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Loneliness wasn’t usually a problem.
Not because it’s normal, but because you get used to the silent pain of loneliness.
The kind of pain you deal with when you're locked in a cold stone box for seven long years of your life. It wasn't a choice; either you get used to it, or it will eat you up from the inside out.
So, yes, if you asked Vi, she wouldn't hesitate to say that loneliness was like an old friend to her.
After Stillwater, it was almost like second nature.
Until it wasn't.
Until Caitlyn showed up in that stupid uniform with a determined scowl through the filthy corridors of Stillwater, and from then on Vi no longer felt alone.
It’s true they weren’t together all the time, after all, those six months apart while Caitlyn was under Ambessa’s control still weighed heavily on her heart. But even when Cait wasn’t with her, she was. Vi could still clearly remember the hallucinations, and the simple fact of knowing Caitlyn was alive and breathing out there was enough to suppress the fucking loneliness that threatened to devour her from the inside out.
And then came the post-war and the absolute attraction that formed between the two. It wasn’t by choice, in fact, it felt as automatic as breathing. Vi would be where Caitlyn was, and that was it.
She could still remember the first months when they still lived in the Kiramman mansion, when she almost considered herself Cait’s shadow, following her even into the bathroom just to brush her teeth, only to make sure she was there, alive and breathing.
Vi didn’t care that maybe relying on someone else even for the simplest everyday tasks wasn’t exactly healthy, but fuck it, she wasn’t about to lose sight of Caitlyn after everything they had been through. And if she was being a little honest with herself, she couldn’t anyway. Caitlyn was like the last thread holding her together after everything had fallen apart. The only reason she still believed her existence might not be a complete waste of space in all of Runeterra.
And then Lavender came along, and that was the confirmation Vi needed that loneliness would never be the same again, and she truly believed it. Ever since that little one had arrived, Vi had never felt lonely again, not even for a moment.
That’s why on that night she is fully aware that something is wrong.
It feels wrong, even the light-colored floor of her house feels colder, rougher than usual against her toes. Something is wrong because for the first time, she feels alone. She feels the loneliness in her bones, the same one that gnawed at her inside the walls of Stillwater, the same loneliness she had believed she would never feel again.
“Cait?” she calls, her voice sounding lower than usual as she walks through the kitchen of the house they had shared since Lavender had been added to their little family.
No response comes, and it sends a cold shiver up her spine.
Vi walks down the hallway, trying to take short, measured breaths.
There was no reason to panic, right? Even though this house wasn’t nearly as massive as the Kiramman mansion, which was actually one of the main reasons they had decided to move into it, it was still considered a large house. There was an upper floor, and it was entirely possible that Caitlyn and Lavender were in the nursery, or maybe they were in their shared room with the doors closed. She didn’t need to make it into a big deal.
But none of that calms the erratic rhythm of her heart as she climbs the stairs, or the sour taste that coats her tongue.
She doesn’t call out again, because she’s afraid she will hear only silence in response.
The upper floor is completely dark, and Vi can’t stop trembling as she inspects the slightly open doors along the hallway, only to find emptiness. Her footsteps echo through the house, and the pounding of her heart in her ears is the only fucking sound she hears.
The last two doors are Lavender’s room and her own room, which she shares with Cait. She has to pause to calm her breathing before reaching the nursery.
When she finally reaches there, she is met with silence.
She stands at the doorway for a few moments, motionless. Her lungs gasp for air as she stumbles into the small room painted in soft shades of purple.
The crib is completely empty, except for the stuffed bunny, and the sight nearly makes her drop to her knees. Lavender had faithfully carried that plush everywhere since the moment she had learned she could grab anything with her chubby little hands.
Her eyes sting with the bite of tears as Vi steps away from the crib.
Something is wrong.
She doesn’t even notice that she’s running to the room she shares with Cait, only to fling the door open violently.
And finally, there’s a room that isn’t empty.
But it isn’t Caitlyn who greets her, nor Lavender.
Violet can’t breathe as she watches the tall male figure. He stands completely still in the center of the room, staring out the open window, the purple curtains fluttering in the breeze. He doesn’t even seem to notice that Vi nearly smashed the bedroom door just seconds ago.
“Where… where are they?” Vi stammers, her tongue feeling numb in her own mouth, it’s hard to form coherent words while her brain is screaming. “You better tell me where the hell they are.”
