#emma-writes

It hurts less, to think of her as just a girl and not as your sister. On good days, you don’t see her, or she only appears in your peripheral vision.

But it never lasts long.

Your family had been bigger, once, but you don’t like to linger on that either.

Which, if you were honest with yourself, is hard to do. Everywhere you go in Zaun reminds you of them, and what you lost. The Last Drop had been a second home to you. You and your sister used to spend all of your time with Vi and Powder. You were a year older than Powder, and both of you being little sisters, had quickly bonded over that. You even confided in her about your crush on Vi. Unlike Powder’s, however, your big sister never let you come on any of their heists.

And then, the same night you’d lost everyone, you’d gotten your sister killed.

This evening, however, is different. You’re completing your last run through a back alley—

Pain tears through your left shoulder. Before you can react, you fall hard against the opposite wall. Your vision swims, the pain all consuming. You might have passed out, but the pain never fades.

After what feels like ages later, a blur—a person? Crouches over you. Familiar pink hair, blue eyes, freckles.

Of course. Of course you’d see her as you were dying. “Vi,” you try to say, or maybe you really do. You’re not sure as unconsciousness drags you under.

—

When you next wake, it is in an unfamiliar room, in an unfamiliar bed. Fresh air flows through the open window. Gingerly, you sit up and feel your head, which still aches. Someone has changed you into your underclothes, but they’d obviously been washed. The room you’re in is cozy, round, with rough wooden floors and walls. There are trees outside.

But where are you? And—your mother. You were late—

The room blurs as your eyes fill with tears. Before you had passed out, you were supposed to deliver it within the hour. Your mother—what if she—

The dead girl, your dead sister, floats closer to your bed. She smiles and rests her hand on your cheek. You can almost feel it, her thumb stroking your cheek, just like she did when you were little. She speaks: “Mama is just like me, now.”

Between one blink and the next, your sister’s face disappears, replaced by—

Vi cradles your face in her hands. She’s saying something, and it takes a moment for the ringing in your ears to fade and for you to take in what she says. She’s repeating your name.

“Vi?” You ask, voice hoarse.

She smiles, leaning closer to press a kiss to the top of your head. “Yeah, it’s me, sweetheart. You’re alright. Breathe with me.”

You tremble and cold sweat prickles down the back of your neck. You listen to the rise and fall of her breath, trying to match her rhythm. Dimly, you’re aware of other people leaving the room, leaving you and Vi alone. Vi hands you a glass of water from the bedside table. You gulp it down, wiping your face. She certainly looks different, and hasn’t given up fighting judging by her muscular arms.

Your throat tightens with tears. You grip the bedsheets to hide your shaking hands. What do you ask first? What do you say? All you can blurt is, “I don’t understand. You’re not dead?”

“I’m not. There’s a lot to explain.”

Numbly, you listen as Vi explains how that fateful night really went down, and why she couldn’t be here until now. She also explains how you’d ended up here—she’d fought with Sevika, who had crashed into you, causing you to fall against the opposite wall and hit your head. Vi and a new friend (she wasn’t specific on the details) carried your unconscious body and encountered Jinx before being taken by the Firelights. Your skin prickles at the mention of Jinx—you’ve never seen her, but she has a fearsome reputation.

You resist the urge to reach for Vi again, feeling like she’ll disappear. Get a grip, you think, it’s been years. She never liked you back, anyway.

“How long was I out?” You ask instead, dreading the answer.

“Just for the night,” Vi says. To your surprise, she reaches out and takes your hands, squeezing them tight. Her familiar rough hand wraps almost make you tear up again. She did the same when you were both younger, whenever you got scared. Her hands are just as steady now. “Ekko wants me to tell you that your mother is okay.”

The tightness in your chest eases. “Wait—I don’t understand, how does he know—”

“Ah, well, apparently he’s formed this group—the Firelights. They’ve been keeping tabs on you.”

Part of you is a little hurt that he never reached out, but another part understands perfectly why he didn’t, considering the line of work you do. Reluctantly, you release her hands, running your own through your sweaty hair and flopping back on the pillows, exhausted all of a sudden. You peek one eye open to see Vi gazing at you. Quickly, you close your eyes again, before you can linger at the bow of her lips or the warmth in her eyes.

