Quiet Reconciliation
Quiet Reconciliation
Beneath the quiet, soft and near,
a whisper calls, so pure, so clear.
Through shadowed paths, you guide me still,
a gentle breath, with love to fill.
The room is heavy with stillness, broken only by the occasional drip of water from the faucet and the faint rustle of Caitlyn adjusting Vi’s bandages. Vi lies motionless on the bed, her breaths shallow, her face pale against the stark white of the pillows. The stab wound in her side is a cruel, angry thing, barely holding together beneath fresh stitches and gauze.
Caitlyn sits beside her, every movement slow, deliberate. She dips a clean cloth into a bowl of warm water, her fingers trembling as she wrings it out. The black streaks in Vi’s hair catch her attention again. Caitlyn doesn’t know why she’s been focusing on them—it’s such a small thing compared to the wound, to everything else, but it feels like a tether to hold onto, something she can fix.
"I’ll never like it," Caitlyn murmurs to the silence, as if Vi could hear her. "You can be furious with me for wiping away this new facade,” She begins to wash away the black dye, stroking the cloth through Vi’s hair with a tenderness that feels foreign all over again.
I did it to feel different, Vi thinks, her consciousness a foggy, distant thing. Her body won’t respond, but her mind aches to reach out, to speak, to tell Caitlyn that she’s here, even if she can’t say it. Didn’t care if it’d piss you off.
Caitlyn pauses to tuck a strand of now-pink hair behind Vi’s ear, her hand lingering there longer than necessary. Her jaw tightens, and a tear slips free. “I shouldn’t have hit you,” she whispers, the words breaking as they leave her throat. “I—God,” She breathes deeply to stop her lip trembling, “Vi, I never meant to… I didn’t want to become that person.”
You didn’t hit me hard enough to keep me down, Vi thinks, trying to conjure a smirk she can’t make. Takes more than that cupcake.
But Caitlyn doesn’t hear her. She cradles Vi’s limp hand between her own, her thumb brushing over rough knuckles, the scars and calluses she’s thought of a hundred times. The tears come faster now, falling in uneven streams down her cheeks. "I was so angry at you, so scared. And then we fought, and I just left. And when I found you again, I thought—” She chokes on the words.
You don’t get rid of me that easily. Vi’s voice, in her own mind, is teasing. If she could brush her lips against Caitlyn’s forehead and make her believe it. I’d crawl back to you, Cait.
Caitlyn swallows hard, forcing herself to focus. She unrolls the bandages around Vi’s torso, the bloodied ones sticking to skin that still weeps faintly at the edges of the wound. Her hands are steady now—polished, precise, just like her father had shown her. She cleans the area carefully, rewrapping it with fresh gauze. “You’re going to be okay,” she says, her voice firmer now, as if speaking it aloud could make it true.
She presses her forehead to Vi’s, letting her tears fall onto Vi’s cheeks. “I can’t lose you,” she whispers.
Not going anywhere, Vi thinks. I’m staying. For you. Always for you.
She holds Vi’s hand in both of hers, her thumb tracing slow, deliberate circles. Her breathing matches Vi’s, a silent vigil as the night deepens. She lets herself cry again, this time for everything unspoken between them—the arguments, the apologies, the love they’ve never fully given words to.
The following day begins as quietly as the last ended, with Caitlyn waking in the chair beside Vi’s bed. Her neck aches, stiff from the awkward angle she slept in, but the thought of leaving—even for a moment—is unbearable. Vi still hasn’t stirred, her breaths the only sign that she’s fighting to stay.
Caitlyn runs a hand through her tangled hair and glances around the room, shaking the night's dreams, or nightmares, from her mind. The people’s words haunt her, as if they were spoken just minutes ago.
“She’s not one of us, Sheriff. You should understand what that means. Piltover has no use for her kind, no matter how hard you try to defend her. You’re wasting your time.”
