I.
Vi could feel the heat behind her eyes grow.
It all first began what felt like forever ago— when it was just months ago, in reality.
She had walked down the staircase of the Kiramman’s estate— Caitlyn’s big, shiny house. The ex-convict never would’ve imagined in years that she would be setting foot in a house with this outstanding size and cleanliness without the intention of robbing it clean of valuables, for the sake of a livelihood for other kids— herself included.
Vi felt out of place. The house— the mansion’s interior didn’t have a single sentimental item out for display, and the high level of orderliness became even more evident with the Kiramman family crest engraved in every door, every carpet and curtain.
But then, she sees it.
The Kiramman family portrait consisting of three individuals. A woman with a feathered hat— dressed in a white dress with a dark overcoat. She stands with such dignity and grace behind a man Vi now recognizes as Caitlyn’s dad, Tobias. He’s sitting down on a chair Vi assumes is more valuable than anything seen in any Zaunite flea market, and his hair is a dark shade of blue, similarly to Caitlyn’s, and Caitlyn—
She is so small— from her face to her stature, it’s the smallest Vi will ever see of her. She’s dressed in a light blue ensemble that seems to be a crossover of a frilly dress and pantalons, and in her left hand, she clutches a rifle almost the size of her entirety— smiling ever so proudly as she does so.
Vi stares, stares, and stares— taking in the expression that’s painted on little Caitlyn’s face, now seeing how Caitlyn grew into her features so well— how she’s more than double the size of her rifle, and how she probably flew a couple feet back the first time she ever shot the damn thing.
“I was about six years old when this was painted.” Caitlyn said— noticing how Vi stuck to the portrait longer than any ceiling, or chandelier in the estate. “The rifle almost didn’t make the cut.” She revealed, bashfully— crimson blooming at the tips of her ears as she said this next part, “But I practically begged to keep it in there.”
Caitlyn didn’t have to mention that part— to share that fun little tidbit of knowledge, yet she did anyway. She’s been doing that a lot lately— sharing parts of her to the Zaunite, but it came as naturally as firing a rifle to save another.
Vi doesn’t say anything— powder blue eyes lingering a little longer, as if she was clinging onto the image, connecting it to… something. Once she’s done, she sniffles, shoulders going slack as she gathers her composure.
“So the fixation on guns was a “since birth” kind of thing, huh?” Vi said with a smirk— one that would usually get Caitlyn up and running, as infuriatingly mind numbing and distracting as it was.
But the closer Caitlyn looked, her eyes were glassy, rimmed with tears waiting to cascade down her face.
They never do, but Caitlyn wonders what she would’ve done if they did.
II.
The second time it happened, it was Caitlyn’s turn.
It had been a whirlwind of a couple months— a grave understatement in itself. One moment, she was practically pleading to the council to listen to her and Vi’s concerns, and in another moment— she was up high, cloak clinging onto her shoulders as she commanded attention in every room she was made present in.
She had been floating with vengeance, grief, loss— for a certain point that she was starting to question if she was doing the right thing.
Then, she was faced with Vi, who made a total drastic appearance. She no longer had hues of raspberry pink accompanying her— her hair was thickly covered in pitch black, her wardrobe was consisting of a black leather jacket, dark washed tight denim with rips, and hell— even her gauntlets were matching when she found them.
It was as if the Vi she knew all those months ago was gone, changed as Caitlyn tried to become.
But the more Caitlyn stared— peace engulfing her features as she touched the side of Warwick’s face, and huddled closer to the little kid and Jinx.
She realized that even if the two of them had changed— in more ways than one— Vi still had a good heart, and it beats for what mattered to her.
What was she doing? This is what remains of her family.
The thought resounds consistently through Caitlyn’s mind the more she watches them interact, and the more she followed behind them— Warwick suddenly having the urge to search a specific area of the commune once he regained most of his mobility— the more the question beats through her mind, solidifying a greater feeling in her heart.
He leads them to a beam made of stone— stone that wore markings and scratches of names along the length of it. He gets down, and starts searching at the base of the beam. Then, he pulls something out— a small scrape of paper with shiny film on one side.
It bears scratches, tatters, deep folds indented, burn marks— you name it. The paper is terribly damaged.
But it’s one of remarkable significance, the more she looked at it.
The two sisters crowd the paper, staring in awe as they seem totally captivated by the contents of the paper. Jinx mutters something about appearances— looking stupid, but Vi smiles, and her eyes light up just like how she witnessed moments ago, and Caitlyn oh so wishes that she could—
“You wanna see?”
