The first pale wash of morning light spilled across the Kiramman estate as Caitlyn stepped over the threshold. The heat of the house brushed against her skin, but the cold of Stillwater still clung to her bones like a second prison. Her limbs felt heavy, her breath thin, but the sight of home, warm light, polished wood, familiar walls loosened something tight in her chest. A small, exhausted smile flickered onto her lips. 

 

Wilks already waited by the door, “Miss Caitlyn,” he said, voice steady but gentle. “It does my heart good to see you safely returned.” 

 

He moved to take her coat, but Caitlyn pulled it tighter around herself, shivering. “Thank you, Wilks… but I’ll keep it on a little longer.” 

 

Voices rose the moment she entered. 

 

Nyx appeared first, hair mussed from sleep, rubbing her eyes but already grinning with sheer relief. "Finally...So fucking good to have you back." She said hurring to hug her "You look like shit by the way." 

 

"How genuine of you" Cait giggled 

 

"Always." 

 

Jorin and Gearhand followed close behind, boots thudding across the floor, but the sound that cut through everything was a shrill, joyous squeal. 

 

Elara barreled into her at full speed. 

 

Caitlyn let out a soft oof as the little girl crashed into her middle, tiny arms wrapping around her like she might never let go. 

 

“You're back!” Elara burst out, breathless. “I waited!” 

 

Gearhand ruffled his daughter’s hair and gave Cait a warm, weary smile. “She wouldn’t shut her eyes till she knew you were safe. Good to have you back.” 

 

Caitlyn knelt, slower than usual, stiff from the cold and gently tucked a strand of Elara’s hair behind her ear. Her gaze flickered to the bandaged on her little head. Concern pinched her expression. 

 

“Thank you darling. You’ve been incredibly sweet" she whispered, brushing a kiss to Elara’s cheek. "But you look exhausted. You should go to bed and rest." 

 

Elara nodded, and her dad scooped her up. She waived to everyone as she was taken upstairs. 

 

Jorin and Anika greeted her as well but Caitlyn lingered on the spot for a breath, letting the warmth of home sink into her skin like something sacred.

A warm, familiar hand settled on her shoulder. Vi. 

 

“I’ll bring you something warmer from our room,” she murmured kissing her temple 

 

“Thank you, darling.” she smiled faintly closing her eyes for a moment, enjoying the warmth of her lips on her skin. 

 

Nyx poked her head around Vi’s shoulder. “Hot cocoa? It’ll help thaw you out.” 

 

Caitlyn let out a tired little breath, almost a laugh. “Yes… I’d love that. Thank you.” 

 

She turned to her father, who looked utterly drained, his eyes tired but fixed on her with worry. 

 

“You should rest, too,” she said gently kissing his cheek. “You need it.” 

 

He hesitated. “Are you certain you’re alright?” 

 

“I am now,” she replied quietly. 

 

Caitlyn followed Jorin and Gearhand into the salon. She sank onto the sofa, easing into the cushions as if they were the first soft thing she’d felt in days. Jorin draped a heavy blanket around her shoulders; she pulled it close immediately, grateful for the spreading warmth. 

 

“Thank you,” she whispered. 

 

A moment later, Vi returned with a thick robe and slipped in beside her. Cait leaned into her instinctively, resting her head on Vi’s chest, their fingers intertwining on her stomach. The steady rise and fall of Vi’s chest grounded her, soothed her trembling nerves. She exhaled slowly, letting herself be held. 

 

Moments later she was telling everyone what happened in Stillwater. 

 

“Someone tried to kill you?” Jorin said numbly, as though still trying to grasp it. 

 

Caitlyn nodded, her cheek brushing lightly against Vi’s shoulder. “It happened so fast. I didn’t even have time to think.” 

 

“Do you think that was the whole point of the setup?” Nyx asked. 

 

Cait pulled back slightly, brow furrowing. “I don’t  think this was them. Their people are far better trained. This was just one of the prisoners taking revenge." 

 

"This shit happens  there all the time. They pay off the guards." Vi says "You step on someone's toe you better sleep with one eye open or you're screwed." 

"This had an entirely different purpose,” Caitlyn said, her voice low but steady. “Whoever orchestrated this clearly didn’t realise we were out of the city, and they certainly didn’t anticipate the police storming the wrong rooftop. The whole thing went thoroughly sideways. I was never meant to be in Stillwater for merely four hours.” 

 

Nyx scoffed from her armchair. “It’s absurd. As if you’d ever leave evidence behind.” 

 

Caitlyn exhaled, giving a weary, resigned shrug.

“It’s irrelevant, really. Procedure is procedure. Even if the evidence isn’t mine, I’ll still be expected to prove it.” 

 

Vi squeezed her hand, thumb brushing gently over her knuckles. “They were buying time. Making sure you're  out of the picture.” 

 

Caitlyn adjusted the blanket around her shoulders, her tone calm but threaded with fatigue.

“Exactly,” she nodded, “I’d have to go before the Council to defend myself. Statements, reviews, cross-examinations… the whole tedious affair. It can drag on for weeks, sometimes longer, depending on how many political feathers have been ruffled.” 

 

Nyx groaned under her breath. “That’s insane.” 

 

Caitlyn gave a faint, humourless smile. “Welcome to Piltover bureaucracy. Even when one’s innocence is painfully obvious, the machinery must grind along at its own pace.” 

 

She leaned back against Vi, letting the warmth of her presence soften the edge of her words. 

 

"Well, you're home now." She pressed a kiss to the top of Caitlyn’s head, lingering there for a heartbeat. Inhaling the scent of her. "That’s all that matters." She said quietly. Her breath hot against Caitlyn’s scalp. 

 

Cait looked up at her with with little smile, her gaze filled with exhaustion but softness nevertheless. 

 

Vi shifted slightly, brushing a thumb along the back of her hand. “Come on....enough about this for one day. Let's go to bed,” she murmured, voice low and gentle, “You’re exhausted.” 

 

Nyx stretched out on the armchair, letting out a wide yawn that cracked her jaw. “We all should,” she muttered, rubbing her eyes. “Feels like we’ve been awake for three days straight.” she slapped Jorin’s leg jolting him from sleep "Come big guy...take me to bed" 

 

He blinked disoriented, "Oh, sorry Cait, I dosed off." 

 

"No shit" Nyx chuckled 

 

"No worries...." Cait nodded softly and began to rise, moving slowly, as though afraid every motion might shatter the fragile calm she’d finally found. "It’s been a long night for everyone." 

 

Vi helped her to her feet, steady and patient, and together they slipped quietly out of the salon. 

 

Upstairs, their room welcomed her with heavy  curtains drawn and warm lamplight on the bedside table. The scent of lavender oil from the fabric conditioner. Caitlyn stepped into the bathroom and shut the door behind her, then turned the shower tap until steam curled into the air. 

 

The moment the hot water hit her skin, her breath left her in a trembling sigh. 

 

It was like her body had been waiting for this, for heat, real heat,  something to seep past her skin and sink into the ache beneath her ribs. The water cascaded down her spine in long, steady rivulets, turning her shivers into soft, melting exhales. She pressed her palms to the warm tiles, bowing her head as the heat wrapped around her like a blanket she’d been denied for too long. 

 

Her fingers traced the droplets running down her arms, over her shoulders, down her back. Slowly, inch by inch, she felt her muscles unclench, the ice inside her chest thawing. For the first time since those iron doors closed behind her, Caitlyn felt… alive again. Soft again. Herself again. 

 

When she finally stepped out, flushed, warm, steam curling around her like a halo she wrapped herself in Vi’s oversized dressing gown and padded back into the bedroom. 

 

Vi was already lying under the covers, propped up slightly on one elbow, watching her with that warm, steady, utterly grounding smile. The kind of smile that said you’re safe, you're mine. The kind of smile that always made Caitlyn’s heartbeat faster and feel like she's home. 

 

Cait shrugged off the robe and slipped into bed, immediately molding herself into Vi’s waiting arms. She pushed her cold feet between Vi’s legs. 

 

"Warming your feeties?" Vi giggled, leaning in to kiss her. 

 

"Mmm" Caitlyn murmured meeting her halfway, lips pressing tender and lingering against Vi’s. The taste of her, the warmth of her breath, the gentle pressure of her hand cupping her cheek, it all made her chest ache with something sweet and bright. 

 

She buried her face into the crook of Vi’s neck, breathing her in as though she’d been starved of it, the clean scent of her skin, the faint hint of shampoo in her hair. It hit her all at once how close she’d come to losing this. To losing her. 

 

A wave of gratitude, fierce and humbling, swept through her. 

 

“I love you, Vi Pie,” Cait murmured, the words trembling but true as one tear rolled down her cheek. 

 

Vi’s arms tightened around her just a little more, her lips brushing Caitlyn’s hair. “Love you too, Cupcake, so much.” she whispered, her voice soft but full, overflowing, really. 

 

It wasn’t different for her either, her fear, her relief, her gratitude. She pulled Caitlyn closer, fitting her nose into her hairline, snuggling until no space remained between them. Until all there was, all that existed in that room was warmth and breath and the promise of one more sunrise spent beside each other. 

 

Their legs tangled. Their hands found each other under the covers. Their breaths synced, slow and heavy with exhaustion. 

 

And wrapped around one another, held in a cocoon of warmth and love and the steady rhythm of two hearts finally calming, sleep claimed them, deep and healing. 

 

They drifted off tangled and trusting, melted together in the safety only the other could give. 

 

.....

 

 

A soft knock broke Tobias from his paperwork in the morning. He lifted his head, spectacles sliding down his nose as he blinked toward the door. 

 

“Yes?” he called. 

 

Vi edged in, hands shoved awkwardly into her pockets. 

 

“You got a minute?” she asked, hovering just inside the frame. 

 

“Of course,” Tobias said, setting his pen aside. “Come on in.” 

 

She shut the door behind her and stepped toward the desk, shifting her weight from foot to foot. Tobias watched her closely, the faintest crease appearing between his brows. 

 

“Is everything alright?” he asked gently. 

 

Vi scratched the back of her neck. “Yeah… yeah, everything’s fine. I just...” She grimaced, words tangling and collapsing on her tongue. “I wanted to say… y’know… thanks. For earlier. It meant a lot.”

Her hands moved restlessly as she spoke, as if trying to shape the sentence physically. 

 

Tobias observed her for a moment, quiet, patient, kind while Vi’s gaze drifted awkwardly over bookshelves, ledgers, anything but his eyes. 

 

“Vi,” he said softly at last. 

 

“Hm?” She looked up, bracing herself. 

 

“There’s something we should talk about.” 

 

He removed his glasses and set them on the table before standing and coming around the desk. Leaning against its edge, arms relaxed, he looked at her with that composed steadiness she found both reassuring and unnervingly perceptive. It reminded her of Caitlyn, how the whole world seemed to settle when she looked at you like that. 

 

Vi swallowed. 

 

Tobias’s voice remained calm. “I know it hasn’t been easy for you.... You’ve been through things no child should ever face. And I know life forced you to grow armour far too young. You learned to survive by assuming no one else would be there to watch your back.” 

 

A small, cracked laugh escaped Vi. “Yeah… that’s one way of putting it.” 

 

“But it made you strong,” Tobias said softly. “Stronger than most. And it makes you protective. Loyal. Those are good things.” 

 

"I hope so." 

 

He paused, choosing his words with care. “But Vi… you don’t have to keep fighting shadows from your past. Not here. Not with us. I wish you could at least try to turn a new page.” 

 

He placed a steady, warm hand on her shoulder. Vi’s eyes flickered to it, stunned by how natural the gesture felt, and how long it had been since an adult touched her without anger behind it. 