Caitlyn’s stomach churns at the memory. She stares at Vi’s face, pale but still undeniably hers, and the anger she’d tried to suppress rises again.
“They’re wrong about you,” Caitlyn whispers, leaning closer. She takes Vi’s hand in hers, her fingers fitting perfectly between Vi’s rougher ones. “You’re not a threat. You’re… Vi. You’re brave and infuriating, and you’d do anything to protect people, even the ones who don’t deserve it.”
She pauses, brushing her thumb over Vi’s knuckles. “I let them get in my head. I let them make me doubt you. Doubt us. And I’m so sorry for that, Violet. You deserve better.”
You’re not the one who needs to apologise, Vi thinks distantly, the words coming through the haze of her unconsciousness. Not for any of it.
Caitlyn swallows hard, her voice trembling as she continues. “The ambassador kept trying to tell me how dangerous you are. How you’d never change. They wanted me to believe it, Vi. They wanted me to… to agree that maybe you weren’t worth saving.” Her voice breaks, and she tightens her grip on Vi’s hand. “I never said it. I couldn’t. But I should’ve done more to stop them. I should’ve shouted in their faces that they were wrong.”
Caitlyn lets out a shaky breath, brushing a strand of hair from Vi’s face. The black dye is nearly gone now, leaving only faint streaks against pink. It makes her look softer, more vulnerable, and Caitlyn’s heart aches to see her like this. “I don’t care what they think,” she murmurs. “I don’t care what anyone in Piltover says. I’m not letting you go, Vi. Not for them, not for anyone.”
Her fingers curl tighter around Vi’s, and she leans forward, resting her head on the edge of the bed. Her cheek presses against the mattress, and she closes her eyes. Tears spill freely, soaking into the sheets. “Please,” she whispers. “Come back to me.”
And somewhere, in the depths of Vi’s mind, she answers.
I’m trying, Cait. For you, I’ll always try.
Caitlyn stays here until the weight of the past days dragging her into a fragile, uneasy sleep.
Caitlyn sinks back into her chair. She’s exhausted, but leaving Vi’s side still feels impossible, even a week later. The only place she wants to be is right here, holding Vi’s hand as though she can bring her back to life with her presence alone.
And today, it happens.
The faintest twitch.
Vi’s fingers shift, almost imperceptibly, against Caitlyn’s. It’s weak, the kind of movement that could easily be dismissed as a trick of the mind, a product of Caitlyn’s lack of sleep but it’s there. Her hand moves again, slower this time, the motion barely brushing Caitlyn’s palm.
Caitlyn stirs, startled back by the sensation. She sits upright, staring down at Vi’s hand with wide, disbelieving eyes. “Vi?” Her voice cracks, hope flooding every syllable. She leans closer, clutching Vi’s hand between both of hers. “Vi, can you hear me?”
Vi’s eyelids flutter, but they don’t open. Her lips part, and the faintest sound escapes—a whisper of a groan, incoherent and broken. It’s enough to make Caitlyn’s breath catch in her throat.
“Yes, that’s it,” Caitlyn murmurs, her heart racing. “Come on, Vi. I’m here. I’m right here.” Her fingers stroke Vi’s knuckles, desperate for another sign, another movement, anything to tell her Vi is coming back.
Vi’s head turns slightly, her expression tightening as if she’s trying to fight her way out of the fog. Her voice is a faint rasp, barely audible. “…Cait…”
The sound of her name, fractured and raw, is enough. “I’m here,” she says, her voice breaking. She moves closer, cupping Vi’s face gently with her free hand. “I’m here, Vi. You’re safe. Just… just stay with me.”
I hear you, Cait. Trying to stay. Trying to…
But whatever strength Vi had managed to summon fades as quickly as it came. Her body relaxes back into the bed, her breathing evening out again, the fleeting moment of awareness gone.
“No, no, no,” Caitlyn whispers, panic setting in. She shakes Vi’s hand lightly, willing her to respond. “Vi, come back. Don’t stop now. Please.”