Vi brings— forces Caitlyn into the bubble with this question, which is actually turning more into an inviting demand the longer Caitlyn remains in silence.
Caitlyn startles, as if she needs to adjust to the gesture, to this form of interaction with Vi. “What… is it?”
Vi huffs, but it’s missing any malice. “Take a look, why don’t you?”
There’s a beat of silence before Caitlyn steps forward— not even acknowledging the fact that Jinxstood less than a foot away from her.
Not that she was really thinking of it, as her thoughts were immediately wiped off clean once she peered down and saw what they were being shown.
Through the damages and poor color quality, Caitlyn could easily see that it was Vi— who couldn’t have been any more than ten years old in the picture, standing next to a smaller Jinx, the girl next to Vi being smaller— with choppy electric blue hair signature to the Zaunite.
She stares at the image like it could bleed right into her memory— staring at the clear absence of tattoos, piercings, and scars on Vi’s entirety, proof of childlike innocence. How she raises a proud fist up— lips quirked into a small grin that Caitlyn remembers seeing on Vi multiple times, and how her other hand holds onto her sister’s— with a grip Caitlyn doesn’t have to feel to know that it’s strong, as strong as a child as small as Vi could be.
There’s something about the picture that forces Caitlyn’s eyes to go glassy, as she absorbs how special the picture is despite the normalcy of it all. It’s no formal family portrait— neither of them are painted, or dressed formally, but it really didn’t matter since it was able to capture the authentic bond between the two sisters.
All formal composure and etiquette forgotten, she lets out a quiet gasp— face crinkling as she attempts to contain herself.
“Damn, we were so ugly we actually made her tear up— I can’t believe it!”
III.
The third time it happened, it was no accident.
Caitlyn had been quiet as her father brought out the photobook. The cover, hardbound with leather, engraved in gold reflective lettering— had the title of the album, “Caitlyn’s Childhood Photos” front and center.
Inwardly, she was a little embarrassed— knowing the contents of the album, knowing what to expect— but it wasn’t as if it were her mother showing an unfortunately curious house guest of high ranking.
It was Vi— her Violet— being shown the contents of the album, the memories of her earlier years in life.
“This was directly after her birth.” Tobias had spoken, flipping through the first page with a nostalgic sigh. The dullness in his eyes were rightfully replaced with the shine of reminiscing over memories— eyes soft at the little human bundle cradled in Cassandra’s arms.
“She was born just as the sun was rising, which is why—” Tobias flipped to the next page, “She was wincing in this picture!”
It could be true or false considering how Caitlyn would’ve been wincing anyway, eyes closed and unaccustomed to life, but her face burned with embarrassment all the same. It was bad news for the Kiramman, considering that it was only the beginning of the album. There were plenty of where those came from, and the unflattering pictures only highlighted the essence of childhood.
Distracting herself, Caitlyn turns to look at Vi—
— Who was unusually calm; albeit, at a loss for words.
Ready as ever, she powers through each picture composed— observing nothing out of the ordinary. Her mouth’s relaxed, ajar only slightly while Tobias walks her through the context of each photograph, showing her milestone memories such as her first birthday, her first taken step, and her first day away from her mother— nose runny and plump cheeks damp with fat crystalline tears.
They’re such standard moments that are usually photographed.
But then, a blurry form of Caitlyn recoiling after she had her first shot at the rifle catches her eye. She has to bite back a laugh rooted from the depths of her soul, as Tobias describes how far and fast her little body was blown away by the rifle, and directly onto her mother. Caitlyn’s flushed red in the face now, and not so subtly shielding her vision away from the horrors of embarrassment, and it’s another thing Vi will have to lightly tease her for, later after she’s done having a look at these pictures.
The next picture feels like a hug— holding warmth that practically engulfs her whole. It’s the direct aftermath of the previous picture; Caitlyn proudly smiling with a small hand loosely on her rifle while Cassandra doted on her in sheer panic, trying to clean off the murky shade of brown coated all over the entire front of Caitlyn’s pantaloons, and some parts of her face.
Vi zeroes in on Caitlyn’s smile. The smile shows off the gap in her front teeth, all toothy and wholehearted, like she absolutely could not stop smiling even if she tried. She stares at the smile that tore down her defenses, and there’s such warmth that Vi doesn’t know what to do with it.
(She settles on keeping it, in hopes that she could double it in size, all for Caitlyn.)
Vi sees it all— and asks silently if she could take a moment to pause on each photograph— eyes lingering as she sees each display of a smile, each expression that honored the sentiment of the event with truth, how she grew up just a little in every photograph.
