before Ekko died. I'm worried about you. All you ever want to do is be alone and go to work. You've been ditching family dinners whenever you can get away with it, don't think I haven't noticed," Claggor says. He runs a hand through his hair. "Out of everyone I know, you're the one person who weighs family above everything else. Jayce, your parents, Caitlyn, Ekko, Vander, Mylo, Me. We're all your family. Two years ago, you would've picked up your phone in the dead of night for me. Now I'm lucky if you even answer my texts within a week."
Vi feels a rushing urge, a surging current within her muscles, to punch Claggor in the mouth. He doesn't get to do this.
"I know what happened two years ago," Claggor says, and Vi's blood goes cold. "I thought getting away would be better for you, for all of us. We're here now. The academy is over. I know what it took from you. But it's over, Vi. We're never going back."
Vi rushes towards him and grabs a handful of his shirt. They swore never to talk about the academy ever again. They were supposed to bury that shit in the ground forever.
"Shut your fucking mouth, Claggor," she snarls. "You don't know anything."
Her finger digs into his sternum. Claggor has never stood up to her like this.
"Please, Vi," Claggor mumbles. "I can't lose you too."
Vi let's go of him, shoving him into the back of his chair. She walks around aimlessly again. She kicks some clothes into the corner.
"Mind your own fucking business, Clag," she snarls.
Vi starts throwing clothes onto her bed. She needs to pick out an outfit for tonight. She wants to wear her uniform, but her mother hates it when she does that.
"No," Claggor's voice cuts through the room. He stands up. "Your business is my business. We're partners now. We need to be at the top of our game to protect each other."
Academically, Claggor is as sharp as a marble, and his physique is uncoordinated, lacking instinct and skill. But he has a way with people. He scored 94% in his social-cognitive aptitude test. He is excellent when it comes to which buttons to push. She knows exactly what he's doing. And it's working. He is using Vi's guilt to his advantage. Manipulation if you will. He knows how bad she feels about not being able to save Ekko, and now he is practically insinuating that her mental health can put him at risk too.
Smart move.
Dick move.
But also, smart fucking move.
Vi smiles in anger. She throws a pair of pants at the wall.
"You're right! This is not just about Ekko! Are you happy now?!" She shouts angrily.
This is about losing her best friend. About old wounds that won't mend. About spending eight years in a fucking military prison disguised as this prestigious career choice. This is about Caitlyn. Caitlyn and her fucking feelings towards her. This is about forgetting who she is and losing herself in a cooperation that tries to control her. But she refuses to tell him, he has nothing to gain from that knowledge.
A tune plays as a calendar reminder pops up on the wall.
FAMILY DINNER STARTS IN 30 MINUTES
After a few seconds, the reminder vanishes.
Claggor stands steadfast during her outburst. In angry strides, Vi starts peeling off her uniform until she's stripped down to her underwear. Claggor has seen her half-naked before – they were bunkmates at the academy – and she honestly doesn't care. She's being hysterical and she has every damn right to be hysterical. She finds a pair of dark chinos and throws them on.
"I'm fucking devastated about Ekko," she yells. "I can't sleep. I can't eat."
She throws a punch at the wall. A few things fall off the shelves. She slings a shirt at the wall. It lands next to the bed with a thud.
Claggor sits down and just listens. She sees relief in his eyes.
"And I'm not even assigned to go fucking look for the person who killed him!"
Dryness envelopes her throat from heaving air in and out. Ekko's fate was so undeserved. He deserved the fucking world.
Vi pulls a white slim fitted shirt with grey hems over her head. In the heap of clothes in the corner, Vi rummages for her leather jacket. She panics a little when she doesn't find it. Lowering herself to the floor, Vi searches under her bed. The muscles in her shoulders slack as she pulls out the brown leather jacket. The leather is the color of tobacco, the wear and tear evident in the cracks where the elbows bent. The collar is decorated with a teal line of softer fabric. Vi puts it on with haste.
Claggor has still not said anything. Vi drops down on the edge of the bed and starts angrily pulling a pair of shoes on.
