Like a Dog Inspires a Rabbit
It was the same memory that had been playing on loop in Violet Vanderson’s mind for weeks.
It was hot. Sweltering, the type of heat that could easily land you in the medbay. Glistening strands of damp hair stuck to the back of her neck and to her forehead as thick beads of sweat trailed down her face.
Vi could feel her gear weighing her down. Every muscle in her body felt weighed down. The soft sand underneath her boots, her rifle, her body armour, her webbing, all pulling her down and stopping her from advancing.
The steady hum of helicopter blades streaked overhead. Distorted voices echoed around her, simmering into the dry open air. Distant and tinny as if they were calling from the void.
And she couldn’t move.
Every synapse urged her legs to take flight, to catch up with the rest of her crew, to keep going.
But nothing responded. Vi didn’t budge an inch. She was trapped in her own skull.
“Vanderson, let’s go!”
The squad leader shouted at her over his shoulder. She saw his face: no facial features. Blurred. Like the post-mission pictures special operations units take that get buried in files deep underground where the light can never see the horrors they committed.
“Vanderson, let’s fucking go!”
A voice called again. Only, it wasn’t her squad leader this time.
The ground beneath her was morphing. Still soft, but not trying to swallow her soles up like the sand previously. She was standing on sodden mud.
Her boots tightened.
The weight disappeared.
The thump of chopper blades dissipated into the almighty roar of a cheering crowd.
Then it wasn’t her squad mates in front of her anymore.
It was an Ionian rugby player, barrelling towards her shoulder-down, ball clutched tightly in their arms.
***
Just like Vi had grown to like drinking tea because of Caitlyn, Caitlyn was starting to like rugby because of Vi.
Her original point still stood: there were way too many rules, and it was confusing to understand what was happening or why that player was getting a yellow card but the other wasn’t, and now both Jayce and Vi had tried and failed on multiple occasions to explain it to her. Nonetheless, she tagged along to all the games, and nodded along to Jayce’s babbling about what they did wrong and what he would’ve done differently.
In those instances, Jayce could have been speaking a different language and Cait would probably understand him better.
When Vi had got the invite back to the Piltover Military Academy’s women’s union team, Caitlyn hadn’t seen her that happy since the war was officially declared over with Noxus.
And when Vi found out she’d made captain?
She yelled so loud in ecstasy that it wasn’t just their household who could hear it; her joyful cries echoed down the whole street.
Caitlyn didn’t care much for the men’s matches or the international games, though. She only went to watch Vi.
Because there was nothing better than watching your girlfriend getting sweaty and worked up for 80 minutes, and still having pent-up adrenaline to release afterwards.
Today was their last home game of the season, and she’d dragged their entire household along to give her partner one final send-off. As it was their last year at PMA, and her second-to-last time ever playing rugby with these girls again, Caitlyn wanted to make it extra special for Vi.
Jayce didn’t need to be asked to tag along; besides Caitlyn, he was Vi’s number one supporter, and vice versa. Viktor went wherever Jayce did, which included any sporting events he’d decided on the day that they were going to watch.
The only person who needed somewhat convincing was Mel. However, at the promise of the “rager of the century” (as Jayce so humbly dubbed it) afterwards, she obliged.
They were all sat in a neat row right at the front of the pitch, using Viktor’s leg as an excuse to kick the grumpy cadets who had been there previously out of the front row view. It also meant Cait had to try and focus her eye in less, which was always a plus.
The road to recovery after losing her left eye had been rough, to put it in an understatement. Depth gauge was still something she struggled with, especially when waking up in the morning or if she’d had her good eye closed for too long. Countless doctor’s appointments and optician visits later, Caitlyn had made tiny improvements, but there was no doubt in her mind that she’d never recover her 20/20 vision fully.
For a month after the incident, Cait stuck to wrapping her eye with standard medical bandages, thick rolls of white fabric which made her sweat when it was hot and agitated her when she was cold. That was until one day, Jayce had shuffled into her room awkwardly to give her a small navy present box, hands stuffed deep into his pockets as she opened it.
It was an eye patch. A dual-strapped, single velvet covering for her left side.
“Thought you might prefer it to the white, you know,” Jayce had mumbled. God, he was rubbish with words sometimes.
She took the patch out of its packaging and slipped it over her face, adjusting the slim cover twice before it was fully over her eye. “How do I look?” she asked, looking up at Jayce.
Jayce cracked a grin. “Badass,” he commented. “Like a pirate, but cooler.”
The pirate comment was the straw that finally broke the camel’s back for eyepatch jokes. Her friends’ particular favourite was “aye, aye, captain”, poking fun at Caitlyn’s new swashbuckling appearance and her rank in the Army of Piltover.
Soon enough, they were all starting to crack jokes. And in all honesty, Caitlyn didn’t mind at all. She preferred them to do that than to treat her like a fragile thing that would break if the wind blew the wrong way.
Everyone had made a comment at least once. Mel, Viktor, Claggor, even Mylo.
Everyone except Vi.
