Chapter 16
Chapter XVI
Vi didn't know who was more nervous. Vander, Powder, or her.
What she was sure of was that if someone connected cables to the three of them right now, they would be able to light up Piltover and Zaun in their entirety, harnessing all the nervous energy oozing from their pores.
The morning air was fresh, but Vi felt the back of her neck damp with sweat. The sun was beginning to climb between the Piltovian skyscrapers with that pure, orderly white light that seemed incompatible with the humidity and chaos of Zaun. Every step they took on the clean, symmetrical cobblestones of the upper city felt like a provocation. As if the ground itself wanted to remind them that they didn't belong there.
Powder was glued to her side, so close that her shadow on the ground blended with Vi's, and Vi could feel the heat of her body through the jacket her sister had lent her that morning. The older woman hand was firm on Vi's back, like an anchor and, at the same time, a warning to any idiot who dared to look directly at her, get too close, or breathe too loudly around her.
“Are you okay?” Powder murmured for the fourth time in less than ten minutes in a raspy voice.
Vi snorted, trying to sound amused.
“Pow, if you ask again, I'll kick your fucking ass back to Zaun.”
Powder hit her lightly in protest, though her eyes shone with something other than annoyance.
“Try it and I’ll be the one dragging you back by your ankle,” she snarled, her gaze shifting to a group of nurses snickering past. “Better not though… these damn cobblestones would ruin my jacket.”
Vi smiled, though the expression quickly faded, while the hold on her cane tightened. She was grateful for Powder's support at the time, more than she could say out loud, but this morning everything seemed overwhelming. Too much air. Too much silence. Too much anxiety.
Vander walked a few steps ahead of them in slow steps, as if he were strolling through a park. His towering figure was an additional mountain of protection, his shoulders extended above their heads, his gait confident, almost relaxed, and his boots seeming to leave such deep treads on the path that Vi could almost believe Piltover was giving way to him. But she knew those shoulders. She'd grown up climbing them, hiding behind them, crying against them; and she could clearly identify that Vander wasn't as calm as he appeared.
She knew that the little twitch in his fingers—the one that made him clench and unclench his fist almost—only appeared when he was dealing with a worry too big to be expressed in words. His hand would occasionally go to his pocket, probably searching for the pipe he wouldn't get around to lighting that day, only to drop it once more to his side with barely contained frustration.
However, every now and then he would look back at them both over his shoulder and Vi could imagine that pleasant and reassuring smile on his features once he made sure they were behind him. Constantly checking and silently protecting.
It was his way of encouraging himself.
And to encourage them.
The hospital appeared at the end of the street sooner than Vi would have liked, white and imposing, with its gleaming windows and its indistinguishable golden crest above the entrance. Vi felt the air thicken, as if the past had suddenly materialized in that gleaming facade. She could hear clearly, in some deep and dark corner of her mind, the echo of closing doors, the voices of guards, the smell of disinfectant mixed with fear.
Her step faltered for a fraction of a second, just an instant. But Powder felt it.
He sister's hand moved more firmly over her back, gripping her shoulder in a firm, supportive grip. Powder’s fingers dug into her flesh as if they could hold her against the tide of the past.
“It’s not the same situation as before,” Powder murmured like she could read her mind, voice a little harsh but steady, like the steel of a well-sharpened razor. “And we’re not the same… Besides, you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to. We can always turn back”
Vi wanted to say something clever, something brave. But all she could manage was to nod, feeling Vander's hand find hers for a moment, quick, furtive, but solid. It was all she needed.
As she stepped through the hospital doors, the first thing Vi noticed was the change in the air. It was cold. Incredibly cold. It smelled of disinfectant, synthetic lavender, and something metallic and sterile. The whirring of lights, the rolling wheels of a gurney, the sound of dozens of voices speaking at once, hurried footsteps, the distant beep of a machine monitoring vital signs.
Too much information arriving at a dizzying speed.
Vi reflexively stopped a few steps from the entrance, her body rigid with discomfort. The blurry shadows she could make out danced faster, too erratic to distinguish. She felt as if her chest was slowly closing, feeling like the entire building knew she didn't belong there...
“Breathe,” Powder murmured in her ear then, her hand still firm on the back “There is not need to pass out so early”
The joke was a firm saving line dragging her back to earth and Vi managed to crack a smile in return.
