Out Of Balance
Out Of Balance
When the world spins too fast,
I’ll be the ground beneath your feet,
And when you fall, I’ll catch you—
You’re not alone, not ever.
Caitlyn sits on the edge of the sofa, her posture straight and rigid, a mask of control barely concealing the turmoil underneath. Vi leans against the doorway, arms crossed, her eyes never leaving Caitlyn.
Doctor Ellery, a friend of Tobias, adjusts his glasses as he sets his medical bag down on the coffee table. His voice, calm and measured, cuts through the tense air. “Caitlyn, the injury to your left eye is irreversible. There’s no possibility of restoring your vision in it.”
Caitlyn doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even blink. Her hands rest in her lap, tightly gripping the fabric of her trousers.
“There’s more,” Ellery continues carefully. “We’ve detected strain in your right eye. If you continue pushing yourself—physically, mentally, the strain could worsen,” Ellery says, his voice steady but cautious. “And there’s a significant risk of damage in your remaining eye if it isn’t managed properly.”
Caitlyn’s grip on her trousers tightens, her knuckles pale. “And what exactly does ‘managed properly’ mean, Doctor?” she asks coldly, her tone sharp enough to make Vi wince.
Ellery sighs softly, glancing at Tobias, who stands nearby with his arms crossed and a furrowed brow. “It means stepping away from any activities that could cause further damage—your work as an Enforcer being the most significant. Rest is crucial, as is avoiding unnecessary stress or strain.”
Silence fills the room. Caitlyn’s jaw clenches, her nostrils flaring as she exhales. Vi shifts uneasily by the door, her eyes darting between Caitlyn and the doctor.
“You’re telling me to quit,” Caitlyn says finally, her voice icy. “To abandon my work, everything I’ve built my life around.”
“I understand how difficult this is—” Ellery starts, but Caitlyn cuts him off.
“Do you?” she snaps, her voice rising. “Do you really understand? Because it sounds to me like you’re giving me an ultimatum.”
Ellery flinches slightly but holds his ground. “I’m not trying to take anything away from you, Caitlyn. My job is to give you the facts and help you make the best decision for your health.”
Caitlyn’s laugh is bitter and humourless. “Best decision for my health,” she repeats, shaking her head. “What about my life? My career?”
Vi takes a step forward, her voice low and careful. “Cait… maybe we should just hear him out—”
Caitlyn whirls around, her glare locking onto Vi like a loaded weapon. “I don’t need you defending him,” she snaps. “Or coddling me. I’m perfectly capable of handling this on my own.”
Vi’s mouth opens, but she closes it again, her shoulders tensing. “I’m not coddling you,” she says quietly. “I’m trying to help.”
“Well, I don’t need your help!” Caitlyn shouts, her voice cracking slightly. “I don’t need anyone’s help! What I need is for everyone to stop telling me what I can and can’t do.”
Ellery raises his hands in a placating gesture. “Caitlyn, I understand you’re upset, but please try to—”
“No, you don’t understand!” Caitlyn snaps, turning back to him. “You come into my home, tell me my career is over, and expect me to just accept it? No doubt he put you up to this.”
“Caitlyn,” Tobias interjects, his tone calm but firm. “Ellery is only here because I asked him to be. He’s a friend, and he’s trying to help you.”
Caitlyn rounds on her father, her eyes blazing. “And did it ever occur to you that I don’t want his help? That I don’t want to sit here and be told how broken I am?”
The room falls silent again, the weight of her words hanging heavy in the air. Ellery shifts uncomfortably, glancing at Tobias.
“I think it’s best if I leave,” Ellery says softly, picking up his bag. “Caitlyn, I’m truly sorry. If you ever want to talk further, you know how to reach me”
Without waiting for a response, he nods to Tobias and Vi before making his way out of the room.
Tobias lingers for a moment, his expression conflicted as he looks at Caitlyn. “I’m only trying to protect you, darling,” he says gently.
“Then stop treating me like a child,” Caitlyn snaps, her voice cold.
Tobias sighs heavily and leaves the room, his footsteps fading down the hall.
Vi takes a cautious step closer. “Cait… I know this is hard—”
“I told you to leave me alone!” Caitlyn yells, the words echoing in the room. Her chest heaves as she glares at Vi, tears brimming.