All the pictures are novelties in itself, but it’s that one picture— the one with Caitlyn’s radiant, proud smile, that has Vi coming back for seconds, more chances to bask in the details.
When Tobias leaves the room to give the couple a moment alone, that’s when the dam finally breaks, and the waterworks start flowing.
“Darling,” Caitlyn cooed, rushing to rub a hand on Vi’s strong back while the other woman covered her leaking eyes with her palms. Vi— usually suave with strength and quick-witted— was at Caitlyn’s defenses, heart soft at the picture of her girlfriend as a child. “Are you okay?”
“Y… yeah. ‘M okay.” She managed to bubble out, shoulders shaking as she sniffled.
“You’re crying.” Caitlyn remarked, words coated with a lighthearted tone— in an attempt to lift the spirits of her girlfriend, who had just spontaneously erupted in tears.
“See what I saw, and you’ll understand why I’m crying.” Vi rebutted with not much defensiveness coating her tone, unsure as to why she was overly emotional to the point of tears in the first place.
Without a word, Caitlyn enveloped Vi into her arms— discarding the album to the side. She soothed the waves of Vi’s tears as she continued to cry into her, shivering with each exalted breath.
“I’m not sad, alright?” Vi reassured, after she finished crying— face wet, eyes red, and nose leaky. She knows that there’s an impending headache that is to follow her in an hour, but she can’t say that she regrets it one bit.
“I’m just… glad.”
Glad that I was able to see that.
No words were exchanged, but Caitlyn understood exactly what she meant.
IV.
The fourth time it happened, it was a surprise.
Caitlyn eyes the package carefully. She carries it with one hand in an attempt to roughly estimate the weight of its contents. It’s heavy, certainly thick— but not in the same way a bomb would be, or even blocks of stone.
Splattered on the packaging was an array of shades ranging from neon pinks to blues. It was a clear signature of the sender’s identity, and it was enough to curve an amused smile onto her lips.
“How’s my favorite Piltie doin’?” Jinx had greeted jovially, amidst the sounds of tinkering and bustling that played in the background.
“What’s in here, Ji– Powder?”
Jinx— Powder, who is still Jinx, who is still Powder— she was still getting used to being able to say that name. It felt foreign, and weighed thickly on her tongue, but Jinx had said it was alright, and even jested at her to try and see how it sounded, considering the granted permission as a marker of their new profound friendship.
The woman on the other end of the phone laughs at her slip up, but doesn’t further acknowledge it. “Finally received it, huh? Fuckin’ finally.”
Jinx goes on a tangent regarding her latest adventures all across Runeterra, her recent modifications to her blimp, and while she does this— Caitlyn grabs a small blade to tear the sides of the packaging open. She’s careful not to cause large tears into the packaging while she messes with the taped up sides, and the item finally reveals itself—
A small gasp is unable to be contained from Caitlyn’s mouth.
“These are… photographs.”
“Ding, ding, ding!”
Not just any photographs, but photographs of Vi and Jinx as children.
And several of them— stacked in a bundle, pictured memories stretching far into their early childhood and coming to an unceremonious end before she could get to a certain point, as if documentation was interrupted abruptly.
Caitlyn goes through each photograph, and examines each figure and face imprinted on the surface with her trained eye. The photos were of low condition— a handful of them must have been submerged in some kind of liquid multiple times, and subjected to many forms of beating.
The pictures have taken a considerable amount of damage, but it wasn’t a complete lost cause.
“I… was in the undercity, yesterday.” Jinx had explained, after a moment of amazed speechlessness overtook the call. “And I can already hear you worry, but I’m fine! Just visited for the fun of it, honestly.”
“Well, actually— sheesh, and I call Vi sentimental.”
“You want me to do something to these.”
Jinx didn’t need to ask— heck, didn’t need to speak anyway, for Caitlyn to know just exactly what she needed to do. It’s a statement so simple, yet deafening— accompanied with an unsaid favor entrusted to Caitlyn.
“You can do whatever you want with it.”
So, Caitlyn gets to work, and sets out immediately for restoration as soon as the call ends. She seeks out the best in Piltover, and pays a hefty price for the photographs without further consideration, and involves herself in the process. She’s present for every approval, to give her feedback on each photo’s condition— requesting revisions after revisions once she feels as if something was amiss amongst the features encaptured by the lenses. When it came to these pictures, it was no longer a want to encapsulate near perfection— but a need, and luckily for her, she wasn’t the only one committed to the goal.
It almost takes the entire day for Caitlyn to receive the photos back, and when she does— she expects to feel relieved.
Unmistakably, she is relieved to have the photos back in her possession— but her stomach tickles with nerves as she wonders how accurate the restoration would have been, in terms of honoring sentiment and childhood features.