Claggor gets up and joins her on the bed. A very large, very heavy arm slouches over her shoulders. She's pulled into his chest. Claggor is so warm, he's like a furnace. She wants to wrestle free from his grip. She doesn't muster up the energy.
"Do you really think catching that guy will make you feel better?" he asks, and Vi can feel his voice hum in his chest. "Because, to me it sounds like you're projecting all that anger onto that person. I miss Ekko too, and I also want to catch this psycho. But no matter whether we catch the person or not, it won't bring Ekko back."
Vi is trying to listen to what he's saying.
"Vi…," he says very gently, "you were never the type to seek revenge. Justice for sure, but never vengeance. That's not you. You've usually woken up by now. I know you feel responsible. I know you do, and I know it doesn't help whenever someone says that it wasn't your fault. But think about it this way. What if it had been you instead of Ekko? Would you blame him for not making it in time? I was there at the hearing. No human could have run that distance in the second or less it took to push Ekko over. Would you really blame Ekko if it had been you?"
Vi stills. The words are getting through to her for the first time in weeks. Vi shakes her head lightly. Her hair falls over her eyes. A tear escapes its confines. It's a drop of water that's been devouring her from the inside since Ekko fell. Another tear falls. It drips off her nose. It lands on Claggor's shirt. She feels his chin rest on the top of her head. He says nothing.
It's the first time in ten years Vi has allowed herself to cry in front of another person.
"I suppose now isn't the best time to tell you that your shoes don't match…?" He whispers.
Vi snorts because she honestly feels a little pathetic. She's wearing two different kinds of shoes. One is a boot, the other is a sneaker. Actually, it was the perfect time to tell her, because she's already late for dinner.
Vi looks at Claggor, runs her hand over his hair.
"Don't ever let me cut your hair again. It looks awful."
"You say that almost every time."
"And I mean it almost every time," she says.
She kicks Claggor out; an act to save the remains of her dignity. He just laughs, pads her back once and takes the elevator down.
Vi moves through the city with ease, snaking her way through the crowds on the streets. Her hands are buried in the pockets of her jacket, hair covered in a hood. She takes the skytran to her parent's place. It would have been faster to take the hyperloop, but she doesn't like the underground tubes during the evening. Or during the day. She actually just really doesn't like the hyperloop. The city is currently conserving energy, so the tubes are only dimly lit. Dark confined places are on the list of things Vi avoids.
It's not until she's standing outside her parent's front door that she notices her shirt is on backwards. Claggor failed to mention that. Maybe he thought that was how it was supposed to look. She doesn't blame him. Fashion these days is ridiculous.
Vi slides off her jacket until it hits the ground. Grabbing the hem of her shirt, she pulls it over her head. Meanwhile, Vi realizes her mother finally made a reality of her long-desired TV shop dreams by purchasing a sensory doorbell.
"Violet Stryker is at the door," the doorbell sings on the other side of the door.
Her presence is immediately made known to everyone inside the apartment.
"You got to be fucking kidding me, Mom," Vi curses as she fumbles with her shirt.
"Violet Stryker is at the door," the doorbell says again.
She stands, bare and exposed in only her bra, begging that no one answers the door before she can put her shirt back on. Vi takes comfort in the fact that it is usually her mom who answers the door. The door swings open and on the other side stands the one person she wishes hadn't opened the door.
There she is. It's her.
She is currently looking at Vi with a set of sapphire blue eyes, helplessly taking in the scene as Vi tries to find the opening on her shirt. Caitlyn's eyes drop from Vi's face to the rest of her body. Her mouth opens in confusion and shuts abruptly in speechlessness. Caitlyn takes a deep breath through her nose. Of all the countless scenarios Vi had imagined herself being topless in front of Caitlyn, this isn't one of them. This woman turns on everything her body has shut off. Vi is a computer when it comes to her, she flicks one switch, and her system is up and running. And whenever she leaves, Vi turns right back off again. Right now, her insides are beeping, she's processing data, and her software is updating.