She tries to project much more confidence than she feels, while every muscle in her back tenses with stress. Vi takes a step toward the man, her clenched fists trembling.
The man doesn’t move. In fact, he ignores her completely, his blue uniform gleams in the dim light of the room.
She’s going to kill that son of a bitch.
“Answer me, damn it!”
“You really are never around when they need your help.” His voice is cold, cutting through the room like a blade, and Vi feels her heart freeze as he finally turns.
“Aren’t you, Violet?”
Her legs shake as she stares at the same warden who used to beat her in Stillwater. She doesn’t even know the name of this bastard, but she would never forget the exact tone of his voice. She would never forget the beatings, the shitty smile he always wore whenever a “corrective” was applied. She can still hear the sound of her own bones cracking and taste blood all over her mouth.
She tries to move, tries to speak, but it’s as if she’s frozen. Vi squeezes her eyes shut, and when she opens them again, the figure seems to ripple and shift, and Silco is there instead. Bile rises in her throat as she notices his face is no longer the same.
“They’re not here anymore.” Silco says, his sick smile spreading across his entire face as he moves closer and closer, until she can feel his hot breath against her ear. “It was better when you were alone. You were never meant to have anyone. Because you are a curse. Everything you love…”
And Vi is certain it’s Powder’s voice whispering in her ear.
“Die.”
Her breath catches in her throat. It’s Powder’s voice. Powder’s breath is still brushing against her ear.
And Lavender and Cait aren’t anywhere, and they will never come back, never, just like the rest of her family, like every poor soul she ever dared to care for.
Vi gasps, choking, clawing at the air, her entire body shaking. She curls up, hands rising to her head, clutching her hair as she crushes herself against the floor. She should know, some part of her conscious mind somehow knows this isn’t real. Silco isn’t alive anymore, and as far as she knows, neither is her sister. But any shred of lucidity is lost when the only two people who mean her entire world are being threatened.
Vi jolts awake.
It’s hard to breathe as she sits up violently. Her lungs burn, struggling to draw in enough air, and she can hear herself hyperventilating.
Sweat drips down her temple as she tries to focus through her foggy eyes. Her pink strands are stuck to her face, and she can feel the unpleasant texture of her pajamas against her heated skin.
Her eyes lock onto the darkness of the room as she frantically tries to make out where she is. The heartbeat slows slightly, just a little, as she notices the outlines of the large open window, letting slivers of moonlight spill into the room.
Room.
Her room with Cait.
That room they usually share in their own house. Vi is home.
Oh.
The realization cuts her like a blade.
But if she’s home, why isn’t Cait in bed with her? That’s what she thinks in horror as she sees the side of the bed where her wife usually sleeps completely empty. The panic from the nightmare doesn’t leave her shoulders, it actually seems to intensify, making her tremble as she pats Cait’s pillows, as if sheer determination could make her appear there, beside her.
She stumbles out of bed, the blankets tangled around her knees as she pushes herself up, forcing her to lean on the nightstand. Panic makes her hear her own heartbeat pounding in her ears, and damn it, she still can’t breathe.
Getting her legs to respond is a challenge, they feel heavy and numb, like they’re made of jelly, and she can feel herself stumbling across the room, taking quick, careless steps.
Vi doesn’t care; she just needs to find her girls.
“Cait?” she rasps as soon as she reaches the door leading to the dark hallway of the house, her gaze unfocused as she tries to push the panic down.
“Caitlyn?”
Nothing. Just emptiness in response.
Vi barely registers that she’s running down the damn hallway, checking every half-open door like a woman in a panic.
There’s no one, she knows there’s no one.
The last door upstairs is Lavender’s nursery. Vi throws it open violently, her vision blurred with black spots, nausea rising in her throat as panic threatens to overwhelm her.
Nothing prepares her for the realization that, yes, Lavender and Caitlyn aren’t there either.
She is alone.
Not a single coherent thought crosses her mind as she drags herself into her daughter’s small room, her whole body trembling. Vi approaches the crib, as if she needs to see for herself that Lavender isn’t sleeping peacefully, curled up in the blankets like she always does and like Vi always watches her do.
Her throat is completely dry as she approaches the crib, her uncertain, hurried steps echoing through the nursery.
And it was like a verdict.
A verdict for her worst fears, finding the crib with no sign of Lavender. Only the blankets twisted and shoved into the middle of the small mattress.