“What?” You ask.

“You just look different. All grown up,” she says.

“I bet I look like shit.”

“You look tired.” Vi squeezes your knee briefly, then stands. “Rest a while longer—”

“Don’t go!” The words are out before you can feel embarrassed.

She brushes two fingers lightly along your cheek. “I’ll be right outside, I promise.”

You watch her leave, shame heating your face. Ridiculous. Seeing her once, and now you are just as flustered as you’d been when you were younger.

Vi is, indeed outside the door once you finish washing up. Your head still hurts, but your vision is steady, and you feel like a new person freshly scrubbed and in clean clothes.

Her face lights up when she sees you, but before she can say anything, the dark-haired woman beside her speaks, “You’re awake, then?”

“Yes,” you say. She introduces herself as Caitlyn, and you introduce yourself as well. “Thank you. For not leaving me.”

“Vi insisted. It was tricky carrying you, I’m surprised you’re not more bruised.”

“Oh,” you reply. It seems moronic to say “thank you” again. Her probing stare makes you uncomfortable. It doesn’t feel like she’s being outright hostile—maybe lugging around your unconscious body annoyed her? The small hallway steeps in awkward silence.

You’re spared another grueling conversation when three cloaked figures round the corner. Still feeling vulnerable, you step closer to Vi. Her hand, familiar and calloused, finds yours and squeezes. Blushing, you start to turn to her when one of the figures flips his hood back.

Deep brown eyes meet yours. You both pause to take in each other’s features—he looks so grown up. You run into his arms. Ekko laughs and squeezes you tight. “Hey, you.”

You pull back and hit his shoulder lightly. “I can’t believe you didn’t come find me!”

Some of his brightness dims a little in sadness. “I didn’t—I didn’t know if I’d be welcome. After what happened with your sister.”

You feel Vi’s stare boring into the side of your face, and hot shame tightens your throat again. You close your eyes so you don’t see your sister’s ghost. Ekko pulls you into another hug, and says so only you can hear, “I’m sorry.”

You squeeze him back and reluctantly let go. It’s so nice to see him again. “Thank you. For looking after my mother.”

“It’s no trouble. We’ll continue to, until you’re recovered. I’d like to bring her here but…”

You shake your head. “No. This is more than enough.”

You’re happy to avoid Vi and Caitlyn as Ekko shows you around, (though you can tell they’re both whispering to each other) explains how he founded the Firelights. Your aching heart is soothed a bit by the leaves and trees and more fresh air than you’ve ever imagined. You can scarcely believe that it’s real. Ekko finishes showing you around, and you make a beeline to your room to rest, to process.

It doesn’t take long for Vi to come in (though, hadn’t you locked the door?) you don’t look at her as you tug on a sweatshirt Ekko left for you. You’ve always run cold.

Vi sighs and runs a hand back through her hair, sitting next to you on the bed. You used to do this, when you were younger. You would mess up, and afraid of telling your sister, you’d go to Vi instead. And she’d either assure you it would be okay, that your sister wouldn’t be disappointed in you, or help you talk to her herself. You wished she could do that now, but having her here is enough. And you’d both sit, just like this.  

Your hands are close enough that her pinky rests against yours, and it somehow feels scalding. There’s a loose thread on the black sweatshirt Ekko gave you, three of them actually— “You won’t look at me?” Vi’s voice breaks the silence.

Steeling yourself, you turn and look, and your pulse pounds in your ears anyway. She looks so achingly familiar and new all at once. You don’t want to talk about it, and you scramble for anything else to say, so you blurt out what comes to mind: “Do you trust Caitlyn?”

“She saved my life.”

That isn’t an answer, you think, but don’t say. “Are you okay? I mean, really okay, after Stillwater, after everything?”

Vi’s breath catches for a moment, and then she laughs wryly. “I have to be, don’t I?”

“You don’t,” you say. You want to follow it up with “because I’ll help you.” But what use would you be, really? When you were younger, any time you tried to help, fix something, you’d break it. And now, your best skill is running. Running away. You can’t even fight. Instead, what comes out is, “You can talk to me.” It  feels like an empty offering.