Vi stares at her for a moment, her face unreadable. Then, slowly, she nods. “Okay,” she says softly. “If that’s what you want.”
She turns and walks out, leaving Caitlyn standing alone in the now-empty room.
The house is dark when Caitlyn finally drags herself upstairs. The weight of the day presses down on her, but the anger still lingers, buzzing under her skin like an unwelcome guest. She doesn’t bother turning on the light in her bedroom, instead collapsing onto the bed and staring up at the ceiling.
The stillness is unbearable.
She doesn’t know how long she lies there, wrestling with the storm of emotions that won’t settle. But then there’s a soft knock at the door.
“Cait?” Vi’s voice is muffled but unmistakable. “I just… I came to say goodnight.”
Caitlyn freezes, her heart lurching painfully in her chest.
“I’ll sleep somewhere else,” Vi continues, her tone careful. “Just didn't want to leave without saying anything.”
Before Caitlyn can stop herself, she’s out of bed, crossing the room in long, hurried strides. She yanks the door open to find Vi standing there, her hands shoved deep into her pockets, her expression guarded but gentle.
“Don’t,” Caitlyn says, her voice breaking.
“Don't?” Vi’s brows furrow in confusion.
“Leave.”
“I thought—”
“I’m sorry,” Caitlyn interrupts, tears welling in her eyes. “I never should have spoken to you like that. You’ve already dealt with so much—you didn’t deserve that. You've been in so much pain to...It was selfish and stupid of me and—”
“Hey, hey,” Vi says, stepping closer and placing her hands on Caitlyn’s waist. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not,” Caitlyn insists, her voice cracking as the tears begin to fall. “I was awful to you, Vi. You were only trying to help, and I—”
Vi pulls her into a hug, wrapping her arms tightly around her as Caitlyn’s words dissolve into quiet sobs. She holds her firmly, one hand stroking Caitlyn’s back.
“I get it,” Vi murmurs. “You’re allowed to lose it sometimes.”
Caitlyn clings to her, her face buried in Vi’s shoulder. “I don’t want to push you away,” she whispers.
“You won’t,” Vi says softly. “I’m not going anywhere, Cait.”
They stay like that for a long time, standing in the dimly lit hallway until Caitlyn’s sobs quieten. Vi guides her back to the bed, and they lie down together, Caitlyn curling into Vi’s side.
“I’m so sorry,” Caitlyn murmurs again, her voice heavy with exhaustion.
“Shh,” Vi whispers, pressing a soft kiss to Caitlyn’s hair. “You don’t have to apologise anymore. Just rest.”
Caitlyn nods weakly, her eyelids already drooping. Within minutes, she’s asleep, her breath evening out as she nestles against Vi.
Vi stays awake a little longer, her hand resting lightly on Caitlyn’s back, her gaze fixed on the ceiling.
A Few Days Later
The air in the Kiramman manor is oppressively quiet, heavy with an unspoken tension that lingers in every corner. The kind of quiet Caitlyn once sought after long nights on patrol, where even the creak of floorboards could feel intrusive. But now, it hangs like a shroud, pressing against her chest and filling her with unease. The curtains in the room are drawn tightly shut, allowing only the faintest glimmer of daylight to creep through the edges. The dimness suits her. It hides things she doesn’t want to see.
She sits at her desk, shoulders hunched, her gaze fixed on the screen in front of her. Her pen rests limply between her fingers, the ink smudging on parchment from where her hand had hovered for too long. A sentence stares back at her, half-finished and abandoned. It’s about something trivial—a note on crime patterns in lower districts—but her mind refuses to focus.
Instead, her thoughts circle back to the now-familiar weight of the patch over her left eye, its strap pressing into her temple. It feels alien, like it doesn’t belong on her face. Because it doesn’t, does it? Her reflection had confirmed as much the first time she’d seen it—when she’d finally dared to look. The patch doesn’t make her feel whole. It doesn’t make her feel strong. It’s just… there. Another reminder of what she lost. What everyone's lost.
Her fingers twitch, instinctively reaching to adjust it, but she stops herself halfway. A knock at the door interrupts her thoughts, sharp and deliberate.