And lying next to the little pillow was the stuffed rabbit.
Just like in the damn nightmare.
That was the confirmation. Something horrible had happened, and her family was slipping away from her life again.
It was like trying to hold water between her fingers, eventually, no matter the effort, it would slip away.
And she wasn’t there again, she hadn’t been able to stop it again. Because, damn it, she was Violet, and Vi was simply incapable of protecting everyone she loved most. It was like hearing Vander being beaten to death behind a door, being powerless to help Milo or Claggor in that explosion, or failing to hold her sister’s hand as she slipped straight toward death.
She wasn’t enough, and she never would be.
Her legs give out before she even realizes it.
It doesn’t hurt. She isn’t even feeling anything, it’s like being numb. In the blink of an eye, she’s on the floor, her cheek pressed against the cool floor of Lavender’s room while her lungs heave violently and her chest stutters.
The coherent part of her brain, that small part that hasn’t completely given in to absolute panic, tries to convince her to get up. Maybe check downstairs, or if they’re in real danger, go after them, find them, call the Firelights, the Enforcers, anyone. Fuck it, move.
But it wasn’t fair, damn it. Why did she have to go through that again? Why couldn’t she just have Cait waking up next to her every day, for the rest of her life? Why couldn’t she, just, watch Lavender grow up in the halls of this house?
Everything she loves dies.
She was stupid for letting herself believe that, finally, finally, she could…
“Vi!”
Somehow, it silences the mental chaos, because it sounds like Cait’s voice, and somehow,it feels as if she’s been calling for some time, Vi just hadn’t noticed until now.
“Breath Violet! Please!”
It’s definitely Caitlyn’s voice, the exact timbre. She could forget herself, but she would never be able to forget a single part of Cait.
But it’s like being underwater, her vision blurred as she opens her eyes with difficulty and sees the kneeling figure beside her. It could be the damn person with Cait and Lavender, she should…
“It’s me. I’m here, my love.” And God, Vi wants so badly to believe it’s true, but her vision keeps swimming, her chest rising with effort. “I need you here with me too, please, breathe.”
Vi wants to cry, because her voice carries so much tenderness, and, she wants so badly to believe that Caitlyn is right there beside her. She can ignore the way all her muscles are trembling, the way her mind is a battlefield, and the fact that barely any air is entering her lungs, just to force herself to obey what her wife’s voice commands.
Because Vi would always do everything for Caitlyn.
It takes everything she has to pull the maximum air into her lungs. It doesn’t last, she’s already choking again, but even so…
“You’re doing so well, Vi. I’m here with you, I have you. We can try once more, alright?”
The voice grounds her, and without even seeing her or knowing if it’s truly Caitlyn speaking or just a trick of her exhausted mind, Vi tries once more, forcing her lungs to work. Again, before she even reaches three seconds, her chest falters, but once more, Caitlyn’s voice is in her ear.
“You’re here with me, in our daughter’s room, I have you.” Her voice trembles and wavers, yet somehow she continues. “Try to hold your breath for five seconds now, and then let it out for another five, alright?”
And she tries, once more, tries until she becomes aware that she’s lying face down on the cool floor, her right knee throbbing and her pajamas completely soaked with sweat against her skin, tries until Caitlyn’s voice becomes perfectly clear in her ears.
“We’re safe, my love. I have you.” Caitlyn continues repeating it like a mantra, her voice faltering, but her presence is a constant at Vi’s side.
“I’m going to touch you.”
The urgency in her voice makes Vi realize how carefully Caitlyn had been waiting for her to regain a bit more control, afraid that any sudden movement might worsen her panic attack.
And then the touch comes, light and careful, on her omoplata. Caitlyn’s hand grips her pajamas, and Vi’s whole body shivers as if an electric current runs through her veins.
Because it’s her. It’s Caitlyn.
It can’t be anyone else. She would recognize her by touch, by scent; she could recognize her blindfolded by the subtle calluses on her fingertips, the exact firmness of her grip, the warmth that always reminded her of home. Because Caitlyn was that. The anchor that kept her from drowning in her own ruins. The living proof that, even when the whole world fell apart, there was a place to come back to.
And when Cait touches her, Vi feels something tear apart inside her. Because, damn it, she’s sure she’s lost everything all over again.
Her eyes still resist, heavy as lead, stuck shut with the fear that she’s only imagined Caitlyn.