For his part, Vander looked around cautiously, searching for some direction amid the orderly chaos of the hospital. The place was large, modern, impersonal, and none of them knew where to go first to get help.
Until a familiar voice was heard among the tumultuous noise.
"Here!"
It was Caitlyn.
The young woman appeared briskly among the crowd of white coats and green uniforms, crossing the hall in a burst of blue and gray. Her hair, elegantly tied back, swayed slightly with each confident step she took toward them. As soon as she arrived her hand went straight to Vi's, closing it tightly between her fingers, and her lips touched the younger woman cheek in a fleeting kiss that helped Vi relax a little more.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Caitlyn said, as if saying it out loud had lifted the weight off her chest a little. “It’s pretty early still, so it’ll give you time to get comfortable first before we get started.”
“Where…?” Vander began, but was interrupted by another presence approaching.
“I’ll take care of it,” a deeper, more mature voice subtly interrupted.
Caitlyn had taken it upon herself to tell everyone about her father in preparation over the past few days, so none of the three Zaunites had any doubt about who he was.
Tobias Kiramman approached with a serene stride, the steady gait of someone who has walked these halls a thousand times and knows every corner of the hospital like the back of his hand. His face was furrowed with soft wrinkles that spoke more of worry than age, and he wore his glasses hanging from his neck on a leather strap, like someone who spends more time among books and microscopes than in board meetings.
Vander instinctively straightened, and Powder took a half step in front of Vi, finally letting go of her. They were both tense, ready for any slight gesture of Piltover arrogance that would justify the emotional wall they'd already built around the man.
But Tobias surprised and completely threw them off balance with his simple approach.
“Vander, right?” he said, extending his hand with a warm, sincere smile. “My daughter has told me a lot about you. It’s a pleasure to finally meet the man who has managed to keep so many young people out of the chaos of this world.”
Vander, who had prepared a dozen of responses to Piltovian disdain, ran out of script immediately. He hesitated for a second but his large, calloused hand ended up enveloping Tobias's with cautious respect.
“Someone has to do it,” he replied, but without the combative tone everyone expected.
“And I suppose you must be the famous older sister,” the doctor continued, turning to Powder with that same calm expression. “Caitlyn says your murals give the city a colorful soul. It’s nice to see new generations using art for the good.”
Unlike Vander, Powder didn't bother to hide her suspicions, her blue eyes flashing with distrust. She nodded briefly and didn't even bother to shake his hand back.
“And you’re the one who signs the permits to demolish our neighborhoods to build stores?” she spat.
Behind her, Vi grimaced while Caitlyn coughed uncomfortably.
“Powder…” Vander began, the warning ready in his tone.
However, Tobias didn't seem bothered or perturbed, casually waving his hand to interrupt Vander.
“Ah, my job is a little more interesting than that. I'm the one who approved the new pediatric ward in District 7,” he corrected gently. “Where they treat the children of Zaun for free. I've heard the results have been favorable the past few months. I've been putting off my visit because of work, but I plan to go soon.”
Powder blinked a few times, unsure how to respond, while Vander's eyebrows raised slightly. This was new information, and neither of them knew how to handle it.
“I hope you had a good journey here. I know Piltover can be… overwhelming,” Tobias added with a more knowing smile. “I still remember the first time I set foot in the city when I was young. I had my fair share of mistakes walking around while I was getting used to the streets.”
And then his eyes fell on Vi. His smile widened, and for a moment he looked much younger than he actually was.
“You must be Violet!” he exclaimed excitedly, and the name echoed through the hall like a misplaced musical note.
Vi straightened slightly, unused to having her full name used so freely as everyone else seemed to be doing nowadays. However, there was something warm and friendly in Tobias's tone that made her understand she had nothing to worry about.
“Caitlyn has told us so much about you that I feel like you’re already part of the family.” His voice was genuinely warm. It didn’t carry the pity Vi hated, nor the diplomatic tone she’d heard too many times in Piltover. Just… genuine closeness and curiosity. “It’s wonderful to finally meet the woman who stole my daughter’s sleep.”
"Dad!"
Vi smiled then. She didn't know if she should shake hands, make a joke, or just nod, but she recognized that anything could be good at that moment.
“I can assure you it’s not me,” she began, her fingers unconsciously opening and closing her hand around the cane “but the coffee from the cafe downtown. Caitlyn is addicted to it.”