Caitlyn— usually so sure of herself and ready to take a step forward, even if she’d be potentially faced with judgement— was nervous. It bubbled in her stomach, and made itself known with the thud of her heartbeat against her chest.
She was awfully aware of everything despite being somewhat visually impaired— almost all of that’s derived from the automatic nervous system, her surroundings, the feeling of feet against the floorings, her hands shedding her uniform’s jacket onto the coathanger poached next to the bed, her body coming into contact with her plush mattress.
The warm body planted at the center of the bed— the growing smile on Vi’s face as Caitlyn inches closer.
Which was just a grave reminder of one fact alone.
If there’s one thing she hopes to achieve from this—
It would be seeing Vi smile, again and again.
Lucky for her, those are increasing in abundance, but Caitlyn could never be too sure.
“Violet?”
Vi turns over to mirror Caitlyn’s position in bed. She reaches forward, and tucks a fallen strand of hair away from her face and behind an ear. “Yeah?”
The low hum of Vi's voice would've normally had Caitlyn knawing on her bottom lip for an entirely different reason— though this time around, she does so as she tries to phrase the next following words with care. She tries not to be distracted by the state of Vi’s hair— which is starting to look less like messy bed hair, and more like a perfect fluff that makes her want to run her fingers through those shaggy pink strands of hair.
Then again, if she’s accounting details such as that, then she’s already distracted.
Vi laughs at this— being unable to help herself. “You’re thinking.” There’s a rustling of sheets before Vi reaches forward again— this time, comfortably fitting their bodies against each other like missing puzzle pieces. She untucks Caitlyn’s bottom lip free of her bite— a motion that relaxes her jaw and makes the words easier to flow out.
Caitlyn sighs, with a mixture of contentment and uncertainty. “Powder called to tell me that she visited the undercity yesterday.”
Those piercing grey eyes flutter, as Vi absorbs what was being told. “How did it go?” She asked, looking at Caitlyn in such a gentle manner that is only reminiscent of a puppy perking up with curiosity.
Observation aside, Caitlyn continues despite the doubling nerves tickling her stomach with each passing second. “It went well. She even sent us a little something— some photographs.” She hadn’t meant to spoil things so soon, but she figured that she might as well gauge Vi’s reaction and feelings regarding the certain presence of photographs.
Turns out, Vi might’ve been just unaware as Caitlyn was, prior to receiving the parcel. “Pictures?” She questioned, confusion fixed on her features as she pondered.
“Of the both of you.”
And then, just like that— the luster home to those piercing pale blue eyes sparked with ignition, as if she was putting two and two together, being whispered revelations Caitlyn couldn’t hear.
“She did, huh?”
“Mhm,” Caitlyn hummed, satisfied in the shine in Vi’s eyes, and how she even remotely attempts to contain her emotions from being readable on her face, but falls short— failing.
Try as she might, Vi was an open book in regards to her feelings. A person could only miss someone so much without going crazy, yet Vi manages to double that quantity— yearning loudly for her family, for those memories and remembrance.
“I bet they were in realbad shape.” As Caitlyn momentarily parted from her hold to fish out the pictures from her jacket’s pockets, Vi rested on their bed— thinking to herself, unable to recall a single moment wherein a picture of theirs was printed with long lasting definition. She remembers each picture taken, of course— perhaps more than her sister does, but time never holds back. It did its number on the quality, aging it to the point that certain sections of the picture were unrecognizeable, mosaic-like, almost smudges of color instead of proper shapes.
“You’d be surprised.” Caitlyn announced, fetching the collection of photos. She could feel and hear her own heartbeat in her ears as she handed the photos over to Vi— her fingertips electrifying at the swipe of Vi’s warm fingers over hers. They carry purpose, and hold each card firmly— but delicate all at once. Caitlyn watches her eyes trail over each picture and waits with a bated breath, in anticipation of a new reaction— perhaps one that signified that she did something correct.
Though, there was no better way to find out other than asking upfront. “Is it,” Caitlyn begins, throat bobbing as she gulps down some air. She’d need it in the scenario of an error. “Is it any accurate to your memory? Is there any warping? Any more adjustments needed to be done? I could take it back and have it corrected immediately—”
“Cait.” Vi’s not one to interrupt Caitlyn during one of her word spews, but whenever she does, it’s slow, absent of the urgency of a blunt force. It’s a tender command, a sign to just clear her mind, and listen.