With every wordless second that passes, the awkwardness settles heavier upon them, like a thick blanket of tension. The slightest tinge of rosa mantles Caitlyn's cheeks. It's so well camouflaged that it's nearly imperceptible. There's a subtle urge within Vi that encourages her to tease Caitlyn. To have an easy, fun, conversation like the night they met. Vi longs for that night, how they communicated like they'd known each other for years, always reciprocating one another in a verbal game of ping pong.
"Shit," Vi mumbles under her breath. "I swear I was dressed when I left home," she laughs gingerly, scratching the back of her head.
Caitlyn's hand creeps up to cover her mouth. Is that a smile? Vi is trying to find the right sleeve, and really it shouldn't be this hard to put on a shirt. But it is with Caitlyn in front of her.
Vi doesn't embarrass easily. The fact that she's shirtless in front of Caitlyn doesn't embarrass her at all. What makes the blood rush loudly in her ears is the fact that she feels foolish carrying around all these unreciprocated feelings for Caitlyn. That Caitlyn and Vi can never happen. It isn't shame or bashfulness. It's the pathetic feeling of pining after someone who is unobtainable. Unavailable. Even if Caitlyn wasn't married to her brother (who she could never betray by seducing his wife), Caitlyn comes from a world where status and name matters. In a way, Vi resents Caitlyn for it. She knows that Caitlyn didn't choose this life herself – a life where marriages are arranged to strengthen status. Where choice is taken out of the equation. What Vi resents the most is that there is not only one factor keeping them apart, but multiple.
Caitlyn diverges her gaze out of politeness. Vi heaves the shirt over her head. She grabs her jacket and smooths out her hair. Caitlyn's hands are folded in front of her. Vi steals a few glances while Caitlyn's eyes are still fixated on the ceiling. She's tall and gorgeously shaped. Her features are curvy and feminine. Her skin is as pale as the clouds above, and not the clouds of smog, but the real clouds. Her eyes are as deep and blue as a river, and her complexion reminds Vi of fresh powdered snow settling on frost-covered ground. Her hair is like a waterfall of dark locks, all neatly gathered into a bun on the back of her head.
"I didn't actually plan to flash you, my shirt was on backwards," Vi explains, forcing a smile.
"I thought your line of work required discretion," Caitlyn teases.
Vi appreciates the joke. Everyone meets her with sympathy and pity. A non-committal joke to distance herself from reality is just what she needs.
"Tell that to this fucking doorbell," Vi huffs.
They look at each other for a moment. Vi wants to keep looking at her. Her face is soft, but she senses sadness beneath the softness. Carefully Caitlyn takes a step forward and wraps her arms around Vi. She feels Caitlyn squeezes her tightly. Vi's heart explodes like a nuclear bomb and its remains curse through her veins, spreading heat under her skin and making her warm all over. Hesitantly, she begins to hug her back. It's one of those hugs that lasts more than a minute. Caitlyn's cheek rests on her shoulder.
"I'm so sorry about Ekko," she mumbles in Vi's ear.
In the end, Vi will take Caitlyn's pity any day. Had it been Jayce or her mother, she would have pushed them away. The guilt hasn't made its presence yet, so Vi allows herself to enjoy the hug for just a moment longer. But she knows she must be the one to break it. She can't give Caitlyn special treatment without waking suspicions. Vi gently pushes her away, holding her at an arms distance. Caitlyn smiles at her, and Vi tries not to smile back, but she can't help it because she's only human. Jayce approaches from the living room the moment Vi drops her arms down to her sides.
Her brother is glowing. A smile cracks his face in half. He is happy she's being nice to Caitlyn. If only he knew. Jayce kisses Caitlyn's lips. Vi looks away.
"Thank goodness you're here. Caitlyn and I really didn't feel like spending a week at your place. It's so messy," Jayce teases before pulling her into his embrace. Vi leans back, shifting her weight out of the embrace.
"Order is a state of mind," she defends.
"Mhm, tell that to the dust bunnies screaming under your bed."
He places a big loud kiss on the top of her head. Vi can't help but think that Jayce's lips touched Caitlyn's just a moment ago, and it's just all so, so wrong.
"Dad made your favorite," Jayce says and puts an arm around Vi's shoulder.