Tobias laughed, a warm, real sound that made Vander and Powder blink in surprise.
“Ah, so that’s the real reason my Caitlyn goes to Zaun so much now,” he replied, winking. “I had my suspicions.”
Caitlyn squeezed Vi's hand while her cheeks flushed in embarrassment. A detail that went unnoticed only by the youngest of the group, but which the rest chose not to comment on.
Tobias leaned forward a little further.
“I’m so glad you all came.” he said sincerely. “I know what you think about this place, but I promise you that today, you’re my guests. I’ll do my best to make sure you’re comfortable.”
Those words seemed to be enough for Vander to finally relax, his gaze softening at the corners of his eyes as he studied the doctor more closely.
Vi swallowed. She didn't trust him completely yet; there was a deep pang of skepticism inside her, but the words didn't ring any alarm bells for the moment. Caitlyn stroked her hand with her thumb and Vi decided that, even if she didn't completely trust the good doctor, she could trust her daughter's blind faith in him.
Tobias took a small step to the side and extended his arm, inviting them to follow. “I have a room ready for you. Private, no nosy nurses or nervous residents. Just the necessities and coffee with snacks, if anyone needs them,” he offered.
Vander mumbled something under his breath that sounded like a thank you, still frowning slightly and smiling uneasily. Powder, on the other hand, said nothing else, but her eyes remained fixed on Tobias as she follows with an intensity that could have pierced concrete.
And Vi… Vi took a deep breath, the cold hospital air invading her lungs.
::::
Powder couldn't stay still.
The room was everything Caitlyn's father had promised: spacious, bright, with large windows that let in the cool morning breeze, decorated with warm tones and delicate details. There was a comfortable sofa next to the single hospital bed, a small table with coffee, fruit, and cookies, even a small shelf with books and magazines. Everything an anxious person could need to distract themselves while waiting.
But Powder wasn't just an anxious person at that moment.
She was a bomb.
And she'd been on the verge of exploding for two hours now.
She paced around the room, arms crossed over her chest, brow furrowed, and her steps tense, as if every tile on the floor was responsible for Vi not having returned yet.
Caitlyn, sitting on the edge of the couch, watched her silently. She'd tried to start a conversation three times. She offered coffee, water, even one of the cookies Tobias himself had brought, absurdly wrapped in paper decorated with crystal flowers. But Powder wouldn't accept anything. She just paced, spun around, mumbled words Caitlyn couldn't understand, and then resumed the same cycle.
“You’re wearing yourself out,” she said at last, gently.
Powder stopped dead in her tracks and stared at her. “What now?”
Caitlyn shrugged slightly.
“I’m just saying… this isn’t helping you. I know you’re worried, but Vi’s fine. My dad’s the best doctor in the hospital and he has a good team,” she assured Powder. “Trust that at least.”
Powder clenched her jaw.
“I trust my sister.” Her voice was dry. “For the rest… I’m still considering it.”
Caitlyn sighed and looked down for a moment, not arguing. She wouldn't take it personally. Not with everything she knew Powder was facing just by being there, in that hospital, surrounded by what for years had symbolized the most painful side of her story.
“I know,” she admitted sincerely. “But you agreed to this. You agreed to Vi coming, to her being evaluated. You can’t hold on to every second now like it’s a countdown to tragedy.”
Powder grimaced, but her expression cracked slightly and it was enough of an opportunity to allow herself to open up a little.
“It’s not that. It’s just… what if they don’t tell her anything useful? What if they give her false hope? What if something we don’t see makes her worse?” Desperation barely crept into her words, in the way she crossed her arms again, more for restraint than defensiveness. “I don’t care if it’s Piltover or Zaun. I just hate it when people in power think they know what’s best for Vi without actually knowing her.”
Caitlyn then raised an eyebrow with some skepticism.
“And you do?”
Powder glared at her.
But it wasn't the same look she'd given at the beginning, when Caitlyn had first walked through the doors of Powder’s workshop. It wasn't the resentful edge she'd used as a shield for so long. It was more... contained. Measured. As if instead of trying to tear Caitlyn down with words or gestures, Powder was trying to understand her. At least a little.
Because the truth was, whether she wanted to admit it or not, Caitlyn had endured a lot more than Powder expected.
