Caring Touch
Ekko’s arms burned with strain, but he didn’t dare stop. Not yet. The shortcuts he knew through the undercity were the only thing keeping them ahead of trouble. Every darkened alley and abandoned tunnel was etched into his memory, and he used them now, his steps steady even as his heart raced. These parts of the undercity felt quieter than usual, a rare reprieve that worked in their favour, and for that Ekko couldn’t help but feel grateful.
“Hold on,” he muttered under his breath, though he wasn’t sure if he was talking to her or to himself.
Jinx hung limply on his back, her pale face resting against his shoulder. She stirred faintly on his back, a quiet groan escaping her lips. He tightened his grip, glancing down at her pale face, her blood staining his jacket and dripping onto the uneven ground below.
“Just a little farther,” he muttered, more to himself than to her. The truth was, he didn’t know how much farther he could go, he felt exhausted. His side throbbed where the bullet had grazed him, the dried blood tugging uncomfortably at his skin. Every limb hurt from the constant effort and tension. But stopping wasn’t an option—not here, not now.
The familiar sight of the Firelights hideout’s entrance came into view, and Ekko’s relief was brief, overshadowed by a new surge of anxiety. He adjusted Jinx’s weight, steeling himself for the questions he knew were coming.
As soon as he reached the entrance, Scar was there, waiting almost exactly where they’d left him hours earlier. Relief flashed across his face at the sight of Ekko, but his expression shifted the moment he stepped closer. Scar’s eyes landed on Jinx, widening in disbelief.
“Ekko,” he said, his voice low but cutting. “What the hell is going on?”
Ekko brushed past him without a word. He didn’t have the energy to explain—not now. Scar fell into step behind him, his gaze flicking between Ekko and Jinx, his expression growing darker.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Scar muttered, his tone equal parts incredulous and irritated. “Her?”
“Help me get her inside,” Ekko said shortly, his voice edged with exhaustion.
Scar huffed but stepped forward, taking some of Jinx’s weight to guide them to a small room, one of the few still empty near the back of the hideout. Ekko set her down on the bed as gently as his stiff, tired limbs would allow. Her head lolled to the side, her breathing shallow but steady.
“I’ll get someone,” Scar said.
Ekko nodded, remaining where he stood, frozen in place.
Minutes later, Scar returned with one of the Firelights’ healers. They didn’t have much—no real doctors, no advanced equipment—but they were resourceful. Ekko lingered by the door, watching as the healer worked, their hands steady despite the limited supplies.
Ekko lingered for a moment, watching as they worked, until Scar placed a firm hand on his shoulder.
“Come on,” Scar said, his tone still a little gruff.“ Let them handle it.”
Reluctantly, Ekko let himself be led out of the room. The door closed behind him, and he leaned against the wall, his chest tightening. He didn’t know what to feel—relief that she was alive, anger at her for everything she’d done, or frustration with himself for caring at all.
The soft hum of conversation drifted through the hideout, but Ekko stayed planted outside the door, his head resting against the wall. He’d had his injuries looked at earlier, but the ache in his side was nothing compared to the knot twisting in his chest.
“Ekko,” Heimerdinger’s gentle voice broke through his thoughts. The yordle looked up at him, concern etched into his features. “Why don’t you come inside? You should rest.”
Ekko shook his head. “I’m fine.”
Heimerdinger sighed, his ears drooping slightly. “You’re not fine, young man. You look exhausted.”
Ekko’s jaw tightened. “I can’t leave her,” he said. “Not yet.”
The yordle hesitated, then nodded. “Very well. But try not to carry everything alone, my boy.”
Ekko didn’t respond to that, and Heimerdinger left quietly, his footsteps fading into the distance.
Ekko’s mind was a mess. She had made herself his enemy for so long, yet here he was. Ugh, why couldn’t things just be simpler? he thought, frustration bubbling again inside him.
He couldn’t explain why he was so reluctant to let her out of his sight. Maybe it was the memories—years of seeing her on the opposite side, the fear and fury she’d instilled in him. Or maybe it was something else, something harder to define. Either way, he couldn’t shake the feeling that if he stepped away, she would disappear again as when they were children.