 

“You’re part of this family now,” Tobias continued. “Truly. And family stands together. We deal with our problems side by side. But that only works if we trust each other.” 

 

Vi’s breath hitched as she looked up at him, her expression wide, raw, and unexpectedly vulnerable. 

 

“So…” Tobias asked gently, “do we trust each other?” 

 

Vi took in a slow breath, then let it out shakily. “Yeah,” she whispered. “Yeah, we do.” 

 

Before she could think her way out of the moment, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, tight, desperate, grateful. Tobias didn’t hesitate. He closed his arms around her with a firm, fatherly warmth, holding her the way no one ever had when she was small. For a moment Vi let herself sink into it, into the simple miracle of being held without fear. 

 

“You’re safe here,” Tobias murmured. “I promise you.” 

 

Vi held him tighter, swallowing hard against the lump rising in her throat. 

 

For the first time in years, she believed it. 

 

.....

 

 

The Kiramman kitchen was already humming by early morning. Winter sun spilling through the tall windows in buttery sheets, glinting off copper pots that swung gently from their hooks. The long wooden table in the centre was dusted with flour, bowls and proofing baskets lined neatly along the edge. Butter softened in dishes near the hearth, a kettle hissed steadily on the stove, filling the warm air with the scent of mint and chamomile. 

 

Dora and Anika worked side by side, their sleeves rolled up, forearms dusted in flour. Anika was kneading a round of dough with firm, rhythmic pushes, her hair tied back with a sliver of cloth. Dora was shaping braids, fingers quick and sure from years of practice. 

 

“Disgusting,” Dora muttered as she twisted the dough. “Truly disgusting. That someone would do such a thing to our Caitlyn…” 

 

Anika made a soft sound of agreement, but her jaw was tight. “It's just vile. Someone is desperate to frame her. And they almost succeeded.” 

 

Dora’s brows pinched together. She plopped her braid onto a tray with a heavy thud.

“And thank Janna them lot were out of the city. If she’d been here, if she’d walked into that trap herself, how would she have ever proven she had nothing to do with it?” 

 

Anika paused her kneading for a moment, pressing the dough flat. “I don’t know,” she admitted quietly. “And I don’t want to think about it. Miss Caitlyn’s been so kind to me. If anyone hurt her...." she shook her head as she popped the rolled loaf into ceramic bowl and covered it with the cloth. 

 

A silence passed between them, only the crackle of the stove and the soft stretch and fold of dough filling the room. 

 

After a moment, Dora cleared her throat. “All these people coming and going, locked rooms, hushed voices…” She leaned in, lowering her voice even though no one else was close. “Anika… what is it they're all working on? Feels like a war council in this house lately.” 

 

Anika’s hands didn’t stop moving as she was already preparing the next loaf, but her expression softened. “Dora… I’m sorry. I truly am. But I can’t say.” 

 

Dora blinked, surprised at the gentle firmness of the reply. 

 

Anika continued, her voice quiet but steady. “It’s not that I don’t trust you. I do. But speaking out of turn could put people in danger. Real danger.” 

 

Dora took that in for a moment. Then she nodded, lips pressed together in resolve.

“Alright then. I understand… I won’t pry. I'm just worried.” 

 

Anika smiled faintly, grateful. “Thank you.” 

 

They returned to their work when a heartbeat later a familiar low voice drifted from the doorway.

“Morning.” 

 

Anika’s head snapped up so fast a curl flew loose from behind her ear.

“Sev?” 

 

She didn’t even bother to dust off her hands properly, she just wiped them once on her apron and darted across the kitchen, nearly skidding on the tiles. She collided straight into Sevika’s chest, arms locking around her with so much force that Sevika let out a soft grunt of surprise before her face broke into a rare, warm smile. She wrapped her good arm around Anika and lifted her clean off the floor. 

 

“Well, good morning to you too,” she chuckled. 

 

"I missed you so much." Anika murmured qs her arms tightened around her shoulders. 

 

Dora looked over her shoulder from the counter, smiling as she dipped her head.

“Good morning, Councilor.” 

 

Sevika nodded back politely, but her attention returned instantly to the young woman clinging to her. She pressed a gentle kiss to Anika’s forehead, her voice dropping into a soft rumble not many ever heard from her. 

 

“How are you, doll?” Sevika set her back down, but her hand lingered around Anika’s shoulder. 

 

“I’m fine. Even better now I see you.” the woman’s eyes sparkled, her cheeks going pink from excitement. 

 

“I see you’ve made yourself quite at home,” she teased, glancing at the half-kneaded dough and the apron tied around Anika’s waist. 

 

Anika flushed even deeper. “Just keeping busy. Contributing a little where I can.” 

 

Sevika’s lips twitched somewhere between amusement and affection. 

 

Dora wiped her hands and stepped closer. “What brings you here so early, Councilor?” 

 

“I need to see Caitlyn or Vi,” Sevika replied. “Urgently, if possible.” 

 

“They’re down at the station. They left early before even having breakfast this morning.” Dora said, glancing at the large brass clock mounted on the wall. “Should be back for lunch.” 

 

"Well that doesn't surprise me. Someone's gonna have their asses kicked." Sevika nodded, then turned back to Anika.

“Mind if I borrow her for a bit?” she asked Dora politely, a tone she rarely used with anyone. 

 

Dora waved them off with a warm grin. “Oh, heavens, yes. Go on." 

 

Anika hesitated. “Are you sure? I don’t want to leave you with all this.” 

 

"I’ve worked alone in this kitchen since before you were born, girl. I’ll manage.” Dora said, flicking flour off her hands. “Go on before the Councilor starts pacing holes in my tiles.” 

 

Sevika lifted a brow. “Can’t promise I won’t.” 

 

Anika laughed under her breath, slipping the apron strings loose before hurriedly hanging it on its hook. She darted into the hallway, tugging on her thick, woolly green coat.

“I won’t be long, just a short walk,” she said, fastened buttons marching neatly down her front. “I’ll be back in time for breakfast.” 

 

Dora waved a hand dismissively, fondness softening her face. 

 

“It’s no rush, child. Go and have a bit of fun.” She turned to Sevika with a hopeful tilt of her head. “Will you be staying for breakfast?” 

 

Sevika shook her head politely. “No, thank you. But I appreciate the offer.” 

 

Anika returned, pulling a knitted hat over her curls, only for Sevika to reach out and tug it firmly down over her ears. 

 

“There,” Sevika murmured. 

 

Anika’s grin spread wide and bright. Her big brown eyes sparkling. She slipped her hand through Sevika’s arm and leaned into her, nuzzling her shoulder with the easy affection of someone who fit perfectly at her side as together, they stepped out into the morning chill. 

 

...... 

 

The doors of Piltover’s police station slammed open with a crack that made half the officers on the floor jump. Conversations died. Pens froze mid-stroke. The clatter of boots and armour faded into a stunned silence as every head turned toward the entrance. 

 

Caitlyn strode in. 

 

Her hair was neatly pinned, uniform immaculate, posture razor-straight but there was a storm burning behind her eyes. Not fear. Not vulnerability. 

 

Rage.

Cold, tempered, lethal rage. 

 

The kind her colleagues had only seen twice before. 

 

No one dared greet her. No one asked how she was. They all knew what happened. The rumors spread fast this morning. They simply drew back, creating a path as she marched through the station like an executioner heading toward the gallows. 

 

Her heels cut sharp, decisive clicks into the stone as she approached the deputy’s office. She didn’t knock. 

 

She wrenched the door open. 

 

The deputy nearly choked on his tea. “Cait...Good heavens, you’re...” 

 

“Alive?” Caitlyn arched an eyebrow. “Yes. Barely. Sit.” 

 

He obeyed before he consciously realised he’d done so. 

 

Caitlyn shut the door behind her with a soft, devastating click. Then she approached his desk, dropped a thick stack of paperwork onto it, and folded her arms. 

 

“What is this?” the deputy asked. 

 

“Suspension orders,” Caitlyn replied. “Effective immediately.” 

 

"Suspensions....more?" He flipped through the pages, paling. “Caitlyn....Is this is the officer who shoved the Zaunite kid.” 

 

“The Zaunite kid has a name. Elara...And yes,” Caitlyn said sharply. “Suspension...Pending investigation.” 

 

“And these others? Caitlyn, you’ve already suspended seven officers this month. Seven. Under suspicion of bribery, corruption or gross negligence. If you continue like this, we won’t have enough personnel to keep the city running!” 

 

Her palm slammed onto the desk, making him flinch. 

 

“I would rather run this department with ten officers I can trust,” she snapped, “than fifty who can be bought for a handful of coin and an evening at The Frosted Swan.” 

 

The deputy swallowed. 

 

Caitlyn leaned forward, voice dropping to a low, controlled fury. 

 

“While I was in Stillwater...” she began. 

 

“We heard what happened,” he said quietly. 

 

“Oh, did you?” Her smile was thin, lethal. “

“I was almost killed in a prison that is supposed to be under our jurisdiction. 

 

The deputy grimaced. “That… that was truly unfor....” 

 

“Unforgivable,” she finished for him. “And I intend to treat it as such.” 

 

She tapped the final document. 

 

“This is the suspension order for the Stillwater wardens on duty the night of my arrest. All of them. Failure to follow standard entry procedure. Failure to maintain surveillance. Failure to secure the perimeter. And most importantly failure to not take bribes from whoever orchestrated this.” 

 

“You can’t suspend half the wardens...” 

 

“I can,” Caitlyn cut him off sharply, “and I have.” 

 

He stared at her, stricken. 

 

Caitlyn straightened, voice steady and knife-clean. 

 

“I am done,” she said, “with corruption. With incompetence. With officers who think their badge is a bargaining chip. With wardens who take coin from criminals. With colleagues who do not understand the consequences of their negligence. 

 

Her voice rose not loud, but commanding. 

 

“I walked into Stillwater with a clear conscience and walked out with a target on my back. I will not have this city run by people I cannot trust. And I will never again allow my officers’ failures to put me or any citizen of Piltover or Zaun in danger. Is that understood?" 

 

The deputy let out a breath he’d been holding. 

 

After a long, tense silence, he nodded stiffly. “Very well,” he murmured. “I’ll process the suspensions.” 

 

“Good.” Caitlyn gathered the last paper and slid it toward him. “Because tomorrow morning, we begin a full restructuring of department protocols. No more sloppiness. No more shortcuts. And no more looking the other way.” 

 

The deputy nodded again. 

 

Caitlyn turned to leave, but before she stepped through the door, she paused. 

 

“And Deputy?” she said without looking back. 

 

“Yes?” 

 

Her voice dropped to a cold, immaculate whisper. 

 

“Piltover will not bend to corruption. Not on my watch.” 

 

She stepped out, heels echoing through the silent station as every officer straightened in her presence, some intimidated, some inspired, all aware that Sheriff Kiramman had returned. 

 

And she was done playing nice. 

 

......

 

 

The wind coming off the sea cut sharp and cold, the kind that turned breath to fog and painted cheeks bright as berries. Anika wrapped her scarf tighter as they walked, boots thudding softly on the damp planks of the dock. Beside her, Sevika kept an easy pace, coat collar turned up against the sting. 

 

Fishermen were already hard at work, hauling the night’s catch from their boats. Wooden crates thudded as they were stacked, filled with glistening fish laid out like silver coins. Seagulls dipped and screeched overhead, hopeful scavengers circling in impatient loops. A plump tabby cat twined around the base of a crate, tail flicking, waiting for a stray scrap to fall. 

