Chapter Text
Vi: IIXX
Following Caitlyn out of the bathroom, Vi grabbed two glasses from the cabinet, filling them before she set them at their respective seats. She still felt as though she was slightly floating as the way Caitlyn whispered her name replayed in her head on a loop.
Her stomach dropped the moment her phone buzzed.
The contact name Pow illuminated the screen, and a chill swept through her as she realized what the call likely meant. She glanced toward the front door where Caitlyn, wrapped in her robe, stood checking her coverage in the mirror before opening the door to retrieve the food. Her movements were casual, unbothered, completely unaware of the storm brewing inside Vi’s chest.
The boxer swiped her thumb across the screen, bringing the phone to her ear. “Pow Pow,” she greeted, her voice steady despite the sinking feeling in her gut. “What’s up?”
“Hey,” Powder’s voice came through, a little too hesitant for her usual energy. Vi’s grip on the phone tightened. Her sister was rarely cautious; the shift in tone sent alarms blaring in her mind.
“What did you find?” Vi asked, cutting straight to the point.
There was a beat of silence on the other end before Powder sighed. “You sure you wanna know right now?”
“Powder,” Vi said sharply, the edge in her voice unmistakable. She didn’t have the patience for her sister’s occasional flair for dramatics – not about this. “Tell me.”
Powder exhaled audibly, and when she spoke, her voice was softer, almost reluctant. “Okay, so... it’s not great, Vi. That pill you found? It’s dextroamphetamine. High-grade. Stuff’s made for the crazies and for emergencies – like keeping soldiers awake for days or sharp under extreme conditions. It’s not supposed to be a daily thing.”
The words hit Vi like a gut punch, and her free hand curled into a fist at her side. She tried to swallow the anger rising in her chest – not at Caitlyn, but at the idea of her depending on something so dangerous. “What happens if someone uses it too much?”
“It screws with you,” Powder said bluntly, though her tone remained unusually measured. “Heart problems, insomnia, paranoia. And the crash? That’s rough, Vi. Like... can’t-get-out-of-bed rough. And that’s just the start.”
Vi ran a hand through her damp hair, her jaw clenching as she paced the living room. She glanced toward the kitchen, where Caitlyn was shuffling by the sink, likely setting out the glasses of water. Her detective, always so composed, so in control – but now Vi knew exactly where the cracks were beneath that calm exterior.
“Why would she be taking it?” Vi asked, more to herself than to Powder. “She doesn’t need to be awake for days. She’s not—”
“Not a soldier?” Powder finished gently. “No. But you know how it is, Vi. People push themselves, thinking they can handle it, that it’s helping. Until it’s not.”
Vi pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose, forcing herself to take a steadying breath. “Shit.”
“I’m sorry, sis,” Powder said softly, and the genuine sympathy in her voice cut through Vi’s spiraling thoughts.
Vi shook her head, even though Powder couldn’t see her. “Thanks for letting me know. I’ll... I’ll figure out how to bring it up with her.”
“You gonna talk to her now?”
“Yeah,” Vi said, her voice firm despite the knot in her stomach. “I can’t let this slide. Not when I–” She cut herself off, swallowing hard.
“Care about her?” Powder finished knowingly.
Vi closed her eyes, the open admission of it settling heavily in her chest. “Yeah. I do.”
There was a brief silence on the other end before Powder spoke again, her voice softer than Vi had heard it in years. “I get it. You’ve got this, okay? I know you’ll figure out how to say it without scaring her off.”
Vi huffed a bitter laugh. “Thanks, Pow Pow. Love you.”
“Love you too,” Powder said, her tone brightening just a touch. “Call me later, okay?”
“Will do,” Vi promised before ending the call.
She lowered the phone, staring at it for a moment as she replayed the conversation in her mind. The weight of the situation settled over her, heavy but resolute. She couldn’t let Caitlyn keep doing this to herself – not without understanding the risks.
Hearing Caitlyn moving around the kitchen again, Vi tucked her phone into her pocket and took another steadying breath. She wasn’t sure how to approach this without making Caitlyn feel attacked, but one thing was certain: Caitlyn deserved better than to quietly fall into the trap so many others in Zaun and Stillwater had.
When Caitlyn returned to the table with refilled glasses, Vi was stepping back inside, the door clicking softly behind her. She wiped her palms on her thighs, hoping to disguise the tension radiating through her body. Caitlyn smiled at her – expression warm and open – and Vi forced herself to smile back, though it felt thin and strained.
