Behind Blue Eyes

As mid-afternoon melted into evening, the Last Drop transformed into its usual symphony. The jukebox thrummed with an upbeat tune, weaving through the air alongside the clinking of glasses, the sloshing of drinks onto tables, and the raucous conversations of patrons recounting their workday victories and grievances. It was the kind of atmosphere Vi had long since grown accustomed to: loud, messy, full of life. Normally, she found comfort in the rhythm of it all, and today was no different. However, she let it fade into the background.

She sat back, listening, not to the bar, but to Powder and Ekko’s conversation. Or, more accurately, Powder’s increasingly rapid and enthusiastic explanation of her latest invention. At this point, it was entirely her project, and Vi didn’t bother pretending she understood a single word of it. The technical jargon, the excited ramblings about mechanisms and inner workings; most of it soared straight over her head like a topside airship, but that wasn’t the point. The point was that she could hear the excitement in her sister’s voice, could feel the weight of Ekko’s steady encouragement and the occasional hint of caution when Powder got too ambitious. It was nice. It was as common as the air she breathed. She liked it. 

She was also keenly aware that Vander had given her this day off for a reason. A rare thing, a gift she hadn’t even thought to ask for but one she desperately needed. Vi wasn’t the type to take breaks; not when she could be working, moving, proving that she could pull her weight despite everything. What she lacked in sight, she made up for in sheer determination and, when necessary, fists. That last part usually ended with Vander giving her that disappointed sigh of his.

Today, she allowed herself relax.

She ran her fingers idly over the rim of her empty glass, the cool condensation tracing against her calloused skin. Her body was still sore from the past few days: lingering stiffness in her muscles, a dull ache beneath her skin, but it was manageable. Fading with every passing moment. For the first time in days, she felt like herself again.

When the front doors opened she barely noticed. It was the evening rush after all. 

She would have ignored it, lost in the comfort of just being, but something about the footsteps that followed made her pause.

One set was familiar. The other two were not.

Vi tilted her head slightly, filtering out the bar’s noise, her focus narrowing in on the measured strides approaching the room.

“You two will remain outside. Your presence is not needed in here,” a crisp voice commanded.

The accent. The authority. The damn scent.

Sure enough, it was Caitlyn.

There was a shuffle of boots, a begrudging pause before two sets of footsteps retreated, the doors creaking shut behind them. Enforcers. They always moved with a certain weight to their steps, an unspoken air of control, of belonging where they damn well pleased. But not this time. Caitlyn had dismissed them without hesitation.

Vi listened as Caitlyn strode further inside, her footsteps precise, and light, yet there was a moment, just the briefest hesitation in her step. Vi smirked to herself. The Sheriff was looking at her now.

And that damn blush threatened to rise again.

'Not now,' she told herself.

“It’s so good to see you, Vi,” Caitlyn’s voice was velvet, but Vi caught the subtle breath she took before speaking, as if she were debating her words. “Your absence had me concerned about your well-being.”

Vi cracked open her eyes and did her best to smirk, but judging by the muffled giggle from Powder, she failed miserably.

“It’s good to know someone missed me,” she drawled back, trying to keep her tone light. Under the table, she lashed out with a playful kick, aiming for Powder’s shin.

“Ow!” Ekko yelped.

Powder erupted into full-bodied laughter, nearly tipping over in her seat.

Caitlyn merely hummed in response, the sound amused. “Indeed, I very much enjoy our chats.” There was another pause, another breath. “Sadly, I’m not here for pleasure. But I would like to catch up soon… if you’re up for it, that is.”

Vi swallowed. The question had been left in her hands. Caitlyn, ever the polite one, never pushed. Never demanded. She simply offered.

Vi nodded, turning her head slightly toward Caitlyn’s voice. “I’d like that.”

A satisfied hum. “It’s a date, then.”

Vi briefly choked on air. 

And with that, Caitlyn walked toward the bar, her authoritative steps shifting toward something softer, something more reserved as she approached Vander.

Vi resisted the urge to follow her movements, instead listening as Caitlyn exchanged a brief but quiet greeting with Vander. Their conversation was low, hushed; too low for her to make out any clear words. Suspiciously low.

Then, after a few moments, she heard the shuffle of Vander moving from behind the bar, the sound of a door creaking open. The office.

Vi’s curiosity flared, but she didn’t get up. Didn’t pry.

If Caitlyn had business with Vander that needed to be done behind closed doors, Vi would find out soon enough. She was the snoop of the family, after all: just barely edging out Powder for the title. She had an ear for things, a gut instinct that rarely led her astray.

Vi felt her body relax again, settling into her chair with her arms crossed over her chest. She had no interest in exhausting herself over something that would eventually make its way to her anyway.

Of course, Ekko had other plans.

“Why do you think the Sheriff is here?” he asked, his voice lowered as he leaned onto the table, the soft creak of wood accompanying his movement. “And with other enforcers.”