She tries once, twice, but all she can see is blurred, as if she were still underwater. Caitlyn’s touch and her encouragements, however, persist steady and unwavering, pulling her toward the surface.
Gradually, the outline of the figure kneeling beside her becomes clear, a face she would recognize even through a thousand hallucinations. Midnight-blue hair tousled from sleep, cerulean eye brimming with worry. The frown that Vi had always thought ridiculously beautiful.
And in Caitlyn’s arms, nestled against her chest, is Lavender. Her tousled purple hair spills out in every direction, her cerulean eyes half-closed with sleep. The baby stays perfectly still, as if she understands the gravity of the moment, an energy so different from her usual chaotic eight-month-old restlessness. Her little arms curl around her mummy's neck.
The contrast is so stark that Vi feels the air enter her lungs harshly, almost painfully, though more steadily. It’s real. They’re here. Alive. Real.
It’s not the ghosts of Stillwater, nor Silco’s shadow, nor the bitter memory of Powder.
Vi blinks once, just enough to take in the moment. She can feel the floor against her cheek, Caitlyn’s hand still on her omoplata, and she can hear the way her breathing sounds, still loud but steady, and fuck, it still doesn’t feel real.
She wants to laugh at her own weakness, at how ridiculously hard it is to move, her hand trembling as she reaches forward. Every muscle feels bound by terror, heavy and exhausted, yet need speaks louder. She stretches her fingers down toward Lavender’s tiny feet, swinging gently against her mother’s arm.
Vi touches them with the tips of her fingers, hesitant, almost afraid Lavender will vanish the moment she makes contact.
But she doesn’t.
She can feel the warmth, Lavender’s tiny, real foot pressing against her trembling palm as Vi swallows a sob that threatens to tear through her throat.
Lavender sighs softly and nestles closer against Caitlyn, her little head resting on her mother’s chest. She doesn’t seem to grasp the gravity of what’s happening, simply watching, her curious eyes fixed on the figure of her mother sprawled on the bedroom floor.
Vi simply lets herself feel the overwhelming wave of relief at being there, and it’s almost inevitable that a tear slides down the side of her face without her even noticing.
But Cait does.
Her sharp gaze catches every movement, every sigh from Vi, as if she could draw out her anguish through sheer force of will. Then, her eyes soften. The hand that had been resting on her omoplata down to cover Vi’s.
And when Caitlyn’s firm fingers intertwine with hers, warming her cold skin, grounding her gently to the real world, Vi finally believes.
It’s almost too much, feeling Caitlyn and Lavender together against her palm, just there, in silence. Vi feels the chaos inside her settle into a dull, hollow ache, still present, but no longer consuming all her senses.
“Are you alright, darling?” It’s like a whisper, as if Caitlyn is trying not to break the delicate silence that has settled, but the urgency of her concern makes her ask anyway.
Vi swallows hard, not trusting herself enough to speak more than a few words.
“I’ll stay.” Her voice is raw, hoarse, as if she’s holding a thousand things stuck in her throat, yet still there, still honest.
After all this time living with Caitlyn, she had learned better than to lie about being fine when she clearly wasn’t, and that admission makes Caitlyn’s grip on her fingers tighten just a little, just enough to show that she’s there, that she understands.
Vi takes a deep breath, or at least tries to. The air still comes in short, hiccuping gasps, but it’s no longer the suffocating panic from before. It’s enough for her to lean on her trembling arm and lift her torso, every muscle protesting as if she’s just fought a war.
And Caitlyn doesn’t hesitate. With the utmost care, as if every movement were sacred, she cradles Lavender in one arm and guides Vi into a sitting position with the other. Her eyes remain locked on Vi’s, tracing each trembling motion, wary that even the slightest pullback might send her collapsing once more onto the bedroom floor.
Vi is certain she must be a mess, pink hair sticking out in every direction, strands clinging to her face, red-rimmed eyes, and her pajamas soaked with sweat and rumpled against her body, but Caitlyn looks at her with such tenderness it hurts, as if she had hung the damn stars in the sky.
And maybe that’s what makes her lean in, just a little, shoulders brushing lightly as she presses her forehead against Cait’s, just there, feeling her wife’s breath against her lips, just enough contact to ground her, erasing any shadow that still lingered in her weary mind.
And at the same time, Lavender nestled between them, safe and warm.