 

It smelled of salt and brine and early morning. 

 

Anika let out a small laugh as another gust of wind flushed her cheeks even redder. “I must look like a tomato.” 

 

“You look fine,” Sevika rumbled, though her eyes softened as she said it. She reached into her coat pocket, producing a folded envelope. “Stopped by your old man’s yesterday. He gave me this to pass on.” 

 

Anika’s expression lit up. “Thank you.” She slipped the letter into her own coat, still smiling. “How are things in the Lanes?” 

 

Sevika exhaled through her nose, watching the fishermen work. “Same old shit,” she muttered. “But people are restless. Talking. Things are heating up faster than I’d like.” Her jaw tightened. “It’ll blow up before we crack it if we’re not careful. Whoever’s behind this, they’re making mistakes, sure, but they’re clever about wiping their tracks. Sven people went missing again.” 

 

Anika side-eyed her. “And what does that have to do with Caitlyn?” 

 

A faint smirk ghosted across Sevika’s mouth. “Might have an idea whose nose is in this mess,” she said. “But that’s nothing you need to be losing sleep over.” 

 

“Sev” Anika cut in, frustration tugging at her voice. “Don’t push me out. Please. I wanna know what’s happening.” 

 

Sevika stopped walking. 

 

Anika nearly took another step before she realised, turning back with a start. Sevika faced her fully now, the early light catching the silver in her hair, the hard lines of her face softened by something quieter. 

 

“It’s not about trust, doll,” Sevika said, low and steady. “I trust you. Completely.” She reached up, gently tucking a loose curl of Anika’s hair back under her woolly hat. “But the less you know, the safer you stay. I’m not having you used as a bargaining chip. I’d be damned before I let anyone hurt you.” 

 

Anika swallowed, voice trembling despite her attempt at being firm. “And what about you?” she whispered. “I don’t want anyone hurting you either. Don't you understand....I’m scared of losing you. I thought those days are behind you. No more chem barons, no more bar fights.” she exhaled deeply looking at the ocean. 

 

A muscle jumped in Sevika’s jaw, something flickering across her face, raw and unguarded. Slowly, one calloused hand lifted to cradle Anika’s cheek, thumb brushing the rosy skin. She drew her in, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to her forehead, her breath warming Anika’s skin. 

 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Sevika murmured into her fringe. 

 

Anika lifted her eyes, wide and shimmering with worry. “Please be careful.” 

 

Sevika gave a small nod. “I will.” 

 

“No,” Anika pressed, stepping closer, her voice suddenly fierce. “Promise me you’ll be careful." She palmed the older woman’s face gently "You finally have something good in your life. Please don’t throw it away.” 

 

Sevika searched her face, the cold wind tugging at both their coats. Then she nodded again, deeper this time. “Alright. I promise.” 

 

Her hand slid down from Anika’s cheek, cupping her jaw as she leaned in. The kiss she pressed to her lips was surprisingly soft, tentative, almost reverent. Anika rose onto her toes, her arms looping around Sevika’s broad shoulders as she drew her closer, deepening the kiss with a gentle urgency. 

 

.....

 

 

Vi pushed open the door to Caitlyn’s office without knocking, expecting to find her buried in paperwork. Instead, she found her standing before the evidence board, hands folded at the front, shoulders tight, the desk behind her littered with crime scene photographs and scattered reports.

"Hey" Vi said shortly closing the door behind her 

 

Cait didn’t turn, but the instant Vi’s boots scraped the floor, she spoke. 

 

“We need to talk. I heard about what happened last night,” Caitlyn said, voice clipped and cold, still facing the board. “And I must say… it’s completely unacceptable.” 

 

Vi’s temper sparked instantly, jaw tightening, fists curling, voice rising before she could stop herself. 

 

“Are you fucking kidding me? Unacceptable? I don't give flying fuck about that dick head or...." 

 

Caitlyn finally turned. And she was smiling.

“I meant,” she said lightly, “your resignation.” 

 

Vi blinked.

“…Wait what?” 

 

Caitlyn reached to the desk, picking up Vi's badge. She stepped closer, calm as morning sun, and and clipped it on the waistband of her trousers. 

 

"There....that's better" she smiled. Then without warning she grabbed Vi by the collar of her jacket pulling her in for a kiss and released with a pop. 

 

Vi’s brain short-circuited. 

 

She pulled back just far enough to grin.

“Did you truly tell the Deputy to ‘suck it’?” 

 

Vi barked out a laugh, cheeks flushing. “Damn right I did.” 

 

Caitlyn arched a brow. “You do realise those are grounds for a very serious reprimand?” 

 

“Guess you’ll have to write me up,” Vi smirked pulling her in. 

 

“Oh, I might,” Cait said, twirling a finger in Vi’s hair. “But I suppose I can make one exception.” 

 

“Breaking your own rules already?" She raised a brow "Sheriff Kiramman, I’m shocked.” 

 

Caitlyn leaned in again, her voice a soft, wicked murmur against Vi’s lips.

“There are special rules for you.” 

 

And she kissed her again, slow, warm, claiming, leaving Vi grinning like an idiot. 

 

......

 

Caitlyn stood at the front of the briefing hall, the buzz of morning chatter fading the moment she stepped up to her desk.

Her expression was unreadable. Controlled. Lethally calm.

“Good morning.” Her voice carried without effort, sharp as flint. “   I will not be holding you for a very long. This is just a quick update that we will be making some more changes.”

A ripple of tension moved through the room.

“This department has lost discipline,” she continued. “Sloppiness. Corners cut. Cases mishandled. And worst of all, officers forgetting what the badge actually stands for.” She let the silence stretch. “That ends today.”

Her gaze swept across every face, leaving no one space to hide.

“I will not tolerate cruelty toward the people of Zaun. Not from anyone in this room. The days of treating Zaunites as lesser are over. Every citizen, Piltover-born or Zaunite, will be afforded the respect, dignity, and protection they are owed under our code of conduct.”

A few officers shifted uncomfortably. She watched them do it.

“If you cannot uphold that,” Caitlyn said, her tone dropping just enough to chill the air, “you will not remain in this department. You will hand in your badge.”

No one spoke.

Caitlyn clasped her hands behind her back, posture perfect, presence unshakeable.

“From now on, every officer under my command will conduct themselves with integrity, professionalism, and restraint. Those are not suggestions, they are requirements.”

A beat of heavy silence.

“Restructuring begins at dawn,” she finished. “And I expect every one of you to rise to the standard of this city. Or step aside for someone who will. That will he all, you are dismissed.”

Chairs scraped. Officers rose. But before the last of them could file out, she spoke again, calm, clear, impossible to ignore.

“Darren. Lance. Stay behind, please.”

The two recruits froze mid-step, exchanging identical looks of dread. Darren looked like he might faint. Lance looked like he already had.

They shuffled back toward her desk, stiff as fence posts. Caitlyn didn’t look up. She was sorting through paperwork, neat stacks, precise angles while the boys stood in front of her like schoolchildren waiting for punishment.

Darren swallowed hard. “Sheriff....arhh... Ma'am if this is about three days ago, I swear we didn’t...”

She cut him off without even glancing up. “Relax, Officer Hart.”

They both went silent.

Finally, Caitlyn set her pen down and lifted her gaze to them. Her expression softened, just a fraction.

“I wanted to speak to you about your performance these past months. Command has noted it. I’ve noted it.” She folded her hands atop the files. “You’ve both shown exceptional promise.”

The recruits blinked at her as if she’d started speaking in ancient Shuriman.

“So,” Caitlyn continued, “I’m recommending you for commendation.”

Lance let out a tiny, strangled noise.

Darren whispered, “Us?”

“Yes, you,” Caitlyn said, amused. “And, in addition, I’m approving your advancement. You’ll be promoted to full wardens.”

Their jaws dropped in perfect synchrony.

“You’ll remain under Enforcer Vi’s supervision,” she added, “but this is a well-earned step upward.”

The boys still didn’t move.

Caitlyn’s tone warmed, genuine, proud. “You’ve conducted yourselves with integrity, reliability, and heart. Piltover needs officers like you. And I’m proud to see you wearing that badge.”

Darren looked like he might cry. Lance actually wiped at his eye.

Caitlyn straightened her papers and gave them a small, approving nod.
“You’re dismissed, gentlemen.”

They backed out of her office beaming, dazed, whispering to each other like two recruits who’d just been told they’d saved the city.

Caitlyn allowed herself a faint smile before returning to her files.

Moments like this, she thought, were the part of leadership she cherished most.

.....


Jorin stood in front of their door for a long moment, fingers hovering over the handle. His chest felt too tight, like someone had tied a rope around his ribs and kept pulling. He’d delayed this moment again and again, first because Caitlyn needed them, then because Nyx was already carrying too much. But the truth didn’t care about timing. And the longer he kept it, the more it ate him alive.

He drew a shaky breath, turned the handle, and stepped inside.

Nyx sat cross-legged on the floor, drowning in paperwork. Reports, evidence logs, and hand-scribbled notes formed a nest around her. Her hair was pinned up messily, a few dark strands falling loose over her cheek. She wore that oversized woollen jumper he loved, the one slipping down over one shoulder, her fingers barely visible in the stretched-out sleeves.

She looked peaceful, too peaceful and guilt stabbed him straight through.

Her face lit up the moment she saw him.

“Hey, baby… what’s up? I thought you were still with Tobias?”

“Just came back,” Jorin said, forcing a smile as he sank down beside her. “He’s got some meeting. What are you up to?”

Nyx sighed dramatically and tossed a file aside.
“Going through all the police reports. Cait gave them to me, hoping I’d spot something they’ve missed.” She leaned her head against his shoulder, warm and trusting. “Feels like we’re grabbing at straws, honestly. But maybe we’ll find something in that Ver-Tech lab.”

Jorin’s throat tightened. He swallowed—hard.
“Listen, baby… there’s something I need to tell you.”

She giggled, reached up, and grabbed his cheeks between both her hands, squishing them.
“You sound so serious.”

He gently pulled her hands away and kissed her knuckles.
“I am serious.”

Her entire expression shifted.
“Jorin… what happened?”

He opened his mouth. Nothing came out.

“Jorin.” Her voice sharpened. “What the fuck happened? Tell me.”

He looked at her, those warm green eyes already searching, already afraid, and he felt like a monster.

He tried again. “A parcel arrived… when we were out of town.”

Nyx frowned. “A parcel?”

“It was addressed to you. Tobias picked it up.”

“I don’t understand,” she whispered. “What parcel? From who?”

He felt his stomach twist.
“From Charoite,” he managed, barely above a breath.

Nyx froze.
Her lips parted.
Then her eyes filled instantly, painfully fast.

“No…” She shook her head. “No. No, please. What was the parcel?”

He couldn’t speak.

“WHAT WAS IT?” she screamed, grabbing his shoulders, shaking him. “Jorin...what was the parcel? TELL ME!”

He caught her, hand sliding to the back of her neck, pulling her into him. He leaned close, his voice breaking as he whispered the truth into her ear.

Nyx’s scream tore the air apart.

She fought him, pushed at him, fists pounding against his chest, trying to get away, but he held her firmly, wrapping both arms around her as she broke. She screamed again, raw, agonised before collapsing against him, sobbing into his shoulder with violent tremors.

He held her through all of it, even when she tried to hit him again, even when she sagged in his arms completely, her breath hiccuping.

When she finally lifted her face, it was wet with tears, her chin trembling uncontrollably.

“At least he’s alive,” Jorin whispered, cupping her cheeks between his palms. “Nyx, listen to me. He’s alive.”

