Chapter 3
After her parents died, talking about them hurt too much.
Vi didn’t want to think about them. They were gone from her life and she was angry at the world for taking them away, angry at them for dying, and angry at herself for not being able to stop it.
In the early days, Vander would bring them up sometimes, mentioning them in passing, as if it could soften the sharp edges of the memory. But Vi would bristle every time, feeling a heat rise in her chest, something she couldn’t quite name, before she’d force herself to swallow it down. Talking about them felt like ripping open a wound she wasn’t ready to face. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to remember, she just couldn’t bear to. It was too much.
Powder stopped thinking about them quickly. It was like she just forgot about them, settling into her life with Vander. Part of Vi wished she could do the same.
When she was locked up, though, there was nothing but time. Time to think. Time to turn over the death of those she loved, over and over again, until their faces started to blur together in her mind. Mom. Dad. Benzo. Vander. Mylo. Claggor.
Each name was a wound, each memory a reminder of what she'd lost. She wasn’t sure which one stung the most. The pain of losing her parents, the shock of losing the ones she called family, or the sense of responsibility that had crushed her when she couldn’t protect any of them.
While Vi much preferred to try and forget to save herself the hurt and anger, Caitlyn couldn’t seem to stop thinking about her mother.
Vi knew who the Kiramman’s were in passing, and she knew of the Piltover councilors, but she had not known who Cassandra Kiramman was as a person, other than the type of woman to point a gun at someone she thought was breaking in.
She tried to separate her feelings from the situation. Vi could be angry at Piltover. She could be angry at the council, at everything they represented, but she couldn’t be angry at Caitlyn’s dead mother. That was foolish. The woman was dead, but that didn’t erase any of Vi’s anger. No, the anger needed to be directed elsewhere, and she found herself turning it onto Tobias.
Vi wasn’t angry at him for the reasons she might have been months ago. It wasn’t the rage of someone who wanted justice. She wasn't even angry at his disgust for her. No, her anger simmered with a more familiar kind of resentment. She was angry that Tobias had practically locked himself away in his room to rot, distant and disconnected from everything, unable or unwilling to hold up the duties of the household. She was angry that he had allowed Caitlyn to shoulder so much on her own, ignoring the signs that she was breaking under the weight. He didn’t notice all the stress. Or the nightmares. Or the crying. Or the panic.
Vi didn’t know what she should do with her newfound freedom, but she had always been the strong one that people could lean on. It was easy to fall into the role once again with Caitlyn.
If she didn’t have to focus on herself, then she didn’t have to think about anything that had happened. She didn’t have to think about Powder. Or Jinx. Or Silco. Or anything else that made her chest tight.
It was easier to bury herself in helping Caitlyn, in noticing the subtle shifts in her posture, in memorizing the way her body tensed when something was wrong. It gave her something to focus on, something to control. She learned Caitlyn’s tells, the small expressions that flickered across her face when she was trying to hide something. The way Caitlyn’s jaw would clench, or the way her fingers would twitch when she was on edge.
There were days when Caitlyn would lean into her, seeking out Vi’s presence like it was a quiet sanctuary. She’d rest her head on Vi’s shoulder, letting out a breath as if she hadn’t realized how tense she’d been. Vi would stiffen at first, unsure of how to react, but then she’d relax into it, wrapping an arm around Caitlyn, letting her take whatever comfort she needed.
Vi had learned that Caitlyn was like that: not a person to ask for help, not a person to easily lean on anyone else. Caitlyn, with her pride, with her quiet resilience, was the type to suffer in silence. Vi could see it in the way Caitlyn would run herself ragged, trying to keep up the appearance of strength even when it was eating her alive. Vi knew how that felt, the constant pressure to perform, to pretend you were okay when you were anything but.
But Caitlyn wasn’t alone anymore. Vi wasn’t going anywhere. She had nowhere else to go.
Sometimes, Caitlyn would say something quietly to her, a rambling monologue as if she couldn’t let it sit inside her anymore. Vi didn’t mind listening, even if it was to Caitlyn trying to sort through the whirlwind of emotions that grief brought.