To which she does— scanning Vi of her emotions, watching the way she inhales and nods with absolute confirmation. “It’s perfect.” She notes, flipping back to the start of the collection to take it in all again. It’s her turn to chew her bottom lip now— biting back a shaky breath in order to maintain her cool. “It’s just like how I remembered it.”
“Like… fuck, Cait. This is actually incredible,” Then, she looks up at Caitlyn— like she had freed her all over again. “You actually… Wow.” She takes another glance at the photos, and then returns her stare back to her. She admires her entirety in awe, like she had done all of this firsthand— painting the stars hung up in the skies, too.
Caitlyn couldn’t possibly take credit for all the heavy lifting— only having paid what was due of her, but Vi— uncaring of that fact— continues to stare like she was watching the sunrise on a slow, beautiful morning.
The look on her face gravitates Caitlyn closer— her muscles finally relaxing at the given feedback. She reaches for a hand, and caresses her thumb over callouses and tiny scars that held history— just like these photos.
She clings onto the touch, holding onto that last moment before she can break. “Thank goodness.” She manages to sniffle out, tears forming before she can properly acknowledge it. She’s quick to wipe away her tears before Vi’s concern could grow any further, and she gestures to the photos.
“I’m not sad, I promise.” Caitlyn swears on this, which was true at first once she remembered how her words were a callback to Vi’s very similar outburst of tears. It’s a reference easily caught on, and is enough to elicit a heartfelt chuckle out of the both of them despite Caitlyn’s current display of sentimentality.
Feeling vulnerable, Caitlyn moves to fix herself— reaching up to wipe her tears with the back of her handkerchief, but Vi beats her to it. She takes a hold of the cloth, and dabs it on her damp cheeks— absorbing vulnerability alongside wetness.
“You were just a child— basically a baby,” There was a sniffle, “Protecting other babies.” Caitlyn muttered, frantically flipping to the first and only image of Vi with her sister alongside two other boys, who would’ve— should’ve been the same age, if not only a year younger behind Vi. She should’ve been able to meet Vi’s family, witness jovial banter amongst close knit siblings, and see how her loved ones allowed Vi to surge further into life.
The thought alone brings forth another wave of tears— each wave fatter than the last. Caitlyn comes to a point wherein her handkerchief becomes so damp, Vi has to resort to absorbing her tears with the end of her shirt. It effectively ruined the material with snot and tears— her shirt now being bound for laundry, despite being freshly dry cleaned.
But Vi could hardly care. Hell, she'll even cry too.
She only needed the strength of one arm to hold onto Caitlyn as she sobbed— body trembling like a leaf in the wind. She hiccups, earning more tears that stroll down defined cheeks the more she flipped through the pictures. It’s nearly comical— seeing a woman usually poised with agility and profession, analytical in her investigations and deductions— brought to tears upon seeing the rest of her girlfriend’s childhood photos restored.
Eventually, Caitlyn composes herself— figuring that she can’t cry forever, even if she’d always cry over her Violet. She holds a picture— one of Vi’s caring, boyish smiles— close to her heart, like this version of Vi would now always be with her, just like the current version that comforted her effortlessly.
“I didn’t mean to cry like that.” Caitlyn remarked with an averted gaze, suddenly bashful with clarity. Caitlyn’s not a frequent crier, but she doesn’t have to be one to know that she’s an unsightly mess. Her hair must have flyaways sticking out of her ponytail, her eyes were needlessly rimmed with puffy redness, and her lashes were glossy with unkept tears— waiting to be blotted away. “It was… unprecedented.”
Vi tilts her head up with her forefinger and thumb, and tsks— chiding her bashfulness at such a normal thing. “It’s alright, I know you. We’re actually just two sentimental chumps, huh?” With a teasing bump to the side, Vi leans into Caitlyn’s shoulders— rubbing the spot she had bumped with a considerate thumb.
“Besides, crying is normal, cupcake. Nothing weird about that.” Especially with her, but that required no mentioning for her to know that.
Then, she snickers at the next following words, “But nothing beats seeing you cry from pleasure, I’d say.”
Of course she’d have to say that.
Her gaze goes skyward in false annoyance, but it doesn’t last long after she catches a glimpse of those full lips splitting into a delightful smile. “Shut up.”
“Make me, Cait.”
As she chooses the most effective route of shutting someone up; which would be planting her damp lips (that were most probably salty to the taste too) onto Vi’s— she concludes that she absolutely must ensure that their future children have photos that they could look back on fondly too, and perhaps cry— not of sorrow— but of nostalgia once they’re older.
(It takes a while, but it hits her:
Oh— The revelation of wanting children with Vi hits her harder than any brick, but it’s one she’ll keep to herself— for now.)