“I can’t…” she choked, shaking her head. “I can’t take this anymore...I can’t...”

“I know, baby. I know.” He pulled her in again, pressing his cheek to her hair as she cried against him. “I’m here. I’ve got you. I love you. We’ll sort this out. I promise.”

Nyx’s hands clutched the back of his shirt like she was holding on for dear life.

And Jorin just held her, tight, steady like she was the only thing anchoring him too.

......


Caitlyn set her rifle down on the wooden table with a soft, deliberate clink. Vi’s brow rose immediately.

“Everything alright, Cupcake?” she asked, folding her arms.

Instead of answering, Caitlyn reached into her desk drawer and placed two slugs beside the rifle. One tarnished and misshapen with a tag tided to it, the one they’d found on the roof, and the other one.

“My ammo,” Caitlyn began, voice clipped but steady, “isn’t like standard-issue rounds. These were custom-made for my parents when they commissioned my rifle.” She slid the note across the table. "This is the place in Piltover that makes my rounds. The Kiramman crest is the obvious part, but it’s more than that. My bullets make a specific sound when fired. It was my parents way of recognizing my shots when I was competing. Silly thing that made them happy but it also had much different purpose....So it cannot be replicated. Also the machining marks… the rifling impressions… each weapon leaves something as individual as a fingerprint.”

Vi leaned closer. “You’re saying the slug we found....”

“I want you to go to the original maker to compare them.” Caitlyn’s jaw tightened. “Today. Immediately.”

Vi grabbed the rifle without hesitation. “On it.”

A brisk knock interrupted them.

“Come in,” Caitlyn called.

An officer poked his head in. “Inspector… Councillor Sevija is here to see you.”

Caitlyn blinked. Her and Vi exchanged  the looks “I belive you mean Councillor Sevika?"

"Yes ma'am"

She straightened her jacket. “Send her in.”

"Alright, I'll leave you with your new friend." Vi smirked in the doorway, half-turned to leave.

“No,” Caitlyn said quickly. “Please stay. I’d like you here for this.”

Vi slid back beside her, curiosity sharpening her expression, just as the door opened.

The door swung open and Sevika stepped inside, her heavy coat shedding the cold in a single shrug. She nodded to Caitlyn in polite greeting, then to Vi with considerably less politeness.

“Good morning,” Caitlyn said."Well this is one visit I did not expect today."

“Morning,” Vi echoed, leaning her hip on the desk. “If you’re here to enlist, it’s the second door on the left down the hallway.”

A slow smirk tugged at Sevika’s lip. “Tempting. But I’d hate to ruin the look you’ve got going here.” She flicked her gaze over Vi’s uniform. “Blue suits you. I’ll leave it to the professionals.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake…” Caitlyn sighed. “Ladies, please...can we attempt civility for more than eight seconds?”

"We can try" Vi chuckled. Sevika arched a brow, amused.

Caitlyn composed herself again. “Is everything… quite alright?”

Instead of answering, Sevika stepped closer to the desk and slid a small folded note across the polished surface with two fingers.

Caitlyn stared at it. “What… is this?”

“If anyone in Zaun made those rounds you're investigating,” Sevika said, tone almost bored, “it’s this guy.” She tapped the note once. “He’s the only one capable of machining something that precise. No loyalty to anyone, either. He’ll work for whoever pays him. Crooked fucker would sell his own mother if he could.”

Caitlyn and Vi exchanged a sharp look across the desk.

“He worked for Silco,” Sevika added, as if commenting on the weather.

That made Caitlyn blink, surprise softening her usual poise. "I appreciate this. Truly.”

Sevika gave a small, dismissive grunt and turned toward the door. “I owe you one Kiramman.”

She paused in the doorway, glancing back just long enough to add, low and deliberate, “You didn’t hear this from me.”

Then she was gone, leaving the two women staring at the note between them like it might detonate.

.....


The ammunition maker’s shop looked less like a shop and more like some Piltover noble’s private trophy room. Every wall gleamed with polished metal. Ornate hunting rifles, gilded pistols, weapons carved with filigree and gemstones that probably cost more than Vi’s entire childhood home.

Vi stepped inside and immediately felt like she’d tracked mud onto a silk carpet.

“Fancy,” she muttered, her eyes widened looking at display.

A tiny gold bell sat on the counter. She gave it a tentative tap.

A head popped up from behind the counter so suddenly Vi nearly jumped back. A small Yordle gentleman, neatly groomed moustache, perfectly combed fur, scrambled up a tiny step stool until he was eye level with the counter.

“Well hellooo, dear!” he chirped, voice sweet as sugar. “Welcome, welcome! How may I assist you on this fine and glorious day?”

“Uh… right.” Vi cleared her throat. “I’m here on behalf of Miss Caitlyn Kiram...”

The Yordle gasped so dramatically Vi thought he might faint.

“Oh! Miss Kiramman! Ohhh my stars, the tragedy!” He clasped his hands to his chest. “Terrible, awful business what happened to poor Miss Cassandra, truly dreadful! The whole city in mourning! I’ve known the family for over a hundred years, you know, such a lovely lineage, always so polite, so well-dressed, and don’t get me started on her grandmother.”

Vi opened her mouth.

He kept going.

“...the Kiramman's have always been model citizens, and oh, Caitlyn! Such a sweet child, I remember when she was this tall....”

Vi raised a finger.

He didn’t even take a breath.

“....such a prodigy. Why when she was eight and picked her new rifle....”

“HEY!” Vi snapped finally, slapping her palm on the counter. “This is all very interesting, really, great history lesson there... but can we maybe, I dunno, focus?”

The Yordle blinked at her, whiskers twitching. “Oh! My apologies, dear. I do get carried away. Now… how can I help?”

“Thank you.” Vi exhaled through her nose. “We found bullets at a crime scene. Look like Caitlyn’s rounds, really good copies. But we need proof they’re fake. Looks like someone's trying to frame her with murder. She said you can help.”

“Oooh dear?” His ears perked. He leaned forward, intrigued. “Let me see, let me see!”

Vi handed him the evidence.

Instantly he whipped out the largest magnifying glass Vi had ever seen, half the size of his head and pressed it to his eye. The glass made his already tiny face distort comically, one giant blue eyeball staring at the bullet like it held the secrets of the universe.

Vi bit her lip so hard she nearly drew blood, fighting a laugh.

“Hmmm… fascinating… remarkable craftsmanship… atrocious metal quality thought …” he muttered, eye still huge.

“So?” Vi asked, arms crossed.

“How fast do you need this, dear?”

“Yesterday.”

He nodded solemnly. “End of the day, then.”

Vi blinked. “Seriously?”

“But of course!” He hopped down from the stool with surprising agility. “ Miss Kiramman deserves answers.”

Vi scratched her neck awkwardly. “Yeah. She does. Thanks.”

“Anytime, dear!” he chirped, "Come back around eight o'clock. I will have an official report ready for you."

"Thank you."

Vi stepped outside, shaking her head half amused, half relieved. “Rich people shops,” she muttered. “Different universe.”

.....


Gearhand stood stiffly in front of the tall mirror, fingers tapping nervously against the seams of his new suit. It was the first time in his life he’d worn something so finely cut, something that didn’t smell faintly of smoke and metal. The polished fabric didn’t feel like it belonged to him, it felt like it belonged to some other man, someone important.

Someone who might actually get a job in Piltover.

Elara sqt on the edge of a bed, her wide eyes shining. “Daddy…” she whispered, almost in awe. “You look beautiful.”

He huffed, flustered. “Don’t get used to it, bean. This thing’ll be back in the wardrobe soon enough.”

Elara slid off the bed, tiny feet pattering softly as she circled him. “If you get the job… will we move to Piltover?”

Gearhand raised a brow. “Would you like that?”

She nodded immediately. “I wanna be close to Vi.”

“You can still see her even if we’re in Zaun,” he said gently.

“Yes,” she murmured, passing by the foot of the bed to fetch the tie laid neatly on it. “But it wouldn’t be the same.”

There was something fragile in her voice,  something that made him pause. “She means a lot to you. Doesn't she?” he asked quietly.

Elara nodded again, clutching the tie.

“I know, bean… but I thought you wanted to go back to Zaun.” He tilted his head, studying her. “Or… did you change your mind?”

She handed him the tie that matched the suit and cleared her throat. “This one goes better,” she said quickly, trying to dodge the question.

But then she stopped. Thought. Frowned.

“I'm not sure anymore,” she said in a tiny, trembling voice. “It’s nice here. And I want to be an Enforcer someday. Like Vi. And Caitlyn.”

Gearhand went completely still.

“…What?” he breathed. “Elara?”

She puffed up instantly a defensive little ball of stubborn six-year-old spirit. “Vi’s from Zaun!"


"Yeah she is....But Enforcer...I knew this is coming..." Gearhand pinched the bridge of his nose and she continued.

"Vi says if you want things done, you gotta do them yourself! And I want things to change....”

She swallowed hard.

“....for Mireen.”

That name hit him like a punch. He watched as her eyes filled with tears and her chin started to wobble.

Gearhand sank down onto the bed, shoulders heavy. "C’mere" He held out an arm, and Elara went to him without hesitation. He pulled her onto his lap, and by then the tears were already spilling down her cheeks.

“Hey… don't cry,” he murmured, wiping her face with a thumb far too big for such small sadness. “I know.”

She sobbed into his chest.

He kissed her hair, eyes closing. “There are lots of ways to make change, love. Putting on blue and wearing a badge… that was Vi’s way. Her path. It doesn’t have to be yours. And it doesn’t have to be the only one.”

She sniffed loudly, wiping her eyes on his jacket. “But… I want things to be better.”

“I know you do.” He rested his chin on her soft hair. “And if this is truly what you want… Elara, I’ll never stand in your way. You hear me?”

She looked up, red-eyed and blotchy.

“I may not be happy about it,” he said with a crooked, aching smile, “but I will always support you. No matter what. I need you to understand that.”

Elara nodded, even as fresh tears slipped down her cheeks.

He cupped her little face with one broad hand and made her meet his eyes. “You are the apple of my eye. I’m always gonna be proud of you. And I love you more than anything.”

“I love you too, Daddy,” she whispered.

He hugged her tight. Held her close. Held the future close, a future he knew would look different for her than it ever had for him.

And maybe that was a good thing.

Maybe, just maybe, the next generation wouldn’t carry the same scars, same anger.

Time would tell.

.....


The interrogation room was small, dim, and suffocatingly quiet. A lamp cast a harsh circle of light over the table and over the man seated opposite Caitlyn. His cuffs were tight around his wrists. His smirk, even tighter.

He was the man Vi had arrested, the one sitting atop a mountain of illegal centipede parts. Since his arrest, he’d been held in an undisclosed, heavily guarded location, tucked so far off Piltover’s map that even most Enforcers didn’t know it existed. The reason was simple,

Everyone connected to this case had been turning up dead.

And Cait wasn’t about to let the only living link slip through her fingers.
She tapped her pen once. Twice. Precisely. Her patience, however, was gone.

“Where was the shipment going?” she asked, voice clipped, calm, controlled.

The man leaned back, chin raised. “Told you already. I don’t know. I’ve been framed.”

She didn’t blink. “Who ordered it?”

“Don’t know.”

“Who manufactured the centipede parts?”

“Don’t know.”

Caitlyn exhaled slowly through her nose. Her jaw flexed.

Across from her, the man’s grin widened. "Give up lady, you ain't gonna get shit from me."

Caitlyn stood abruptly, pushing her chair back with a sharp scrape. She leaned forward, uncuffed him with a clean click, and stepped away.