He couldn’t explain why he was so reluctant to let her out of his sight. Maybe it was the memories—years of seeing her on the opposite side, the fear and fury she’d instilled in him. Or maybe it was something else, something harder to define. Either way, he couldn’t shake the feeling that if he stepped away, she would disappear again, as when they were children.
The early light filtered weakly through the canopy of the tree, casting soft shadows around. Jinx hadn’t stirred since they’d arrived. She looked even smaller now, her face pale and gaunt, her breaths shallow but steady.
Scar joined Ekko outside the room, his expression unreadable. “Still nothing?”
Ekko shook his head. “She’s stable, but… she lost a lot of blood. They said she needs to rest so she’s not going to wake up anytime soon.”
Scar glanced at the door. “You’re really going through with this, huh? Keeping her here?”
“She’s not a threat right now,” Ekko argued. “And I wasn’t about to let her bleed out on that bridge.”
Scar remained silent, though his expression spoke volumes.
Viktor arrived not long after, his presence bringing a subtle shift to the atmosphere. Ekko went to greet him, his eyes briefly scanning Viktor’s expression. He looked tired—more than tired, really. Ekko noticed the way his amber eyes seemed clouded with something heavy that hadn’t been there before, a quiet sadness that made Ekko pause.
They gathered with Scar and Heimerdinger to discuss what had happened during the council meeting. Ekko listened intently, his frustration growing as Viktor recounted what had happened—the council’s indifference, their refusal to take meaningful action.
“They’re useless,” Ekko muttered, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. “Of course they don’t care. Why would they? It’s not their problem, right?”
Ekko’s jaw tightened. Of course, it had been stupid to expect anything else. As much as he wanted to focus on Viktor’s unusual demeanor, the anger bubbling inside him, the exhaustion, and the overwhelming sense of helplessness drowned out any chance of addressing it.
Ekko let out a heavy sigh, shaking his head slowly. “And where are Vi and Caitlyn?” he asked, his tone edged with frustration. “You said they left before you, right?”
Viktor hesitated, his grip tightening slightly on his crutch. “They did,” he said slowly. “Vi was… determined to find Jinx. Caitlyn followed her. I had other matters to… eh… attend to, so I didn’t follow.”
Ekko scoffed, crossing his arms. “Yeah, that sounds like Vi.”
“I thought they planned to return here,” Viktor continued, his voice quieter now, almost uncertain. “But… something may have delayed them.”
Viktor looked away, as though carefully choosing his words. “After what happened on the bridge, enforcers have been patrolling everywhere. Right now it’s chaotic out there.” He paused, glancing at Ekko. “It’s possible they ran into trouble.”
The implication hung heavily in the air, twisting Ekko’s stomach. He opened his mouth to speak, then hesitated, releasing a heavy sigh.
“Well, great,” he muttered, pacing a few steps away. “Guess it’s just another thing to deal with, huh? Why does she always have to be so impulsive? What if they imprison her?”
Viktor didn’t respond right away. His gaze grew distant, his expression unreadable. Finally, he said, “I believe she was only thinking about finding her sister.”
Ekko froze mid-step, his jaw tightening. For a moment, he just stared at Viktor, his expression hard to read. “Yeah, well,” he said finally, his voice low, “I hope they make it back in one piece.”
Viktor’s gaze lingered on Ekko for a beat longer before he nodded. “So do I.”
This part of the Undercity seemed quieter now, but it was the kind of quiet Vi hated. The air felt heavy, like a storm about to break.
“Keep moving,” Vi said, her voice tense. She led the way through a series of narrow alleys, her movements cautious but quick. Caitlyn followed close behind, her rifle held at the ready.
“We should’ve been back by now,” Caitlyn murmured, glancing over her shoulder. “You think we lost them?”
Vi didn’t answer immediately. She slowed as they approached a corner, peeking around it before motioning for Caitlyn to follow. “Doubt it,” she said. “They’ve been on us since we left Piltover.”
Their pursuers weren’t enforcers, not this time. The group of men that had spotted them near the outskirts of the bridge were unmistakably some of Silco’s thugs—dangerous, and all too familiar. Vi had managed to fight off the first wave, but one of them had gotten a lucky hit, and now her side throbbed with every step.