“Caitlyn?” Her father’s voice carries through, low and measured but tinged with worry. “Can I come in?”
She sets down the pen and straightens, trying to force some semblance of composure. “Of course.”
The door opens with a soft creak, and Tobias Kiramman steps inside, there’s an uncharacteristic hesitancy in the way he holds himself. His hands are clasped behind his back, his brow furrowed ever so slightly.
“You’ve been down here all morning,” he says, his gaze scanning the room before settling on her. “I thought you might like some tea. Or breakfast. You haven’t eaten yet.”
“I’m not hungry,” Caitlyn replies quickly, her tone sharper than she intended. She softens it a moment later, glancing down at her hands. “Thank you, though.”
Tobias lingers by the door, clearly reluctant to leave. “You know, it’s important to keep your strength up. Especially now—”
“I know,” Her words cut through his, firmer this time. The weight of his concern feels suffocating, and she can’t stand to hear it again—the endless advice, the gentle reminders, the careful tiptoeing around her as though she might break. “I’ll eat later.”
He nods, though it’s clear he doesn’t believe her. “All right. But if you need anything, Caitlyn, you know you can, l—”
“I’ll let you know.” She forces a small smile, hoping it will be enough to satisfy him.
Tobias hesitates for a moment longer, then finally steps back into the hallway, closing the door behind him.
The silence returns, heavier than before.
The afternoon is easier. Not by much, but enough. Vi has taken to dragging Caitlyn out of the house when the hours stretch too long, refusing to let her wallow in the dark.
Today would be no exception.
“You’re going to waste away if you keep hiding in here,” Vi says, leaning against the doorway with her arms crossed. Her tone is light, teasing, but there’s a quiet determination behind her words.
Caitlyn exhales slowly, setting her journal aside again. “I’m not hiding.”
“Sure you’re not.” Vi steps inside, the familiar confidence in her stride drawing Caitlyn’s attention despite herself. “Come on. Let’s go for a walk. Fresh air, remember that?”
Caitlyn hesitates. She’s still dressed in the loose blouse and trousers she’d thrown on that morning, no need for a uniform and her hair is tied back in a way that feels too careless. The idea of stepping outside, of being seen, twists something cold in her stomach.
“I don’t think—”
“Nope.” Vi cuts her off, walking over and grabbing Caitlyn’s coat from the back of the chair. “You don’t get to argue. You’ve been cooped up long enough. And you can't use the excuse that its too bright, too painful. It's already getting dark out”
“I just… I don’t want people to stare.” The admission comes quietly, almost a whisper, but it freezes Vi in her tracks.
When Vi turns back to her, her expression is softer, her usual bravado dimmed. “Cait, everyone has already been staring at you, sinfe you were like 14. And if they are, they’re staring at how badass you look.”
Caitlyn forces a laugh, it’s strained. “I highly doubt that.”
Vi stands in front of her, holding the coat out like an offering. “Just a quick walk. You don’t even have to talk to anyone if you don’t want to. Not even me.”
Caitlyn hesitates for a long moment, her gaze flicking between Vi’s outstretched hands and her earnest expression.
Finally, she sighs and takes the coat.
The walk isn't awful.
Later That Evening
The bathroom is quiet. Caitlyn stands in front of the mirror, the overhead light casting sharp shadows across her face. Her reflection stares back at her, half-obscured by the patch that has become as much a part of her daily routine as brushing her teeth or tying her hair back.
She hesitates, fingers brushing the edge of the strap. It’s been hours since she last checked the wound, and she knows she needs to clean it again. The thought sends a familiar pang of nausea rolling through her stomach. She takes a deep breath, trying to steady herself, then slowly removes the patch.
The cool air stings the exposed skin, and she winces. Her eye socket—swollen, red, and stitched—feels foreign, as though it belongs to someone else. She forces herself to look at it in the mirror, but her gaze keeps slipping away, drawn instead to the clean white tiles or the glint of the metal taps.
Anything but the wound.
Her hands tremble as she dampens a cloth, wringing out the excess water before pressing it gently to her face. The motion feels clumsy, her depth perception throwing her off. She misjudges the distance and winces as the cloth brushes against a tender spot.
“Damn it,” she mutters under her breath, the frustration bubbling up before she can stop it.
The door creaks open behind her.