Caitlyn hadn't tried to please her, or convince her, or promise anything she couldn't keep since that first time. She acknowledged that Powder didn't accept her, and that was fine. But she'd stayed. Day after day just coming back. Looking at Vi as if she were the most precious thing she'd ever seen. Touching her gently, speaking to her as if she weren't a living scar but a whole person. A woman. An artist. A partner.
And perhaps for that very reason, Powder had begun to let her guard down more and more.
They'd reached a kind of unspoken truce. They didn't talk much when they were alone, but they no longer threw knives at each other with their eyes. Powder recognized that Caitlyn was here to stay, at least as long as Vi wanted her to. And Caitlyn, for her part, seemed to understand that Powder would always be on the defensive. Not out of hatred, but out of love.
This was not a friendship.
Not yet.
Maybe it never would be.
But it was a kind of sacred agreement.
Take care of her when I can't. Protect her as if she were yours, but knowing that she will always be mine first. Don't try to replace me, and I won't try to stop you.
And that was the deepest truth Powder had managed to swallow and concede. That, while she didn't completely trust Caitlyn... she did trust the effect she had on Vi.
For her, it was already saying too much.
“I don’t know how you can be so calm,” she snorted wearily.
“Trust me,” Caitlyn replied, letting out a small laugh, “I’m on the verge of collapse inside. I’ve just learned not to go around shooting at everything that moves when I’m scared.”
Powder tilted her head, barely amused.
“My version of that is breaking things…” she replied quietly. “But everything here is too expensive for that.”
And then, a sound on the other side of the door caught her attention. Hurried footsteps and muffled voices.
They both froze in place.
The handle turned with a soft mechanical click, and the door opened revealing Vander, hunched slightly from exertion. He held Vi in his arms, his expression setting off all the alarm bells in Powder in a single second.
“What happened?!” Powder exclaimed, taking a step forward, her voice cutting through the air like a whip.
The blood pounded in her temples. Her gaze flew straight to Vi, whose legs dangled limply, her head resting against Vander's broad shoulder. She wasn't unconscious, not entirely. Vi's eyes were barely open, her breathing labored, and a faint frown of discomfort strained her face.
“Relax,” Vander murmured soothingly as he carefully stepped inside and headed to the bed. “She just needs to lie down for a moment.”
But Powder was already at her sister’s side, her hands shaking as she tried to find a place on Vi's body to touch without hurting her, even though there were no visible wounds.
“What did they do to her?” her voice was a barely contained roar. “What did they do to her?!”
Tobias entered behind them, his gait calmer, though an analytical concern was evident on his features. He subtly set the wheelchair he was carrying aside and raised his hands at Powder's expression, like someone trying to calm a wounded, reactive animal.
“Please,” he said calmly, “I assure you it’s nothing serious. Some of the tests were more intense for her than we anticipated. We recently gave Violet a couple of medications to induce certain neurological responses, and that left her somewhat weak.”
“Just weak you say?!” Powder raised her voice, turning angrily towards him.
“Pow, stop” Vi chimed in, barely above a whisper. She was already sitting up in bed, helped by Vander, who put an arm around her back in support while adjusting the pillows. “I’m fine…”
“Bullshit,” Powder muttered, lowering her voice considerably, but not the intensity. She leaned toward her, holding Vi’s hand tightly, as if doing so could restore all the energy she’d lost.
Vi forced a mocking smile.
“Chill out already, sis. I promise it’s nothing.”
Vander ran a tired hand through his hair, but his jaw was tense. Caitlyn, off to the side, had stopped breathing for a second, watching Vi's every move with eyes wide in slightly fear.
Tobias decided to take a step closer, approaching carefully and fully aware that he was crossing a dangerous line in the presence of these two versions of violent storm that were Powder and Vander.
“We can stop the tests here, if you all wish,” he offered. “I don’t want this to become a source of distress for any of you.”
Vi let out a small snort that barely managed to sound like a laugh.
“I’m not dying, doc,” she murmured, “I’ll be fine in a few minutes…”
Caitlyn then approached, sitting delicately on the edge of the bed, and slowly stroked Vi’s arm. Her touch was gentle, but firm.
“You don’t have to prove anything, Vi. You’ve done enough for today,” she assured her.
Vi bowed her head slightly to her, exhausted but grateful. Powder, for her part, still held her hand, and when she finally looked at Caitlyn, there was a mixture of warning and pleading in her eyes.