Their dad does all the cooking around here, and him cooking someone's favorite meal is his way of saying that he loves them. Sometimes her dad and Vi are better at saying things through actions rather than words.
They walk to the dining room. Jayce takes the lead with Caitlyn in tow. It's easier to just stare at the floor than try to keep her eyes from Caitlyn.
Hey…
The floor isn't doing its damn job. Her eyes wander.
Hey, Caitlyn?
Vi catches a glimpse of her heels. She's wearing the same velvety blue heels she wore last time. Caitlyn is so sophisticated. Her posture is so perfect.
If we had met first…
Her skirt stops just before her knees. Her eyes wander further up her slender body, jumping the distance between her back thighs and lower back out of respect (definition of respect: to avoid being turned on before having dinner with her parents.) Her eyes settle on her petite waist.
Everything would have been different, wouldn't it?
Jayce snaps her fingers at her. Vi doesn't realize they've stopped.
"Vi to Runeterra," he snaps his fingers at her.
Jayce doesn't seem suspicious. For all he knows, she could have been spacing out. Caitlyn looks at them worriedly over her shoulder.
"How long has it been since you slept?" Jayce wants to know.
She doesn't remember so she says nothing. She got a few hours of sleep at home after the hearing but that's more than twenty-four hours ago.
"Why do you ask?" She mumbles.
"Because you turned your shirt inside out."
Vi looks down and starts cursing under her breath. With gritted teeth she heads to the bathroom. Jayce and Caitlyn stare holes in her back, and she can feel their concern in their looks. It proves to be a challenge to suppress a groan, but she manages. Fuck family dinners and fuck stupid outfits.
She takes her time in the bathroom. After fixing her shirt, she makes sure her pants aren't inside out or on backwards as well. They aren't. At least she can still manage to put on her fucking pants.
She spends a moment looking in the mirror. Her jaw is clenched. She's not sure how she'll make it through tonight. Caitlyn's presence is making all of this so complicated. Just like the past year has been complicated. The longer she pushes down these unrequited - these licentious – feelings, the more they consume her. The heavier the guilt becomes. Sometimes she thinks of Caitlyn as a stain. An accident she couldn't help. She won't wash out. Vi can't hide her, she spilled square on the chest of her white shirt, and it's just so obvious. It's right there on her chest and she can't just change her shirt because she'll just spill again.
She's interrupted by a knock on the door. She hears her mother's voice on the other side. Vi opens the door and her mom hugs her closely.
"Oh, Vi, we're so happy to see you. You haven't picked up your phone. We weren't sure whether you were coming," her mom states and looks at her sadly.
Vi says nothing. There's too much focus on her. She squeezes her mother's shoulder and gives her a smile.
"I'm sorry for worrying you, Mom," Vi says. She means it.
Her dad walks out of the kitchen. He pats her arm and kisses the top of her head. Vi is about to combust from all the attention, all the sympathy. Their touches feel dirty on her skin, and she doesn't know why. Her body is urging her to push them away. Her mom pulls out her chair; she never used to do that.
Jayce and Caitlyn take their seats across from her. Her parents place themselves at either end of the table. Everything is okay for a minute because she can just let them talk and pretend like she's enjoying her dinner. She manages a few bites before the food turns to quick-drying concrete in her belly. She scoops the food from one side of the plate to the other. Her dad places a roll of bread on the edge of her plate, and she notices how eagerly he is trying to make her eat. He nods in encouragement, wafting the spicy aromas around with his serving tong. He would never say it aloud, but he's worried, which is why she lets him pour more food onto her plate.
Her parents are ignoring the elephant in the room, and she enjoys the last few moments of silence before Jayce decides to bring it up. The fucking motormouth on him makes Vi want to throw plates at his head sometimes. Caitlyn usually doesn't say much unless spoken to during these dinners.
"The food is amazing, Lazarus," Caitlyn compliments, and her dad beams, although the smile doesn't reach his eyes.
"Yeah, Dad… it's really great," Vi adds, which is her way of saying 'I love you' back.
He looks thankful for the compliment. One of his hands run through his dark locks; he doesn't know what to say.