She didn’t miss the way Caitlyn’s eyes lingered on her, sharp and observant. She knows something’s up. The thought sent a fresh wave of discomfort rolling through Vi’s chest. But Caitlyn didn’t press, instead moving to serve their food with a quiet grace that Vi both admired and found maddening.
As Caitlyn placed a large portion in front of her, Vi’s stomach churned. Not from hunger, but from the conversation she’d just had with Powder. The weight of it sat heavy in her gut, tangled with a mess of questions she didn’t have answers to. Who gave Caitlyn those pills? Why did she feel like she needed them? And, more pressing, how the hells was Vi supposed to bring this up without blowing everything to pieces?
She dug into her food, hoping the motion would help settle the storm inside her. Each bite felt mechanical, her body hungry but her mind miles away. Across the table, Caitlyn picked at her plate, her movements hesitant and distracted. Vi’s sharp eyes tracked the slight tremor in Caitlyn’s fingers as she pushed her food around, the pale tint of her lips. Is it already starting? Powder’s warning echoed in her mind: Meds like these are supposed to be used sparingly—only for emergencies.
Caitlyn wasn’t eating enough. That much was clear. But Vi didn’t comment, unsure if she could keep her voice steady if she did. Instead, she watched, her chest tightening with every glance at Caitlyn’s untouched plate.
At one point, Caitlyn caught her staring. She looked away quickly, her gaze darting to the clock on the wall. It read 12:05, and Vi followed her line of sight, grateful for the distraction. The food had arrived right on time, a small comfort in an otherwise disorienting moment.
Vi cleared her throat, breaking the silence. “Do you want to take another walk?”
Her voice came out more clipped than she intended, and she winced inwardly. Caitlyn’s head tilted slightly, curiosity flickering in her eyes. For a moment, Vi worried the detective might press her for more, but instead, Caitlyn nodded.
“Sure,” she said, her tone light but measured.
They finished their meal without much more conversation. Vi polished off her plate, though the food sat heavy in her stomach. Caitlyn barely touched hers, a detail Vi couldn’t stop noticing no matter how hard she tried to focus elsewhere.
When they moved to the bedroom to change for their walk, Vi felt her body moving on autopilot, her hands methodically pulling on layers while her mind replayed Powder’s words over and over. If she’s been using them for a while, Vi, it’s gonna take a toll.
She glanced at Caitlyn, who was bundling herself up in a thick sweater and scarf. Vi’s chest tightened at the sight of her pale face, the faint shadow under her eyes. Caitlyn deserved better than this—better than her silence and uncertainty. But how could Vi say what she needed to say without making things worse?
“Violet?” Caitlyn’s voice pulled Vi from her thoughts.
The sound of her name, soft and full of quiet concern, cut through the noise in Vi’s head. She turned, meeting Caitlyn’s gaze, and the tension in her shoulders eased slightly.
“Ready to go?” Caitlyn asked, her tone gentle but steady.
Vi let out a slow breath, crossing the room to stand in front of her. The way Caitlyn looked at her—worried but patient—made Vi’s heartache. She reached out, tucking a stray lock of hair behind Caitlyn’s ear, the gesture as much for herself as it was for Caitlyn.
“Yeah,” Vi said, her voice steadier than she felt. She offered a small smile, hoping it would be enough to reassure her. “Let’s go.”
Caitlyn nodded, slipping her hand into Vi’s as they moved toward the door. The contact startled Vi at first—they didn’t usually hold hands unless there was a practical reason for it. But when Caitlyn’s fingers tightened slightly around hers, Vi felt an unexpected warmth bloom in her chest.
Even as they stepped out into the crisp afternoon air, the questions lingered, heavy and unanswered. But for now, Vi focused on the small comfort of Caitlyn’s hand in hers, grounding her against the chaos of her thoughts.
The afternoon sun shone brightly, casting a golden sheen over the rippling river as Vi and Caitlyn stepped out of the apartment building. The air had a biting chill that crept through even the thickest layers, but the warmth of Caitlyn’s hand in hers made it easier to ignore. Vi tugged her scarf higher around her neck, silently grateful she’d dressed warmly.
