Chapter Text
019 BLOOD TRAIL – abandoned cabin, one way out, “Is there anybody alive out there?”
The silence stretched, thick and as stagnant as the cloying air surrounding her. Caitlyn rapped her knuckles gently against the door and was alarmed to feel it give way under her touch. She didn’t want to step inside uninvited, wasn’t sure how Vi would react to that. Not that she could blame her.
With a quiet inhale, Caitlyn curled her fingers around the door and pushed it open a fraction more, “Vi?” She called out, louder this time. Her heart hammered painfully as she took in the scent of the apartment that rolled out toward her, mingling with the crisp night air. Stale and sweet, with the smell of old sweat, alcohol and something she couldn’t place. Something heavy and rotting. Caitlyn bit down the impulse to recoil.
It was her fault Vi was living here.
“Vi?” She called again, unsure. The door creaked as she pressed it open fully. From inside, heavy footsteps shuffled toward her and Caitlyn held her breath, half afraid of what she might see.
“Fuck are you waiting for?” Vi barked, ripping the door open fully. Her voice was rough as if she wasn’t used of speaking aloud. Her face was dramatically swollen, all purple and red where her cheekbone had shattered. Green and yellow where old bruises had refused to heal.
Vi still wore the sharp slashes of black war paint across her eyes and down her cheeks. Blurred by tears and sweat and blood, it was a fearsome thing to behold. Caitlyn had only seen it captured in the inks of a polaroid or the Undercity pit-fighting advertisements. They hadn’t done the look any justice.
Blood oozed from her burst lip and trickling down her chin. Vi had tried to wipe it away, but she had only managed to smear it across her face. Caitlyn could see the rest of it staining the wraps Vi wore around her hands. They were filthy too; covered blood Caitlyn did not believe belonged entirely to Vi.
Caitlyn’s eyes traced over her, horrified as she tried desperately to catalogue the damage. Her expression cracked as she looked into the face of the woman she loved. Only it was too late to show her. Too late for it to matter.
She was almost unrecognisable. But there was something beneath the anger and misery in her eyes. The same vulnerability Vi tried to bury deep within herself but was always dangerously close to the surface. She hadn’t changed at all.
When Caitlyn didn’t move, Vi’s face twisted into a scowl and she turned around with a dismissive wave muttering. “Whatever... do what you want.”
It wasn’t an invitation, but Caitlyn took it as one. She crossed the threshold, stepping inside gingerly as if the filthy room could creep beneath her skin and stick in her lungs. As if it could infect her with the same despair Vi was suffering from.
“I wanted to see you.” Caitlyn said quietly, barely able to speak past the thick feeling in her thoat.
Vi collapsed onto a makeshift bed, a piece of canvas fabric stretched taut over rusted metal supports. There was a thin blanket, crumpled up at the foot of the bed. Caitlyn noticed Vi had no pillow, hadn’t even bothered fashion one out of old clothing.
Vi faced the wall, arms cross tightly across her chest, her shoulders stiff. She seemed to consider placing her hands over her ears but didn’t.
Vi hesitated before she replied. “I figured.” The words came out hollow. This wasn’t part of their usual exchange. It made Vi uneasy. She was waiting for Caitlyn to turn on her. To hit her where it hurt again.
“Yes, well, of course, I mean…” Caitlyn fumbled, her words tripping over each other. She didn’t know what to say. “I want to—I went too far. I wanted to say that.”
“S’all we do.” Vi muttered, her voice so low it was almost lost.
“You didn’t—” Caitlyn started but was quickly cut off by Vi’s sharp, slurred words.
“Fuck off.”
“I mean it Vi.” Caitlyn sniffed, trying to stop the tears stinging her eyes from spilling over and staining her cheeks. “You didn’t do this. What I’m trying to say is that I’m sorry. I should never have—It wasn’t fair to—You did so much for me and I—”
Vi’s voice interrupted her again, so quiet this time that Caitlyn almost didn’t hear her. “Where do you go when you leave?”
“What?” Caitlyn was bewildered by the sudden question. It seemed so unrelated, so confused. “What do you mean?”
“Forget it.” Vi’s tone was dismissive, but there was something raw beneath it, frayed and vulnerable.
“Vi,” Caitlyn spoke gently, “I think you have a concussion.” Caitlyn’s moved across the room towards the cot, kicking aside empty bottles and stepping over liquids she didn’t want to identify. Her stomach turned at the sticky residue that clung to her boots. “You’re not ok.”
Vi laughed, the sound breathy and humourless as it rasped around the room. Her head remained turned toward the wall. Caitlyn watched in horror as Vi’s hand went to her stomach, pressing against the scar Sevika had carved into her belly. The same place the butt of Caitlyn’s rifle had found its home the last time they’d seen each other.
When Caitlyn had left Vi on her knees, alone.
Vi’s laughter spiralled into something broken, dissolving into deep wrenching sobs that shook her whole frame. The floorboards beneath her cot creaked and shouts, following a loud pounding came from below. Vi didn’t seem to care. She roared, a guttural sound that was equal parts rage and misery. She lashed out, swinging her fist against the wall barely wincing as she reopened the wounds that marred her broken knuckles. Fresh blood decorated her wraps but it wasn’t enough. It was never enough.