Jayce clears his throat and Vi is ready to lean back, cross her arms over her chest, and wait for the shit-storm to come. Jayce puts his fork down and puts his elbows on the table while intertwining his fingers.
"How did your hearing go?" Jayce breaks the silence. The sound of cutlery scraping plates stops abruptly.
Everyone around the table falls quiet. They all want to know, there's no doubt about that.
"It went fine. I don't want to talk about it," Vi states clearly.
Jayce sighs and looks at her intensely.
"Come on, Vi. Don't be like that."
"Like what?" She spits, dropping her own cutlery to allow herself to put her elbows on the table.
"Dismissive," Jayce accuses.
"Can't you just take my word for it when I said it was fine?" Vi puts her palm against the table.
Caitlyn puts a hand on Jayce's arm, gently rubbing her thumb over Jayce's bicep.
"Darling, Vi doesn't want to talk about it right now…," Caitlyn says to him gently.
Jayce looks at his wife, his tone of voice getting rougher.
"I know she doesn't want to talk about it right now, she never wants to talk about anything. I'm aware that I'm being pushy, but I just need to know if she's in trouble," his eyes dart from Caitlyn to Vi. "They… don't suspect that you did it… do they?" Jayce questions worriedly.
Vi wants to shrug, because answering that question will only spike their growing concern. But she looks across the table, and she sees Caitlyn's subtle, yet begging, eyes looking at her. She wants to know too. She's worried too, and Vi can't ignore Caitlyn as easily as she can ignore Jayce.
She sighs once, because she wants them to know that she's not pleased by being forced to talk about this.
"The justice department assured me that I'm not a suspect in the case, and the hearing was purely a formality," she reveals.
Relief washes over their faces, she notices Caitlyn's muscles loosen. Before she continues, she pauses for a moment. Absentmindedly, she pokes her food with her fork.
"But they have no evidence of a third party ever being present. There were no other witnesses. No surveillance footage. No fingerprints or DNA. Nothing."
The relief subsides fast, and Vi feels bad that she's the cause of the concern on all their faces.
"So… what does that mean?" her mother wants to know.
Her voice is careful, Vi can barely hear her.
"I don't know. They say I'm not a suspect, and they didn't treat me as such. I guess all I can do is believe them."
"That's… good, isn't it?" Jayce says in a more chipper tone of voice.
"I suppose," she answers with a shrug.
Vi hopes that this is the end of the conversation, but from the look on both her mother and brother's faces, she knows it's far from over.
"What's going to happen now?" Her mom asks.
Vi clenches her fists. She thought her hearing was over, but now it just feels like she has stepped into another one.
"I don't know. I'm not on the case," Vi mumbles angrily.
Lazarus sighs in relief.
"Oh, thank goodness," he says, and they all look at him in surprise, because this is the first time he has had anything to say on the matter. "You have no business running around after murderers like that." He takes a sip of his drink, and Vi looks at him questionably.
"I'm a police agent, Dad. What do you think I do for a living?" She says while turning to him.
"What I meant to say is, you have no business chasing murderers who target the police force like that," he adds.
Her eyebrows come together. She looks at the mess of food on her plate.
"We don't know if this was directly targeted on the police force. Ekko might as well just have been at the wrong place at the wrong time," Vi says.
She doesn't believe what she just said. But it will make her dad stop worrying. What she just said is a complete lie. She's more than one hundred percent sure that Ekko was targeted. The only thing that doesn't make sense is why Ekko would be the person being the chaser instead of the chased.
Caitlyn's delicate voice cuts through the tension and all eyes are on her now. She's looking at Vi, and Vi is melting, fuck she's melting from that piercing gaze.
"I just don't understand… Piltover City is packed with surveillance. The Museum of Ancient Arts is a fairly public space. I would've expected there to be heightened security," Caitlyn says.
Of course, Caitlyn is smart like that. She has thought ahead.
"The criminal knew what they were doing. The person led Ekko to the only place without surveillance cameras by the museum," Vi says, trying to break free from Caitlyn's stare.
Like Caitlyn, Vi had also thought of this. It made her positive that the person had planned this from the start, leading Ekko to this only possible escape route. But no one will believe her, not even Vander. No one knows about the location of surveillance cameras, and you can't see them since they are built into the buildings themselves. You'll need the blueprints to identify each camera.