“Indeed, I can begin studying your case with today’s results, once they are done. If necessary, we can continue later.” Tobias immediately caught Powder’s furious glare and added hastily, “Or another day, whichever you prefer. In the meantime, I can administer a mild treatment to help with the symptoms”
Vi nodded in resignation “Yeah, that would be great…”
In the end, the drugs managed to put her to sleep.
Vander disappeared again with Tobias shortly after, wanting to have a calm, in-depth discussion with the doctor while waiting for the results, but Powder had refused to leave Vi's side. While a part of her also wanted to hear what Caitlyn's father had to say, her priorities lay elsewhere for the time being.
The room was silent except for the soft whir of the medical machines Tobias had brought in as a matter of protocol and Vi's steady breathing, fast asleep under the white sheets. Powder sat next to her, her arms crossed and her back rigid, as if the mere act of relaxing could cause something to go wrong. A stark contrast to the frantic demeanor she'd had just half an hour ago.
Caitlyn was back on the couch, not daring to get too close and respecting the space that Powder seemed to have defined with each averted glance.
The blue-haired girl kept her eyes fixed on her sister's figure, not even blinking. She had brushed her hair from her forehead, pulled the sheet tighter around her body, and whispered things Caitlyn hadn't been able to catch. They hadn't spoken to each other since Vander had left with Tobias. But Caitlyn didn't move, just watched silently, trying to understand more than words could say.
Several minutes passed like this. Until finally, Caitlyn broke the silence, her voice soft, as if she were afraid of disturbing the fragile balance that sustained the room.
“You always talk about Vi. About protecting her, taking care of her…” Caitlyn paused, weighing each word. “But have you ever thought about what you want to do? For yourself?”
Powder blinked. Slowly, as if the words had come from a distant room. She didn't turn around immediately, just pressed her lips together and kept her gaze on Vi, as if finding in that sleeping face an answer she couldn't immediately give.
“What kind of stupid question is that?” she bellowed.
“It’s a perfectly valid question, given the circumstances” Caitlyn replied.
The eldest sister let out a snort, her face twisting into a grimace of unease.
“This isn’t the time to talk about that,” she finally said, not aggressively, but not open either.
“Maybe not,” Caitlyn admitted. “But I don’t think there are many times when it is, or am I wrong?”
Powder frowned. Not because she was upset, but because she had no way to refute Caitlyn. She wasn't used to someone asking her those kinds of questions, much less someone like Caitlyn. Not even Ekko questioned her about it anymore, even though it had been a hot topic of discussion between them years ago.
“I don’t know,” she murmured after a long silence. “I don’t know what I want. I haven’t thought about it since… since Vi got like this.”
Her fingers tangled together in her lap. Her voice, when she spoke again, was lower, as if she were afraid of what she was admitting. But in the cold calm of that hospital room and with Vi's serene presence at her side, she allowed herself to open up about that part of her life to the person she least expected to do so with.
“When I was a kid, I used to think I wanted to paint. Just that. To paint, to create things that people would look at and say, 'That's Powder's’. Something of my own. Something no one could take away from me,” she began.
Caitlyn listened attentively. She didn't interrupt, just nodded slowly from her position, treasuring and respecting every word.
“But that changed when they locked her up… When she went blind. When every day was a countdown to when things would get worse again.” Her voice cracked for a moment and she cleared her throat to try to hide it. “I think… that's when I stopped thinking about myself. Because I didn't have time. Because nothing else mattered.”
The pause that followed was cold and reserved. Caitlyn thought about everything Powder wasn't saying, everything she was still swallowing and felt a particular pain inside because of it.
“But… You still matter, you know?” she said softly “What happened doesn’t change that”
Powder finally turned to look at her, her tired but attentive blue eyes locking with Caitlyn’s.
“Yeah? And what am I supposed to do with that?” she blurted out. “It doesn’t make sense for me to worry about it anymore.”
“Yes, it does. Maybe you could start by remembering that,” Caitlyn exclaimed decisively. “Remembering that things don’t have to be this way. That you don’t have to disappear, completely erase yourself, for Vi to live. That’s not what she wants.”
Powder swallowed, looking away once more. Her throat worked hard, but she didn't say anything. Caitlyn cautiously approached, sitting on the other side of the bed to try to meet her gaze.