The view was spectacular; each of them could see every detail of what was happening on the pitch, from a player tying their shoelaces to what colour gumshield they had in. The crowds rippled and roared triumphantly, the distinct navy blue of PMA’s uniform contrasting with the grey adorned by the Ionian supporters.
Besides Caitlyn sat Mel, who was equally bewildered by the rules as she was. On the other side sat Jayce, whose great shoulders squashed against Cait’s. His hand was draped over Viktor’s leg, giant paw dwarfing the other man’s skinny thigh. He’d rushed to the concession stand as soon as they’d arrived, bringing back a bag of popcorn for them each, which Caitlyn took with a nod of thanks.
The booming atmosphere simmered down to a hushed murmur as PMA stepped forward to take the first kick, booting the game into action. The ball soared through the air and landed straight into the arms of a mountain of a player from Ionia. The player dropped, teeth gritted, and charged straight on.
Straight into the path of Vi.
Who wasn’t moving.
She stood in place, motionless, eyes glossed over. The lights were on but no-one was home.
Jayce jumped in his seat. “What’s she doing?” he exclaimed disappointedly. Jayce was very, very passionate about these games.
Cait leant forward onto her knuckles. “Something’s wrong,” she mumbled.
The Ionian was mere metres away from Vi now. If she didn’t move, Caitlyn had no doubt that a trip to the ER would be on the agenda for that night.
She knitted her eyebrows, fear mixing with confusion, eye darting between the two players relentlessly like she was watching tennis.
Then finally, the lights switched on.
Vi dropped down into the standard tower of power position and scooped her arms around the back of the Ionian player’s knees, lifting her up before pummelling her straight back down into the dirt. The crowd screamed.
“Fuck yeah!” Jayce bolted up from his seat. Popcorn spilled from his packet and onto Viktor and Caitlyn, who both shared a look of disgust between them. “Let’s fucking go, Dumptruck Vanderson!”
At the call of her name, Caitlyn saw the smallest uptick of a smirk at the corner of Vi’s mouth.
***
The Piltover Military Academy wiped the floor with Ionia Tech. A brilliant show of strength and courage from PMA’s side, to the point where Caitlyn was praying that the referee called the game early out of pity for the Ionians.
When the final whistle blew, and the various handshakes and murmurs of “good game” were exchanged between the two opposing teams, Cait watched Vi bounce over to her squad, whooping and jeering with the rest of them before pulling them into a tight huddle.
Arms around shoulders, big cheesy grins, fists balled around shirt fabric, the PMA girls listened to Vi intensely with an unspoken respect that had been earnt, not given.
Caitlyn always wondered what she told her girls. If she was a sharp, straight-to-the-point leader like Cait, or if she was easy and constructive with her criticism. Regardless of what was said, it must have been positive, because the players all broke away beaming ear-to-ear as they filed down the tunnel towards the changing rooms.
Before Vi followed her team in, however, she jogged over to her housemates and partner, lips spilling into a wide smile as she waved them down. Caitlyn grimaced playfully as she drew closer; every inch of her was covered in mud. Thick brown dirt caked into every orifice, as if Vi had been sliding up and down on the sidelines for 80 minutes as opposed to actually playing a game.
“Hey,” Vi greeted cheerfully. Caitlyn had already stood up as Vi came over, and before she could protest, big dirty powerful arms were enveloping her in a hug.
Cait felt the faintest flutter of a kiss against her cheek. “Hey yourself,” she responded, before her nose wrinkled with disgust and she pushed Vi away playfully. “Get off me. You’re filthy.”
“Oh yes I am,” Vi snided with a suggestive wink.
Mel scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Get a room, please,” she sneered without any bite.
Vi shot her an awkward half-smile before turning her attention to the rest of the group. “Are you guys gonna wait for me?”
“I’m your ride home, dipshit,” drawled Jayce, who extended a balled hand to fistbump Vi. “Kind of have to.”
“Thanks.” Vi jutted a thumb over her shoulder, other hand resting on her hip. “Well, uh, I better hit the showers. See y’all in a bit.”
Before she left, she gave one last light kiss to Caitlyn, this time properly on the lips. Before Caitlyn knew it, Vi was dragging a mud-covered cheek across Caitlyn’s, cackling to herself.
“Vi!” Cait squealed in protest, but it was too late. Her pilot had already vanished into the tunnel.
***
After showering and dressing into the standard post-match PMA polo, dodging plastic cups of beer being haphazardly thrown about the changing room, Vi ducked out and began striding over to the university’s parking lot.
As soon as she exited the stuffy changing room and broke out into the retreating chill of the spring air, her fingers fumbled about her jean pocket and tugged on the familiar rectangle packet which brought her way more comfort than was healthy.
She was going to quit. This would be her last. Something to knock the edge off the post-victory high she was still riding.
That was the mantra of lies Vi repeated to herself, just like every other time, as she stuck a cigarette into her mouth and lit the tip with a satisfying flick of her lighter.
“Those things will kill you,” a sultry voice cooed from behind her.
