Deja Vu
“She’s allergic to seafood. Didn’t you check her dietary requirements?” Caitlyn said to the nurse who had come with Vi’s dinner.
“Doesn’t matter,” the man muttered dismissively. “She’s Zaunite. What she gon’ do, file a report? The hospital ain’t even gonna look at it.”
Exasperated, Caitlyn tightened her grip on her fork and tried not to stab the man with it. “You’re missing the point. Just… get her something she can eat.”
With a roll of his eyes, the man muttered “Your wish is my command, Your Majesty,” and left.
Vi chose that moment to slide open the bathroom door, running a towel through her pink hair. “What was that about?”
“Nothing,” Caitlyn muttered quickly, eyes dropping to her own food.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Vi snapped. “I’m not gonna die because I nibbled on some shrimp.”
Caitlyn sighed heavily and pinched her nose bridge, trying desperately to remind herself that this was the woman she loved and she was not about to assault her.
She went for a snappy comeback instead. “Do you ever say ‘thank you’?”
Half-expecting a scoff or some sharp snap-back, Caitlyn shook her head and shoved another spoonful into her mouth.
Vis’ quiet reply was surprising, to say the least. In other circumstances, it was expected, but after seeing the person Vi had become and dealing with said person for a week, Caitlyn had learned to stop expecting softness and kindness from Vi.
And now, when she least expected it, Vi said, “Thanks.”
Caitlyn glanced up, and a flash of deja vu flushed through her body. Suddenly the hospital faded away and she and Vi were standing on the sidewalk, with that same quiet appreciation in Vi’s powdery eyes.
Snap out of it.
Caitlyn blinked hard, coming back to the present.
She watched as Vi climbed into her bed, neither of them saying anything more.
“How do you know I’m allergic to seafood?” Vi asked at last.
I know more about you that you realise.
“I read your file.” Caitlyn nodded at the clipboard hanging off the end of the bed.
Vi nodded slowly. “It doesn’t state dietary restrictions.”
Caitlyn chewed on the inside of her cheek, reminding herself to take a few lessons on learning to lie properly and give complete stories.
“Dunno. I just know. Maybe Vander told me — I’m not sure.”
~~~
Vi raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah?”
Caitlyn hummed noncommittally.
“Well, thanks anyway, Caitlyn.”
Vi felt her own voice catch on the name, and for a second, time seemed to stop.
What the hell…
And everything faded away. The hospital, the blinding white tiles, the steady beep of heart monitors. She was… somewhere else, sometime else.
Caitlyn.
The name was so familiar to her, after a week of being here.
So why did it feel… foreign?
Or… like a memory long gone?
The sensation was fuzzy and blurry. Vaguely, Vi was aware of the night sky, the tarmac under her feet, something… someone standing just a few feet away. Someone she couldn’t recognise.
And then, the confusion stopped, and Vi was back in the room, sitting up in bed, staring at the far wall.
Vi felt a breath squeeze out of her lungs.
She blinked hard, trying to clear her mind.
“What the hell…”
“Vi?” Caitlyn asked. Vi turned.
“You okay?”
The concern written all over her face made Vi’s head ache.
“Will you stop looking at me like that?” Vi hissed.
Caitlyn's expression morphed into one of hurt, the pain in her eyes making Vi want to take it all back.
“Like what?”
Vi bit her tongue, holding back a harsher answer. “Like we're friends or something.”
Silence.
If the pain in Caitlyn's eyes could deepen, it did. Her eyes took on a shine, and the guilt sinking in her stomach made Vi turn away.
When Caitlyn spoke, her voice was surprisingly calm. “Okay.”
Vi pretended not to hear the quiet sniffle and instead reached for her phone.
~~~
Caitlyn turned in her sleep, making the sheets rustle and catch Vi’s attention.
Vi readjusted on the bed, her mind a whirl despite the fact that it was nearly midnight and the physical toll that her injuries took on her body should have lulled her to sleep long ago.
But she couldn’t. Not with the sensation of a fuzzy, distant memory that she was certain was her own yet felt so foreign lingered.
Vi sat up, cross-legged on the stiff hospital bed, arms resting on her knees as she stared at the faint outline of the moon beyond the slatted blinds. The room was quiet except for the soft rise and fall of Caitlyn’s breathing and the beep of heart monitors.
She clenched her fists in her lap, jaw tight.
Why does she keep helping me? Why does she care?
Vi’s mind replayed the scene over and over — the effortless way Caitlyn had stepped in, the frustration in her voice when she dealt with the nurse. And that stupid name — Caitlyn. It triggered something. Like a whisper at the back of her mind, tugging on a thread she couldn’t see.
She hated Pilties. Always had. Always would.
At least, that’s what she told herself.
But tonight… the hatred felt thinner, like it had cracks along its edges. As if the iron wall she’d built was rusting, and with that, something warm and familiar was bleeding in.
Vi exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through her hair.
There was no reason for Caitlyn to give a damn about her. Vi wasn’t special. Just another Zaunite thug with blood on her knuckles and too much baggage to carry.