Vi doesn’t move.
The silence is crushing, the absence of that tiny connection unbearable. Caitlyn sinks back into the chair, her head in her hands as the tears come again, harder this time. “I thought—” she chokes out. She wipes her eyes roughly, forcing herself to calm down. “You’ll come back,” she whispers, more to herself than to Vi. Her hand finds Vi’s again, holding it tightly as she settles back against the bed, her exhaustion threatening to pull her under once more. “I know you will.”
And somewhere deep within the fog, Vi’s thoughts reach out again, faint but steady.
I’ll always come back for you.
The morning light filters through the cracked blinds, soft and pale, marking yet another day. Caitlyn sits slumped beside Vi, her hands cradling Vi’s limp one as if letting go would mean losing her entirely. Her eyes burn, red-rimmed and heavy from lack of sleep, but she refuses to leave. The faint twitch from the night before has stayed with her, a fragile hope she can’t let go of.
But there’s a knock at the door, firm but not unkind. Caitlyn lifts her head, barely finding the strength to answer. “Come in.”
The door creaks open, and Loris steps in. His presence fills the room—a tall, steady man with the quiet demeanor of someone who has seen too much and knows how to endure. His sharp features soften slightly as he takes in Caitlyn’s haggard form.
“You’ve been here for days,” Loric says gently, closing the door behind him. He glances at Vi, still unmoving on the bed, and his jaw tightens briefly before he turns his gaze back to Caitlyn. “You need to step away,Miss Kiramman. Just for a while.”
Caitlyn shakes her head immediately, her fingers tightening around Vi’s hand. “No. I can’t leave her.”
Loris sighs, stepping closer. “You can’t do anything for her like this,” he says. “You’re exhausted. You’ve barely eaten, barely slept. If you don’t take care of yourself, what happens when she finally wakes up?”
“She will wake up,” Caitlyn says fiercely, her voice cracking under the weight of her conviction. “She moved last night. She said my name. She’s fighting—she just needs more time.”
“I’m not saying she won’t,” Loric replies calmly, pulling the chair from the corner of the room and settling into it. “But you can’t be the one to sit here forever, waiting for it. You’re an Enforcer. House of Kiramman, people are looking at you, you’ve got decisions to make.”
Caitlyn looks at him, anger and desperation mingling in her eyes. “What decisions?”
“About what happens next,” Loric says evenly. “About what you’ll do when Piltover comes knocking for answers with more than what they already have. What are you going to do about Ambessa, Jinx? About what you need, Caitlyn. Because you’re breaking yourself over this, and that’s not going to help anyone.There’s people…”
Her breath hitches. She wants to argue, to push him out and bury herself back in the vigil she’s kept since the moment Vi fell unconscious. But his words cut too close to the truth.
Loris’s voice softens. “I’ll stay with her. I’ll sit right here, and if she stirs, I’ll send for you. You know I will.”
“I can’t just leave her,” Caitlyn whispers, the words brittle.
“You’re not leaving,” Loris says. “You’re stepping away for a moment. That’s all. You need to clear your head, Caitlyn. Decide how to move forward—how to help her when she wakes up.”
Caitlyn hesitates, her fingers lingering on Vi’s hand as she looks down at her face. She brushes a strand of pink hair away from her brow, her thumb grazing her temple. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, more to herself than anyone else.
Loris waits patiently, his gaze steady but kind.
Finally, Caitlyn stands, though it feels like her body is made of lead. She leans down, pressing a soft kiss to Vi’s forehead, her lips trembling against cool skin. “I’ll be back soon,” she murmurs. “Don’t do anything reckless while I’m gone.”
She steps away, her movements slow and hesitant, until she reaches the door. Loric gives her a small nod as she glances back, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.
“I’ll take care of her,” Loris says firmly. “Go.”
Caitlyn nods, slipping out of the room, the weight of her absence pressing down on her even as she knows it’s the right thing to do.