The man blinked, stunned. “Wh...what are you doing?”

Caitlyn didn’t answer him. Instead, she spoke to the guard behind her.

“Return him to Zaun,” she said coolly. “Somewhere busy. Somewhere word spreads.”

The man’s face drained of colour. “You... you can’t do that.”

Caitlyn’s voice was ice. “Why not? You said you had nothing to do with this. So go home.”

She opened the door like he was nothing more than rubbish being taken out.

The guard took him by the arm and dragged him toward the hallway.

“No...wait! You can’t just throw me back down there!” His voice cracked, rising in panic. “They’ll kill me by tomorrow."

Caitlyn didn’t turn around.

She didn’t have to.

“Stop!” he shouted as he dug his heels into the floor. “LISTEN TO ME!”

She stood perfectly still, hands folded, face cold as the marble floors of her family estate.

The guard tugged again, pulling him farther away.

“FINE!” the man screamed, voice echoing down the hall. “I’LL TALK! I’LL TELL YOU EVERYTHIN....but I want immunity!”

Caitlyn’s reply was immediate, sharp as a blade.

“We don’t make deals with criminals. Take him away.”

“No....NO NO WAIT...!” he shrieked as the guards resumed dragging him. “PLEASE! PLEASE... THEY’LL SKIN ME ALIVE.... I KNOW WHO’S BEHIND I.... I KNOW WHO ORDERED IT...JUST LISTEN!”

Caitlyn didn’t move.

His desperation escalated into a final, broken scream.

“SOLAN!”

Everything stopped.

The guard froze mid-step waiting for Caitlyn to make a decision. The man’s chest heaved. His eyes darted wildly as if expecting death to appear right behind him.

And Caitlyn finally turned her head, the barest fraction, her expression unreadable.

“Bring him back,” she ordered softly.

The man sagged with relief and fear.

Caitlyn’s eyes were now locked on him, razor-sharp.

“Sit,” she commanded.

This time, he obeyed instantly.

.....

 

Zaun in winter was a different creature, colder, meaner, and twice as hard to breathe in. The fog clung low to the ground, thick as wet wool, swallowing the neon lights until they were nothing but blurred smudges bleeding through the haze. A sour chemical tang hung in the air, coating the back of the throat and settling into clothes like smoke that never quite washed out. Every step echoed in tight alleyways slick with condensation, pipes rattling overhead as if the city itself had a shiver running through its metal bones.

Vi marched ahead unfazed, hands in her gauntlets, stride loose and confident. Darren and Lance hustled behind her, trying and failing to match her pace.

“Alright,” Vi said over her shoulder, voice cutting through the smog, “once more for those in the back, we’re paying a visit to an illegal weapons maker who might’ve helped frame the Sheriff for that asshole Councillor’s murder.”

Lance wheezed. Darren thumped his back. Vi didn’t slow.

“We sweep the place for anything that ties him to the slugs we found. Did you two read the briefing?”

They both nodded quickly, probably lying judging by the panic in Lance’s eyes.

The smog thickened as they dipped into a lower street, and Lance finally pulled out his little inhaler, taking a desperate puff. His breath rattled like loose bolts in a tin can.

Vi stopped mid-stride, turned, and without a word depowered one of her gauntlets then grabbed the his mask and plopped it over his face.

“That’s what it’s for,” she said.

Lance muffled through the mask, “I just… didn’t wanna scare the kids.”

“You’re gonna scare the kids if you face-plant in the middle of the street,” Vi said, adjusting the straps. “Use it."

Lance blinked gratefully from behind the lenses.

"You two, she turned to Darren. Mask on, now".

Darren frowned. “How come you’re fine? It’s like breathing through a steam pipe full of old socks.”

Vi shrugged. “I was breathing this crap in my mom’s womb before I was born. Built different.”

She gave Lance one more assessing look. “You good?”

He straightened, nodding determinedly.

“Good.” She tapped his shoulder and turned back down the fog-soaked street.

“Stay glued to me,” Vi warned as they followed. “No playing hero. This bastard is not one to underestimate.”

The deeper they pushed into the Lanes, the thicker the winter smog crawled along the ground a sour, chemical fog clinging to cobblestone like a living thing. The air was wet, cold, and heavy enough to taste. Colours died in it. Sound felt muffled. A distant pipe hissed somewhere above them, dripping rusty water into the gloom.

Vi kept glancing back over her shoulder.

Darren and Lance trudged behind her, both wearing issued filtration masks now slicked with condensation. Every few steps, Lance’s breath hitched. The poor guy tried to hide it, but Vi heard everything in Zaun, the scrape of boots, the rattling vents, the faint whine of someone’s lungs fighting the air.

“Hold up,” she said sharply.

The boys froze. In the murk, their eyes blinked wide behind the mask lenses.

Vi studied them. She didn’t like what she saw.

“Maybe it’s better you two head back,” she muttered.

Immediately they shook their heads. Darren stepped forward with a stubborn set to his jaw.

“And if there’s trouble?” he said. “You shouldn’t be alone.”

Vi raised one gauntlet, the rune-lit metal humming to life.

“I’ve got these. I’ll manage.”

Silence hung between them, cold and thick. Then, at the same time, both men muttered:

“No. We’re going.”

“No chickening out.”

Lance even straightened, puffing himself up a bit. “We’re not wimps,” he wheezed.

Vi exhaled through her nose, half amused, mostly worried. “Fine."

They trudged on. A few minutes later, the fog thinned enough that Vi finally spotted their destination a narrow, weather-beaten wooden door up a short flight of stairs, the windows beside it smoked over with grime.

She lifted a gauntlet and hammered her fist against the door. The blow echoed.

No answer but then she saw a faint twitch in the curtains.

“They’re gonna bolt,” she said.

Then in the next breath stepped back and charged. With a roar of metal, her gauntlet sliced clean through the door, blasting it off its hinges. Wood shattered across the floor, and she burst inside.

A man darted through the hallway the adjoining room.

“No you don't!” she snarled, sprinting after him.

The man had one leg over the window frame, but Vi caught him around the waist with her gauntlet and yanked him back inside like he weighed nothing. He slammed across the table, gasping.

"Cuff him!" She said to Darren "Did you check the other r..." she hasn't finished the sentence before the gunshot ripped through the air.

Sharp, close, impossible to tell where it came from.

Vi’s ears rang. She whipped around.

Lance was standing in front of her, swaying.
A bloom of red spread across the blue of his uniform.

“Lance?” she breathed.

He collapsed. Vi lunged, catching him before he hit the floor.

“No, no, shit!”
The old woman who fired the shot ran outside as quickly as she could

"Lance?" Darren uttered in pure horror while still holding the arrested man pinned.

Vi layed him on the floor. Her gauntlets powered down with a hiss. She ripped his helmet and mask off, hands shaking. A memory of a young  girl dying in her arms during the Piltover battle  flashed before her eyes. For one horrifying second she braced for the same.

But Lance choked in a breath.

“Sorry, boss,” he whispered, coughing.

“Save your breath for breathing,” she said tearing open his jacket. He’d been shot in the side, messy, close-range. Blood seeped fast through her fingers. “Darren! Cloths, bandages, anything!”

Darren didn’t move. He was frozen, still holding the suspect down torn betweenthe duty and seeinghis friend bleeding on the floor, eyes wide and panicked behind his mask.

“FUCK HIM!” Vi roared. “Get me something! NOW. MOVE!”

Darren jolted like she’d slapped him, releasing the cuffed man who instantly bolted past Vi and out through the door.

Vi didn’t chase. She didn’t care. She was already pressing down on the wound with both hands.

“You’re gonna be fine,” she said, forcing calm into her voice.

Lance nodded weakly. “Boss… ’m scared.”

“Nothing to be scared of,” she lied, giving him a crooked smile. “Just a scratch. We’ll get help. Sheriff’ll probably give you another medal, yeah? You’ll have a whole damn collection.”

But her heart hammered harder as she felt warm blood pool under her palms.

“Darren!” she barked. "Where the fuck are you?"

“I...I can’t find anything!” he yelled from the kitchen turning frantickly opening the cabinets and drawers then skidded back into the room. "There’s nothing...the place is empty."

"Shit! C’mere...Press here. DO NOT LET GO. If your life depends on it, you hold that pressure. You understand me?”

"Yes boss!" he stumbled over, knelt, and pressed both hands to the wound. His stomach churned as a blood pooled. His eyes glistened.

Vi tore off her jacket in one movement. Then, with no hesitation, she yanked her T-shirt over her head. The tattoos along her back caught the dull light, sharp lines, a history carved into skin. Darren’s eyes widened.

"Here...Press that as hard as you can." She snapped throwing it his way.
She quickly pulled her jacket back on and knelt again, shoving the cloth deeper into the wound, hands stained red. "That'll do for now" she got up and slipped her blood covered hands back into the gauntlets. “Right...Let’s go.”

Darren stared at her, stunned, his hands pressing on the wound as Lance was slowly drifting in and out.

“Go where?”

“To get help,” she growled.

.....


Caitlyn’s arms were crossed now, one hip leaned against the table, jaw tight. The man talked fast, the kind of fast that came from fear and hoping speed would hide gaps.

“He came outta nowhere,” he said, voice trembling. “Nobody knows who he is. Nobody knows where he came from. Calls himself Solan.”

"Go on" Caitlyn blinked once. Cold. Impatient.

“He works with two other people,” the man continued, swallowing. “This psycho bird, what's  her name Ch– Chariot. She moves stuff ‘round Zaun for him. And some other guy, a chemist.”

“Name?” Caitlyn asked, clipped and calm.

“I don’t know! Not part of my job. Just know he’s some fancy topsider.”

A muscle in Caitlyn’s cheek twitched. “What exactly are they planning? What are the centies for?”

“I don’t know.” He lifted both hands as far as his cuffs allowed. “He ordered three hundred in the first lot. Six hundred in the next. First batch already delivered.”

“To where?”

“Chariot’s. From there I ain’t got a clue.”

“And the chemist?” Caitlyn pressed.

He shrugged helplessly. “No idea. Look, I don’t ask questions I don’t wanna die for.”

Cait exhaled sharply through her nose. Then, predictably, he switched tactics, desperation mode.

“Look, I told you everything I know… please… just get me safe passage to Demacia. I’ll vanish! No trouble for anyone.”

“No.” Caitlyn didn’t blink.

His eyes went wide. “You don’t understand, They’ll rip my spine out for what I already said!”

She raised a brow. “You’re very dramatic. And still not useful.”

He leaned forward urgently. “Alright fine....I might or might not know where the main factory is! Let's negotiate.”

Caitlyn’s patience finally snapped.

She grabbed the back of his head and slammed it down onto the table with a satisfying thunk. The man yelped.

She shoved a paper and pen across the table, the items skidding to a stop inches from his nose.

“Then start talking,” she said flatly. “I’m done playing games.”

She tightened her grip in his hair, dragging his head just low enough for him to feel the table against his breath.

“Because here’s your alternative,” she murmured. “No ticket to Demacia. No deal. I drop you into Stillwater with a big sign around your neck ‘I snitch for Enforcers.’”

She hauled his head back up, her expression unreadable.

“How’s that for negotiation?”

.....

Vi didn’t remember half the run back, just the weight of Lance in her arms, his blood soaking into her jacket, and Darren’s panicked footsteps scraping behind her. The narrow street twisted and dipped, slick with grime and fog, every breath burning like acid.

“Stay with me, kid,” she muttered into Lance’s hair as he winced against her shoulder. “Don’t you dare check out on me.”