She gave Caitlyn’s hand a gentle squeeze and led her along the narrow path that followed the riverbank. The water’s surface sparkled under the sunlight, its beauty a sharp contrast to the hum of distant machinery and the faint haze of Zaun visible on the horizon. Vi’s boots crunched against the gravel as they walked, and though Caitlyn moved silently beside her, Vi could feel the weight of the detective’s gaze, watchful and steady.
Her mind churned with the remnants of Powder’s call. Every word her sister had said echoed in her head, painting a grim picture of what Caitlyn might be facing. Vi didn’t know how long Caitlyn had been using those pills, or why she started. She only knew she’d seen too many people fall into cycles they couldn’t claw their way out of. Too many stories that started with something small, something manageable, and ended in ruin.
She glanced sideways at Caitlyn, who walked with her scarf drawn high, her cheeks tinged pink from the cold. Her expression was calm, but Vi could see the faint tension in her jaw, the way her shoulders curved slightly inward, as though bracing herself against something unseen. Was she already feeling the beginnings of withdrawal? Was she noticing her body protesting the lack of the drug?
Vi exhaled, the sound soft but heavy. How the hells was she supposed to bring this up? Caitlyn was stubborn—smart and sharp, but stubborn—and Vi wasn’t sure how much she could say without crossing a line. Caitlyn had trusted her enough to share her space, her bed, her warmth. Did Vi have the right to confront her about something this personal, this raw?
She tightened her grip on Caitlyn’s hand as they rounded a bend, the path opening up to a wider stretch of riverbank. The wind was stronger here, pulling at Vi’s scarf and cutting through the air with a sharp bite. Caitlyn’s hand shifted slightly in hers, drawing her attention back to the woman beside her.
“Vi?” Caitlyn’s voice broke the silence, soft but probing. She tilted her head slightly, her dark blue eyes searching Vi’s face. “Is everything okay?”
Vi’s chest tightened at the question. Caitlyn’s gaze was direct, her concern evident in the slight furrow of her brow. Vi swallowed, glancing away toward the water. The sunlight danced on the waves, a fleeting distraction from the conversation she knew she couldn’t avoid forever.
She sighed, the weight of her thoughts pressing against her ribs. “Yeah,” she said, her voice low but steady. Then, after a pause, she added, “We should talk.”
The detective’s steps slowed slightly, her gaze unwavering as she waited for Vi to continue.
Vi glanced at Caitlyn, catching the way the detective’s brow furrowed at her words. She had slowed her pace, their hands still loosely linked, but her usual sharp, steady presence seemed to waver. Caitlyn’ss grip on Vi’s fingers tightened, a silent prompt for her to speak.
Vi let out another slow breath, her gaze fixed on the gravel path in front of them as she reveled in the feeling of Caitlyn’s delicate fingers intertwined with her own. She hoped desperately it wouldn’t be the last time. Vi didn’t want to do this here – out in the open – but she couldn’t keep avoiding it. Every moment that passed without addressing it felt like another failure to protect Caitlyn from what Vi had seen too many times before.
“Caitlyn,” Vi began, her voice low but deliberate. “I… I know about the pills.”
The detective stiffened beside her, her steps halting completely. Vi felt Caitlyn pull her hand away, wrapping her arms around herself in a defensive gesture. “What?” Caitlyn’s voice was quiet, but the edge in it cut through the chilly air.
Vi turned to face her, keeping her hands at her sides, trying to appear as non-threatening as possible. “I found one,” she admitted, her voice tinged with guilt. “Back at your place. I didn’t know what it was, and I…” She hesitated, the words catching in her throat before she pushed them out. “I had Powder test it.”
Caitlyn’s expression shifted—surprise, embarrassment, and defensiveness flashing across her features in quick succession. “You went behind my back?” Her voice rose slightly, and Vi winced.
“I’m sorry,” Vi said quickly, her tone earnest. “I didn’t want to assume anything. I just… I had to know if you were okay.” Vi kept her eyes on Caitlyn, watching the way her shoulders tensed and her arms wrapped around herself like armor. The detective’s blue gaze darted down, away from her, the vulnerability in her posture hitting Vi harder than she expected. She wanted to step closer, to close the distance, but she held back, afraid of pushing too hard and making Caitlyn retreat further.
“Okay?” Caitlyn repeated ruefully, her voice trembling now. She hugged herself tighter, her gaze dropping to the ground as her jaw tightened. “You think this is me being okay?”