Caitlyn stiffens, her heart leaping into her throat. She doesn’t have to turn around to know it’s Vi. Her footsteps are unmistakable.
“Hey,” Vi says softly. Her voice is careful, as if she knows Caitlyn is one wrong word away from snapping. “I knocked, but you didn’t answer.”
Caitlyn’s grip tightens on the cloth. “I’m fine.”
“I didn't say anything about being fine. But now that you mention it, you don't look fine. Did the walk push it too much?”
The words aren’t meant to hurt, but they feel like a blow anyway. Caitlyn’s shoulders tense, and she lowers the cloth, her gaze fixed firmly on the sink.
“I said I’m fine, Violet,” she repeats, her voice sharper now.
Vi steps closer, her reflection appearing in the mirror behind Caitlyn. There’s no teasing smirk, no playful quip—just quiet concern etched into her face. She tilts her head, her eyes flicking briefly to the wound before meeting Caitlyn’s gaze in the mirror.
“Can I help?”
The question catches Caitlyn off guard. She shakes her head quickly, her hands instinctively rising to cover her face, to replace the patch. “No. I—” Her voice falters. “I don’t want you to see.”
“Cait…” Vi’s tone is gentle, but there’s an undercurrent of insistence. She reaches out, her hand brushing against Caitlyn’s wrist to still her. “You don’t have to hide from me. Not ever.”
Caitlyn swallows hard, the lump in her throat threatening to choke her. She tilts her head to avert from Vi seeing. “You don’t understand,” she whispers. “It’s… It’s disgusting.”
“It’s not, you've seen all my scars” Vi says firmly, taking another step closer. “And even if it was, I wouldn’t care.”
Caitlyn finally looks at her, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. “You’re just saying that.”
“I’m not.” Vi’s voice is steady, unshakable. She takes Caitlyn’s hands in hers, gently prying them away from the counter. “You’re still you, Cait. Nothing about this changes that.”
For a moment, Caitlyn is too stunned to respond. Vi’s hands are warm, grounding her in a way she didn’t realise she needed. Her gaze darts to the mirror, and she flinches at the sight of herself—exposed, vulnerable, broken.
Vi notices. “Hey.” She shifts, sliding in front of Caitlyn and blocking her view of the mirror. “Don’t look at that. Look at me.”
Caitlyn hesitates, but she does as Vi says, her gaze locking onto Vi’s. There’s no judgement there, no pity—just unwavering, well love.
“Let me help,” Vi says again, softer this time.
Caitlyn exhales shakily and nods.
Vi takes the cloth from Caitlyn’s hand, wetting it again. She gestures for Caitlyn to sit on the edge of the tub, then kneels in front of her. The position feels strangely intimate, but Vi doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, she looks determined, as if this is the most important thing she’s ever done.
“Just tell me if it’s too much.”
Caitlyn nods again, unable to find her voice.
The first touch of the cloth is light, almost hesitant, as if Vi is testing her boundaries. Caitlyn sucks in a breath, her hands gripping the edge of the tub. Vi pauses, watching her closely. This is the closest she's let her get in weeks.
“You okay?”
“Fine,” Caitlyn says, though her voice wavers.
Vi continues, her movements slow and deliberate. She dabs at the wound with meticulous care, her brow furrowed in concentration. The warmth of the cloth is soothing, but it’s Vi’s presence that makes Caitlyn’s chest ache.
“You’re doing great,” Vi murmurs. “Almost done.”
Caitlyn closes her eye, letting the words wash over her. She can feel the tears threatening to spill, but she holds them back, focusing instead on the rhythm of Vi’s touch.
When Vi finishes, she leans back on her heels, her hands resting lightly on Caitlyn’s knees. “There,” she says with a small smile. “Good as new.”
Caitlyn lets out a shaky laugh, though it quickly turns into a sob. She presses a hand to her mouth, mortified by the sound.
“Hey, hey,” Vi says quickly, rising to sit beside her. She wraps an arm around Caitlyn’s shoulders, pulling her close. “It’s okay. Let it out.”
Caitlyn shakes her head, the tears falling freely now. “I just… I feel so useless,” she chokes out. “I can’t even clean my own wound without messing it up.”