Her eyes darted, wild, scanning every rusted sign, every lantern half-choked by smog, until she saw it.

A crooked metal sign dangling above a sunken doorway, creaking softly in the cold.

“Thank Janna,” she hissed, relief cracking through her panic. “Still here.”

She rushed forward, nearly slipping on the wet stone, and hammered her gauntlet against the door so hard the frame rattled.

“OPEN UP!”

A minute later, metal bolts scraped. The door creaked open just an inch.

A gaunt man with a smoker’s rasp and deep-set eyes peered out.

“What?” he muttered. "We're closed..."

“We need help,” she cut him off. “He’s been shot.”

Lance sat slumped by the threshold, back against the freezing wall, lips turning grey. Darren hovered beside him, trembling. “Boss… he’s not... he’s not okay...”

The doctor’s eyes narrowed.

“No,” he said flatly. “I don’t treat Enforcers.”

He moved to slam the door, but Vi’s gauntlet shot up, stopping it cold with a metallic clang.

“What?” she snapped.

“You heard me,” he said, stepping back, eyes wary. “Take him topside.”

“He’s bleeding out,” Vi snapped, voice sharp with desperation. “Look at him. He won’t make the climb.”

“Not my problem,” the doctor said. “Told you. I don’t treat Enforcers.”

Darren’s voice cracked.
“He’s never hurt a fly… please. He’ll die.”

Vi slammed her boot against the bottom of the door, the sound echoing through the corridor.

“DO. NOT. FUCKING. DO THIS,” she snarled. “He’s a kid. He’s scared. And he’ll be dead in minutes. I’m begging you help him.”

Lance made a tiny sound, not a word, just pain and his head slid sideways.

Vi swallowed hard.

She felt helpless, “Please,” she whispered, barely audible. “Don’t let him die on the street.”

The doctor looked at her once more, expression flat. Then he shrugged.

“Then I guess he’ll die,” he said coldly. “One less to deal with.”

Something in Vi snapped.

In a heartbeat she was through the doorway.

Her gauntlet clamped around his throat, lifting him half a foot off the ground as she slammed him back against the wall. Bottles rattled on shelves. A tray of tools clattered to the floor.

His feet scrabbled uselessly.

Vi’s voice was a low, shaking growl, not from rage, but fear. Fear she refused to let show.

“Right,” she hissed, leaning in close, “you know that reform? The one everyone keeps bitching about?”

Her grip tightened. His eyes bulged.

“It starts today.”

Darren froze in the doorway, wide-eyed, Lance slumped beside him.

“Rule number one ...We do not let kids die on the pavement. On either side. Got that?”

The doctor nodded frantically, choking on the sound, trying to suck air past her metal fingers.

“Now,” Vi snarled, “you’re gonna save him…”

She yanked him forward then shoved him back again for emphasis.

“…or I swear to you, I’ll shove that practice license so far up your ass you’re not gonna crap for the rest of your life. Do we understand each other?”

A strangled sound, another desperate nod.
Vi released him. He dropped like a stone, coughing violently, both hands clutching his throat as he gasped for breath.

She loomed over him, chest heaving.

“Good,” she said, voice trembling with adrenaline. “Now move.”

.....


Vi sat on the wet pavement, knees up, elbows resting on them, staring at her hands. The blood had dried in the grooves of her knuckles, caught under the edges of her nails. Rust-brown, tacky, ugly. It didn’t even look like Lance’s anymore, it just looked like failure.

Her jacket hung open, her bare skin showing where her shirt used to be. The cold bit at her ribs, but she didn’t feel a thing. Her heartbeat was still too loud, pounding leftover adrenaline through her veins, rattling her bones like they hadn’t realised the danger was over.

Behind her, quiet footsteps approached, hesitant, careful, like someone approaching a spooked animal.

“Boss…?” Darren’s voice was soft.

Vi didn’t turn. She just stared at her hands.

A warm weight settled over her shoulders. She blinked, looking down as a blanket slipped against her arms.
That finally dragged her eyes to him. She gave him the faintest smile.

“Where’d you steal this from?”

He lifted a shoulder. “Swiped it from the infirmary.”

Vi huffed out a weak chuckle. “Yeah, that tracks.”

He lowered himself beside her, boots squelching in the wet. He pressed a steaming cup into her hands.

“Tea too? Careful, Lance is gonna wake up and think you’ve gone soft.”

“He’s still sleeping,” Darren said. “The doctor said he’ll be fine.”

Vi nodded, staring into the cup. The steam blurred her already blurry head.

“Good,” she said quietly. “Good.”

A beat. The silence of Zaun’s lower streets pressed against them,distant clanks, dripping pipes, the ever-present hum.

"I should go and send the message. We'll need transport to the topside." She shifted, as if trying to stand, but Darren reached out and touched her arm.

“Hey, Boss…”

She froze.

“It’s not your fault.”

Her jaw flexed. She didn’t look at him.

“We screwed up,” Darren went on gently. “We didn’t check the perimeter. Rookie mistake. That’s on us. Not you.”

Vi pushed to her feet anyway, brushing his hand off with a careful shake of her arm, not rough but final.

“You're my responsibility,” she said. Her voice was low, tight. “Everything that happens to you out here is on me. Mistake or not...I need to make sure you don't make one."

Darren started to speak, but she cut him off with a quiet, tired breath. “But… I appreciate the thought.”

She wrapped the blanket tighter around herself and nodded toward the door behind them.

“Stay here. Get inside. You don’t want to be standing around the Lanes in that uniform.”

He didn’t argue, just swallowed and nodded, chewing his lip like he wanted to say more but didn’t know how.

"Get inside...I'll be back soon" Vi stepped away, boots splashing through puddles, smoke and steam curling around her like ghosts.

.....


Caitlyn sat behind her desk, staring at the clock for the fifth time in as many minutes. Nearly six. The sun had slipped behind the skyline, leaving Piltover washed in cold, early dusk. Vi and the boys were still out. Too long. Far too long.

She tried to focus on the report in front of her, but the words swam uselessly. With a frustrated exhale, she tossed the file onto the desk.

A sharp knock sounded, followed by the door opening before she could speak.

“Sheriff,” the officer said, slightly out of breath. “We just received a message ...Lance has been shot.”

Caitlyn froze, breath caught in her chest, until he added quickly, “Everyone else is fine. Vi called in for a transport.”

“Did they leave?” she asked, already pushing back from her chair.

“They’re about to.”

Caitlyn snatched her coat from the stand. “Tell them to wait. I’m coming.”

She was out the door before he could respond.

......


The transport rumbled its way through Zaun’s narrow arteries, an unmarked hulk pushing where it barely fit. In places, the side mirrors scraped brick, screeching like a warning. At last it rolled to a stop opposite the doctor’s practice—nothing more than a flickering sign above a rust-stained door.

Darren jumped out first, boots splashing into a puddle. “Boss! They're here!” he shouted into the dim clinic.

Inside, the doctor tightened his grip on Vi’s shoulder. “Who’s paying for this? I’m not running a charity.”

Vi turned slowly, eyes dark, jaw tight.
“You want it before or after I put your head through that wall?” she said, stepping into his space.

The doctor paled.

But then she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small bag of coins shoving it to his chest so hard he stumbled backwards “Here. Choke on it.”

Then she pushed past him toward Lance, who was just beginning to stir, eyelids fluttering.

“Hey, sunshine. If you wanted a nap, you could’ve picked somewhere that didn’t involve dying on me.” she gave him a crooked smile brushing her knuckles gently along his cheek. “Come on...Let’s get you home.”

Two Enforcers pushed through the doorway, nodding to her. She stepped aside. “Careful,” she said, voice low but firm, as they lifted Lance between them.

Then she turned and froze. "Cait?"

Caitlyn was standing in the doorway. Her eyes wide, knotted with fear until she saw Vi standing there. And in an instant, her expression softened in a way she never let the world see, something fragile and unguarded, a look of love and absolute devotion meant only for Vi.

Then she moved crossing the room in fewsteps. No words. Just a fast, fervent embrace, her arms locking around Vi as though she might vanish if she let go.

Vi let herself fall into her. Her hands curled around Caitlyn’s back, pulling her close, her eyes closed with the release of everything she’d been holding in.

"You're shaking" Cait pulled back “Gods darling, you're bare. What happened to your shirt?”

"She used it to stop the bleeding" Darren said.

Cait breathed, cupping Vi’s face. “You're freezing.” She shrugged off her coat in a second and snuggled it around Vi before she could protest, smoothing it into place with trembling hands.

Vi swallowed, eyes softening. “I'm fine...Let’s just get the fuck out of here,” she murmured, voice cracking around the edges.

Cait nodded, keeping a hand around her shoulders as they walked out as though she refused to lose contact again not even for a heartbeat.

.....


Vi stepped into the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind her. The bright lights were unforgiving. Blood still stained her hands, dark and cracked into her skin; her uniform was stiff with dried red, the fabric heavy on her shoulders.

She started unbuttoning it, slow at first, fingers clumsy with exhaustion, then more sharply when the belt refused to give. The metal had gone rigid with the cold.

“Fuck’s sake,” she muttered, tugging at it.

A second presence filled the space behind her.

Caitlyn’s hand closed gently around Vi’s wrist, stilling it completely. Not forceful. Just there.

“Let me,” she murmured.

With careful fingers, Caitlyn unfastened the belt instead, easing it free and setting it on the marble counter as though it were something fragile. When she looked up, her eyes held so much tenderness it almost hurt to see, soft, unwavering, full of a love that asked for nothing in return.

She leaned in and pressed a kiss to Vi’s lips. Just a whisper of warmth. A promise more than a gesture.

Then, without a word, she helped peel the uniform away, layer by layer, letting it fall to the floor in a quiet heap. Vi watched her the entire time, silent, breathing shallow, as if afraid the moment would vanish if she spoke.

Caitlyn knelt, her lips brushing Vi’s skin just above her navel as she pulled the rest of it down, warm and grounding, a reminder that she was here, that Vi was safe. Vi closed her eyes at the touch, shoulders finally loosening.

“Step out, darling,” Caitlyn said softly.

Vi did.

Once done Caitlyn turned, about to give her space, but Vi’s hand caught her wrist, stopping her mid-step. Their eyes met.

“Please… stay,” Vi whispered.

There was no shame in her voice. Only need.

Caitlyn didn’t answer. She didn’t need to.

She simply let go of Vi’s hand long enough to shed her own clothes, letting them fall beside the rest. Then she reached for Vi again, threading their fingers together as naturally as breathing, and guided her forward.

They stepped into the shower together.

Steam rose around them, wrapping them in warmth as the water poured down, washing away blood, cold, and the weight of the night. Caitlyn’s thumb brushed slow circles over Vi’s knuckles. Vi leaned into her, finally allowing herself to be held.

For a moment, the world narrowed to nothing but heat, touch, and the quiet certainty that they were not alone anymore.

Caitlyn felt the shift immediately, the moment Vi’s weight leaned fully into her, the moment the fight finally slipped out of her muscles. She tightened her hold without thinking, one arm firm around Vi’s back, the other coming up to cradle the base of her skull, fingers threading gently into damp pink hair.

“It’s okay my love” she murmured, so softly it was almost lost to the water.

Vi made a sound, small, broken, pulled from somewhere deep in her chest. Her shoulders shook once, twice, and Cait held her through it, steady as stone. She rocked them minutely, a slow, grounding motion, letting Vi cry it out against her skin while the water washed everything else away.

She pressed a kiss into her hair, then another to her temple, lingering there. Her thumb traced soothing lines along Vi’s spine, mapping the rise and fall of her breath, guiding it back into something steady.