Powder, always eager to unravel a mystery, absentmindedly chewed on the back of her pen, deep in thought.

Vi, without missing a beat, sighed through her nose. “Powder, stop before you blacken your teeth.”

Her sister instantly removed the pen from her mouth, setting it down with a small clack on the table. Despite Vi’s lack of sight, Powder never questioned her uncanny ability to know things. It was downright eerie sometimes. Clearing her throat, she shifted gears back to the topic at hand.

“Since the peace, Zaun still hasn’t established its own formal law enforcement,” Powder began, picking up the pen again, twirling it between her fingers. “If I remember correctly, Vander made a contract with Piltover when it came to the Lanes and-” she waved her hand vaguely around, “basically all of Zaun.”

Ekko exhaled heavily, rubbing at his temple. “We know that, Pow. That still doesn’t explain why they are here.”

Powder pouted, folding her arms. “I was just saying…”

Noticing the slight downturn of her lips, Ekko immediately softened. He reached across the table and rested his hand gently over hers. “I know,” he murmured. “I didn’t mean for that to come out rude.”

Powder smiled, nudging him with her shoulder. “It didn’t.”

Vi smirked, eyes still closed. “It kinda did.”

“Oh, shut it, Vi,” Powder shot back, her tone playful, the warmth in her voice belying any real annoyance.

Vi hummed, letting the conversation drift as her mind worked through its own theories. Whatever had brought Caitlyn here had to be serious, especially if she had felt the need to bring enforcers with her.

It didn’t sit right with her.

Vi had never trusted Piltover. Not before the explosion, and especially not after. It didn’t matter that the two cities had mended their relationship, didn’t matter that Zaun had been given the chance to breathe instead of choke on the waste of the people above. She would never trust them. Well, maybe expect one. The changes people raved about meant little to her, she would never get to see them.

Zaun was still the Undercity. Piltover was still its oppressor, despite what everyone had tried to tell her.

And worst of all, it shouldn’t have taken an explosion, her explosion, for Piltover to finally realize its own failings.

Her jaw clenched.

Beneath the table, Vi flexed her left hand, feeling the familiar pull of her scarred skin, the rough texture a permanent reminder of how deeply the past had burned her. The scars served as an unspoken testament to the cost of Piltover’s negligence.

The cost of her negligence.

She pressed her palm flat against the table, grounding herself, forcing the thoughts away. She would find out soon enough what Piltover was up to. Until then, there was no point in dwelling on ghosts she couldn’t chase.

Vi knew Ekko and Powder were deep into their theorizing, voices hushed but animated as they exchanged ideas about the Sheriff’s visit. Vi, however, wanted no part of it.

“Are you two done with your drinks?” she interrupted, not caring if she cut off whatever wild speculation they were building on.

Powder spoke up first, her voice still carrying an air of conspiracy. “Yeah, but I can take care of it.”

Vi shook her head, already standing as she blindly reached for their glasses, the cool surfaces familiar beneath her fingertips. “It’s alright, Pow. I need to stretch my legs anyway.” She added a reassuring wink in her sister’s general direction, earning an exaggerated groan from Powder.

With practiced ease, Vi made her way to the bar, trailing her fingers along the edge before placing the glasses into the sink. She was about to turn back, ready to reclaim her seat and ignore whatever nonsense Powder and Ekko were whispering about now, 

When someone coughed.

Vi’s fingers tightened against the edge of the sink, her jaw clenching as she exhaled sharply through her nose. The sound wasn’t accidental. It wasn’t just some patron clearing their throat.

No, she knew exactly who it was.

“Huck,” she said, voice flat, already irritated. “You’ve been coming here long enough to know that speaking is better than making weird noises.” She turned her head slightly toward the general direction of his presence, though her expression remained unimpressed. “What do you want?”

Huck had the unfortunate tendency of being a sniveling coward at the best of times and an opportunist at the worst. The last time Vi had seen him, he was still the same bumbling little man with a widow’s peak so pronounced that she often joked it was larger than both Piltover and Zaun combined. She wondered if he’d finally gone fully bald. Maybe she’d ask next time.

“Um, V-Vi,” Huck stuttered miserably, his voice as shaky as ever. “Could I, uh, get a… a d-draft of the house brew?” A beat of awkward silence. Then, as though remembering his manners, he tacked on a small, “Please.”

Vi sighed, shaking her head as she reached out, her fingers brushing over the cool metal of the tap handles. Locating the right one, she grabbed a mug and started pouring, barely sparing him any real attention.

“Huck, you’ve known me since I was a kid,” she mused, her tone conversational. “How is it that now, you sound like you’re scared shitless to talk to me?”

“Well, you see—”

Vi didn’t let him finish. With a harsh motion, she set his drink down on the counter with more force than intended, the impact causing some of the amber liquid to slosh over the rim.