Vi takes your hand and squeezes. “You can talk to me too.”

Your breath shudders, because you want to, all of a sudden everything feels like too much, like your chest is a floodgate. But you can’t because what would you say? My sister is dead because of me. There’s not much else to explain.

You’re not sure why it’s all coming to the surface now. Maybe because, Vi has always meant safety, has always meant home.

Keeping hold of your hand, she slips off the bed to kneel in front of you. You squeeze your eyes shut until her other hand cups your cheek. “Hey.” You open your eyes, blinking away tears. “It’s okay. It wasn’t your fault.”

You laugh and wipe at your eyes. “You don’t know that.”

“I know you.”

Shaking your head, you lean back from her touch. As much as you missed her kindness, it hurts too much. “I’m fine. It was years ago.”

Vi doesn’t move. Her gaze pins you and you’re helpless but to look at her. When she speaks again, her voice is soft, “Ekko filled me in. Just his side but it was enough for me to know—it wasn’t your fault. Shit, sweetheart, you were just a kid.”

Biting your lip against the tears, you shake your head again. This is too much. This isn’t even what’s important right now. Vi reaches up, thumb brushing the tears away from your cheek. Your breath catches in your throat as her thumb grazes your lower lip. She pulls away before you can do something stupid, and stands, collapsing on the bed beside you.

“Mind if I stay?”

You flop down next to her, both on your sides facing each other. You ache to move closer to her, to bask in her reassurance like you used to. It suddenly feels like every night of missing her comes back full force. But your eyes sting, and you’re so tired, you don’t want to cry anymore. She sees the sorrow in your face anyway and presses her thumb against the divot between your brows.

“I missed you,” she says, and, “you saved me. In there.”

You snort. “How so? I didn’t even try and find you.”

“With Powder, I knew I had to get back to her. You, I didn’t—” she pauses, swallowing hard. “I didn’t know what happened to you. I knew I had to find you, or if you were gone—find whoever was responsible. It kept me going.”

You don’t know what to say to that, without spilling your heart out to her. Your hand twitches towards hers, and before you can take it, she grabs your hand, lacing your fingers together. Heat rushes up your face and you try to ignore it, squeezing her hand. “I missed you too.” You swallow, trying to find the words, wondering if there’s too much longing in your voice, if you’ve already given too much away. “I’m sorry you were stuck in there.”

She brings your hands a little closer, thumb tracing patterns on your skin. “I’m just glad you’re safe.”

You watch her eyes, and when that becomes overwhelming, drink in the other features of her face—the new eyebrow scar, how her face has sharpened. You trace the line of her throat, the gear tattoo peeking out from her jacket collar. You wonder what you must look like to her, if her heartbeat quickens like yours if you stare too long. Your eyelids start to droop and you blink awake in time to catch Vi gazing at you, face soft.

Your gaze snags on her lips. I could kiss her.

“You can sleep,” she whispers.

You scoot away and sit up, trying to calm your racing heart. Heat flares through you, electric like always when you’re near her. “I slept too much already.” You pause, unsure what to say. You don’t know what the next step for her is. “You have to go, right?”

“I do.”

“Can I…” you’re scared. What if she says no? “Can I come?”

To your surprise, Vi’s lips almost quirk into a smile. “Of course. Let’s go.”

***

You feel like an amateur compared to everyone else as you follow them through Zaun, and even though it isn’t hard to navigate, the difference between you and them is painfully obvious. You’re jumpy, graceless, still looking over your shoulder too much. Which, really, is how you’ve survived so long, by being on high alert. 

About halfway on the bridge, Caitlyn and Vi fall a little ways behind, having a heated conversation, which you only catch snippets of. You hear your name a few times. They suit each other, you think, blinking back the sting of tears. How can your feelings for Vi be just as strong? 

You drift next to Ekko, whose frown melts away when he looks at you. He says, “I’m glad you’re coming.” 

“Really?” 

“I know you’ll have my back. And,” he pauses, grimacing at what awaits all of you, before smiling faintly. “You can talk anyone into anything.” 

You hadn’t thought so. “I can?” 