Vi’s hands clutched at her, fingers curling into Cait’s back as if afraid she might disappear. “I thought I lost him,” she breathed, voice hoarse. “I thought...”
Her words fractured, unfinished.

Cait leaned back just enough to look at her, water streaming down her lashes. She lifted Vi’s face gently, forcing her to meet her eyes. There was no judgment there. No fear. Only love, fierce and unwavering.

“But you didn’t,” Cait said quietly. “He’s alive. And you’re here. That's all that matters.”

Vi swallowed hard, nodding once. Her forehead dropped to Cait’s shoulder again, exhaustion finally claiming her. Cait held her there, letting the shower drum over them, time stretching soft and unhurried.

When Vi’s breathing evened out, Cait reached again for the soap, finishing what she’d started, slow, careful, reverent. She washed Vi’s hands last, rubbing her thumbs over the stained skin until the red finally disappeared, replaced by pink and warm and real.

“There,” Cait murmured, lifting Vi’s hands and kissing each palm. “See? Gone.”

Vi looked down, then back up at her, eyes glassy but calmer now. “You always do that,” she said faintly.

“Do what?”

“Make it feel… survivable.”

Cait smiled, small and tender. She rested her forehead against Vi’s once more.
“Then let me keep doing it.”

She reached out, turning off the water, and the sudden quiet felt almost sacred. Wrapped in steam and closeness, Cait guided her toward the towels waiting just beyond the glass, still holding her hand, still not letting go.

The bedroom was dim and warm, the firelight from the hearth painting soft gold across the walls. Caitlyn drew back the covers, the sheets whispering as she did, but Vi didn’t follow straight away.

Instead, she stepped closer.

Her hands found Caitlyn’s arms, fingertips tracing slow, reverent paths along skin still warm from the shower. Caitlyn felt it immediately, the change in her, the way Vi’s touch had softened, grounded. She turned, meeting her gaze, and the look there made her breath catch. No armor. No walls. Just her.

Caitlyn lifted her hands, brushing them over Vi’s shoulders, along the line of her collarbone, memorising the feel of her. She leaned in and kissed her, long and unhurried, a kiss meant to linger. Vi responded instantly, pouring herself into it, her mouth warm and sure, hands tightening at Caitlyn’s waist as if anchoring herself there.

The kiss broke only so Vi could trail her lips along Caitlyn’s jaw, down her throat, pressing gentle kisses to the sensitive hollow at her neck. Caitlyn’s breath hitched, a soft laugh escaping her when Vi’s tongue brushed the skin oof her breast, ticklish and teasing.

“Vi,” she murmured, giggling despite herself. "Tickles"

"What here?" Vi grinned back, small at first, then brighter, the first real smile Caitlyn had seen from her in hours. She did it again, her tongue flicking making Cait jolt

"Yes there!" she laughed as their eyes met, then laugh desolved into something deeper, something far more vulnerable

Vi pulled Caitlyn closer, arms wrapping fully around her, holding her like she was something precious.

Caitlyn lifted one hand to Vi’s hair, fingers slipping through the soft strands, stroking slow and soothing. She pressed a kiss to her forehead, then her lips again, softer this time.

“Come,” she whispered, guiding her gently toward the bed. “Let’s go to bed, love.” The whisper was a soft command, and Vi yielded to it completely, leaning into her touch, letting herself be led.

Caitlyn shifted, guiding them both until they were lying fully on the bed, the sheets a tangled cocoon around their limbs. She settled over Vi, not with the weight of dominance, but with the gentle, protective covering of her body, her knees bracketing Vi’s hips. She looked down at her, her expression so full of love it was almost painful to witness, a beautiful, breathtaking ache.

Vi reached up, her hand cupping Caitlyn’s cheek, her thumb stroking the soft skin. "I love you," she whispered, the words a raw, vulnerable offering. It wasn't just a declaration, it was a lifeline.

Caitlyn leaned into her touch, turning her head to press a kiss into Vi's palm. "And I love you," she replied, her voice thick with emotion. "More than anything."

She lowered her head, and their lips met again. This time, the tenderness was laced with a deeper heat, a slow-burning fire that had been banked all evening. The kiss deepened, a gentle exploration that became a confident claiming. Caitlyn’s hand, which had been stroking Vi’s hair, began to move again, trailing down her neck, over her shoulder, and across her chest. Her fingers traced the curve of Vi’s breast, her touch light, almost reverent, before her palm settled over it, the warmth of her hand seeping into Vi's skin.

Vi arched into the touch, a soft sigh escaping her lips. Her own hands roamed the expanse of Caitlyn’s back, feeling the shift of muscle beneath her smooth skin, tracing the elegant line of her spine. She mapped every inch of her, a familiar territory she would never tire of exploring. Caitlyn’s lips left hers, trailing a path of fire down her body. She pressed open-mouthed kisses to her collarbone, to the hollow of her throat, her tongue darting out to taste the salt of her skin.

She moved lower, her lips ghosting over the sensitive skin of Vi’s ribs, her breath warm against her stomach. Vi’s fingers tangled in Caitlyn’s hair, not to guide her, but simply to hold on, to anchor herself in the overwhelming sensation. When Caitlyn’s mouth finally found the apex of her thighs, Vi gasped, her back bowing off the bed. A slow, rolling wave that started deep within her and spread outward, consuming every nerve ending.

Caitlyn was unhurried, her every movement deliberate and full of love. She worshipped her with her mouth, her tongue painting slow, languid strokes that built Vi’s pleasure with an exquisite, torturous patience. She watched her, her eyes dark with desire but soft with affection, taking in the way Vi’s brow furrowed in concentration, the way her lips parted on a silent moan. There was no rush, no desperate race to the finish. This was about connection, about pouring every ounce of love she felt into this single act.

The pleasure coiled within Vi, tighter and tighter, a beautiful, aching tension. She felt completely exposed, completely seen, and completely safe. Caitlyn’s name was a breathless mantra on her lips, a prayer whispered into the quiet room. Her fingers tightened in her hair, a small tug, urging her.

"Please" a desperate ple rolled over Vi’s lips, her.

A small squeeze of Caitlyn’s fingers on her thigh, silent nod from the other woman that she was heard. The slight shift of the fingers inside her followed. Caitlyn’s lips sealing themselves on her, drawing breath out of Vi’s lungs in the sweetest way.

When the wave finally crested and broke, a soft cry tore from Vi's throat as her body shuddered, the release washing over her in a cleansing, soul-deep tide. It left her limp and boneless, heavy with satisfaction.

Caitlyn kissed her way back up her body, her lips gentle against herskin. She settled beside her, pulling her into her arms, tucking her head under her chin. Vi’s breathing was ragged, her heart hammering against her ribs. She pressed her face into Caitlyn’s neck, her body still trembling.

After a long moment, Vi stirred. Her hand, with a newfound energy, began its own journey of exploration. She rolled, nudging Caitlyn onto her back, mirroring their earlier position. Her eyes were clear, the exhaustion replaced by a burning intensity, a need to give back the same profound pleasure she had just received. She leaned down, her hair curtaining their faces. The dim light caught the determined set of Vi’s jaw, but her eyes, they were filled with a raw, open tenderness that made Caitlyn’s breath catch.

"My turn," she murmured, her voice husky with emotion. She kissed Caitlyn, a deep, possessive kiss that tasted of her own release and of a love that knew no bounds. Her hands were sure as they mapped Caitlyn’s body, her touch both firm and gentle. She knew every secret spot, every way to make Caitlyn gasp, every path that led to her undoing. This was Vi at her most tender, her most focused. She was pouring all of her love, all of her gratitude, all of her soul into pleasing the woman who had put her back together.

Vi began her exploration with a reverence that stole Caitlyn’s breath. Her hands knew this body as well as she knew her own, but she touched her now as if discovering her all over again. Her fingers traced the faint, silvery scar beneath Caitlyn’s ribs, a relic from a fight long past. She followed its line with her thumb, a silent testament to the battles they had fought and survived.

She moved lower, her lips pressing a kiss to the sensitive skin just below Caitlyn’s navel. It was a spot Vi knew, one that always made her squirm, and Caitlyn let out a soft, breathy laugh, her fingers tangling in Vi’s hair.

"Ticklish Cupcake" Vi whispered against her skin, a small, proud smile playing on her lips.

Cait watched Vi through half-lidded eyes, watched the fierce concentration on her face soften into an expression of pure adoration. To be seen so completely, to be loved so utterly, was the most powerful feeling in the world.

For Vi, this was a sacrament. The act of giving pleasure to Caitlyn was an act of healing for herself. The violence of the day, the blood on her hands, felt like a distant nightmare at least in these moments as she lost herself in the taste and feel of Caitlyn’s skin. She felt a surge of protectiveness so fierce it brought a lump to her throat. This woman was her anchor, her home. She moved between Caitlyn’s thighs, her hands gently urging them apart. She looked up one last time, her eyes locking with Caitlyn’s, seeking and receiving silent invitation.

When her mouth finally made contact, Caitlyn gasped, her back arching off the bed. She felt Caitlyn’s hips begin to move, a subtle, instinctual rocking, and she smiled against her. She knew this rhythm. She knew this dance. She brought her fingers into play, one, then two, curling them inside Caitlyn just so, finding that one spot that made her see stars.

The world narrowed to this single point of contact. Caitlyn’s mind went blissfully blank, all thoughts chased away by the overwhelming pleasure. She could feel the coil tightening, an exquisite pressure building with every expert flick of Vi’s tongue and every perfect curl of her fingers. Her hands gripped the sheets, her knuckles white, as she teetered on the edge.

Vi felt it, too. She felt the way Caitlyn’s inner muscles began to flutter, the way her breathing became ragged and shallow. She didn’t rush. She held her there, on that precipice, prolonging the sweet agony until Caitlyn let out a desperate, pleading whimper. Only then did she increase the pressure on the sensitive bundle of nerves as her fingers sped up their pace.

The orgasm that crashed over Caitlyn was blinding. It was a wave of pure, unadulterated ecstasy that ripped a cry from her throat. Her entire body convulsed, a powerful, shuddering release that left her trembling and breathless.

Vi stayed with her, gentling her through it with soft, tender kisses. She slowly withdrew pressing a final, reverent kiss to Caitlyn’s core before moving back up her body gathering her into her arms, holding her, pressing soft kisses into her hair.

Caitlyn clung to her, her face buried in Vi’s neck, her heart hammering against her ribs. After a long moment, she pulled back just enough to look at her.

"What?" Vi whispered planting anoter kiss on top of her nose.

"Nothing" she whispered, her voice hoarse with emotion. "I love those freckles" she smiled as she traced finger over Vi’s cheek.

Vi’s smile was soft, her own eyes bright. She simply leaned in and kissed her, a deep, lingering kiss that tasted of love and home. They lay there nowing that no matter how far they strayed, they would always, always find their way back to each other.

.....

 

Caitlyn tossed in her sleep, brow creasing. Instinct guided her hand to the other side of the bed, to warmth that wasn’t there. Cool sheets met her palm.
Her eyes blinked open.

“Vi?” she murmured into the dark.
Silence answered.

With a sigh, she slipped out of bed, tugging her robe around her shoulders. The house was quiet, the kind of stillness that settled only in the middle of the night.
She descended the stairs following soft orange light spilling faintly into the hall from the salon.

Vi sat on the floor, back leaning against the sofa, staring into the fire. One knee raised, one arm draped over it cradling a half-full glass of amber liquor. Her bare shoulders and arms were still slightly goose-pimpled from the cold she’d walked through earlier. Flames painted her in copper and gold.