It had been after a nightmare from Caitlyn that ended with them both waking up. Caitlyn sat with her legs dangling from the bed, head tipped down to stare at her lap, her dark hair hiding her face. Vi never really knew what to do, but she started to not hesitate to press a palm against her back to remind her that she wasn’t alone.
If Caitlyn wanted to speak, Vi would listen. But if she didn’t, then that was okay too.
She was so sure it would be another night of silences but Caitlyn finally broke it, her voice barely more than a whisper.
“I never... really knew how to talk to her.” Caitlyn’s words were slow. “My… my mother.”
Vi shifted, pushing forward on her knees to press against Caitlyn’s back.
"She was always so... intense," Caitlyn continued softly. "So driven. She never asked for much—just that I be... perfect. That I be everything she wanted me to be. I thought that’s what she wanted. I thought if I was just enough, maybe she’d stop being so... hard on me."
Vi nodded against Caitlyn’s back, her breath steady.
"I know how it feels," Vi murmured. She shifted just slightly, pulling Caitlyn a little closer, as if offering some small comfort in that simple touch. "To feel like you’re never enough. To think you’re never going to meet someone’s expectations, no matter how hard you try."
She couldn’t help herself from thinking about Vander. There were times when she resented him. Resented how Vander had leaned on her, how he’d put responsibility on her without considering if she was ready. She hadn’t asked for it. But she loved him like a father and he loved her like his own.
Vi pressed her forehead against the back of Caitlyn’s head, feeling her dark hair tickle her nose, offering herself as a quiet anchor if Caitlyn wanted to continue.
"It was like that with her," Caitlyn admitted. "But there was also so much love. So much... I never doubted that. Not once. No matter how many times we fought, how much we butted heads... she always loved me."
Vi felt the subtle tremor in Caitlyn’s shoulders, the tension in her body threatening to crack under the weight of her own grief. She didn’t speak right away, letting Caitlyn find her own rhythm.
Caitlyn continued, her voice quieter. "She was hard on me. Always pushing me, trying to make me more than I was. But she never stopped loving me. Even when we couldn’t talk without fighting, even when she didn’t understand me... I knew. I knew she cared. She just... wanted me to be better, to be stronger."
Caitlyn let out a shaky breath. "I wanted to be what she wanted. I wanted to be the daughter she could be proud of. Even when it hurt. Even when she pushed me away, I knew. I knew she loved me."
Vi could feel the unspoken grief that was so tangled up with love and frustration. It was the kind of pain Vi never quite had the words for either. But she understood it in her bones.
"You loved her too, Cait," Vi said quietly, her voice firm, but soft. All she had to know about Cassandra was what Caitlyn had told her, but she felt like she could have navigated conversations with her if she were alive. "She knew it. You might’ve fought, you might’ve butted heads, but I can see it. I can see how much you carry her with you, even now. You loved her. And she knew."
Caitlyn turned her head and Vi leaned back slightly to let her. Their eyes locked and her eyes searched Vi’s face, as if needing confirmation. Vi met her gaze, holding it steady, and Caitlyn’s shoulders sagged just a little.
"I just... I wish I had told her more," Caitlyn whispered. "I wish I had told her I understood. That I didn’t need her to be perfect. I wish I had just... been there for her too."
Vi’s hands tightened around Caitlyn’s waist, pulling her closer. "You don’t have to say everything for someone to feel it, Cupcake."
Caitlyn didn’t answer but she leaned into Vi, pressing her forehead against Vi’s arm, a silent request for comfort. Vi responded instinctively, shifting to hold her more firmly, wrapping her arms around Caitlyn as she buried her face against her shoulder.
“When—when I was little,” Caitlyn started again, her voice slightly muffled from where she tucked it against Vi’s collar, “I’d be forced to go to these stupid parties. You know, the ones with all the people in fancy clothes as we pretended we all liked each other and played politics.”
Vi wasn’t sure if she could conjure up the image that Caitlyn was trying to make, but she nodded anyway.
“When I was still young enough to get away with it, I used to hide my face against her dress.” Caitlyn adjusted her head to speak more clearly. “I hated those parties. The noise, the small talk, the pretending. But she... she always knew how to make it feel a little less suffocating."
Vi thought of the portrait hung on the wall with a small Caitlyn at her mother’s side, trying to imagine a younger Caitlyn.