“Of course.” He smiles and taps your nose. “You have a very likable face.” 

“Thanks. How useful.”

You both laugh a little, and he glances over his shoulder before looking forward again. “Vi thinks so, too.” 

“Vi thinks I ‘have a very likable face?’ She told you that?” 

Rolling his eyes, he bumps his shoulder against yours. “Not in so many words. But she likes you.” 

You almost trip. Taking a deep breath, you try to keep your voice very neutral, “What makes you say that?” 

“Everything she does, duh. How she looks at you. She liked you back then, too. I probably still have the bruises from her to prove it.”

“Bruises?”

“She’d try to get me to shut up about her crushing on you before you could overhear.”

You peek back over your shoulder at Caitlyn and Vi, walking so close their sides brush, heads bent close. You look away. “She was just embarrassed you were teasing her. And even if you were right, look at them now.” 

Ekko blows out a huge sigh. “Alright, guess I have to bring out the big guns.” 

“Huh?” 

“Wanna bet on it? Like old times?” He smirks and tilts his head to the side. “You still like those sweetbuns, right? Loser has to buy some for the winner.”

“You’re on,” you say, whole body buzzing and feeling light, more happy than you have in years. 

You slow to a stop as you realize you can’t hear a familiar pair of footsteps. You turn to find Vi hesitating. 

“Vi?” Ekko asks. 

“I can’t leave her again,” says Vi. 

“You can’t change her.”

“I have to try.”

You want to stay with Vi, to help—but the idea of leaving Ekko to topsiders, no matter how capable he is, fills you with dread. You’re not sure what she’s talking about, but it’s obviously important to her. Ekko looks at you, tilting his head towards Vi. You shake yours “no” in response. 

Ekko steps forward and hugs her. “Don’t get yourself killed.”

“No promises.”

You fly into Vi’s arms before you can help it. She holds you tight. She always gave the best hugs, and they feel even better now. Like her holding you is the only thing keeping you together. She cradles the back of your head, breath stuttering. Your stomach flips at the feeling of her thumb stroking the nape of your neck, you feel it all the way down your body. “Stay alive for me, won’t you, sweetheart?” 

“You too,” you reply, voice choked with tears. You don’t specifically ask her to promise, but you wonder if she would, just for you. 

You try to not stare as Vi gives Caitlyn the same hug. Vi says, “It’s been real, cupcake. Thanks for everything.”

You look at Ekko with raised eyebrows, and he rolls his eyes in response.

Vi pulls back, trails her fingers along Caitlyn’s cheek, and turns away. You feel like half your heart follows her. Ekko takes your hand, squeezes tight, says “I’ll get you back to her.” 

You wonder if there will be a Vi to come back to. You trail after them in silence, trying to get the image of Vi stroking Caitlyn’s cheek out of your mind. 

When you’re almost across, bright light cuts through your vision. You wince. Ekko steps in front of you.

“Halt!” shouts an Enforcer. 

Immediately, your ears fill with white noise. Your sister’s ghost bobs in the corner of your vision. And you’re just a little kid, petrified and unmoving, ruining everything. Just like you did that night. 

“What the hell is this?” Ekko asks. His voice helps—you’re here, you think, taking a deep breath in, picturing Vi breathing with you. 

Caitlyn says, “Sir, I have proof. Silco is behind everything.” She steps forward, holding out her badge.

“Show me,” a man says, meeting her in the middle. 

You hear Ekko say something, then taking a few steps forward too. Your sister’s ghost crowds closer. Clammy sweat breaks out along your forehead. Everything sways. Biting your lip, you try and breathe again—now would be the worst time to faint. 

Then, a gunshot, and Ekko is on the ground. You scream and lunge towards him, but an Enforcer—when did they surround you?—grabs you from behind. You struggle, practically dislocating your shoulders, fighting as hard as you can, but it’s no use. The Enforcer shakes you a bit, and you still. He drags you backward, towards the edge of the bridge. 

The man keeps his gun aimed at Caitlyn. She walks to the side, hands up, and he retrieves the case from Ekko’s body.

“Don’t touch him!” You snap, trying to sound intimidating, but it comes out weak. 