Vi’s head spun around and she broke into a wide grin. “So you’ve told me before,” Vi replied with the same level of tease as Caitlyn strutted over.
Before she could protest, Caitlyn plucked the lit stick out of Vi’s ring and middle finger, pursing her lips and inhaling deeply. Smoke coiled out of her mouth as she handed the cigarette back. “Are you okay?” she asked before linking her arm into Vi’s and leading them in the direction of Jayce’s car.
Vi took another puff, breathing in sharply. “Yeah. Yeah, it was a good match,” she said absentmindedly. Her gaze darted to avoid Cait’s prying eye.
Her partner dropped her voice low, giving Vi’s bicep a reassuring squeeze. “What happened out there, darling?” she questioned soothingly.
A lump formed in Vi’s diaphragm. She swallowed it down. “Nothing,” she blurted. “Just match nerves, s’all.”
But the way Vi’s eyes glossed over yet again, the tiniest hint of a thousand-yard stare settling in, Caitlyn knew it was nothing. When Vi got like that it was never nothing.
They all carried the emotional burden of what happened and what they saw out in Noxus. They were kids, barely twenty, eyelids forced open by fate in a vice-grip as they viewed the horrors of the world firsthand.
But Vi?
Vi had watched people burn. She’d shot people out of the air without a second thought. She’d pulled the trigger against countless nameless Noxian soldiers, watching as their last inklings of life slipped through their fingers.
She’d watched her best friend die right in front of her eyes. There was no coming back from that. No amount of therapy or counselling could ever shake the image or memory from Vi’s head.
Caitlyn never pried, mostly because she knew Vi wouldn’t talk about it unless she was ready, but also because Caitlyn couldn’t relate by any measure. All she could do was be there for Vi when she needed it, offer her comfort when her nightmares jerked them both awake in the middle of the night, cradle her head as she wept in her arms replaying it all over again.
It was time to shift the topic of conversation. Cait knew that. “Excited for the party?”
Vi huffed a laugh and flicked her cigarette onto the floor, scuffing it out with her boot. Half-finished. At least she was getting somewhat better with her nicotine consumption. “Oh, yeah. There’s no party like a Talis party.”
“Yes, well it’s all fun and games until the clean-up job has to happen in the morning,” Caitlyn giggled. She spotted Viktor’s head poking out amongst the row of cars, leaning against Jayce’s pristine white Audi (which she bet he absolutely hated), offering a friendly wave.
Before they got within earshot of the other housemate, a knowing smirk crept onto Caitlyn’s lips, and she leant into Vi’s ear.
“Seeing you on that pitch gets me so worked up, dear,” she purred.
Vi stared up at her. Mouth gaping like a fish out of water, incoherently mumbling, hot coals falling deep into the pit of her stomach.
Before she could put together something that resembled a sentence, however, Viktor was already cracking open the passenger door and allowing them to clamber inside.
***
“Vi, I don’t know how you do it, man. You’re always thinking three plays ahead. It’s fucking incredible to watch.”
“Jayce, keep your bloody eyes on the road,” Caitlyn huffed from the backseat.
Their driver groaned and rolled his eyes. “Sorry, Mom,” he said in a mocking tone.
Jayce’s post-game ritual of breaking down every single play had begun as soon as Vi got into the backseat, and continued as they sped home, the boy getting a little too excited at times and doing well over twenty on the speed limit. He felt the need to run past every second of the game with Vi, as if they weren’t all watching the exact same game and she wasn’t the one playing the damn thing.
Vi cleared her throat awkwardly and intertwined her fingers with Caitlyn’s. “Uh, yeah, I always look at their legs. They point their legs in the direction of where they’re going to go next. It’s natural.”
“Legs.” Jayce tapped his chin quizzically. “I never thought of that. Have to remember for next time.”
Viktor craned his head to look at the two passengers in the back. “Do you mind that your girlfriend is looking at other women’s legs, Caitlyn?” he teased.
Caitlyn hummed and, without missing a beat, retorted, “As long as she’s not imagining them thrown over her shoulders.”
Vi’s cheeks felt as though they might set alight as the rest of the car howled with laughter. Jayce slapped at the steering wheel, doubled over, while Viktor and Caitlyn giggled at Vi’s misfortune.
The car peeled down their street and onto the driveway. Saturday night celebrations had already begun; gaggles of teenagers huddled on lawns, sipping from assorted cans and red cups, laughing and bantering with each other. The air of somewhat normalcy slowly seeping back after months of being a ghosttown.
Jayce killed the engine and stepped out of the car. He was talking again before anyone had the chance to get a word in. God, did this boy ever come up for air?
“I still need to set up beer pong, and Vik, you’re still mixing up your signature cocktail, right? Okay, so, with Mel doing snacks, it’s up to Vi and Cait to sort the other drinks.”
Vi grunted a response. “We’ve got ages, Jayce. Loosen up.”
The man pinched the bridge of his nose, hand on hip like an angry teacher. “Violet Vanderson, failing to prepare is-“
“See you in an hour!” Vi shouted with delight over her shoulder, following Caitlyn back into the house.