“You know what?” she said, her voice deceptively light. She leaned in slightly, her fingers never leaving the mug. “Forget I asked. I already know why.”

The tension in the room thickened as Huck sputtered, his nervous energy practically vibrating in the space between them. Vi gave him a second, waiting for him to reach for his drink. 

The moment she felt his fingers graze the handle, she grabbed his wrist.

The motion was swift. Not tight enough to hurt, but firm enough that he wouldn’t be able to pull away. A quick gasp left him, but before he could stammer out some pathetic response, Vi was already moving, walking around the bar and pulling him along with her.

His wrist still in her grasp, she lifted his arm into the air. Awkwardly, considering the fact that Huck was a whole head shorter than her.

A hush fell over the bar. Conversations died. The music from the jukebox droned on, but it was nothing more than a distant hum compared to the sudden focus that was now locked on Vi.

Good.

She tilted her head, scanning the room with her unseeing eyes, her voice carrying over the hushed silence.

“Who here feels the same way our dear friend Huck does?” she called out, raising her voice just enough to be heard over the lingering noise. She wasn’t yelling, but there was an undeniable sharpness to her words; an edge that dared anyone to answer.

There was a long pause.

Then, the scrape of a chair.

Vi didn’t even need to see to know exactly who had stood up first.

“Vi-” Powder began, her voice cautious, pleading, trying to de-escalate before things got worse. She had no idea what was said but Vi never touched a customer unless they stole something or said something that was inappropriate. 

Out of everyone in the bar, Huck wouldn’t hurt a fly, hells he couldn’t hurt one if he tried. 

Vi’s free hand shot out, pointing blindly in her direction. “Don’t,” she said sharply, her grip on Huck tightening slightly for emphasis.

Another long, drawn-out silence. Vi didn’t move, standing there in front the counter in the bar with Huck’s wrist still in her grasp, the tension in the air so thick it felt like a living thing pressing down on everyone in the room.

She turned her head slowly, as if scanning the space, daring someone else to speak.

“I asked… who else feels the same as our friend here?” she repeated, giving Huck’s arm a small shake, as though to remind everyone what this was about.

No one answered.

The weight of unspoken truths hung over the bar like a heavy fog.

Finally, Vi let out a short breath through her nose and released Huck’s wrist, allowing his arm to drop back to his side.

“Take your drink,” she muttered, her voice quieter now, the heat still lingering in her tone. “It’ll be on your tab.”

Huck hesitated for a fraction of a second, then quickly grabbed the mug and scurried back to his seat, shoulders hunched in embarrassment. The bar remained silent for a moment longer, before the low murmur of conversation slowly resumed, like a machine sputtering back to life after stalling.

Vi didn’t move.

She knew exactly what just happened. She knew why Huck had been hesitant, why others hadn’t spoken up.

It wasn’t just the blindness. It wasn’t just the scars.

It was her.

She wasn’t little Vi anymore. Not in their eyes. She was someone else now. Someone people hesitated to look at directly, let alone talk to. They always flinched at the look of her. Just because she doesn’t have sight doesn’t mean she didn’t know. That it didn’t hurt, though she loathed to admit it. 

She exhaled slowly, pressing her lips into a thin line before turning away, heading back toward her table without another word.

Vi could feel Powder’s worried gaze burning into her from across the room, but she ignored it. If she acknowledged it, she might just break, and right now, breaking wasn’t an option.

“The grumpy bartender is back,” some faceless patron laughed, the words crashing through the bar’s tense silence like a rusted hammer. A few others joined in, chuckling low and uneasy, as if they weren’t quite sure if they were allowed to laugh at her expense but decided to try anyway.

Powder was already moving toward Vi, Ekko hot on her heels. She barely registered them, her blood roaring in her ears.

Vi froze.

She was used to people staring, used to the weight of their whispers pressing down on her like bricks tied to her ankles. But no one ever had the gall to say something here. In this bar. In her home.

Her fists clenched so hard her nails bit into her palms, and a sharp inhale entered her nostrils, her body coiling with the kind of rage that always simmered just beneath the surface. She was about to turn around, to do something, to make someone bleed. 

Then, the creak of a door opening cut through the tension.

“Thank you for your assistance, Vander…” Caitlyn’s smooth, refined voice carried easily over the now-quiet bar. But then, she paused, clearly sensing the shift in atmosphere the moment she stepped into the room.

Vander’s gruff voice followed right after, slower, more measured. “Anything to help, Sheriff.”

But when he stepped out behind her, he froze too.

He took in the scene in an instant: Vi standing in front of the counter, her whole body shaking with barely restrained fury. Powder and Ekko nearly at her side, hesitation in their movements. The entire bar watching, tension thick in the air. Vander could tell immediately that whatever had been said, whatever had happened, Vi was on the edge.