“I thought I might find you here,” Caitlyn said softly from the doorway.

Vi turned her head just enough to acknowledge her, voice low. “Hey.”

Nothing more.

Her eyes drifted back to the fire, the muscles in her jaw taut.

Caitlyn crossed the room and lowered herself beside her. The table held a nearly empty bottle, more empty than not and Cait’s chest tightened.

“Talk to me,” she whispered, brushing her hand gently along Vi’s thigh.

Vi let out a hollow laugh.
“About what? The part where I fucked up, or the part where a nineteen-year-old almost died because of it?”

Caitlyn exhaled slowly, then slid the glass from Vi’s fingers and set it aside. She shifted, sliding closer until she could sit facing her. Then gently, deliberately, she wrapped her arms around Vi’s shoulders and rested her forehead against hers.

Her hand traveled to the back of her neck in a slow, soothing stroke.

“You need to stop blaming yourself for other people’s decisions,” she murmured.

Vi lifted her head, just enough for their eyes to meet. Her voice cracked at the edges.
“They’re my responsibility. I should’ve checked the perimeter. I should’ve...”

“Do you know why they assigned those boys to you?” Caitlyn interrupted softly.

Vi didn’t answer,  mouth tightening, gaze slipping away.

Caitlyn didn’t let her.

“Look at me,” she said, firmer this time.

She took Vi’s chin between her fingers and gently guided her face up until their eyes locked.

“They chose you,” she continued, “because you know the Undercity better than anyone. Because you understand danger in ways they don’t teach in academies. Because you are the best person for the job."

Vi scoffed again but Caitlyn gripped her chin tighter "Look at me....Out there....mistakes do happen Violet....all the time....every day people die on those streets, on both sides. But you are the only one who could’ve brought them out alive tonight.”

Vi let out a rough breath, filled with disbelief.

Caitlyn didn’t release her chin.

“Do you think I am to blame for my mother’s death?” she asked.

Vi’s eyes went wide.
“What? Nooo, Cait...of course not...”

“Why not?” Cait pressed. “It was my investigation. My decisions. I pursued your sister despite my mother’s warnings. Do you know how long I turned that night over in my mind? Every ‘what if,’ every version of the story where it ends differently?”

Her voice softened, almost breaking.

“Until it nearly destroyed me.”

Vi swallowed hard, tears gathering, shimmering in the firelight.

“There are things we cannot change my love,” Caitlyn whispered, her thumbs brushing Vi’s cheeks. “No matter how hard we punish ourselves. No matter how many ways we rewrite the past in our heads. Hurting ourselves doesn’t undo anything. It only… breaks us.”

A tear slipped down Vi’s cheek. Then another.

Caitlyn cupped her face with both palms, gently, tenderly. "I love you... so much."

"Love you too" Vi whispered as let our a shaky breath. Her tears rolling down her cheeks..

"Then pleease,” she begged in a whisper, “stop destroying yourself. You are the best person I ever met Violet. There is no need for all this pain darling.”
Vi closed the small distance between them in one breathless, desperate motion, kissing her like she was the only solid thing left to hold onto. Caitlyn’s hands slid into Vi’s hair as Vi’s thumb brushed her cheek, both of them clinging to the other like the world had gone faint.

When they finally parted, Caitlyn pulled her into her arms. Vi folded into her completely, burying her face in Cait’s shoulder, arms locking around her so tightly Caitlyn let out a small, startled breath. She could feel Vi’s heartbeat pounding against her chest. They stayed like that for a while until her heart finally stopped hammering.

“Come on,” Caitlyn murmured eventually, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. “Take me to bed. I need my feet warmer.”

Vi let out a weak chuckle, voice still raw.
“I knew there was an ulterior motive.”

Caitlyn lifted her hand and slapped the back of her head playfully.

“Ow,” Vi muttered, smiling despite herself.

“Up,” Cait ordered softly. “Bed. Now.”

.....


Morning light slipped soft and pale through the tall windows of the Kiramman house, catching on paper lanterns and gilded ribbon throwing the house into a wash of gentle, winter-gold colour.

Shan’zoa, the Kirammans traditional Ionian winter observance would be honoured in a weeks time. A small, private iteration of the Ionian Passing of Spirits. For the Kirammans it had become a quiet counterpoint to Snowdown’s bright bustle, contemplative where Snowdown was grand, stillness where Snowdown thrummed.

This morning the household hummed with preparations, the staff moved like a single well-practised organism, placing each decoration with the careful reverence of a ritual rather than the fuss of a party.

The air smelled of citrus and pine and the faint, sweet smoke of lotus petals in shallow bowls. Frost-white paper lanterns swung in the windows and along the stair rails, their gentile bodies folded in pale greens and moon-white. Thin silver bells were strung along beams, when someone passed, they chimed soft and bright, a gentle announcement to any spirit that might be listening. Vases of white-barked branches had been arranged with jade ribbons and paper talismans for ancestors nearby.
The tall windows of the Kiramman house were being painted in frost-paintings made of a milky, plant-based paste that was used to trace delicate fern patterns across the glass.

As Vi and Caitlyn descended the staircase this morning still in their pajamas and sleepy faces, Vi’s steps slowed. Her eyes widened, breath catching.

“Wooow…”

Caitlyn glanced over her shoulder, already smiling. “Like it?”

“It’s… beautiful.” Vi murmured, taking in the lanterns, the frost paintings, the soft chime of silver bells.

“Come...let’s see everything!” Caitlyn squeezed her hand and tugged her forward, practically vibrating with excitement.

“Good morning, Miss Caitlyn, Miss Vi,” one of the maids greeted, hanging another tiny bell along the banister. Her own eyes sparkled. “It’s started,” she said proudly. Being Ionian herself, this day clearly meant something to her too.

“It sure has,” Caitlyn chimed back, pulling Vi the rest of the way down like an overjoyed child.

“So… what is this again?” Vi asked, trying to absorb the explosion of decorations around them.

“Well, it marks two things really.” Caitlyn immediately launched into explanation mode, animated hands painting shapes in the air. Vi found that unbearably adorable. “First, honouring the winter spirits. Ionians, from the the parts where my family comes from, believe they guide the land through the sleeping season, spirits of frost, stillness, and reflection.” She steered Vi toward a display of frost-boughs. “They protect crops beneath the soil, guard travellers during storms, and carry messages from ancestors.”

“And the second thing?” Vi asked, leaning in, genuinely listening.

“Welcoming the first spring spirits,” Caitlyn said with a little grin.

“Right… like saying goodbye to the winter guardians and saying hello to the spring ones?”

“Exactly.”

“Got’cha.”

“At midnight, between the old year and the new one, people perform small rites to wake the spring spirits and encourage the return of warmth.” Caitlyn slowed, voice dropping softer. “It’s symbolic. Carrying light from the old year into the new. A celebration of another year ending.”

“That’s beautiful,” Vi said honestly.

“It is, isn’t it?” Caitlyn beamed, tugging her forward with enough enthusiasm that Vi nearly tripped over a box of folded lanterns and bumped into her.

Caitlyn caught her by the elbows, eyes sparkling. “And this year… I’m celebrating it with you.” She popped a quick, giddy kiss to Vi’s lips.

Vi blinked at her, this side of Caitlyn was new. Hyper. Joyful. Almost childlike. She’d never seen Cait quite so swept up in anything seasonal. Now she was dragging her from room to room, explaining every tiny detail, why the bells rang, why the lotus bowls burned, what the talismans meant, how her family mixed Ionian tradition with Piltover elegance.

And Vi… listened. Really listened.

She soaked in every word, every custom, every small ritual.
This was her family now. Their traditions would be her traditions too, part of her life from now on.

And Caitlyn shone under that attention, glowed, really. So used to being dismissed mid-sentence by people who claimed to respect her, that Vi’s quiet, genuine interest felt like sunlight she hadn’t known she needed.

Together they moved through the decorated halls, Caitlyn teaching, Vi learning, hand in hand beneath softly chiming bells.
Nyx and Jorin woke up as well. She pushed open the door to their room with sleepy fingers and the sight that met her on the landing stopped her in her tracks. Her eyes panned across the staircase and the salon down below.

Paper lanterns swung like pale moons. Frost paint chased along the glass in curling white filigree. Spirit-bells chimed softly when a maid brushed past. The sight moved her in a way she hadn’t expected.

As much as she was vastayan blood, she too was Ionian at the root of her bones. The lanterns and the bells hummed to her with the old language she knew in her marrow. For a moment she was almost buoyed. Memories of stories whispered by a mother with paint on her fingertips washed over her. The scent of winter herbs and the clumsy, eager way gifts were always wrapped in thin strips of cloth to hold meaning rather than glitter.

The festival was beautiful. It was everything that should soften the heart, but the other thought came, uninvited and cold. The thought of her brother held captive somewhere beyond their reach pulled at her like frost under skin. The joyous decorations were a bright, aching reminder that someone was missing the shape of home.

She reached for Jorin’s hand and stepped down onto the stairs, throat tight. She looked at him over her shoulder. Her eyes had softened and gone glossy. Her faint smile trembled, only the tiniest edges of it were real.

Jorin cupped her cheek with the rough tenderness he reserved for the quiet parts of her.

“Hey,” he murmured, thumb brushing the tear away. “It’s alright. It’s beautiful because it reminds you. And it hurts because he’s not here yet. Both can be true.”

Nyx closed her eyes, leaning into his palm. “I want him home for this,” she whispered. “For the first lantern. For… everything.”

“I know.” He kissed her forehead “We’ll bring him home. And next year, he’ll be standing right here, complaining the lanterns are crooked. I promise.”

He he bent to place another long, thoughtful kiss on her forehead, the sort of kiss that soothed, that promised steadiness when the world did not. It calmed her, and she leant into him, breath evening.

Caitlyn and Vi came together from the salon. “Nyx?” Vi asked softly. “Are you alright?”

Jorin answers for her, quiet and honest,
“She’s thinking of her brother.”

Nyx wiped her cheek quickly with the back of her hand, embarrassed. But Caitlyn stepped forward and wrapped her in a tender, warm hug.

“I understand,” she whispered into her hair.
“This is my first Shan’zoa without my mother.
And the first Snowdown without Jayce.”

Nyx stiffened in sympathy, arms tightening around her. “Cait… I’m so sorry.”

Vi watched them from the hearth, the firelight flattering the hard planes of her face where the stress of the last days had carved new lines. She had no place in their family stories, no childhood of Ionian summers to reclaim. For her this year's Snowdown would be particularly sharp. Relief at being home, yes, but sharpened with the sting of of everyone who's absent, the memory of dark cells and the thin hours of Stillwater where she dreamed of one more Snowdown with Powder. She let the other consolations wash over her like heat. She was grateful to be free, to have found a bed that is shared and a woman who threads her fingers into hers without asking but all those things still did not reach every hollow in her chest.

The softness in Cait’s gaze bled into something else when she turned from Nyx. There was a look Vi recognised alone, something like devotion folded into relief. Words were unnecessary. Caitlyn moved to Vi with one smooth step and laced their fingers together, palm to palm, a simple tether in the river of grief that was all about them.

Vi’s fingers tightened around Caitlyn’s, and the other woman gave the smallest squeeze back. In the middle of all the preparations, the two of them stood together like a private island, an agreement made without words, that even if they had losses to count, they would make a place for the missing in ceremonies and in memories, and that they would not step into the next year without each other.

Outside, Piltover’s Snowdown stalls would begin swelling with garlands and cheer, below, Zaun’s markets would fill with hardy winter wares and steaming food.


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