Damn, she could stay here, simply exist in this moment forever.
Vi had already memorized the exact shade of blue in one of Caitlyn’s eyes and the precise white of the other, every nuance etched into her memory, just like the small grooves of the scar that ran across her skin. So it’s no surprise that it only takes Vi holding Caitlyn’s gaze for a split second to notice it, something like guilt flickering in her eyes, and Vi knows, because this is Caitlyn. It’s as if she can hear her thoughts, too loud to stay confined within her own head, silently consuming her.
“We were outside, watching the stars,” she whispers, almost like a secret, her voice faltering. “Lavender woke up irritable with her teeth coming through, you know. I… I just thought a bit of fresh air would do her good, but I really shouldn’t have gone out without letting you know. I’m sor…”
“Cait. No. Don’t apologize.” Vi interrupts.
She can’t even imagine blaming Caitlyn for something like this, and so she wouldn’t be able to bear hearing her apologise for doing something natural. It had been a long time since Violet had one of her episodes, frankly, since they had discovered Cait was pregnant, and they had grown used to the happy rhythm their life now followed. It wasn’t like the days after the battle, when they had to piece together their traumatized selves. It had been a long time since it had been this bad. There was no way Caitlyn could have known that Vi’s shattered brain would decide to invent a nightmare, making her wake up in the middle of the night precisely when Cait wasn’t there.
Shit like that happens.
She knew better than anyone, a trauma didn’t just heal and vanish like in some damn fairy tale. She would still carry that dull ache for all the people who were no longer here, but she couldn’t simply unload it onto Lavender and Caitlyn. She had to learn to live with it, and she was willing to, as long as Cait and Lavie were by her side.
“It was just a nightmare, and…” Vi swallows hard, her voice still raw, but her gaze never leaves Cait’s, their foreheads still pressed together while her trembling hand steadies itself on the arm where Caitlyn holds Lavender.
“You weren’t there, and fuck… I panicked, and it wasn’t your fault, Cait. It’s been a while since it felt this bad. I should’ve known better, but I just…”
“It wasn’t your fault either, Violet.”
She finally pulls back, just enough to leave a kiss against her temple, and she doesn’t move, her lips lingering, just there, just feeling, and the gesture carries so much tenderness that Vi feels her heart aches.
It’s when Lavender decides to make herself noticed. She wiggles between her mothers, her little arms pressing impatiently against Cait’s chest, her tiny brows furrowed as she lets out a disgruntled mumble, finally showing her irritation at being awake in the middle of the night on the bedroom floor, a small pout forming on her lips.
Caitlyn lets out a gentle sigh and adjusts Lavender in her arms.
Her gaze still holds the faintest trace of guilt.
“I think this young lady is insisting on a bit more comfort,” She murmurs, her eyes never leaving Vi. “All right if we head to our room? Or we can stay here… I could put her in the crib and we just stay, I’ll sort Lavender’s extra pillows on the floor and…”
“Cait,” Vi rasped, a small, broken but real curve of her lips escaping. “All right, we can go to our room. I swear I won’t fall apart before then.”
“You’d better not.”
Getting up is a real challenge for Violet. There’s some kind of bruise in her knee from the way she fell, and she feels utterly drained. She hates feeling so exhausted after her episodes, and she had almost forgotten what this sensation was like, the way it leaves her hollow, numb to the world.
Still, Caitlyn waits. Patient. Her eyes never leave Vi as she rises, cradling Lavender against her chest with one arm, the baby’s little legs curling around her waist. Lavender sighs softly, resting her head against her mother’s shoulder. With her free arm, Caitlyn offers her hand to Vi, and it’s almost ridiculous how such a simple gesture can mean so much. Vi intertwines her fingers with hers.
Her body protests, her knee throbs, but Caitlyn is there, so she drags uncertain steps that echo across the floorboards.
The silence lingers, broken only by Lavender’s soft breathing and her occasional sleepy whimpers. The walk down the hallway to the bedroom feels endless, and Vi can’t help the small sigh of relief that escapes as she finally steps through the doorway.
Cait untwines her fingers only to lean over the mattress, settling Lavender’s small body into the blankets. The girl stirs slowly, as if still trying to fight off sleep, though she’s already losing the battle with graceful ease. Only slivers of blue iris remain visible as Caitlyn tucks her in, leaving only the unruly strands of purple hair spilling out from beneath the blanket.