And when Vi was this angry, she hated being touched.

Powder didn’t realize it yet, didn’t notice the way Vi’s hands twitched at her sides, didn’t see how her breath came harsh and ragged through clenched teeth. Powder was too tactile, too used to comforting Vi with a squeeze of her hand, a pat on the shoulder, a hug. It wouldn’t help now. It would only make things worse.

Vander locked eyes with Powder just as she reached for Vi. He gave a single, quick shake of his head.

Powder stopped instantly, her eyes widening slightly in realization. She pulled her hands back. 

Vander’s mind worked fast. Vi needed an out. If she stayed here, she’d explode. And if she exploded, someone would get hurt, more than likely Vi herself. 

An idea formed. It might backfire miserably, but it was worth a shot.

“Vi,” he said, firm but calm, his voice cutting through the bar. “Take a walk.”

As expected, Vi’s head snapped toward him, unseeing but unmistakably furious. “And go where, Vander?” she bit out, her voice low and dangerous. “It’s not like I have a map of the Lanes or something.”

Caitlyn, still standing by the office doorway, turned slightly at the exchange, one eyebrow arching in question. Her gaze flickered between Vander and Vi, their dynamic was truly charming. Then, Vander’s eyes locked onto hers.

He needed her.

It was there in his expression, the subtle, pleading look, the way his fingers twitched slightly like he was about to gesture toward Vi but stopped himself. He wasn’t asking her to fix anything. But he was asking for her help.

Caitlyn understood immediately and didn’t mind at all. 

She shifted on her feet, adjusting her stance to be more open, more receptive, but before she could take a step, Vander’s hand caught her elbow. It was gentle, not forceful. A quiet caution.

“Don’t initiate physical contact,” he murmured under his breath, low enough for only her to hear. “Let her do it.”

Caitlyn nodded once, a silent promise of understanding.

She turned her attention back to Vi, who was still standing rigidly in place, her fists half-clenched, her breathing unsteady. Caitlyn had seen this kind of frustration before: not in Vi, but in herself, in new recruits back at the academy.

So, instead of demanding, instead of commanding, she simply offered.

“Would you like some company?” Caitlyn asked, her voice smooth, inviting, entirely lacking in expectation.

Vi’s shoulders tensed even further, debating whether or not to snap at her.

For a long moment, Caitlyn thought she might.

But then, Vi exhaled sharply, rolling her neck and shoulders as if shaking off the worst of her temper. She turned her head slightly in Caitlyn’s direction, lips pressing into a barely visible smile.

“…Sure,” she muttered.

Powder made a small noise of surprise. 'Vi never agreed to things this fast.'

Caitlyn, however, only smiled in return. “Alright then,” she said simply, stepping forward to let Vi take the lead.

Vi didn’t wait for further discussion. She started toward the exit, shoving her hands into her pockets, her steps forceful but no longer violent.

Caitlyn followed, keeping a respectful distance, letting Vi choose when or if, she would let her closer.

And Vander?

He exhaled deeply, running a hand over his face as the tension in the bar finally began to ease.

Janna help them all.

Caitlyn took a slight step ahead of Vi and opened the door for her, she gestured subtly, allowing the shorter woman to step outside first. The night air hit them instantly; a crisp, refreshing coolness that felt like a stark contrast to the warmth of the bar.

Caitlyn immediately took note of Vi’s attire; ripped black jeans that sat snugly on her frame, and a red tank top that was far too tight, though Caitlyn certainly wasn’t complaining. The way the dim glow from the streetlights cast subtle highlights over Vi’s defined arms and shoulders made it hard not to look, but Caitlyn was determined to be respectful. Not staring was proving to be more difficult than she anticipated.

Once the doors shut behind them, Caitlyn turned toward the two Enforcers who had been stationed outside, standing at attention like statues under the weak streetlamps. “I have what we need,” she said smoothly, her tone leaving no room for argument. “You may go home and get some rest.”

The two glanced at her, and then, whether out of curiosity or sheer instinct, they turned their eyes toward Vi. Their expressions flickered ever so slightly, something between confusion and quiet judgment flashing across their faces.

Caitlyn did not appreciate that.

“That may have sounded like a request…” she said coolly, her voice laced with just enough steel to make them straighten further instinctively. “It wasn’t.”

The two men hastily nodding, turning on their heels and disappearing down the dimly lit street back toward Piltover.

Vi, who had been standing with her hands shoved deep in her pockets, tilted her head toward Caitlyn, a slow, teasing smirk pulling at her lips. “Damn, that was hot,” she muttered under her breath.

Or at least, she thought she had muttered it.

Caitlyn’s head turned, one elegant brow lifting ever so slightly. “It had nothing to do with being hot,” she replied, though the slight upward curve of her lips suggested otherwise. “It was their lack of ability to follow direct orders.”