“Everyone thought she was so composed. Like nothing could touch her.” Caitlyn’s tone shifted to something wistful. "But she was just really good at hiding it. At least, that’s what I think now. Back then, I just... I remember thinking she was untouchable. Perfect. When I was small enough at those parties, she would always find a way to make me feel like I wasn’t alone, even when there were all those people around. She’d let me hide in the folds of her dress. And I’d just clutch onto her, close my eyes, and breathe. No one could bother me there."
Vi nodded. She could almost picture the scene in her mind—little Caitlyn, hidden behind her mother’s dress, safe from the world that always demanded so much of her. It was strange to think of Caitlyn so small, so innocent, clinging to her mother for comfort. Vi could relate to that feeling, though in her own way. She had never had the luxury of hiding from the world. Not in the way Caitlyn had. But she understood the need to retreat into someone’s embrace when the world felt too overwhelming.
"The funny thing is," Caitlyn continued, her voice softer, "even though I hated those parties, and even though I was always so shy around everyone, those little moments with her were... comforting. I could always count on her to make it better, to make it feel like it was okay. She’d smile down at me, just like everything was fine, like the world outside didn’t matter. And I’d believe it."
Vi could feel the warmth seep into her shirt from where Caitlyn had tucked her head. She could hear the little hitches in her breath as Caitlyn tried not to cry.
"I don’t think I ever told her how much that meant," Caitlyn whispered, her voice breaking just a little. "How much I needed those moments. I was always so angry with her for making me do the things I didn’t want to do, for pushing me to be perfect like she was." She paused, biting her lip, trying to hold back the surge of emotion that came with the thought of her mother. "But I never really told her how much I relied on her, on those little moments when she made everything feel okay. When I could just... be her little girl again."
Caitlyn’s hand reached up to clamp over her mouth as the first sob spilled out. She curled up tightly and Vi adjusted her grip to pull her closer, wrapping around her like a shield from the world.
Caitlyn folded into her and wept.
Vi didn’t know what to call her relationship with Caitlyn.
What do you call the Enforcer who sprung you from prison? What do you call the woman whose mother your sister blew up? What do you call the only person who could begin to understand the horrific show that had been Jinx’s tea party?
It started the moment that Caitlyn stepped over that red line painted on the floor to warn people how far to stay away from the cells. It started when Vi lay in bed with Caitlyn, the woman’s knuckles brushing against her cheek. It started when Caitlyn traded her rifle for Shimmer to help Vi.
They shared a bed. Vi waited outside of the shower for Caitlyn, standing guard. Caitlyn always made a second serving for Vi of whatever she was eating. There was something comfortable in their routine, something easy in how they fell into the rhythm of each other’s lives. Vi didn’t have to think too hard about it. It was just them.
They kissed in Caitlyn’s office the first time, the aftermath of Caitlyn’s frustration spread out amongst the floor in the amount of papers she’d swiped off her desk. Vi’s hand on her shoulder had turned into Caitlyn gripping onto her, and then at some point, the distance between them closed.
It didn’t stop there. They’d share more kisses. From ones born during bouts of frustration to sleepy ones just before they drifted off at night. Vi savored each one.
But Caitlyn was an Enforcer. She was from Piltover. She was a councilor's daughter. She was everything that a fifteen-year-old Vi would despise. Her younger self would be disgusted with her.
It scared her because she didn’t know what it meant. She didn’t know what to do with the feeling that was growing inside her. She didn’t want to call it what she thought it was because it had been so long since she felt it.
“What are we doing?” Vi finally asked her. “What is this? What are we, really?”
Caitlyn didn’t seem to know how to define it either. She was quiet in thought before her carefully crafted reply.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “But I don’t want to lose this.”
There was a little bit of relief at the answer. “I don’t know what this is either,” Vi said quietly. “But it feels important. And I don’t want to mess it up.”
Caitlyn took a moment to think before she asked, “What do you want, Vi?”
“I don’t know,” Vi murmured, feeling like those were the only words she could get out. “I want… I want to keep having this. Whatever it is. You?”
Caitlyn frowned slightly as she confessed, “I don’t know what I want either.” Her reply weighed on Vi. “But I know I want you.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Vi replied, her voice steadier. “I’m all yours, Cupcake.”