And Vi stays where Cait left her, standing in the middle of the room, motionless. She just breathes and watches, as if she could imprint every detail of the scene into the back of her mind, capturing it with nothing but her attentive gaze. She can still feel how shaky she is, her pajama clinging to her body. Vi takes a deep breath, pushing down the sting of tears. She should just lie down and stop worrying her wife, but damn it, she can still feel the nightmare crawling against her bones and…
“Vi.” Caitlyn’s voice pulls her back to reality, firm yet gentle. She’s standing by the bed, her blue eye reading Vi with ease.“Would you mind coming over here, please?”
And Violet doesn’t hesitate.
She’s already nodding and trudging across the room with her heavy feet before Cait has even finished the question. She covers the short distance to Caitlyn in a few steps, sinking onto the mattress like a sack of bones.
Caitlyn’s eyes travel over her face, focused, not the kind of focused look she’s used to seeing in her wife when analyzing evidence at disturbing crime scenes.
No.
This is the kind of look given when you know someone very well, the affectionate gaze Caitlyn reserves only for Vi.
Caitlyn shifts just enough to stand in front of Vi, her hands rising instinctively to her head, threading gently through the pink strands damp with sweat. She brushes them away from her face, fingers lingering on her scalp, massaging and teasing apart each tangled lock.
She doesn’t need Vi to say anything. She never has.
After so many broken moments shared, so many nights where one’s breath sustained the other’s, she’s learned to recognize every fracture. It’s almost instinctive now, the way she senses the tension still trembling in Vi’s shoulders, the way her breath is still too short, too caught.
Her fingers don’t stop, moving with steady, patient pressure across Vi’s scalp, as if they could unravel the knots from within, reshaping the chaos Vi’s mind had become that night.
And then, too weary to fight her own need, Vi simply lets the weight of her head surrender, resting against Caitlyn’s stomach.
She closes her eyes, inhaling the clean, familiar scent that has always felt like home. Her heavy arms drift down to curl around Caitlyn’s waist, holding her there with an almost possessive insistence, as if daring to pull away would be a crime. They draw her close, leaving no room for escape.
It’s too much. Feeling her warmth against her palm, even through the layers of pajama, tracing the rise and fall of her breath.
It feels almost unreal, that this is her life.
That she truly has Cait, not for a fleeting moment, not as a fragile illusion, but for the rest of her life. And damn… if she could, Vi would stay like this forever, pressed close, fused with her body, existing only in this touch, where the entire world cannot reach her, not even her own fractured mind.
“For life.”
It’s whispered, the words falling into the air with an almost sacred weight.
Vi lifts her head slowly, still pressed against Caitlyn’s stomach, unable to tolerate even a hint of distance between them. Her eyes open, blurred, straining to make sense of what she’s heard; she doesn’t trust herself to speak, sending only a careful, attentive gaze toward Caitlyn.
“You have us, Lavender and me, for life. Do you remember, darling?”
The words hit Vi like a solid punch to the stomach.
She almost laughs, a humorless sound that dies in her throat, because, damn it, yes, believing in this once felt far too dangerous.
Like playing with fire after years of getting burned.
But if she was honest with herself, she had learned to believe. As terrifying as it sounded deep in the back of her mind, she had truly come to trust that she no longer needed to fear loving people. The battle was over. There was no longer any fear lingering at the door. She wasn’t trapped. She wasn’t alone anymore.
Never again.
And then that damn nightmare came, ripping everything away from her for a moment, making her almost forget it all. But Caitlyn -her Caitlyn- was there. And without Vi uttering a single word about the nightmare, about what was still burning in her mind, Cait had noticed.
And she was reminding her.
Because she was Caitlyn. And of course, she would notice.
“I remember now.” Her voice comes out low, broken, as if it had traveled through glass to reach them. Vi doesn’t try to hold back. She doesn’t mind when the tears burning in her eyes finally fall, heavy down her cheeks. “I just missed you… both of you, for a few moments.” Swallowing hard, she takes a deep, steadying breath.
“Sometimes I feel like I’ve missed you both my entire life.”
And looking back, it was true. Violet couldn’t remember a single moment of her life that hadn’t been marked by loneliness.