Vi’s chest ached at the pain in Caitlyn’s voice. “No,” she admitted softly. “I don’t. But I needed to understand what’s going on. And after what Powder told me—”
“Powder knows?” Caitlyn’s voice broke, her cheeks coloring with humiliation. She took a shaky step back, the distance between them growing. “You told your sister?”
“Cait,” Vi said, her tone desperate. “She’s the only person I could trust with this – not even Ekko knows! I just… I needed her to test it, to tell me what it was.” She reached out slightly, then let her hand drop when Caitlyn flinched. “I’m so sorry.”
Caitlyn’s jaw tightened, and she turned slightly, as though shielding herself from Vi’s gaze. “You went behind my back,” she whispered, her voice laced with hurt. “You didn’t trust me to tell you.”
Vi’s chest tightened painfully. “I didn’t know how to ask,” she said honestly. “If it was nothing – I’d be an ass for assuming otherwise. And… And I was scared . I still am.”
“Scared?” Caitlyn echoed, the word sounding foreign on her tongue. She turned back to face Vi fully now, her expression hard to read. “Why would you be scared?”
Vi sighed deeply, running a hand through her damp hair as she tried to find the right words. “Because I’ve seen what this stuff can do to people,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “I’ve seen people spiral, Cait. I’ve seen them lose themselves to it. And I… I can’t watch you go through that.”
Caitlyn stared at her, her lips parting slightly as her brows furrowed. “What are you talking about?”
Vi hesitated, the words catching in her throat. This was it. She couldn’t avoid it any longer. “There’s a lot I haven’t told you about me,” she began, her voice quieter now. “I spent years in Stillwater. Hold. Before the Restructuring.”
Caitlyn’s breath hitched, her arms dropping slightly as her shock broke through her defensive posture. “Stillwater?” she repeated, eyes wide. Vi nodded, the memories swirling in her mind like a storm.
“I’ve seen people in there destroy themselves with this kind of thing,” she continued, her voice thick with a mix of anger and sorrow. She couldn’t help but turn to look at the water. “Drugs, whatever they could get their hands on to cope. I saw what it did to them, and I saw what it did to me .” She swallowed hard, her throat tight. “I know what it’s like to feel like you need something to get through the day. And I can’t stand the thought of you going through that. Not you.”
Caitlyn took a shaky step forward, her face pale as tears welled in her eyes. “Vi, I…” Her voice faltered, and she pressed a trembling hand to her forehead. Her voice cracked as she whispered, “I don’t know what to do.”
Vi’s heart broke entirely at the sight of her, raw and anguished in a way she hadn’t seen before. “I’m sorry,” she repeated, stepping closer, her hands hovering just shy of Caitlyn’s shoulders. “I swear, didn’t mean to hurt you – or betray your trust. I just–” Her voice cracked. “I care about you, Cait. Too much to watch you kill yourself.”
Caitlyn’s hands, clammy and trembling, reached up to cup Vi’s face, forcing her to meet her tear-filled gaze. “I don’t know what to do,” she repeated, her voice breaking. “I feel like I’m losing control, and I don’t know how to stop.”
Vi’s chest tightened, and tears pricked at her own eyes as she brought her forehead to Caitlyn’s.
“We’ll figure it out,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Together. You don’t have to do this alone.”
Caitlyn let out a quiet sob, and Vi pulled her into a tight embrace, one hand cradling the back of her head while the other rubbed slow circles on her back. “I’m here,” Vi murmured, her voice trembling as she buried her face in Caitlyn’s hair. “I’ve got you.”
They stood there for a long moment, clinging to each other as the weight of the conversation settled between them. The chill of the afternoon breeze seemed distant now, the only warmth coming from their fragile, blossoming connection.
_______
Caitlyn: IIXX
Caitlyn’s mind raced as Vi’s words echoed in her ears.
Kill yourself? The phrase stung, not because it was untrue but because it was true – more true than Caitlyn wanted to admit. Her dependence had started as something small, manageable. But now? Now it felt like a riptide dragging her deeper and deeper. She’d forgotten what it felt like to breathe.
Her hands trembled as they cupped Vi’s face, the heat of her skin grounding her even as her thoughts spiraled. Shame burned in her chest, hot and relentless, mixing with an overwhelming embarrassment that Vi, of all people, had discovered her secret.
How much does she hate me for this? Does she think I’m weak? A hypocrite?