“I know I’m not the best person to tell you how to live your life,” she added, “but you matter to me, Powder. Because you matter to Vi, and she cares a lot about you. And I’m starting to understand why.”
Powder lowered her head, her voice barely a murmur:
“If I stop for a second to think about myself… everything else falls apart.”
“So what?” Caitlyn replied firmly, “You just have to build something that supports both of you equally. It’s not impossible.”
Powder made a gesture of disgust and apprehension. Vi's breathing was the only thing heard after that. Her motionless, sleeping figure, protected by both of them from different angles.
Powder stared at her sister for long seconds, but it wasn't Vi what she really saw. It was a tangle of thoughts tangling inside her head: Caitlyn's quiet voice repeating itself, the words that had left her uncomfortable and strangely touched.
"You don't have to disappear for Vi to live."
Had she done that? Disappeared?
She didn't know. Or maybe she did. She just hadn't allowed herself to think about it for a long time. Because thinking of herself outside of the older sister role was like trying to look in a mirror that returned no reflection. Who was Powder when she wasn't taking care of Vi, when she wasn't defending her, fighting for her, building for her? Did she have a place beyond that?
She shifted in her seat, uncomfortable. Not with Caitlyn. Not exactly. But with a growing feeling that there was something more, something she was missing, something she'd been ignoring for too long.
Caitlyn moved in front of her with that deliberate calm that so exasperated Powder: every gesture measured; every word placed like a piece on a chessboard.
“I’ve been thinking…” she began, her hands clasped in front of her as if they held a secret, “that you could display some of your works in my gallery.”
Powder slowly turned her face towards the Piltover’s artist, arching an eyebrow in disdain. “Again with that?”
Caitlyn didn't back down, didn't even blink.
“Yes. Again. Because when I repeat something, I mean it.” Her eyes were fixed on Powder’s, shining with conviction. “I think about it every time I see one of your pieces. Because, honestly, I admire your work more than you could possibly know.”
And there it was.
That stubbornness that reminded her so much of Vi. That way of standing as if the whole world could push her and she would remain steadfast, unshaken, believing. Powder didn't respond immediately. Her throat felt dry, as if every word she wanted to form had to be pushed through years of denial and exhaustion.
“That’s nice, princess.” She crossed her arms, her nails digging into her own elbows. “But I don’t need your pity.”
“It’s not pity,” Caitlyn replied firmly. “It’s respect… and envy.”
The word fell like a brick between them.
Powder's eyes widened for a second in genuine surprise before she managed to control her reaction. She couldn't help but look Caitlyn straight in the eye this time, searching for signs of hypocrisy… and finding none.
"What?"
“Envy,” Caitlyn repeated, wiping any trace of irony from her voice. “Of how your hands transform trash into beauty. Of how you give life to that which seems soulless. Of how each of your murals screams to the world that Zaun hides nothing and bows to no one.” She paused, letting the words sink in. “Vi knows this. She recognized it before I did. That’s why she told me...”
Caitlyn paused for a moment, seeming to debate something internally before continuing, this time with more emotion:
“Vi told me about that, you know? About your dream,” Caitlyn added, lowering her voice. “How you were excited about having your own space once day. For people to see your work and view Zaun with respect, not disgust. Vi knows you gave up so much for her, Powder… and I know she’d like for that, at least, not to be lost.”
Powder's heart gave a strange lurch, as if those words had opened a chasm she wasn't ready to face. It didn't surprise her that her sister had said it. Vi had always seen things in her that she herself didn't dare admit. But hearing it from Caitlyn... that was different.
“I’m not ready,” she murmured, but this time the words tasted like surrender.
“The walls of Piltover, and the entire world, are empty without you,” Caitlyn said, turning to the window where the mists of Zaun mingled with the lights of Piltover. “But they will wait. Like me. Like Vi, who still believes in you even if you don’t”
Powder swallowed, turning her gaze to Vi. Her sister's figure, equal parts fragile and strong, the scar on her lip, the calloused hands, the chest that still rose and fell.
For the first time in a long time, she allowed herself to imagine something else. A different version of herself. One that didn't live solely to care, but also create, share, exist for herself.
Who would I be if I didn't have to be strong?
The silence that followed was complicit in her inner torment. Caitlyn didn't break it, and Powder didn't dare fill it with sarcasm this time. She could sense that tiny seed in her mind, planted amidst pain and finding fertile ground in doubt.