Caitlyn leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together as she replied, “I’m yours too, darling.”
Vi found that she didn’t mind the thought.
Vi couldn’t remember the last time she talked about her mother past a blunt statement regarding their brutal deaths and how they were ripped away from her at too young of an age.
When Caitlyn dared to nudge her in bed, tugging Vi back from the edge of sleep, and asked, Vi didn’t know how to respond.
“Tell me about her,” Caitlyn requested softly. “Your mother.”
Vi wondered if Caitlyn was trying to exchange information. She’d listened as Caitlyn rambled about various memories she had with her mother, of times both fond and frustrating.
Vi rubbed at her eyes, trying to adjust to the dark as she glanced at the ceiling, sifting through her hazy thoughts. “I don’t really remember her,” she admitted. “I was really little when she died.”
Caitlyn didn’t say anything at first. Vi wished she could pull memories clearer, she wished she had ones that didn’t feel so distant and foggy. Caitlyn didn’t push, and Vi knew that she was willing to let the subject drop entirely.
“I remember… bits. Small things.” Vi bit her lip, her brow furrowed as she tried to drag the scattered memories to the front of her mind. With her voice barely above a whisper, she continued, "I remember her holding me sometimes, like, when I was real little. She’d hold me close, you know? Just... in her arms. And she’d hum to me, this soft little tune. It’s hard to explain. It wasn’t much, but it was warm, you know?"
Vi paused, her mind drifting back to those fleeting moments, trying to piece together the fragments of a mother she barely had the chance to know. "I remember her fingers... running through my hair sometimes, just gently scratching at my scalp while she hummed. It was... it was soothing. It felt like I was safe, like everything was okay. But I don’t have any real memory of her face. Just that feeling. That sound."
Her voice broke on the last sentence, and she had to take a shaky breath to steady herself. "I don’t know if that makes any sense."
“That makes sense,” Caitlyn said quietly. She reached out, her hand closing the distance between them, and she draped her arm over Vi’s stomach.
Vi reached for the hand extended, feeling it weighing her down like an anchor.
“I don’t want to remember,” Vi admitted hoarsely.
Caitlyn’s hand trailed up her side until her fingers tangled into Vi’s hair, sweeping it out of her face so their eyes could meet.
“Okay,” Caitlyn agreed. Her thumb rubbed along Vi’s brow as an apology and Vi closed her eyes to let the touch wipe away the thoughts that hurt.
“Why didn’t you put me back?”
Vi couldn’t help herself from blurting the question as she watched Caitlyn piece together a sandwich to take up to Tobias. She couldn’t stop herself from turning the question in her head over and over again after he asked her.
“Put you where?” Caitlyn asked, her attention diverted from her task.
“In Stillwater,” Vi clarified.
Caitlyn’s head jerked to look at her. “What?” She looked at Vi baffled. “Why would you even think that?” Caitlyn asked. “Do you really think I’d just... leave you there? After everything?”
Vi shrugged, trying to mask the churn of emotions inside her. “I don’t know. Would’ve been easier, right? You didn’t sign up for any of this, Cupcake. Not for me, not for.. for Jinx, not for... all this shit.” Her hands gestured vaguely, encompassing everything that had unraveled since she’d come back into Caitlyn’s life.
Caitlyn stepped closer, her eyes locked onto Vi’s with an intensity that made her want to squirm and look away, but she didn’t.
“I didn’t let you out because it was easy,” Caitlyn said firmly. “I let you out because you deserved to be free. Because I believed in you. And because—” She hesitated for a fraction of a second before pushing through. “Because I needed you.”
“You didn’t have to let me out,” Vi pointed out. “You could have left me there. You could have put me back. You wouldn’t have to deal with me.”
Caitlyn set the plate in her hand down, angling her body toward Vi. “I wouldn’t do that.”
“Why?” Vi pressed.
“Because I believe in you,” Caitlyn said softly. “When I went to Stillwater, I… I didn’t realize the conditions there.” She looked away in shame. “The Warden asked me if I wanted him to have a talk with you.”
Vi flinched slightly. Having a talk with the Enforcers was never really just a talk.