And Stillwater... Caitlyn’s mind snagged on the revelation.
Violet was in Stillwater.
The scars, her tattoos, the way Vi had flinched whenever her past was mentioned – or her jaw set whenever the topic of enforcers came up – it all fit. Caitlyn had never pressed, never dared to ask her.
A flash of belated rage overtook the detective as she recalled Maren’s dig: “A jailbird and her enforcer. How ironic.”
Caitlyn was left reeling, trying to comprehend the depth of what Vi must have endured. ‘ She didn’t just survive Stillwater; she came out of it, somehow, with the capability to trust someone like me’. The thought made Caitlyn’s chest tighten, a knot of gratitude and guilt tangling together painfully.
But how much did she suffer there? Caitlyn’s stomach churned as her mind filled in the blanks. Stillwater wasn’t just a prison – it was a crucible, a place designed to break people down to nothing. Vi’s scars, both visible and invisible, told a story of violence and survival that Caitlyn could barely begin to fathom. And yet, here she was, standing in front of her, strong and steady, offering nothing but genuine care and understanding.
Vi’s forehead pressed gently against hers, and Caitlyn felt a sob catch in her throat.
“I don’t know what to do,” she admitted, her voice barely audible. The words tasted bitter, their weight unbearable.
Vi’s response was quiet but sure. “We’ll figure it out. Together. You don’t have to do this alone.”
Together. The word held a fragile kind of hope that Caitlyn didn’t feel she deserved, but it planted itself stubbornly in her chest, cutting through the mess of guilt and anger. Her arms fell to wrap around Vi’s shoulders as her body shook with a quiet, desperate sob.
Vi’s embrace was steady and unyielding, her hand cradling the back of Caitlyn’s head with an unexpected gentleness. Caitlyn felt Vi’s other hand moving in slow circles along her back, a soothing rhythm that made her chest ache with gratitude. How is she not pushing me away? How can she still look at me with anything but disappointment – Disgust – When I've worn the same blues as those who tried to break her?
The tears came harder, her breaths shallow and uneven as the rawness of her shame spilled out. You’ve gone too far this time, Caitlyn. Even Vi– Vi, who has seen more than you’ll ever understand – thinks you’re killing yourself. How can she still care after seeing you unravel like this?
“I’ve got you,” Vi whispered into her hair, her voice cracking with an emotion Caitlyn couldn’t quite name. The words were a shock to her system – enough to steady her, if only temporarily.
She’s not leaving me. Not yet.
After what felt like an eternity, Caitlyn managed to gather herself, pulling back slightly from Vi’s embrace. She was exhausted – not only from the beginnings if withdrawal, but from her embarrassingly long cry. Her hands lingered on the boxer’s broad shoulders, fingers curling into the fabric of her jacket like a lifeline. She sniffled, her cheeks hot and damp, and nodded faintly.
“Okay,” she murmured. “Can we… Can we go back inside?” Standing outside was one thing – across the river from Zaun – it felt like neutral territory. But would she follow her inside? Would still still be willing to sleep in the same bad, eat the same food, touch the kill of someone so irresponsible as herself?
Vi’s eyes searched hers, still red-rimmed and filled with a quiet determination that made Caitlyn’s chest tighten all over again. “You sure?”
“Yes.” Caitlyn forced her voice to steady, wiping at her cheeks with trembling fingers. “Please.”
Vi nodded, her hand moving to Caitlyn’s lower back as they turned toward the apartment building. The walk was silent, the sounds of the city fading into the background as Caitlyn focused on keeping her breathing even. She still felt raw, exposed in a way that made her skin itch, but Vi’s presence beside her was an anchor, keeping her from spiraling further.
Inside the lobby, Caitlyn sniffled quietly, her head bowed as they waited for the elevator. Vi didn’t say anything, but her hand remained on Caitlyn’s back, a small, grounding gesture that Caitlyn found herself leaning into.
As the elevator doors slid open, Caitlyn stepped inside first, wrapping her arms around herself as she stared at the floor. She couldn’t bring herself to look at Vi, not yet. Her mind churned with a thousand questions and self-recriminations.
‘Who even gave me that first pill? Why didn’t I stop after the first time? How did I let it get this far?’