“Orders”, Vi definitely felt that shiver crawl down her spine, and she was definitely going to blame it on the night air.

Caitlyn, perceptive as always, noticed. She didn’t call her out on it. She only smiled, a quiet, knowing smile, as her blue eyes swept across the Lanes. The foot traffic was minimal tonight, only the occasional passerby hurrying along the sidewalks, streetlamps flickering overhead. The soft hum of distant factories and the faint hiss of the canals in the distance made for an oddly peaceful ambiance. A perfect night to walk.

And, Caitlyn thought idly, ‘a perfect night to walk with Vi.’

“Where would you like to go?” she asked, keeping her tone light, open-ended. She would give Vi all the time she needed.

Vi huffed, shifting uncomfortably. She removed her hands from her pockets and ran them down her face, as if physically wiping away the weight of the evening. The tension she had been carrying inside the bar had mostly melted away, but in its place was something else, hesitation.

Caitlyn remained silent, patient as ever.

Vi’s fingers twitched at her sides. Where was she supposed to go? The Lanes weren’t the same anymore, not since the peace, not since her accident. It didn’t matter how much she tried to memorize each turn, each landmark, nothing felt familiar. And even if it did, what was the point? She’d never see it again.

She swallowed hard, forcing down the frustration threatening to bubble up again. “I-” Vi hesitated, voice rough around the edges.

Then, finally, with an exhausted exhale, she admitted the truth. “I don’t know.”

Caitlyn clicked her tongue in thought. “Alright,” she said after a moment, considering. “How about this, you point in any direction, and we’ll walk that way.”

Vi’s head snapped up in surprise. That was new. Usually, people just dragged her along, Powder, Vander, hell, even Silco sometimes, when he had a point to prove. She was used to being directed, not given a choice.

Caitlyn must have sensed her uncertainty, because she didn’t rush her. She merely stood, waiting.

Vi nodded once, more to herself than to Caitlyn. Slowly, she lifted her hand and pointed off to her right.

Caitlyn hummed in acceptance, stepping down from the stairs and setting off in Vi’s chosen direction.

Only… after a few steps, she paused, noticing that Vi hadn’t moved.

“Vi?” Caitlyn asked gently.

Vi stood there, fingers rubbing together anxiously, her head slightly bowed. She took a breath, steady, slow, but when she spoke, her voice was laced with unease. “This was a bad idea,” she muttered, shaking her head. “I should just-” She pointed half-heartedly toward the bar behind her, like she was about to retreat.

Caitlyn didn’t let her finish.

“Vi,” she interrupted, her voice soft, coaxing. “May I touch you?” Already breaking a promise to Vander. 

Vi’s breath caught sharply in her throat. Her heart slammed against her ribs so forcefully that she felt it in her ears.

Her head snapped up, unseeing eyes locked onto where she knew Caitlyn stood. If she could see, she knew she’d be met with something unreadable in those eyes.

Caitlyn was looking at her, watching her carefully, giving her every opportunity to say no.

“I promise,” Caitlyn added, her tone an unshakable promise, “I won’t do anything uncouth.”

Vi’s fingers twitched again, this time for a different reason.

The rational part of her screamed at her to decline, to shake her head and go back inside the bar, pretend this never happened. But… there was another part of her; one that, to her dismay, was growing louder.

A part that wanted to trust Caitlyn, an enforcer... No the Sheriff. 

A part that wanted to reach out.

After a long, pregnant pause, Vi nodded minutely.

She heard Caitlyn take a step toward her. Not too fast, not too slow, just intentional.

“I’m going to touch your right arm now, alright?” Caitlyn warned softly.

Vi clenched her jaw and gave another short nod.

She felt it then, warmth.

Smooth fingers brushed over the back of her hand first, trailing gently up her forearm. Caitlyn’s touch was careful, soft, like she was making sure Vi felt it before accepting it. The warmth seeped into Vi’s skin, the contrast against the cool air sending an involuntary shiver down her spine.

She stayed very still.

Then, Caitlyn’s fingers ghosted over the inside of Vi’s elbow, gently lifting her arm away from her body.

Vi’s breath hitched. She couldn’t lie to herself, this shiver wasn’t from the cold.

Caitlyn didn’t mention it.

Instead, she guided Vi’s hand forward, carefully placing it against her own forearm. The fabric beneath Vi’s fingertips was smooth, fine, sturdy material, tailored perfectly to Caitlyn’s form. A jacket, fitted and pressed, undoubtedly pristine despite a long day’s wear.

Vi hesitated for a moment before running her fingers over the material, mapping it out. Slowly, she trailed them further up, feeling the structure, the seams, the solidness of Caitlyn’s frame underneath.

It wasn’t much. But it was something.

“You don’t have to,” Caitlyn whispered, her breath feather-light against Vi’s ear. “But if this helps, I am more than willing to assist.”