Then, you hear it, Vi’s voice, “Caitlyn!”

Your relief is short-lived. There are too many of them. What if the man shoots her too?

The man addresses Caitlyn again, “I told you to leave this alone.” 

A wave of tiny green lights descend. You keep your eyes on the man and Caitlyn, mind scrambling to come up with a plan. But you can’t do anything. 

One light lands on the man’s gun. And for the second (third?) time, your world shatters. 

You wake, face down with an Enforcer on top of you. The bright white lights from before flicker. Pure panic gives you the strength to kick the Enforcer away.

Ahead, you see—Ekko!—standing and facing someone. Your heart splinters as you spy Vi limping away with Caitlyn, her arm slung over her shoulders. “Vi!” You yell. Why was she leaving without you?

Vi pauses and turns, eyes wide. Immediately, she releases Caitlyn and sprints to you, kneeling and cupping your face. “Sweetheart, there you are. I thought—are you hurt?” 

“I’m okay.” Your wrist hurts—you must have fallen on it—and your head aches, but you can walk. 

“Let’s go,” she says. 

“But Ekko—”

“I’ll be fine!” Ekko yells over his shoulder. “Just go!” 

You fall into her arms, trembling, and she guides you back to Caitlyn. You sling Caitlyn’s arm over your shoulders, both of you supporting her. You look back one last time, to see who Ekko is facing off with.

A woman with long, blue braids. A familiar woman. Powder? You stumble a bit. You thought she was dead, but—her eyes light up with recognition, and she gives you a cheeky salute. You can’t help the faint, answering smile, because as much as she’s changed, you’re glad she’s alive.

You don’t speak much as you follow Caitlyn and Vi across. Vi leads you both to a small alcove, and you take the chance to sit with your head in your hands. Slowly, the world stops spinning. You don’t have to the energy to listen to whatever Vi and Caitlyn are saying, but the sound of voices is comforting, a reminder of the present. 

Then you continue through the dark streets of Piltover, and to a huge mansion. You’re glad Caitlyn isn’t too heavy, because you feel weak and shaky—shock, you realize, hating it. Caitlyn and Vi are fine, and here you are, barely injured and about to break down. 

Vi helps you both through a window, into a room which feels equally strange and overwhelming as Piltover’s streets. 

“Who lives here?” Vi asks Caitlyn. “Another counselor friend of yours?” 

The door bangs open.

You drop Caitlyn’s arm, falling back on your ass, staring in horror down the barrel of a gun. 

The woman holding it gasps, “Caitlyn!” And to your relief, she lowers the gun. 

“We were so worried, thank goodness you’re safe,” says a man, running by her. He hugs Caitlyn tightly.

The woman’s gaze land on Vi. “And you found a stray.” She looks to you, and doesn’t comment. You’re sure that you look way worse.

“This is Vi,” Caitlyn says, and introduces you too. “They’re from the undercity.” 

“So I see. Could we have a word, Caitlyn? In private.”  

They leave, and Vi steps over to you. “Up you get,” she says, hooking her arms under yours and lifting. She sits you on the edge of the bed, urges you to take your sweater off. Then she retrieves a damp washcloth from the bathroom, and starts wiping the sweat from your face. Slowly, you feel better looking at her, like everything will be okay.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“What for?” 

“I’m not strong.” You lift up your still trembling hands, choking back the taste of gunpowder and smoke. “Look, you’re fine. I barely got hurt, and I can’t even stop shaking. And Caitlyn—I couldn’t help her at all.”

Vi puts the cloth aside. Familiar fingers prod your throbbing wrist. “You are strong. It’s good that you’re not used to all this shit. I don’t want that for you.” 

You’re close enough that you could count her freckles. She looks up at you and continues, “I’m glad you’re alright. On the bridge, I’m sorry—I couldn’t find you. I thought you were gone.” 

“I’m glad you’re alright,” you say, smiling a little. 

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” 

“Just my second concussion in what, two days? I’m fine.” 

Vi laughs and lifts your wrist, brushing her lips over it gently. It zings through your arm, straight to your heart. 