“We should stop,” Caitlyn said, her tone firm but laced with worry. “You’re bleeding.”
Vi shook her head. “I’m fine.”
“You’re clearly not fine,” Caitlyn shot back, grabbing Vi’s arm to stop her. Her sharp gaze dropped to the blood staining Vi’s shirt. “If we keep going like this, you’ll pass out.”
Vi sighed, glancing around the darkened street. She didn’t want to stop, didn’t want to waste time, but Caitlyn’s logic was hard to argue with. “Fine,” she muttered.
They ducked into an abandoned building, the air inside thick with dust. Caitlyn helped Vi lower herself onto a broken crate, her movements careful.
“You should’ve let me take the lead,” Caitlyn said, rummaging around the room for anything that could serve as first aid.
“I’m the brawn, remember, cupcake?” Vi retorted, wincing as Caitlyn pressed a cloth against her side. “Besides, I know these streets. I have to take the lead. I don’t want us getting lost just because you don’t know the way back.”
Caitlyn rolled her eyes but didn’t respond. Her hands were steady as she worked, but Vi could see the worry etched into her features.
“We’ll make it back,” Vi said after a moment, her voice softer. “Don’t worry. It’s not a deep injury.”
Caitlyn glanced up at her, her expression softening slightly. “You’re bleeding, and you tell me not to worry?”
“Oh, you’re so sweet.” Vi smirked, though the pain in her side made it faint. She continued, her tone theatrical. “What would I do without you and your endless concern?”
Caitlyn didn’t answer, but the small shake of her head said enough. She was worried, but seeing Vi still had the energy to tease her was some reassurance that things weren’t as bad as they first seemed.
However, that reassurance didn’t last long. As some time passed, Caitlyn noticed how Vi’s energy began to diminish. Her words grew fewer, her eyelids fluttering shut more often as she drifted in and out of a restless sleep. The relief Caitlyn had felt only moments ago disappeared as she watched Vi shift uncomfortably, her hand instinctively pressing against her injured side.
Caitlyn crouched beside her, noticing the faint sheen of sweat on Vi’s forehead. Her brows furrowed with worry as she pulled a clean section of her sleeve across Vi’s face, carefully drying the sweat.
Caitlyn’s jaw tightened. She knew they wouldn’t make it back without addressing the wound. For a moment, she considered waiting—maybe Vi could rest long enough to regain some strength—but as the blood continued to seep through the makeshift bandage, Caitlyn knew it wasn’t an option.
Her gaze flicked to the cracked door of the building. Her pulse quickened at the thought of leaving Vi alone, even temporarily, but there was no other choice. If she stayed, Vi’s condition would only worsen.
After considering her options, Caitlyn adjusted her rifle on her back, her fingers brushing its cool metal as she cast one last glance at Vi.
“I’ll be back soon,” Caitlyn whispered, though Vi couldn’t hear her.
With that, she stepped out into the dimly lit streets. Caitlyn kept her pace brisk, her gaze darting between the shadows and the path ahead. There had to be something—some sort of clinic, a pharmacy, anything that could help. Her thoughts raced, the anxiety creeping in as she realized how far she’d already gone from where she had left Vi.
“Do you need help?”
The voice came from her left. Caitlyn spun, her hand instinctively reaching for her rifle. A cloaked man stepped out of the shadows, his clothes threadbare and his hood half-obscuring a pair of broken glasses.
The man twitched nervously, stepping back at her reaction. “No—no need for that. I’m not looking for trouble,” he stammered, his hands raised in a gesture of surrender. “I saw you go into that building back there with someone.”
Caitlyn didn’t hesitate. She drew her rifle, pointing it directly at him, her nerves fraying with the thought that they might have been followed.
“Easy!” the man exclaimed, his voice shaky as he threw his hands up higher. “I—I’m a f-friend. A-at least… I w-was,” he added, his words faltering. “I—I owed her old man m-my l-life, p-probably more.”
Caitlyn narrowed her eyes but kept her weapon trained on him. “I need to find a doctor,” she said firmly, her voice steady.
The man let out a short, humorless laugh, as if she’d told a joke. “A doctor?” He shook his head. “That’s not something you can find around here.”
Caitlyn’s jaw tightened, her grip on the rifle unwavering.