The dinner passes without another word on the topic. Vi is relieved they don't push her further. Her temper is fragile enough as it is.
Vi helps her dad with the kitchen while her mom is preparing tea and coffee. Her mom likes doing it the old-fashioned way with filters and tea bags. Vi excuses herself to go to the bathroom, just to allow herself to breathe before the coffee is served.
On her way to the restroom, she hears Caitlyn and Jayce discuss something in the living room. Eavesdropping is not something Vi particularly feels ashamed of – she's a cop for god's sake. She stands by the drywall arch, leaning her head against the wall, well hidden behind the corner.
"Why didn't you just tell her at the dinner table?" She hears Jayce ask, his voice a tad accusing.
Vi imagines Caitlyn standing with her arms folded over her chest, popping out her hip, and Jayce using his wild hand gestures like she always does whenever someone argues with him.
"Because it's something I want to talk to her about privately. Didn't you see her face the entire time we talked during dinner? It kills her to talk about it, Jayce. Can't you see that?" Caitlyn's tone is sharp, Vi wouldn't want to be Jayce right now.
"I know but how else am I going to look out for her if she doesn't tell me anything?"
"You need to give her some space; she'll come to you when she's ready."
It's always bizarre listening to a conversation that involves you without your presence. She's a fly on the wall, and in a way, she likes it. She's a part of a conversation with no restrains and she doesn't have to contribute in any way.
"No she won't. You don't know Vi like I do, Caitlyn. She's… so different than she used to be. Ever since she came back from the academy…." Jayce trails off. "She's so distant. The only reason she hasn't locked herself in her apartment is because I'm making sure that won't happen."
Vi rolls her eyes. Jayce Talis. A big fat hero.
"But maybe that's what she needs right now. She watched her best friend die before her eyes, and she blames herself. As if that isn't enough, the justice department might blame her as well."
"We don't know that. Vi said the risk is slim. They even said she wasn't a suspect," Jayce says.
"Yes, but there is a risk. There shouldn't be!" Caitlyn retorts frantically.
"Calm down, Caitlyn. Everything's going to be fine. You heard Councilor Shoola today. They will probably write it off as an accident," Jayce says.
He talks about Councilor Shoola's statement as if Caitlyn wasn't the one conducting the interview. When did he become so arrogant? Jayce never had an interest in politics or global affairs. He cared about science and making the world a better place. Vi doesn't know what happened to the boy with the dream of changing lives.
"And if it wasn't an accident? Then there's a murderer on the loose. Vi could be in danger," Caitlyn shoots.
Vi hears Jayce snort. The tone he's using, it's like listening to Councilor Shoola all over again. Ten years ago, Jayce was a farm boy with big dreams. Vi doesn't know what to make of him now.
"Maybe don't walk around saying that. It's dangerous to cry wolf," Jayce says.
Vi hears someone stomp their foot. The restraint Caitlyn must possess to resist smacking him across the face sometimes.
"I'm not crying wolf! I'm simply not dismissing any possibilities. No one knows anything for certain. Maybe it's safer to assume the worst. Then we're prepared," she says.
"You're going to lose credibility. You didn't exactly do yourself any favors asking all those questions about the bridge today."
"Don't you dare start with me," Caitlyn bites.
Caitlyn's voice is sharp – sharper than usual. Vi has never witnessed Caitlyn lose her cool. She still hasn't. She's impressed with her. Vi would have Jayce in a headlock by now, just like when they were kids.
"I'm just saying, maybe your mother is right-" Jayce doesn't get to finish his sentence.
"I didn't spend an hour on the telephone listening to my mother's bickering for you to start the same shit conversation with me, Jayce," Caitlyn snaps at him.
Vi smiles.
"I'm not starting anything!" Jayce says. Vi imagines he puts his hands up as if surrendering. "All I'm saying is, maybe you should write the article instead of making such a big deal out of it. And maybe write it in a way that doesn't convey crisis."