“Vi,” you whisper, not sure what you’re going to confess, only that you won’t be able to take it back—

The door creaks. You lean back, yank your hands away, and scoot awkwardly off the bed. Caitlyn enters, looking surprised but much happier than before. 

“We’ll present our case to the council. Tonight,” she says. 

You step away, not looking at Vi. Vi scoots back on the bed, lying on her stomach and studying the map spread out on the floor. She asks Caitlyn, “You did all this yourself?” 

You step towards the bathroom. “Mind if I shower?” 

“Go ahead,” Caitlyn says, not taking her eyes from Vi.  

You disappear inside, strip down and set the water as hot at it will go. It feels good, something to focus on, so you can stuff your heart back down. You don’t cry, because really, you can’t lose something you never had.

When you emerge (making sure to make a lot of noise beforehand), Vi stands at the window, and Caitlyn slips by you into the bathroom. 

You try and keep quiet, so Vi won’t notice you staring—you try and memorize her: her red jacket, the tattoos trailing down her arms, what little you can see of the nape of her neck. 

It doesn’t last long, as Vi turns to you with a sad smile. “How’re you holding up, sweetheart?” 

“Fine,” you say. Instead of staring, you look around the bedroom, find the sweater from Ekko on the bed. Tug it on.

“Going somewhere?” 

“I’m going home.” 

For the first time, she sounds unsure, “Wh-what?” 

“You don’t need me.” You adjust the sweater, just for something to do with your hands. “Tell Caitlyn thanks for me.” 

“We do need you.” 

“For what?” You force yourself to look at her, trying again to memorize her face. She looks younger, her eyes big and watery. “To be a coward?” 

“You’re not a coward.” 

“Vi, you can’t even tell me why I should stay.” You tug your boots on, concentrating on lacing them up. “I could get you and Caitlyn killed trying to protect me. And you don’t need me to talk to the Council.” You finish the last knot. I can do this. Just don’t look at her. “I can find my own way back. Good luck.”

Vi is silent as you make your way to her side, and open the window. You try to ignore the same electric feeling you get every time you’re near her. She grabs your uninjured wrist, not squeezing enough to hurt you, but you know you can’t break out of her hold. “Don’t,” she says. 

You look into her eyes, your stupid heartbeat ticks up again, like a bomb. So you drop one. “I work for Silco.” Her eyes widen. “I’m a drug runner. I’m everything you hate.” She still doesn’t let go, but her grip loosens. You don’t look at her again, and you don’t look back, as you climb out the window.

Zaun’s darkness is a welcome change, and you find your familiar route back home. You almost make it, can see your street, when something—again, really?—hits the back of your head. 

You wake in complete darkness, tied to a wooden chair. Footsteps sound from behind you, and before you can full-on panic, Powder, holding a lighter appears. A tiny spot in your neck stings. 

She smiles, too wide. “Hello, friend.” 

You swallow hard, nausea curling through your gut. Great. Now you’ve had three concussions. But strangely enough, your head doesn’t hurt, nor does your wrist from earlier. You’re not even dizzy. The pain in your neck is already fading. Why would Powder want you? “What’s going on?” 

Powder sighs, steps closer and flicks some hair back from your face. “I need your help.” She starts to wheel you froward. Your stomach lurches, imagining a huge drop. It’s so dark. 

“I thought—“ you try and think of a plan. But you can’t, you can’t think of anything beyond Vi, help, scared. “I thought you died.” 

Powder giggles. “Fooled ya.” 

She continues to wheel you forward into darkness, and then—finally—you see light. There are two chairs at either end of a long table. You can make out people tied to them, but they face away from you. The table is set up like a—a tea party? 

“Now,” Powder says, settling your chair next to one that says “Powder.” “I need you to help me get Vi back.”

“What are you talking about?” You try to think through the buzz of panic, but it feels as futile as trying to catch birds with your bare hands. Maybe, if I keep her talking, I can find a way to escape. You shift in your chair—your tied wrists are already numb. Even your feet are tied to the chair. 

Powder suddenly leaps onto the table directly in front of you. Before you can startle, she grips your jaw, turning your face towards her. “Good! You took that last dose well.” 