“You’re not useless,” Vi says firmly. She cups Caitlyn’s face, forcing her to look up. “You’re one of the strongest people I know. And this?” She gestures to the wound. “This doesn’t change that.”
Caitlyn stares at her, the words sinking in slowly.
She doesn’t feel strong.
She feels fragile.
A Few More Days Later
Caitlyn leans back against the pillows, her hair loose and falling over her shoulders, her body half-covered by the duvet. She looks calm, almost peaceful, but Vi can see the tension hiding beneath the surface—the slight way her fingers toy with the edge of the blanket, her breathing just a touch uneven.
Vi sits beside her, cross-legged, watching her for a moment, then leans in slowly, brushing her lips against Caitlyn’s temple.
“Cait?” Vi murmurs, her voice low and warm.
Caitlyn nods, though her eyes remain fixed on the duvet. “I’m fine,” she says softly, but the words lack conviction.
Vi tilts her head, her fingers brushing against Caitlyn’s arm. “You keep telling me that.”
There’s a beat of silence before Caitlyn sighs, her shoulders slumping slightly. “I’m… trying to be,” she admits. “It’s just—some days it feels harder than others.”
Vi shifts closer, her hand finding Caitlyn’s and threading their fingers together. “I know,” she says gently. “You don’t have to do it all at once.”
Caitlyn looks at her then, her eyes meeting Vi’s. There’s something raw in her gaze—vulnerability, yes, but also gratitude.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Caitlyn whispers.
Vi smiles softly, her thumb brushing over Caitlyn’s knuckles. “Lucky for you, you’ll never have to find out.”
Caitlyn leans forward, her lips brushing against Vi’s in a soft, lingering kiss. It starts gentle, tentative, as if testing the waters, but there’s a pull between them that quickly deepens.
Vi’s hand moves to Caitlyn’s waist, her fingers curling into the fabric of her loose top. She kisses her slowly, taking her time, savouring every second.
She's missed this.
Missed Caitlyn.
Caitlyn responds in kind, her hands finding their way to Vi’s shoulders, holding her close.
They break apart only briefly, their foreheads touching, both of them breathing a little harder now. Vi’s hand slips up, her fingers brushing against Caitlyn’s jaw, her thumb ghosting over her cheek.
“Have I told you you’re beautiful,” Vi murmurs, her voice low and earnest.
Caitlyn tenses ever so slightly, her hand instinctively moving towards her face, where the eye patch sits. Vi notices the shift, and she pulls back enough to meet Caitlyn’s eyes.
“Cait…” Vi says softly, her hand coming to rest lightly over Caitlyn’s. “Can I… can I see you?”
Caitlyn freezes, her breath catching in her throat. Her fingers hover over the strap of the patch, her heart pounding in her chest. “Vi…” she starts, her voice trembling. “I don’t think…It'll just ruin—”
“Hey,” Vi interrupts gently, her other hand moving to cup Caitlyn’s cheek. “You don’t have to. But I want you to know… it doesn’t change anything. Not for me.”
Caitlyn swallows hard, her eyes searching Vi’s for any sign of hesitation or pity. Or worse, disgust. She finds none. Only warmth, only love.
“I don’t know if I can…” Caitlyn whispers, her voice barely audible.
“You can,” Vi says softly, her thumb brushing against Caitlyn’s cheek. “But only if you want to. I’m not going to–” She sighs, “Cait. I just… I want to see all of you.”
The words hang between them, heavy but not overwhelming. Caitlyn hesitates for a long moment, her fingers trembling as they move to the strap of the eye patch. She unclasps it slowly, her heart picks up in her chest.
When the patch falls away, Caitlyn immediately looks down, her loose hair falling forward to shield her face. “Just don’t,” she whispers, her voice thick with emotion. “Don’t look at it.”
Vi’s hand moves instantly, her fingers gently brushing the strands of hair away, careful to avoid being anywhere near the wound. The touch gentle, like they've always been. “Cait,” she says softly, her tone steady and patient.
It takes a moment, but Caitlyn lifts her gaze. Vi’s heart will always ache at the sight of it—still healing, still raw—but it doesn’t make her flinch. If anything, it only makes her want to hold Caitlyn closer.
“You’re beautiful,” Vi says again, her voice firm and unwavering. “Every part of you, Caitlyn. This doesn’t change that.”