Vi tilted her head slightly, her unseeing eyes searching for something in the darkness. In that moment, more than anything, she wished she could see this woman.

With a deep inhale, Vi nodded.

And then, gripping onto Caitlyn’s arm, she took the first leading step.

As they walked, an easy silence settled between them, punctuated only by the rhythmic tap of Caitlyn’s boots against the cobbled streets and the occasional murmur of distant voices from the alleys and walkways. Vi, for once, didn’t mind the quiet. It gave her space to think, to process the sheer oddity of the moment.

Walking the Lanes had always been a deeply ingrained habit of hers. Before the explosion, before the blindness, she had known every shortcut, every rooftop, every street corner. Now, the Lanes felt foreign, almost unrecognizable in their stillness. But the strangest part? She wasn’t walking them alone; she was walking them at night, with an Enforcer, her arm resting easily against the fabric of Caitlyn’s sleeve.

If someone had told her a week ago that this would be happening, she would have laughed in their face. Or, more likely, punched them.

Yet here she was.

And, even stranger, she didn’t hate it.

Caitlyn was changing Vi’s perspective with every step they took. Not in the forced, condescending way most Piltover elites did when they entered the Lanes, acting as if they were bestowing some great privilege by merely existing in Zaun. No, Caitlyn’s presence was different. There was an authority to her, yes, but it wasn’t overbearing, it wasn’t demanding. She didn’t walk these streets like she owned them; she walked them as if she belonged to them just as much as anyone else.

That was… new.

Each time they passed a citizen, Vi instinctively tensed, preparing for something; an insult, a sneer, maybe even Caitlyn’s clipped response to their presence. But none of that happened. Instead, Caitlyn would nod politely, offering a quiet hello before moving on as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Vi had no idea how the other person reacted, whether they returned the greeting or just stared in confusion. But Caitlyn’s unwavering composure said enough. She didn’t so much as falter in her steps, didn’t adjust her stance to appear more intimidating or to prepare for a confrontation.

She just… existed in Zaun.

Like it was normal.

By the third or fourth person they passed without incident, Vi found herself slowly relaxing. The tension in her shoulders eased, and the grip she had on Caitlyn’s arm, once firm, loosened to a mere, comfortable presence.

It was subtle, but Caitlyn noticed.

More than once, Caitlyn would slow slightly and murmur a quiet, “Step,” or “Hole.” She never tugged Vi away, never moved her herself. She just gave her the choice, let Vi decide how she wanted to move forward.

It was a small thing, but it meant everything.

Vi took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the cool air. She needed this. More than she realized. Not just the fresh air, not just the walk, but this moment. The simplicity of existing outside of the bar, outside of herself.

And it wasn’t all because of the woman beside her.

“Thank you,” Vi whispered as they turned a corner, her free hand brushing against the rough edge of a building, grounding herself. “You didn’t have to come.”

Caitlyn let out a soft, amused laugh; the sound was warm, genuine, and it made Vi smile before she could stop herself. “I did say we needed to catch up, didn’t I?” Caitlyn replied, voice laced with humor. “I figured, why not now?”

Vi huffed out a quiet chuckle. “You said it was a date,” she reminded her, lifting her free hand to gesture vaguely at their surroundings. “Does this count?”

Caitlyn’s response was immediate.

“If you want it to.”

Vi’s breath hitched.

She wasn’t sure what she had expected, maybe a playful retort, maybe some sarcastic jab. Not that. And certainly not that quickly. She felt her face heat up instantly, a blush creeping up from her neck and spreading across her cheeks. She ducked her head, cursing her body’s inability to not react properly to this woman.

Powder would never let her live this down if she were here.

Caitlyn came to a gradual stop, her steps slowing until they were both standing still.

“May I touch you again?” she asked softly.

Vi’s stomach flipped.

She squeaked. Actually squeaked.

Then, realizing what she had just done, she immediately cleared her throat, masking her embarrassment. “Yes,” she said, doing her best to sound casual.

She failed.

She really needed to get a grip.

She felt Caitlyn shift, stepping closer. There was no hesitation, no abrupt movement, just a steady, careful presence. The warmth of her body lingered close, though not close enough to overwhelm.

Then, contact.

Caitlyn’s fingers brushed against the inside of Vi’s elbow, not her forearm this time. It was an adjustment, a shift in familiarity, and Janna help her, Vi liked it.

She shouldn’t, she really shouldn’t, but she did.

And then, just when Vi thought she might have regained some composure, Caitlyn’s fingers ghosted over her cheek.

Vi’s breath stilled.

The touch was barely there, gentle, reverent. As if Caitlyn was testing the waters, giving Vi every chance to pull away.

She didn’t.

Once Caitlyn was sure Vi wasn’t going to look down or shy away, her fingers settled against her cheek, palm cupping the side of her face with a care that made Vi’s chest ache.