Powder leaps off again, walks to your right, turns the chair around at the head of the table, revealing a tied up Silco. “Surprise!” 

You flinch—you only met Silco briefly, once before, which was more than enough. You say, “Pow—Jinx, I still don’t understand. I can’t do anything.”

Silco asks, “Is this your friend, Jinx?” 

“Yes!” Jinx says, delighted. “Isn’t she beautiful? I told you it would work.” 

She strokes your cheek, and it feels sweet. Like you’ve never been touched before. You nuzzle her palm without thinking. 

You dread whatever she saw in your eyes. And then you realize, your mouth tastes like sugar. “I don’t—” it’s suddenly very hard to speak.  

“I think you’ll be happy,” she says, circling the table again. “Now you can be stronger, faster. It’s not perfect, of course. But you shouldn’t lose control like all the others. You’ve inhaled some every time you gave it to your mother. Isn’t that great?” She walks to the other end of the table, where there’s another chair. “Especially since I’m giving you this wonderful opportunity to make Vi yours. And we can be best friends again.” She turns the other chair around, revealing a terrified, tied up Vi. “You still love her, don’t you? You weren’t lying to me, back then?” 

Your heart lurches. The worst way for Vi to find out. And you can’t even do anything to save her. You don’t look at Vi, you struggle to keep your gaze trained on Powder, and her gun. But it’s hard to focus, every time you blink, you just want to keep your eyes shut.

Vi says, “Powder, leave her out of this.”

Powder laughs, but it sounds wrong—laughter shouldn’t sound like that. “If you don’t want her to do it, then you do it.” 

You struggle against the ropes—and it is strangely easier to move. The ropes snap. You kick the ones off your feet. Powder makes direct eye contact with you, and grins.

Everything still feels heavenly, like slipping into a hot bath. Like how you feel alive when you’re with…someone. Who again? You shift one last time, and the rest of the ropes fall away, as easy as shrugging off a jacket. Powder laughs like it’s the funniest thing she’s ever seen. “Wow! I didn’t expect this to work!” 

You look down at your hands. They look the same, no noticeable change, but very faintly, your skin has a purple glow. Not bright enough that you can see your veins, but enough. It reminds you of green light, and for some reason, tears gather thickly in your throat. 

Powder points her gun at something at the other side of the table. “Make her go away.”

You stand, step forward without meaning to. A dark-haired woman is on the ground, unconscious. Everything Powder says feels like a great idea, and—you hear a choked gasp from… someone. For some reason, it makes you stop. You shut your eyes. You don’t feel angry, exactly, but you want to touch, to tear into something. But something inside you begs you not to listen, why shouldn’t you listen? It feels so much easier to just do whatever she says, then you don’t have to think—

Think. The more you think, the more that wonderful feeling goes away. Cool metal presses against your temple. Powder says, “Don’t make me do this.”

“Don’t!” Vi screams, voice hoarse. “Powder, please, I kept quiet—you promised me you wouldn’t hurt her. Please. We’ll—we’ll go away. Just the two of us.” 

Your gaze finds Vi’s terrified, pleading face. Vi. You jerk your head away. “I’m not killing anyone.” Powder’s palm cracks against your cheek. Blood fills your mouth, tasting like honey. But the pain is grounding.

Silco looks too delighted at what you said. “Don’t you want to, though?” 

That makes no sense. “What?” You ask.

Powder giggles. “I told him your secret.” 

You can’t think of any other secret, besides the one that was already revealed. Strangely, Vi snaps, “Powder, don’t.”

Powder ignores her sister, even taking a few steps until she’s in front of Vi, blocking your view of her. “We all knew. About where you came from. Your real mother didn’t want you. She sold you. I always wanted to tell you,” Powder says. “You owe me.” 

It’s too much to process, and doesn’t ignite the bloodlust they so clearly want. Your expression doesn’t change. Powder jabs her gun at Caitlyn again, eyes brimming with purple tears. “Now. Get. Rid. Of. Her.” You don’t move. Why would you? “No?” Powder sighs, lifting the gun towards you. “Now I’ll have to start all over.”