She was the child on the bridge, seeing her parents’ dead bodies as her small frame trembled and sobbed; she was the sister, struggling to be Powder’s anchor as they grew; she was nothing but a number, locked away in a stone box for seven long years while everyone she loved drifted away like smoke, leaving her skin cold, her bones heavy with absence; and she was Violet, just Violet, when she watched her sister and Vander fall through the Hexgates.
And now, resting her head against Cait, feeling the steady warmth beneath her and the gentle whisper of Lavender’s breath somewhere in the blankets behind her, Vi feels it: every emptiness, every night of invisibility, every shattered fragment of herself had been nothing but preparation for this. Because only here, with them, her chest finally expands without fear, her heart beats whole, and all the damn absence she’d carried her entire life melts into warmth, into presence, into something she can finally call home.
For a moment, Caitlyn says nothing.
She simply breathes with her, chest rising and falling beneath Vi’s hands still wrapped around her waist. Her blue eye don’t look away, don’t blink, as if she could hold the weight of the entire world just so Vi wouldn’t have to carry it alone.
Then her fingers slide from the damp hair down to her face, gathering the tears with a delicacy that feels almost absurd, rubbing gentle circles against her wet cheeks, cupping her face with such tenderness that Vi feels every touch passing through her skin, spreading warmth to her bones, making her entire body relax, tremble, and lean without resistance against Cait.
“We’re not going anywhere. Not without you.” Her voice is low, but so steady it vibrates in the air between them.
“I promise you, Violet.”
The word hits Vi like a blade. Promise. Caitlyn never used that word again. Not since that day, not since the last time a promise couldn’t be kept.
Vi had always known it wasn’t fear of failing again, but the wound of never having forgiven herself.
And that’s why hearing it now, from her own mouth, hits so hard.
Caitlyn leans in slowly, as if afraid of breaking Vi with any sudden movement, and presses her lips to her temple.
It’s a gentle kiss, her lips almost ghosting over the warm skin, and Violet closes her eyes, unable to hold back a broken sigh.
Until Caitlyn pulls back, but not entirely, her hands still firmly framing Vi’s face as she moves, turning it into another kiss, and then another, a sequence of gentle touches spread across her tear-salted face.
Each kiss is an anchor point, a thread stitching together the cracks, and between one and the next, Caitlyn murmurs against her skin, almost like a prayer.
“I promise”
One on the eyebrow.
“I promise.”
Another near the apple of her cheek.
“I promise, Violet.”
Across the freckles that sprinkle the bridge of her nose.
It’s as if she wants to mark Vi so that these aren’t just words, but a promise etched across her face, scattered across her very soul.
And Vi believes.
The slight curve of Vi’s lips presses against Caitlyn’s, a soft, hesitant touch that lingers for a moment after Caitlyn finishes the sequence of kisses.
Her hands finally leave Cait’s waist, her calloused fingers cupping the taller woman’s face, and damn it, Vi wants to say she believes, that she will always believe in her promise, but something in the look she receives already tells her that Caitlyn knows.
Of course she knows.
Caitlyn stays there, her blue eye softening as she notices the way Vi leans against her, taking in the way her shoulders slump with exhaustion and the slight tremble of her eyelids.
“We should change your pajamas, darling.”
Vi simply nods, aware of her clothes clinging to her body from sweat, too exhausted to respond with words.
Caitlyn rises slowly, walking over to the wardrobe they share. She opens the drawers with practiced familiarity, pulling out a loose t-shirt and soft sweatpants that Vi usually wears to sleep on warmer nights.
Caitlyn returns slowly with the clothes in her hands, her gaze steady on Vi, unhurried, needing no words.
She approaches the bed, and then, with the patience of someone who knows every tiny detail of Vi’s body, Caitlyn begins helping her remove the top of her sleepwear, damp with sweat.
Her fingers grasp the hem gently, lifting it slowly, guiding the garment over Vi’s head with care, without any sudden movement.
The silence is almost reverent, broken only by the sound of fabric sliding and the shared breath between them.
Then, with the same patience and care, Caitlyn takes the loose shirt, sliding it slowly over Vi’s arms before gently pulling it over her head, brushing through her messy pink hair.
Vi tries to help, her fingers clutching the waistband of her pajama pants as she tugs them down, but the moment she moves, Caitlyn is there, bending over to take over, carefully guiding the pants down Vi’s legs. Her fingers brush against bare skin now and then, sparks of electricity flickering across her, leaving Vi shivering at each touch.