Vi pressed the button for their floor, her jaw tight as she watched Caitlyn out of the corner of her eye. She didn’t push, though Caitlyn could feel her tension radiating in the enclosed space. When the elevator chimed and the doors opened, she forced herself to move, legs feeling like lead as they walked toward her apartment.
When they reached the door, Caitlyn hesitated, her hand hovering over the handle. She turned to Vi, her lips parting as if to say something, but no words came. Vi stepped closer, gently taking Caitlyn’s hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze.
“Whatever you’re thinking,” Vi said softly, her voice low and steady, “I wanna hear it.”
Caitlyn’s chest ached at the sincerity in Vi’s tone. She nodded faintly, unlocking the door and stepping inside. The familiar scent of her apartment wrapped around her like a fragile comfort, though it did little to ease the swirling mess of emotions inside her.
Vi followed, closing the door behind them, her presence a quiet but steadfast support. As Caitlyn set her coat on the table, she caught Vi’s gaze and saw the same determination, the same care that had been there all along. It made her throat tighten. She wasn’t sure she deserved it, but for now, she would hold onto it as tightly as she could.
Walking to her kitchen, Caitlyn grabbed two mugs – preparing green tea for the women with shaking hands. She didn’t hear Vi approach behind her, but felt the hands that wrapped around her waist, and the kiss pressed into her shoulder. She hadn’t realised she’d pulled them to her ears – tense beyond measure at the conversation she knew she needed to have with Vi.
Caitlyn turned in Vi’s arms, her gaze dropping to the floor as her mind swirled with conflicting emotions. Vi didn’t speak, her silence steadying in its own way, and after a moment, Caitlyn felt a gentle pressure under her chin. Vi’s fingers tilted her head up, their gazes meeting in the muted light of the room.
“Come on,” Vi murmured, nodding toward the bedroom. Her voice was soft, patient.
Caitlyn swallowed hard and nodded, following Vi. Each step felt heavier than the last as she worked to tamp down the whirlwind of shame, guilt, and something dangerously close to gratitude that threatened to overwhelm her. By the time they reached the bedroom, she was already pulling off the scarf and gloves she’d hastily bundled into earlier. Vi did the same, peeling off her jacket and tossing it onto a nearby chair before sitting on the bed.
Caitlyn paused, watching as Vi scooted back until her broad shoulders rested against the headboard. The boxer looked at her with an openness that made Caitlyn’s heart ache. Vi’s arms lifted slightly, a silent invitation that Caitlyn found herself drawn to despite her racing thoughts.
Slowly, Caitlyn approached, sitting on the edge of the bed before shifting to lay against Vi’s chest. The warmth of her body, the steady rhythm of her heartbeat—it all worked to chip away at the sharp edges inside her. She closed her eyes briefly, listening, trying to let the sound anchor her.
Minutes passed in silence. Caitlyn’s mind churned with half-formed thoughts, her internal monologue a jumble of self-recrimination and uncertainty. What do I say? How do I explain this? She wasn’t sure where to begin or if she even could.
“The weight of this sad time we must obey; speak what we feel, not what we ought to say.” Vi said softly, her voice a low hum against Caitlyn’s ear.
Exhaling a breath, Caitlyn adjusted slightly against Vi's chest, her mind spinning like a turbine on overdrive. Her cheek pressed into the warm fabric of Vi's shirt, her fingers twisting the hem – words forming.
She hesitated, the words swirling in her mind before finally breaking through.
“The first time I took one,” she began softly, her voice barely above a whisper, “It was at a study-party during undergrad. Everyone was cramming for exams, swapping energy drinks and tips on how to stay awake.” She let out a quiet, bitter laugh. “Someone passed me a pill—said it would help me focus, make everything click .”
Vi's hand stilled against her back for a moment, then resumed its soothing strokes. Caitlyn didn’t look up, her gaze fixed on her own fingers as she continued.
“They were right. It was… incredible,” Caitlyn admitted, her tone tinged with a shame she couldn’t shake. “For the first time, all the overlapping voices in my head – the pressure, the expectations, the exhaustion – it all quieted. Everything just... made sense. I breezed through those exams like they were nothing. And I told myself it was a one-time thing.” Her voice tightened, and she felt Vi’s arm press her closer.
“And for a while, it was,” Caitlyn stated, her voice steadier now, though her chest felt like it was being squeezed. “A pill here and there during particularly bad periods. Finals. Term papers. My mother’s fucked high-society events.” She let out a soft, humorless laugh. “She used to ask me how I stayed so composed through it all. Ironic, really.”