“Vi, stop!” Caitlyn cried out as she stepped forward, her hands trembling as she reached out.
Vi flinched at her touch, shrinking back, expression twisting with confusion. Her hands clenched tight and every muscle in her body seemed to tense at the possibility that— No. She couldn’t be real and yet… The spectre who wore Caitlyn’s skin had never been able to touch her before. Maybe her delusions were getting worse, maybe she was finally breaking in the same way everyone thought her sister had.
Figures she was the crazy one this whole time.
“What are you doing?” Vi’s voice came out low, each syllable scratched raw. She barely twisted her head to look at Caitlyn, but when she did the confusion in her bloodshot eyes was clear.
Caitlyn’s fingers were gentle as she reached for Vi’s wrist. She held them lightly, just enough pressure to keep Vi from striking out again. She could feel the tension trembling beneath Vi’s skin, see the bruises that crept up her arms, the scratches and slashes that interrupted the black ink of her tattoos.
“You’ve been hurt enough. I can’t—” Her own hands felt cold and inadequate against Vi whose skin seemed to burn beneath hers. “I can’t keep watching.”
Vi’s mouth curled into a bitter smile. How stupid she’d been to think Caitlyn was actually here.
“You giving up on me too?” Vi had thought it was only a matter of time before even her ghost disappeared. She drank to forget. She drank to remember. The flashes of gentle eyes was worth it when she saw them. The flashes of disappointment were ruinous. Vi dared to turn, to meet Caitlyn’s gaze. All she saw was sorrow.
“No,” Caitlyn’s voice trembled. “I shouldn’t—".
A harsh laugh escaped Vi, jagged and humourless. “I thought you enjoyed watching.”
“What are you talking about?” Caitlyn’s chest tightened. Had Vi seen the enforcers Caitlyn had sent to monitor her in the pit?
“You think I don’t see you everywhere?” Vi snorted and spat blood onto the floor beside her cot with a groan. She leaned against the wall, forehead taking refuge against the damp curling paint. “I thought you enjoyed it,” she slurred, “watching me fall apart. Isn’t that why you stay longer when I lose?”
Vi narrowed her eyes, gaze dropping to the clean slender fingers holding her wrists. The pressure of certainly felt real. Caitlyn moved her hand, shaking slightly as she brushed her thumb over Vi’s torn knuckles, red smearing against her skin despite the wraps that were supposed to protect Vi’s hands. “I don’t want to see you like this.”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t look.”
Caitlyn’s bottom lip quivered and she nodded jerkily. “I let you down.” She sat on the edge of the bed and Vi felt her weight dip the sorry excuse for a mattress.
No, it couldn’t be… She couldn’t be…
Caitlyn leaned closer, close enough to see the dark circles beneath Vi’s eyes and the deep lines of exhaustion etched beneath bruises and swelling. Slowly, almost tentatively, Caitlyn placed Vi’s hands down on the canvas, satisfied she would not try to strike the wall again, at least for now. Vi went rigid, her instinct to pull back, to push Caitlyn off the bed and run away.
Was she real? Was she really here?
When Caitlyn’s fingers move to Vi’s side, pressing lightly over bruises she could not see, Vi inhaled sharply. Caitlyn froze and Vi bit down on her lip, hoping it would be enough to hold back any reaction, to keep Caitlyn from digging any deeper into her pain. She stayed quiet and Caitlyn continued, hands tracing up her side then over her shoulder.
When Vi stilled, Caitlyn’s hands moved to her hair, fingers combing through the tangled mass as gently as she could. Caitlyn’s eyes brimmed with unshed tears. “Oh Vi,” she said, voice thick with emotion. “I’m so sorry.”
Vi blinked, startled by a memory that floated to the surface, a half lost feeling of her mother’s hands on her forehead, cooling her when she was feverish as a child. She swallowed thickly. Gentle hands and soft eyes. That wasn’t Caitlyn anymore.
“I don’t understand what’s happening right now.” Vi’s voice came out small, the low whine of a child who needed reassurance and love. She didn’t turn to look at Caitlyn, didn’t dare let her see the flicker of vulnerability there.
Caitlyn worked through a particularly stubborn knot, careful not to pull Vi’s scalp. “Let me take care of you.”
“I don’t want you too.”
“What you want,” Caitlyn whispered, barely audible, “isn’t the same as what you need.”
Vi’s caught, a sharp hitch. “And what the fuck would you know about what I need?”. She spat the words, trying to steady herself but it wasn’t enough. “You don’t—”
The words stuck in her throat and Vi couldn’t bring herself to say it, that Caitlyn didn’t know her. Because she did. She knew the anger, the pain, the nightmares. She knew the—
Caitlyn forced herself to meet Vi’s gaze. “Vi, look at you. You’re—” an animal
“—hurt. You need medical attention. Please. Let me help you.”
“Get the fuck away from me.” Vi pushed herself up, pushed Caitlyn away so weakly she didn’t even shift off the cot.
Vi stared at her hand in disbelief. “You’re really here?”
“I’m here, Vi. I'm here.”