“Oh, oh, but I can help!” he blurted, his tone suddenly eager. “I know someone who might be able to help.”
The man gestured with a shaky hand, stepping aside to beckon her forward. “Follow me. It’s not far,” he added.
Tucked into a shadowy corner of a dimly lit area was a stall that barely resembled a place of business. Its makeshift shelves, cluttered with mismatched bottles and jars, gave the impression of organized chaos. A sharp, chemical tang hung heavy in the air, mingling with the metallic scent of rust.
What little of the interior could be glimpsed from the outside was obscured by thick, iron bars that lined the ‘window,’ separating the vendor from the customers. The dim light cast jagged shadows, making it difficult to discern the details of the figure seated behind the counter.
Caitlyn hesitated for only a second before stepping forward.
“Ailment?” the figure asked, their voice low.
“She’s been stabbed,” Caitlyn replied.
The figure grunted in acknowledgment, turning to retrieve a small bottle from the cluttered shelves behind them. Caitlyn’s sharp eyes followed the motion, catching the vial’s contents—a thick liquid swirling faintly with an orange sheen.
Then she saw it: the figure reached for a tiny vial of shimmer dangling from an earring on their ear. With practiced precision, they tipped a single drop into the potion. Caitlyn’s stomach twisted as the liquid glowed faintly before settling into a deeper purple hue.
Her mind raced. She hated shimmer, what it did to people, but this was a small dose, diluted enough that it should be harmless. At least, she hoped so.
“Trade,” the figure demanded.
Caitlyn unslung her rifle from her shoulder, laying it on the counter without a second thought. The figure gave her an appraising look, then took the rifle, setting the potion before her.
She grabbed it and turned back to the cloaked man, still lingering behind her. “You should come with me,” she said, urgency clear in her voice.
He shook his head violently, his hood slipping slightly to reveal his face, riddled protrusions likely caused by shimmer overuse. “I c-can’t. I d-don’t w-want her to see m-me like this,” he stammered, his voice breaking.
Caitlyn paused, then gave him a brief, understanding nod. “Thank you,” she said softly as she hugged him tightly before hurrying back toward the building where she’d left Vi.
_____________
When Caitlyn returned, Vi was in the same position, she lay slumped where Caitlyn had left her, her skin pale, her breaths shallow. Caitlyn knelt beside her and gently lifted her head.
“Vi,” Caitlyn murmured, her voice soft but firm as she unscrewed the potion’s cap. “You need to drink this.”
Vi stirred faintly, her eyes fluttering open but not fully focusing. Caitlyn brought the vial to her lips, tilting it carefully. “Come on, you’ve got this,” Caitlyn urged, coaxing her to swallow the liquid.
Vi coughed weakly but managed to get it down. Caitlyn set the bottle aside, carefully brushing a few damp strands of hair from Vi’s forehead. When a drop of the potion slipped down Vi’s chin, Caitlyn wiped it with her fingers. Her hand lingered for a moment, warm and steady.
Vi blinked sluggishly, her vision swimming as Caitlyn’s face hovered above her. For a moment, the blurred edges shifted and Vi swore she saw her mother’s face staring back at her. Her chest tightened, but when she blinked again, it was Caitlyn’s face, soft with concern.
Her mother was long gone. But Caitlyn… Caitlyn was here.
It had been so long since someone had cared for her, with hands that weren’t cruel, with words that weren’t threats. Her thoughts wandered to all those nights in the prison cell—cold, alone, and aching from the guards’ fists.
Vi’s chest ached. Caitlyn’s touch, so soft and warm, felt foreign and strange but also safe. Her thumb brushed Vi’s cheek gently, anchoring her.
She could focus now, the world around her sharpening as she stared up into Caitlyn’s blue eyes. They didn’t look at her with pity or fear, but with unfiltered worry and care. Affection, even.
A lump rose in Vi’s throat. She wanted to cry, not from pain but from the sheer relief of not being alone—for being seen. A part of her found it ridiculous that a Piltie enforcer, of all people, could make her feel like this.
“Thank you, cupcake,” Vi whispered, her voice raspy but steady.
Some of the tension in Caitlyn’s face melted, her lips curving into a relieved smile.