Caitlyn shifted again, hesitating before her head tilted so she could look up at Vi. The boxer’s expression was unreadable, her blue-gray eyes locked onto Caitlyn’s with a quiet intensity that made her throat tighten.
“When I became a detective,” Caitlyn continued, “the workload was… relentless. Cases piled on top of cases. Lives on the line… A part of me wonders if Marcus swamped me on purpose. Kept me distracted. So the pills – they stopped being an occasional crutch and… became the only way I could keep going. The only way I could convince myself I was doing enough.”
Vi’s brow furrowed, and Caitlyn saw the flicker of emotion there – anger, not at her, but at the situation, at Marcus, at what had driven her to this. It made her chest ache in a way that was almost unbearable. She looked back at her fingers tracing patterns on Vi’s sternum.
“I detox after every big case,” Caitlyn said quietly, her voice trembling. “It’s horrible. Disgusting. Pathetic.” She closed her eyes tightly, the tears she’d been holding back since they came back inside finally spilling over. “I never wanted anyone to see me like that. Especially not you.” She whispered the last three words.
Vi’s hand moved to cradle the back of her head, her other arm wrapping more securely around her. “Cait,” Vi began, her voice soft but firm.
But Caitlyn cut her off, tone sharp with self-recrimination. “I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to stay in the safe house. I get it. I’m a mess, Vi. I’ve been trying to fix it, but—” Her voice cracked, and she shook her head, unable to finish.
“Don’t,” Vi said, her voice steady, though there was an edge of desperation to it. She pulled back just enough to cup Caitlyn’s face in her hands, forcing their eyes to meet. “Don’t say that. Don’t think that.”
Caitlyn’s breath hitched, her tears falling freely again as Vi’s thumbs brushed them away.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Vi said firmly. “I don’t care how messy it gets. You’re not doing this alone, Cait.”
The sincerity in Vi’s tone shattered something inside Caitlyn, her defenses crumbling entirely. She let out a quiet sob, her forehead pressing against Vi’s as her hands fisted in the boxer’s shirt.
“I don’t know how to stop,” Caitlyn whispered, her voice breaking. “I don’t even know where to start.”
Vi’s arms tightened around her, holding her like she was something fragile and precious. “We’ll figure it out,” Vi murmured, her voice trembling slightly.
Caitlyn clung to her, the weight of her confession and Vi’s unwavering support settling into fragile hope. Caitlyn felt still sick at all she’d put on Vi’s shoulders – what it seemed the boxer was willing to go through with Caitlyn. What she’d been through herself. Mind swirling as she lay nestled against Vi, her fingers traced idle patterns along the boxer’s arm. The weight of Vi’s earlier words clung to her, heavier than she cared to admit.
“I saw what it did to them, and I saw what it did to me.”
It made her feel better, in a way – Vi knew what to expect, what this process would entail. If anyone could help her through it, it was Violet. But that knowledge also twisted a knife of guilt and shame in her chest. She didn’t just know ; she had lived it. She had seen – and felt – firsthand the worst of what withdrawal could bring. And now, Caitlyn was dragging her into it.
Her thoughts spiraled as she considered the coming hours, the symptoms she already recognized creeping in: the cold sweat, the way her stomach churned and refused to settle, the insistent tingling in her limbs that begged for movement but left her feeling weak when she tried. It wasn’t even the worst of it – she knew what lay ahead. The gnawing restlessness. The complete evacuation of her bowels and stomach as her body attempted to turn itself inside out. The bone-deep fatigue that coexisted with sleeplessness. The emotional collapse that seemed to come out of nowhere – lashing out like wild dogs.
She hated – and adored – that Vi was willing to see her like that.
Caitlyn shifted slightly, pressing closer. The boxer’s hand ran a soothing line along her back, her touch grounding Caitlyn even as her thoughts ran rampant.
"Stop thinking so loud," Vi murmured, her voice low and teasing, though there was a softness in her tone that made Caitlyn’s chest ache.
She huffed a quiet laugh, burying her face against Vi’s shoulder. For a while, they lay like that – not sleeping, but resting in the fragile quiet. Caitlyn’s fingers danced along Vi’s collarbone, while Vi’s hand traced lazy circles on Caitlyn’s back. The rhythm was calming, a silent reassurance that neither of them was going anywhere.