Vi decides that it's finally time to come out of hiding. Her mom is nearly done with the tea by now, and she needs to know what's going on before her parents join them. Vi turns the corner and both of them look at her wide-eyed.
"What article?" She asks.
Vi already knows what article. It's not hard to guess. Jayce turns to her; his brows come together in anger.
"Oh, really? We're eavesdropping now?" He shoots.
"You obviously don't care about my privacy, why should I care about yours?" Vi snarls.
Caitlyn is quick to get in between them.
"Stop it you two. There's no need to get angry at each other over this. Vi and I are going to go talk. Alone. Tell your parents we'll be back soon," Caitlyn orders.
She grabs Vi by the wrist and drags her off to the upstairs guest bedroom. It's a fairly small room. The bed takes up most of the space, leaving only a few spare floorboards to stand on. Caitlyn closes the door and makes Vi sit down on the bed by pulling her down with her. Vi doesn't tell Caitlyn that her sitting so close to her hurts. It actually hurts her, because it feels so good, and she knows it will be the worst feeling in the universe when she gets up and leaves. They sit next to each other; Caitlyn's knees press together and point towards Vi.
Caitlyn looks sad. So so sad, Vi's heart can hardly take it.
"You ok?" Vi asks her, which makes Caitlyn look up.
Vi can see the disbelief on her face.
"I'm fine. You really don't have to worry about me," she assures her and squeezes Vi's hand.
"If you say so," Vi mumbles, because they both know Vi worries. She's worried about all of the spectacle she's been causing lately, because now it's affecting Caitlyn.
They sit there for a few moments. Vi can tell Caitlyn is trying to figure out what to say. Her mouth form the words, but she stops them every time and starts over. Vi lets her think while she tries to fight the urge to caress her hand with her thumb.
"Vi… there's something I need to tell you," she says. Her hand lies still on top of hers. "I'm assigned to write the article on Ekko's death."
Caitlyn doesn't say anything else for a while. Maybe she's giving Vi time to let it sink in. It doesn't take long for her to process. This is what she expected when she heard Jayce mention something about an article. She's just happy it's about Ekko, and not about Ekko's partner who's left behind to deal with this mess. Caitlyn looks down before she continues.
"I've requested to be reassigned, and I'm still working on trying to kill the story. My editor apparently thought I was perfect for the job since I know you personally. He won't let it go. But I promise I'll find a way around it, I just wanted to let you know in case they call you. Honestly, Vi, I don't want you to do anything you don't want to do, and-"
Vi raises her hand to stop her.
"I'll do it."
She's surprised Caitlyn doesn't look relieved. Now she just looks confused.
"Vi, my job isn't worth-"
"I want to do it, Caitlyn," she cuts her off.
Hesitantly, Caitlyn reaches a hand towards Vi, as if she wants to place it on her knee. Instead, she changes direction in the very last minute. Now she wraps her hand around herself.
"You don't have to do this for me. I want you to do it for yourself if you're going to do it for anyone. So please, promise me. You won't do it for me."
"I promise."
Caitlyn still doesn't look entirely pleased. Her eyes keep wandering from their hands to Vi's eyes. Vi moves closer, because she just can't help herself. Looking Caitlyn dead in the eye, Vi tries to convince her.
"I want the truth to be delivered properly, Caitlyn. Ekko deserves that. And I wouldn't trust anyone but you with that job."
Finally. Finally she's convinced, because her sapphire eyes are finally clear of guilt. Her lips tug upwards into an almost smile.
Maybe…
Vi smiles back at her, the best that she can muster. To her regret, Caitlyn lets go of her hand. It's too soon. They still have time.
Maybe we could be happy…
"Okay," Caitlyn says, still trying to convince herself it's a good idea. "If that's what you want. We can set up an interview tomorrow night. You can come to our place. Jayce won't be home. It'll give you some space. I know he's being pushy. He's just worried."
Together. Just you and me.
"Okay," Vi answers, trying to rid herself of her smile. They rise from the bed in unison and walk downstairs. Vi watch as Caitlyn looks at Jayce as she drops down beside him. Her brother drapes an arm around her shoulders. Vi feels herself vanish.
It should've been me.