Caitlyn closed the distance between them, her hands moving up to carefully cradle Vi’s face in her hands. “You didn’t deserve that, Vi.”
“I would have been fine—” Vi started but Caitlyn shook her head.
“You didn’t deserve that,” she repeated. “Nobody deserves to be treated like that.”
“You don’t even know what they did,” Vi yanked away from Caitlyn’s hands, a ball of anger festering in her chest. “You know nothing!”
“Your file is nearly empty.” Caitlyn’s words were like a punch to the gut. “Not even the crime you were arrested for was penned down. Just your name and the date of your incarceration.”
“So you know nothing,” Vi affirmed, folding her arms.
“That tells me much more than you think it does,” Caitlyn corrected. She shifted on her feet, looking a little unsure. “You helped me so much. You have saved my life. You protected me and kept your promise. Your freedom is the least I could do.”
Vi looked at her feet. She had only agreed at the time because she wanted to see Powder. She had other intentions and even debated about giving Caitlyn the slip.
“Stop it,” Caitlyn suddenly said, cutting through the fog of guilt and shame that was clouding Vi’s head. “I can see that look on your face. I want you here, Vi. You’re not being a burden. I owe you a lot.” Caitlyn folded in on herself slightly as she asked softly, “I’m yours, aren’t I?”
The anger drained away and left Vi feeling tired. She unfolded her arms, stepping forward to wrap them around Caitlyn instead. “Of course you are. You can’t get rid of me, Cupcake.”
Caitlyn held her close, letting Vi bury her face against her shoulder. “And you’re mine too.”
“I’m yours,” Vi agreed.
She still wasn’t quite sure she understood Caitlyn’s intentions, but she knew that she wasn’t going back to the place she called home for seven years of her life. That was enough for the moment.
Vi stood in front of Tobias’ door, her hand poised to knock, but she hesitated for a moment. The silence that had hung between them for so long felt almost suffocating, but it had gone on long enough. Caitlyn needed her father. Hell, Caitlyn needed someone who cared, and it wasn’t going to be Tobias if she didn’t step up and make him see that. Vi didn’t care if he hated her guts, she could see the way that Caitlyn talked about Tobias like he was dead too.
She knocked once, hard.
When the door opened, Tobias’ face was a mask of irritation, but his eyes held a flicker of something darker—resentment, maybe. He hadn’t wanted her there, not ever.
“Vi,” he said, his voice cold, flat. “I thought I made it clear. I don’t want to see you here.”
“I need to talk to you,” she said, her voice firm, though it was laced with frustration. “And you need to listen. Now.”
He scoffed, stepping back but not fully opening the door. His eyes narrowed, as if to size her up, and she could almost see the walls go up around him.
“I don’t have anything to say to you,” he muttered, like she was nothing more than a nuisance.
But Vi wasn’t leaving. She stared at him until he stepped back slightly, allowing her to enter. She didn’t wait for an invitation, just walked past him, her eyes already scanning the room, taking in the familiar mess. The clutter. The signs of a man who had checked out of life after Cassandra’s death, who had checked out of everything—including his daughter.
Vi turned to face him, her eyes hard as she locked onto his. “I’ve had two fathers and a mother in my life and they were all dead by the time I turned sixteen,” she stated bluntly. “I was the oldest of four kids. It fell to me to look after things a lot and it sucked. I hated it. I sometimes resented them for it. But they’re dead and it’s stupid to hate dead people.”
Tobias stared at her as if she had finally gone mad.
“I don’t like you,” Vi told him boldly. “Not because you think I’m nothing but the trash beneath your shoe but because you’re in here wallowing in your own grief.”
Vi shoved a finger toward the door. “In case you forgot, you have a kid, and she’s still alive. You wouldn’t know it by the way she talks about you.”
Tobias finally flinched.
"She’s been here, taking care of you, while you sit there doing nothing," Vi continued, her voice tight with frustration. "She’s tried to keep whatever is left of the family together, tried to hold you up, but all you’ve done is push her away. She needs you, and you’re too busy drowning in your own sorrow to even see it."
He opened his mouth, but no words came out at first, just a shallow breath like he was trying to hold something back. Vi didn’t give him the chance to speak. She wasn’t finished.