“Would you allow me the privilege of taking you out on a date?” Caitlyn whispered, her breath cool against Vi’s overheated skin.

Vi melted.

Her mind blanked. Completely blanked.

She didn’t even remember leaning into Caitlyn’s palm, but there she was, her head tilting ever so slightly into the warmth of her touch.

She nodded.

Caitlyn clicked her tongue, a sound of amusement, of patient indulgence.

Her thumb glided across Vi’s cheek; soft, barely there, but enough to make Vi feel like she was going to combust.

“Use your words, Vi,” Caitlyn murmured.

Vi continued to nod.

Then, the words finally registered.

“I-” Vi swallowed. “I would like that.”

Caitlyn smiled. Vi couldn’t see it, but she could hear it in her voice when she responded.

“Good girl.”

Vi was officially gone.

Her brain had shut down.

What did she just agree to?

She didn’t care, not when she was smiling like a lovesick idiot, and especially not when Caitlyn giggled.

Caitlyn giggled.

Vi was pretty sure she had died, and somehow, Janna had taken her soul straight to heaven.

Screw it.

She would roll with it.

The moment stretched between them, warm and lingering, “Are you ready to head back?” Caitlyn asked, her voice still gentle, still right there, her thumb barely grazing Vi’s cheek before she lowered her hand.

Vi, still reeling from the ghost of that touch, barely managed a nod, which earned her another one of Caitlyn’s signature tongue-clicks. That damn sound sent another shiver down her spine, one she refused to acknowledge.

“Yes, ma’am,” she started, then immediately winced. “I mean, yes.”

Caitlyn chuckled, shaking her head in amusement. “Caitlyn will do just fine.”

‘Gods, why did she have to sound so fucking sexy while she teased?’ Vi bit the inside of her cheek, barely restraining a groan. Instead of answering, she simply offered her arm willingly this time, before she could even talk herself out of it.

Caitlyn, ever patient, laid Vi’s hand gently onto her own arm. “Shall we?” she murmured, and just like that, they were walking again.

The walk back to The Last Drop was far livelier than their initial walk out. Conversation flowed effortlessly now, their earlier hesitations worn down by the steady rhythm of their steps and the intimacy of shared space. Vi, who had spent the past few years convinced she was no good at this (at talking, at letting someone in) was finding it surprisingly easy with Caitlyn.

Maybe too easy.

“So,” Vi mused, tilting her head slightly in Caitlyn’s direction, “you became an Enforcer just to spite your mum? That must’ve pissed her off.”

Caitlyn let out a quiet hum of agreement, her voice laced with amusement. “It certainly did. For the first few years of my career, she had me assigned as security for the council. I think she believed if she kept me close enough, she could steer me back toward her world.” She shook her head, the memory clearly something she wasn’t particularly fond of. “But I was fortunate enough to have built a rapport with the Sheriff at the time. Grayson helped me get out from under my mother’s thumb. I owe quite a bit to her.”

There was something unmistakably fond in Caitlyn’s tone when she spoke of Grayson, a warmth Vi recognized instantly, the sound of admiration, of respect. It made Vi pause for a moment, considering.

“You’re not like the other Enforcers I’ve met before,” Vi admitted, keeping her voice neutral, though the confession held more weight than she intended.

Caitlyn turned her head slightly. “However so?” she asked, curiosity threading through her words.

Vi hesitated. She hadn’t expected Caitlyn to challenge the statement, hadn’t planned on explaining herself. But Caitlyn had been nothing but patient with her tonight, and if she really was as different as she claimed to be, then maybe -just maybe- Vi could give her something real.

She licked her lips, steeling herself. “For starters,” she muttered, “you haven’t thrown me into a fence to search me for drugs.”

Caitlyn stiffened ever so slightly at that, but she said nothing. Instead, she simply laid a warm, reassuring hand over Vi’s where it rested on her arm.

Vi blinked at the sudden contact, a small hitch in her breath before she forced herself to continue. “And those weren’t even the worst ones. During…” She swallowed, clearing her throat. The words felt heavier now that they were leaving her mouth, harder to push past her lips than they had been in her head. “During the Undercity’s uprising, they killed my parents. I didn’t see them die, but I saw their bodies. I don’t even know what happened to them after.”

She coughed, as if the sound alone could scrub away the unease clawing at her chest. She never talked about this. She never had to. Everyone in Zaun knew what happened that day, and those who had been there carried their own ghosts. It was an unspoken rule: you didn’t ask. You didn’t bring it up. And yet here she was, spilling the story to a Piltover Sheriff.

Caitlyn squeezed her fingers ever so slightly, offering silent understanding. She didn’t interject with empty words, didn’t try to say something meaningless like I’m sorry, because what good would that do? Instead, she simply listened.