And yet…
That flash — stars overhead, tarmac under her boots, the soft call of her name. It felt so real. So personal.
Vi hugged her arms around herself, feeling the itch of unease under her skin.
What the hell is wrong with me?
She glanced sideways at Caitlyn, who shifted slightly, a crease on her brow even in sleep.
Vi bit the inside of her cheek, hesitating.
How can someone like her — someone from Piltover, from the upper crust — look at me like that? Like I’m not just some screw-up from Zaun.
But there was something else in Caitlyn’s gaze too, something Vi couldn’t quite name.
Softness? Worry?
No… pain.
Vi swallowed hard, staring back at the window.
The deja vu wasn’t just about a name or a vague feeling. It felt personal. Like the echoes of a story she didn’t remember living.
And for the first time since waking up in this sterile room, Vi wasn’t sure if the anger sitting in her chest was as righteous as she’d always believed.
~~~
Vi exhaled quietly, leaning against the bathroom wall and listening to Caitlyn tell the nurse — again — that she was allergic to seafood.
The nurses seemed… a lot more prejudiced against Zaunites than the doctors. It wasn’t the first time Caitlyn pointed out the seafood allergy — by Vi’s count, this was the fourth time — yet they never seemed to learn.
But watching Caitlyn do so much for her, care so much about her… it awakened a familiar yet unpleasant ache in her chest, like a painful experience she wasn’t ready to revisit.
Vi swallowed, listening to the nurse shut the door before going outside.
She watched as Caitlyn lowered her head to her own food, as though she hadn’t just been arguing with a nurse of Zaunite prejudices earlier.
Vi glanced at Caitlyn before lowering her eyes to the ground.
Then she looked up at Caitlyn again.
Caitlyn frowned, apparently noticing Vi’s eyes fervently darting around the room. “What?”
Vi blinked.
“Um…”
Caitlyn raised an eyebrow, and Vi felt the words slide off her tongue.
“Thank you. For… everything.”
Caitlyn narrowed her eyes. “What?”
“Thank you,” Vi repeated.
The shock on Caitlyn’s face made Vi’s chest hurt a little, as though Caitlyn had undermined Vi’s ability to be grateful.
And then Caitlyn’s eyes flashed with that same look again — the one that had been displayed in her eyes every time Vi looked at her. That near-deadly mixture of guilt, regret, nostalgia and longing.
Vi forced herself to look away, feeling as though if she stared into Caityn’s eyes for too long she would drown in the pain staring back at her.
“It’s… no problem at all,” Caitlyn said, but the reply seemed automatic, as though Caitlyn hadn’t really registered Vi’s thanks.
For the first time, Vi felt a strange sort of curiosity and pity stewing in her heart. Pity for Caitlyn, since she was obviously in a lot of pain whenever she looked at Vi, but also curiosity for what exactly had happened to her to make Caitlyn look at Vi with such tenderness and fragility.
No. Pity wasn’t the right word.
It was concern, the very thing Caitlyn had been giving Vi the whole time, and the very thing Vi had been pushing away so forcefully.
“What…” Vi could barely get the question out. “What happened to you?”
Caitlyn frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You… keep looking at me with a strange look in your eyes. Like… like you know me, but the experience associated with me isn’t a fun one.”
Caitlyn gave a brittle laugh, but her smile faded quickly as she registered the genuinity in Vi’s expression.
And then, whatever little joy was remaining in her eyes faded, and she turned her attention back to her food.
The response was quiet, yet the tremble in Caitlyn’s voice cracked Vi’s heart.
“You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you.”
Vi felt something cold settle in her stomach at Caitlyn’s words. She wanted to brush it off, to scoff and tell Caitlyn she was being dramatic — the usual snarky comeback that would keep the walls up.
But this time… the instinct didn’t come.
Instead, Vi stayed silent, staring at the woman sitting just a few feet away, who now looked a little too small, a little too breakable.
Vi blinked hard, suddenly aware that she wasn’t just looking at Caitlyn. She was searching her face, searching for something familiar hidden beneath the bruised exhaustion and strained politeness.
But all she found was that echo of a forgotten night.
Vi pressed her tongue to the back of her teeth and tore her gaze away, jaw tightening.
“Try me,” she muttered before she could stop herself.
Caitlyn’s head snapped up, exasperated, and spat, “If I told you that you fell in love with me, would you believe me?”
Vi’s response was quick, sharp and fiery. “What? Hell no! I would never date a Piltie!”
The silence folding over the room was so heavy even Vi was uncomfortable in it.
The hurt in Caitlyn’s eyes was only concentrated by the tears Vi could see brimming along her eyes. She watched, unsure of what to say, as Caitlyn struggled to force the tears down and rearrange her emotions in neat, orderly rows like threads on a loom.
“See?” Caitlyn said, shrugging as though she’d just proved her point. “I told you.”
Vi averted her eyes, refusing to watch the tears that she knew were making their journey down Caitlyn’s cheeks and splattering onto her lap.