It seemed to Powder that something between Caitlyn and her changed once again at that moment. Something that, like street art in the rain, was beginning to seep into the cracks in her armor.
:::::
“What do you mean by surgery?!”
“It is a possibility, given the severity of the injury.”
"Can't you give her some pills or something? Why the hell would she have to have surgery?"
“Powder, please lower your voice…”
“Don’t try to shut me up, Vander! Damn it! just answer, doc.”
“We’d start with that, of course,” Tobias’s voice was controlled and calm under Powder’s pressure and Vander’s controlled anxiety. The voice of someone used to dealing with unsettling questions and the fear of uncertainty. “It wouldn’t hurt to try and see how Violet adjusts to formal treatment with the appropriate medication and rehabilitation therapy, given that she’s never been on one. It’s the best course of action.”
"Then why mention…?"
“As I said before, surgery is a strong possibility for correcting that level of damage.” Tobias leaned forward in his chair, his eyes wide and sincere. “However, it’s not something I would consider doing immediately. I’ve yet to consult with other specialists in the field, but the symptoms you all describe and what she showed, added to the results…”
Vi stopped listening after that, turning her face toward the bedroom window and allowing herself to feel the cool evening breeze against her closed eyelids. Even though she hadn't exerted herself physically that day, she felt particularly exhausted and just wanted to go home.
The evening light was filtering through the hospital curtains when Vi opened her eyes again. She didn't know exactly how much time had passed, but her body felt heavy, as if every cell was burdened with the density of the information she'd just been given.
The murmur of voices from the others was beginning to annoy her. Vander, with his low but tense tone, fired off questions one after another as if he could build a wall with them. Powder, more direct and blunt demanded answers with an intensity she could barely control. Tobias answered calmly, with that mechanical patience that doctors tended to cultivate after years of explaining pain with soft words but wasn’t enough.
Vi didn't join the conversation. Not because she didn't want to, but because she didn't know what to say to appease the situation.
Her head turned slightly on the pillow, facing the window once more. The air smelled of disinfectant and artificial flowers, but the breeze that came through the crack someone had left open had a familiar note. Dust, metal, and the city.
And in the midst of that smell… the memory of Tobias's words continued to echo.
“An injury in the inner ear…”
“Great damage.… Product of multiple bruises and repetitive trauma.”
“Stillwater.”
Like an old wound that suddenly found a name.
Vi breathed in slowly, letting the air inflate her lungs, and it hurt a little as she did so. She didn't know exactly what she'd expected when she'd agreed to the tests, but she hadn't imagined such a simple explanation. A small tear somewhere deep inside in her ears, straightforward and definitive. Even absurd, considering the severity of her symptoms. She'd carried dizziness, vertigo, and nausea for years. She'd grown accustomed to the feeling that the ground could shift beneath her feet without warning. But now that she knew why… everything was more real. Heavier and more tangible.
She wasn't afraid of surgery, not really.
She'd been too close to pain on multiple occasions to be scared off by surgery. What weighed on her was what came next: What if it didn't work? What if, at the end of it all, after trying treatments, adapting to medications, risking surgery, things remained the same? What if nothing changed? Was it worth unearthing all that? Reopening wounds she'd learned to ignore?
She vaguely heard Tobias talking about percentages, margins of error, hope, and rehabilitation. She heard Vander grunt a response, frustrated at being unable to do anything useful and leaving everything to strangers. She heard Powder mutter something about wanting to talk to the specialists herself, as if she could intimidate a medical board with the edge of her gaze.
And yet, Vi remained silent.
She wanted to think. She wanted space. She wanted them to stop talking about her body as if it were a machine that could be taken apart and fixed if they found the right screw.
Vi brought a hand to her forehead then, slowly massaging her temples. The throbbing pain was there, lingering as always. Like a part of her that had never quite left.
Maybe she could go on living with it.
Maybe she didn't have to risk nothing at all.
But also… she now had the option to imagine something different.
A present without that constant vertigo. A day without feeling like she was walking on the edge of an invisible ledge. A moment without her head aching at the slightest movement.
What if that was possible?