Vi took a breath, steadier now. “I haven’t really had other experiences with Enforcers after… the peace. But it’s still hard,” she admitted, her voice quieter now, but still carrying that raw honesty Caitlyn seemed to respect.

“Well,” Caitlyn murmured, her voice gentle but firm, “I can’t change the past, but I do hope that, with my actions, you’ll notice a difference between then and now.”

She didn’t add more, didn’t try to justify or explain away the damage her city had inflicted on Vi’s. She simply stated her truth and let Vi sit with it.

They walked in comfortable silence after that.

The night stretched on, the streets quieter now as most people had retired to their homes or the few bars still open. By the time they neared The Last Drop, it was well past two in the morning. Fatigue was beginning to settle into their limbs, but neither of them seemed eager to let the night end.

Caitlyn slowed when she noticed Vi shiver, again. ‘That’s the eighth time,’ she thought, frowning slightly. Without hesitation, she reached up and gently lifted Vi’s hand from her arm.

Vi tensed at the sudden movement, turning toward Caitlyn with a raised brow and slightly parted lips, about to question her. But Caitlyn merely shushed her. “One moment, dear.”

Vi instantly snapped her mouth shut.

She listened as Caitlyn shuffled slightly, then felt a warm weight settle over her shoulders, draping down her arms and back. 'Oh. Oh.'

Vi opened her mouth, then closed it again.

'Did Caitlyn really just give her, her coat?'

Her Piltover Enforcer coat?

Vi was at a complete loss. This was- this was too much-this was

FUCK.

Before she could even begin to protest, Caitlyn took Vi’s hand and placed it gently back on her arm. This time, when Vi traced the limb, she didn’t feel the familiar fabric of Caitlyn’s sleeve. Instead, she felt smooth skin, lean muscles, and warmth.

Caitlyn had given her coat to Vi without a second thought.

‘Janna, help me,’ Vi thought. 

Neither of them spoke as they continued up the steps to the bar. Vi couldn’t speak, not with the way her heart was pounding or the way her breath kept hitching at every little detail she should not be focusing on.

Caitlyn, for her part, was simply enjoying the view. Vi, for all her bravado, was so easy to fluster. And Caitlyn found herself thoroughly enjoying every second of it.

As they reached the door, Caitlyn slowed her pace, her movements deliberate, precise, like she wanted to savor this moment. Vi barely had time to process the shift before soft fingers reached up, brushing ever so slightly against her lower lip. The touch was intimate, slow and featherlight, a caress more than anything else, a lingering press of warmth against the sensitive skin. It was felt rather than seen, a whisper of contact that sent a shiver rolling down Vi’s spine that had nothing to do with the cold. 

Her breath caught.

Caitlyn’s fingertips traced, barely-there, as if memorizing, mapping the shape of Vi’s lips, the way they parted just slightly in response. A tease, a question, a challenge, all wrapped up in the simplest of gestures.

Vi’s heart stopped.

“I’ll get that back for our date,” Caitlyn murmured, her voice dipped in something honeyed, something dangerous.

Vi swallowed thickly, trying and failing to find words that didn’t make her sound like she’d just walked straight off a damn cliff. “Yes, Cait.” The words tumbled out in a breathless rasp, barely audible over the rush of blood in her ears.

'Oh fuck. Fuck. Fuck.'

Caitlyn hummed, pleased, the sound sinking into Vi’s skin like a brand. “I like that.”

Vi could feel everysingle brain cell in her head shutting down, drowning in the weight of that voice, the warmth of Caitlyn’s presence, the fucking touch that left an invisible burn against her skin.

Then Caitlyn giggled again, the sound a light, amused chime that was entirely unfair given Vi’s current state. And just as slowly as she’d reached out, Caitlyn stepped back, letting her fingers fall away, leaving nothing but absence in their wake.

Vi stumbled forward, instinctive, chasing the contact before she even knew what she was doing. Her feet faltered, and she was forced to grip the railing for dear life, her fingers curling around the wood so tight her knuckles ached.

Janna could help her even is she wanted, Vi was beyond gone. 

She was suddenly, painfully aware of how little balance she had in that moment, -not just physically, but mentally, emotionally, spiritually- every damn thing about her was off-kilter, rattled.

Caitlyn had completely wrecked her.

“See you soon, Vi,” Caitlyn said, her voice a smooth purr, silk wrapped around steel, amusement laced beneath its surface like she knew exactly what she had just done to her.

And then, just like that, she was gone, slipping back into the early morning darkness like a phantom, her boots barely making a sound against the stone.

Back to Piltover.

Leaving Vi standing there, still gripping the railing, still trying to piece together the wreckage of her own damn mind.

Vi stood there for far longer than she’d ever be proud of.

Her head dropped back against the doorframe with a dull thud, her free hand running down her face as she exhaled, long and shaky.

Fuck Janna. 

Caitlyn was going to be the death of her.

And Vi was more than happy to let her be.