She shifts closer, her body leaning gently into Caitlyn’s as their foreheads stay pressed together. Caitlyn’s breathing is uneven, her lips slightly parted, and Vi takes in the details—the faint flush on Caitlyn’s cheeks, the way her good eye is shimmering with unshed tears, the vulnerability she’s allowing Vi to see.
“I mean it,” Vi whispers, her voice low and steady. “Every part of you is beautiful.”
Caitlyn doesn’t answer with words. Instead, she lifts her hand and rests it against Vi’s cheek, her fingers brushing lightly over the faint scar along her jawline. The touch is tentative though.
Vi leans into it, her eyes never leaving Caitlyn’s face. “Can I kiss you again?” she asks softly, her tone careful, patient.
Caitlyn nods, her hand sliding to the back of Vi’s neck. “Please,” she doesn’t mean for it to sound so desperate, but she pleads all the same.
Vi doesn’t hesitate. She leans in slowly, giving Caitlyn every chance to pull away, to back out but she doesn’t. Their lips meet in a kiss so soft yet so hungry. Vi takes her time, moving with care, letting Caitlyn dictate the pace, have control.
She’s hesitant at first, her lips shake slightly, but as Vi’s hand finds its place on her waist, grounding her. Caitlyn deepens the kiss, her fingers tangle in Vi’s hair, pulling her, forcing her closer.
Vi angles her head slightly, her lips trailing a path across Caitlyn’s jaw, her neck, before returning to her mouth.
Caitlyn lets out a soft, almost startled sigh when Vi’s hand slides up to cradle her chest, her thumb brushing lightly over her nipple through thin fabric.
Caitlyn’s fingers stay in Vi’s hair, her other moves to clutching at the fabric of Vi’s shirt to let her know she wants her close.
Keep it there.
Vi’s hand continues it's path, dipping lower until she can find the hem of Caitlyn’s buttoned pyjama shirt. Her hand smooths over the waistline of her pants for a moment, before trailing up the centre of her abdomen. She can feel the way Caitlyn’s body reacts to the touch, muscles contracting involuntarily.
“You’re… really…Mm.” Caitlyn murmurs, her voice betrays her as she slips into incoherent sounds.
Vi smiles, her eyes bright as she tilts her head to nuzzle against Caitlyn’s neck as she presses another string of messy kisses along every inch of her skin. “Yeah? I’ve got good motivation.”
She stops at her chest again, gently pawing at soft flesh, her thumb stopping to circle the hardening nipple. Caitlyn exhales shakily at the touch, her fingers brushing absently over the bare skin of Vi’s back as she leans into each touch letting the sensation take over her. “Motivation?”
“Mm-hm,” Vi murmurs, the vibration buzzing across Caitlyn’s skin. She presses another kiss to the corner of Caitlyn’s mouth. “When the person you love more than anything asks you like that? Makes it kinda hard not to want to... you know."
Caitlyn can feel the blush rise in her cheeks, so she pulls Vi impossibly closer, her lips finding hers again, and this time, there’s no hesitation.
She's free from all other emotions.
It's just Vi.
The kiss is slower but deeper, their tongues dance in one another's mouths.
Caitlyn lets herself get lost in the sensation of Vi’s hand exploring her, tracing patterns underneath her shirt.
The way her gaze never shifts away and she helps her unbutton her shirt so she has free reign.
The way her tongue trails wet patterns down her chest as she tastes her skin, causing goosebumps, before always finding her way back home to her mouth.
The way Vi teases at the hemline of the pants, the way each time she dips lower her breath hitches in her chest.
It’s not just having making love—it’s a conversation without words, an exchange of emotions, a confession, that Caitlyn can feel in every deliberate movement.
It’s grounding and overwhelming all at once, and Caitlyn doesn’t realise she’s trembling until Vi’s hands slide to intertwine with her own above the headboard. She pulls back and waits for Cait’s eyes to flutter open, to meet her gaze, and after a moment she does.
“You’re beautiful Caitlyn,” Vi whispers, her tone as steady as her hold. “I’ll want you. Always.”
And for the first time that night, she feels something she hasn't felt in weeks.
Caitlyn finally starts to believe her.