A warm hand found hers on her face and replaced it with delicate, attentive, and steady fingers, gently stroking her skin. Vi looked down slightly to notice Caitlyn, her tall, elegant figure illuminated at the edges by the artificial light in the room, creating a diffuse halo around her. Vi smiled at her, trying to calm the woman's nerves. She wasn't sure what expression Caitlyn was wearing at that moment, but she assumed it must be similar to the one Powder or Vander probably wore, which wasn't good.
Nobody wanted to brought attention to the other topic.
The most important question was there, hanging between them like an executioner. It was a buzzing sound around Caitlyn's fingers, a muffled cry in Powder's trembling voice, and an invisible rope wrapped around Vander's body. The question everyone wanted to ask, but no one dared to bring in up. It was a little absurd in Vi’s opinion.
The question Vi, unlike the rest, wasn't really afraid of the answer to, since she already knew it. She could read it between the unspoken lines in Tobias's speech and the way he sidestepped the topic to focus on what he could address more quickly and confidently. But Vi preferred not to evade the inevitable any longer. She just wanted to leave, and she couldn't do so until the most important matter came up. And if no one else dared, she would have to be the one to make the first move. Which, in a way, amused her a little.
The question fell like a dry shot in the middle of the room.
“What about my vision?”
It was as if someone had stopped time with an invisible hand, strangling everyone's breath. The silence that followed wasn't comfortable, nor even solemn. It was an abrupt, tense emptiness, as if the air itself didn't know how to move after that.
“Is there anything to do about it?” added Vi after a while.
Powder looked up immediately, her lips parted as if she wanted to interrupt, to stop the direction Vi clearly wanted to go. Vander lowered his head, crossing his arms as if seeking to bury himself in his own shadow. And Caitlyn, still holding her hand on Vi's cheek, stiffened, her fingers slightly tense, caught between the desire to protect her and the certainty that she couldn't do it in this case.
Vi, for her part, simply sat there on the bed, her back straight and her jaw set. Her expression was serene, even curious, as if she were asking a trivial question, as if she hadn't just burst a dam with just five words.
Tobias lingered for a few seconds before speaking. He ran a hand over his papers, out of sheer need to do something with his fingers, before looking up at Vi. His tone was low, measured, with the surgical care of someone who knows that bad news shouldn't be sliced off suddenly, but rather should be driven in slowly, like a needle into flesh.
“Vi…” he began, using her name for the first time without the formal ‘Violet’, “the damage to your eyes… wasn’t caused solely by external impacts. Tests show there was a combination of repetitive trauma, untreated inflammation or even infection, and… progressive neurological deterioration. At this point, the optic nerves have developed a level of damage that seems to be irreversible”
There was no surprise on Vi's face, just a slight nod.
“So, there’s nothing to do?” she asked, as if she just needed someone else to confirm it out loud.
Tobias took a deep breath.
“We can work to prevent it from getting worse, which is a possibility. There are experimental therapies, stimulation treatments that might slow the deterioration or stop it altogether. But reversing what's already happened…” the man gently shook his head. “No, it's not possible.”
The answer fell heavily on everyone else.
Powder covered her mouth with a hand, her eyes flashing with silent fury and frustration. Caitlyn closed her eyes for a moment, as if something inside her had snapped at that confirmation. Vander said nothing, but leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his expression set in stone.
And, in their midst, Vi remained serene.
Not because it didn't hurt.
But because she already knew it.
She'd known it for years. Every failed attempt to read a sign, every blurred line in the world, every shadow she couldn't recognize... Every day that passed, knowing that something was slipping through her fingers, like water, like light.
Accepting that truth was not giving up.
It was, in a way, a break from everything. To finally let go of something she was clinging to in vain.
And besides, Tobias had just offered her a chance at improvement anyway. Not the one everyone else was hoping for, not the one a part of her had been longing for, but Vi had a feeling it was the one she really needed. Something she could actually focus on instead of latch onto to an unattainable possibility.
In the end, not everything was so lost.
“Okay,” she said with a calmness that seemed inappropriate to such devastating news. “Then that’s it. Let’s move on.”
Caitlyn slowly lowered her hand from her cheek, placing it on hers with a silent squeeze that promise a talk later. Powder, for her part, couldn't stop watching her, as if she was waiting for Vi to break down, to scream, to say something else, anything at all.
But Vi just sat there, staring into space.
With a bitter peace in her chest, but full of acceptance. And
And the one certainty that at least now, she knew the exact edges of her darkness.