Eventually, Caitlyn broke the stillness, her voice light but laced with a self-deprecating edge. "So, do you still want to see the play with me? Now that you know I’m a junkie?"
Vi’s hand stilled on Caitlyn’s back, and the boxer pulled back just enough to meet her eyes. Her expression was equal parts stern and affectionate, a look that somehow managed to scold without saying a word.
“Cait,” Vi said softly, her tone steady, “Don’t call yourself that.” Caitlyn’s cheeks flushed, and she started to look away, but Vi cupped her cheek, guiding her gaze back. “We’re still going to that play. And I’ll be damned if you don’t enjoy it."
Caitlyn’s mouth twitched into a faint smile, her heart aching at the conviction in Vi’s words. "You’re infuriatingly good at that, you know."
"At what?" Vi asked, a smirk tugging at her lips.
Caitlyn shrugged, "Making me feel like I’m worth the trouble."
Vi leaned in, kissing her deeply, the kind of kiss that chased away all the dark thoughts swirling in Caitlyn’s mind. When they finally pulled apart, Vi’s smile was soft, her hand brushing a stray lock of hair from Caitlyn’s face.
"Better get ready soonish," Vi said, glancing at the clock. "We’ve got about two hours before we need to head out – unless you want to sprint between railcars."
Caitlyn laughed, sliding off the bed with a lightness she hadn’t felt in hours. "No sprinting," she agreed, heading toward the bathroom.
Inside, she turned on the faucet and splashed her face with cold water, the chill biting but refreshing. She blew her nose, ridding herself of the congestion left by her earlier tears, and took a deep breath, letting the cool air settle in her lungs.
A familiar warmth pressed against her back, and she glanced up in the mirror to see Vi standing behind her. The boxer’s nose brushed gently against Caitlyn’s shoulder blade as she reached for a towel, wetting it under the stream of water before lifting it to her own face.
For a moment, they stood there in the small bathroom, the air between them light but charged with the kind of intimacy that made Caitlyn’s chest feel impossibly full. It wasn’t perfect – there were still shadows lingering at the edges of her mind – but for now, it was enough. After cleaning up Vi leaned casually against the sink, towel slung over her shoulder, as her brows furrowed slightly.
"So... is there a dress code for this thing?" she asked, her tone light but carrying a note of unease.
Caitlyn hesitated, reaching for her hairbrush as she carefully considered her words. "Technically, yes," she admitted, her voice tinged with reluctance. She didn’t like the implication of exclusivity that came with fancy theatre dress codes, especially when it alienated people who couldn’t afford such extravagances. Her hesitation lingered in the air like a storm cloud.
Vi’s lips quirked into a half-smile, though her tone remained cautious. "How bad are we talking here?"
Caitlyn turned to look at her, running the brush absently through her hair. "How do you feel about suits?" Vi laughed, the sound warm and genuine, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly.
"A suit, huh?" She shook her head, turning to head back toward the bedroom. "You’re lucky I like you," she said over her shoulder, shaking her head. Her voice was teasing – but it also carried an undeniable fondness.
Caitlyn followed her to the doorway, leaning against the frame as she watched Vi sit down on the edge of the bed. Her heart swelled at the sight of Vi’s easy smile, the kind that lit up her eyes and softened her usually sharp features.
"You like me?" Caitlyn asked, her tone light but her chest fluttering with a mix of delight and nerves.
Vi shot her a flat look, one brow arched as if to say, Really?
Caitlyn laughed, shaking her head at herself. "Alright, fair enough."
Vi chuckled softly, glancing down at her hands before looking back up. "Small problem, though – I don’t own any suits.”
Caitlyn tilted her head, her lips pursing thoughtfully. "You don’t, do you?" She straightened, her mind racing through possibilities. Viktor was around Vi’s height – certainly thinner – but he preferred his suits baggy anyway. She wondered if one of his might fit Vi well enough for the evening.
Before Vi could ask what she was thinking, Caitlyn pushed off the doorway, a subtle pep in her step as she strode toward the living room.
"Where are you off to?" She heard Vi ask as the boxer trailed after her. Caitlyn glanced back over her shoulder, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she raised her phone to her ear.
"Just working on a solution," she said lightly, the corners of her lips curving upward.
Vi folded her arms, leaning against the bedroom doorway as she watched Caitlyn intently, equal parts amused and curious.