And then she pauses, and Vi notices the way her gaze falls to her right knee.
Even in the dim light of the room, a bruise is visible, blooming from the fall in Lavender’s room.
She doesn’t touch, but her fingers hover just above the bruise, ghosting over the skin as it darkens to purple. And Vi can almost hear Cait thinking, her thoughts tangling in her mind as her brow furrows.
Her cerulean eye seems to glimmer in the dark as she lifts her head, looking directly at Vi, studying her.
“I’m pretty sure Father gave us one of those ointments for bruises the last time he came to visit. I just need to find it. It should be somewhere in Lavender’s medicine box.”
Vi wants to laugh, she’s been through far worse, punches that rattled her bones, beatings that made her think she’d never walk normally again.
And here was Caitlyn, mortally concerned over a tiny bruise on her knee. She was learning to let herself be cared for, even in small things like this, but not tonight, not when everything she needed was right there, in that room.
“Cait. It doesn’t hurt. We can deal with this tomorrow. Right now, I just need…” Her voice falters, and Vi looks away. It sounds corny as hell, but fuck it, that’s exactly how she feels, and it’s Caitlyn, after all. “…I need you to be here with me.”
The silence that follows is heavy, but not uncomfortable.
Caitlyn doesn’t try to laugh, nor to soften the moment.
She simply stays there, her blue eye fixed on her with an intensity that seems to pierce right through her.
“All right,” Caitlyn gives in, her voice low, almost a whisper, as she begins pulling up the new sweatpants, covering the bruise with meticulous care. “Tomorrow.”
Vi’s chest warms as she watches Caitlyn’s focus on the smallest details, the way she smooths out the fabric with patience, making sure each fold is perfectly in place before pulling it up over the waist.
Vi rises just enough to help, then sits back down against the sheets.
Maybe it’s the familiarity of Caitlyn’s touch, or the fact that her body is still recovering from the panic attack, but Vi barely notices when Caitlyn stands and, gently, nudges her by the shoulders, guiding her to slide across the bed until she’s settled against the pillows.
Vi feels the weight of her body finally supported, her legs lifting off the floor to settle beside Lavender. Every movement is gentle, and Caitlyn stays close, adjusting the blankets over her body. Violet simply lets herself, her eyes wandering over Cait’s jaw, the tousled midnight-blue hair, and the way the pajamas now cling to her form.
The tiny sigh, muffled by the blankets, makes her turn her head toward the sound.
And there, curled up in the pile of blankets, mouth slightly open, is Lavender.
Strands of purple hair escape in every direction, and her tiny hand rests in a loose fist. Vi can’t look away: the nose so identical to Caitlyn’s, the tiny freckles scattered across her sleeping face.
She turns onto her side, facing the serene little face, even as exhaustion threatens to pull her back under.
Out of the corner of her eye, she notices Caitlyn rounding the edge of the bed to lie down on the other side.
The mattress sinks under the added weight, and the baby stirs, her tiny nose scrunching before her lips purse into a disgruntled little pout.
“Shhhh.” Vi’s voice is low, rough, a whisper that barely vibrates. Her arm instinctively wraps around the small body protectively. “It’s only mummy.”
Lavender lets out a sigh, and as if recognizing the sound, snuggles even closer, her tiny hands gripping the fabric of Vi’s loose t-shirt with surprising strength. And damn it, something inside Vi’s chest loosens for what’s maybe the tenth time that night.
Vi takes a deep breath and brings her face close to Lavender’s, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple, inhaling the warm scent of her daughter.
She just stays there, breathing, until she meets Caitlyn’s gaze, who has settled on the mattress across from them.
The woman’s arm reaches out instinctively, resting atop Vi’s, the same one wrapped around Lavender.
Caitlyn’s fingers trace the lightest caress along her forearm as silence settles around them, familiar and warm, Lavender’s body nestled against them, safe, all of them safe.
This is their little family.
“Thank you.”
The word barely leaves her lips, so low it could be mistaken for her own breath.
But Caitlyn understands. It’s not just for taking care of her tonight.
It’s for existing, for being here, for being the home Vi can always return to. For giving her a family. For being the reason she chose to keep going.
And of course, Caitlyn understands. She understands from the glistening in her eye, the firm squeeze of her arm, the way she draws their bodies even closer on the bed.
“Always, Violet.’”
And Vi finally understands what “always” feels like.