“You don’t get it,” Vi said, her voice thick with emotion. “I can’t even begin to understand how you could just sit here and watch Caitlyn fall apart while you do nothing. How could you do that? You think it’s easier for her to just let you slip away like you’re already dead? You think she’s not watching you, waiting for you to be her father again?”
Tobias’ eyes hardened, but Vi could see it, just a flicker of something else beneath the anger and bitterness. He knew he was failing. He knew it, and that made it even worse.
"You think you’re the only one who’s hurting?" she pressed, her voice raw with the weight of everything she’d been holding back. "She lost her mother. And now, she’s losing you too. She’s stuck in the middle of all this and no one is there for her. You’re supposed to be there for her. You’re supposed to care about her more than anything else in the world, but you’re too busy locking yourself in this room, feeling sorry for yourself!"
Vi’s hands trembled as the words flew from her mouth, each one feeling sharper than the last. She wasn’t about to let him off the hook. Not when Caitlyn was crumpling under all the weight and pressure of her sudden responsibilities.
“You’ve done nothing but shut her out,” she spat, her voice rising in the heat of the moment. “You’re too damn selfish to even see how much she’s trying to hold onto you, trying to hold onto anything. She’s fighting for this family, for you, when you’ve been doing nothing but wallowing in your grief. What kind of a father does that? Huh? What kind of father lets their daughter carry the weight of the world alone while they just… fade away?”
Tobias flinched again, his face twisting with a mixture of anger and something else—something that felt almost like guilt, but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough for Vi to see a flicker of regret in his eyes. She was done with excuses. Done with watching him sit in his misery while Caitlyn fought through her own hell.
“You think she’s not hurting?” Vi demanded, stepping closer, her tone now cold and steady with the force of her anger. “You think she’s not struggling every damn day to keep things together? She doesn’t need you moping around. She doesn’t need your pity. She needs a father. A real father. Someone who doesn’t look at her like she’s just another reminder of everything that’s gone wrong.”
Vi paused for a beat, her eyes locked on his. She wasn’t sure if he was hearing her, but she wasn’t about to stop.
“So here’s the deal, Tobias,” she said, her voice dropping low, each word deliberate. “You either step the hell up for your daughter, or you get out. You leave. Go somewhere else and live your pathetic little life, and let Caitlyn mourn you like she’s already been mourning her mother. Because if you think you’re not already dead to her, you’re wrong. She’s got enough grief to carry already. If you can’t be a father to her, if you can’t show up for her, then don’t you dare stay here and pretend like you’re any part of this family. You leave and let her heal, because she doesn’t need to be weighed down by a ghost. Not from you.”
Tobias stood there, frozen. Vi could see the conflict flashing in his eyes, but she didn’t give him a chance to respond. She wasn’t going to stand here and wait for him to apologize, to beg for forgiveness. She was done being patient. Done hoping that maybe he would realize the wreckage he was leaving behind.
“You owe her this,” she said quietly, though her voice was no less fierce. “You owe her a chance at moving forward. But if you can’t do that, then get out of the way. Let her mourn the person she thought you were, and give her a chance to breathe without you dragging her down.”
Tobias' lips parted like he was about to say something, but Vi had already said everything that needed to be said.
“I’m not going to wait for you to figure it out,” Vi added, her voice steady. “You either show up for her or you leave. That’s it. You don’t get to keep doing this to her.”
Without waiting for a response, Vi turned and walked toward the door. She had made herself clear. He had a choice now. Whether or not he was ready to face it was up to him.
“I don’t know how to fix this,” he said quietly, almost too soft for her to hear.
Vi paused in front of the door at his voice. She turned to look at him. “Neither do I. But you’re not the only one who’s been broken. We all have our scars. But you can’t keep hiding behind them. You’re still a father, Tobias. You still have a daughter who needs you."
Vi yanked the door open and stepped out, hearing his voice one last time.
Barely audible, his voice small mumbled, “I’m… sorry.”
Vi didn’t turn back. She was too angry. She needed to go for a run or to punch something. Anything to get rid of the anger festering in her like a sickness. She didn’t need to turn it on Caitlyn for just being at the wrong place.
Vi never wanted to hurt someone she cared about again.