Before you know what you’re doing, you lunge at her. But Powder is faster. She blocks your clumsy punch easily. Your other hand fumbles for her gun, finds it. She has a stronger grip. She twists, digs the barrel into your stomach. You could force her hand, so the gun is pointed at her instead. If you’re quick enough. 

You look into the face of your friend. The girl you finger-painted with, shared secrets with. Your big sister, what would she do? What would it do to Vi, to lose Powder? 

You release the gun.

Powder fires. Vi screams your name. 

Pain seeps into your stomach. Your knees slam into the ground. Your eyes droop, and dimly, you’re aware of Vi sobbing, which hurts most of all, but it’s already fading. 

***

When you wake again, it’s in a vaguely familiar bed. Fresh air, trees. You’re back with the Firelights again. Everything aches. Bone deep. You panic and sit up, looking around for Powder, for Vi—is someone dead? What’s—

And, strangely enough, you hear familiar voices. It sounds like… your mother, and Vi? You scrub at your eyes. Surely you must be dreaming. What’s happening? 

The door opens. Your breath catches as Vi walks in, her face drawn, but she gasps when her eyes meet yours. Rushing over, she grips your shoulders, gaze darting all over your face. “You’re awake.” 

You clear your throat. It’s still too gummed up to speak. She hands you a glass of water, so you can ask, “What’s going on?” 

“I thought—” Vi sits next to you, gripping your hand. Her other hand comes up to cradle your face, thumb gently pulling the skin below your eyes. She sighs in relief, lip trembling. She bites it. “We didn’t know if you’d wake up.” 

“I—” you remember gunfire, pain, didn’t you get shot? “Am I dead?” 

Vi laughs a little, and to your complete and utter shock, darts forward and presses a kiss to your cheek. As tired as you are, heat rushes to your face. “No. You actually healed quickly.” She rests her hand on your stomach, where you remember the bullet tearing into you. “Thanks to the shimmer.”

You wince, wait for the same cravings that your mother would describe to you, the delirium, but you don’t feel anything. You’re just tired, as if you’ve been awake for days, instead of asleep. 

“Your mother is alright,” Vi says. “The Firelights took her in.” 

You wonder what that entails, how long she’s been without shimmer. You look down at your lap, scrub your eyes again, then you realize there’s an IV needle in your hand. “I guess I really was out.” 

Vi pats your knee and gets up. “I’ll get a medic to look you over.” 

The medic does, and deems you fine, free of shimmer. You shower and after, force down some soup, while Vi fills you in on how Powder killed Silco. To your relief, she says Ekko sent word that he’s alright—he’s out on business. She seems to be leaving something else out, something big and painful, but you don’t ask. In clean clothes, feeling weirdly reminiscent of before, you sit on the bed, leaning back against the pillows. Vi is in a chair next to you, her hand resting on your knee. She’s been strangely quiet the entire time. Except for showering and fetching a medic, she’s refused to stop touching you—her hand on your knee, shoulder, lacing your fingers together whenever possible. It’s torture. 

Everything feels like when you were younger. Vi would curl her hand over yours, teaching you how to make a fist, but you’d be so distracted that she’d have to teach you again. You feel that same nervousness creep up. Powder’s voice echoes in your mind, “You still love her, don’t you?” 

You do, you know, still love her—because she fights for everyone she cares for, has the most beautiful laugh, and you can’t imagine going back to life without her. But Vi clearly does not return your feelings. And never will. 

Staring down at your lap, you shift away from Vi’s touch. Her hand slides off your knee and onto the sheets. “I’m okay. You can go to Caitlyn.” 

Vi reaches out again, snatching your hand this time. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

“Vi, I’m really fine.” You try to pull away, but she doesn’t release you. 

“I know you are. Move over.” 

Bewildered, you do so, your whole body tingling as she slips onto the bed beside you, slings an arm over your shoulder, holding you tight against her side. Electric heat floods your body. Face burning, you stare down at your lap, and try to calm down. Which is impossible, of course. You breathe very, very slowly. 

“Hey.” Rough fingers trail along your chin, tilt your face up. Even across Vi’s eyelids, she has faint freckles. “What are you thinking about?” 

“That I don’t understand.” You pull your head back, and Vi lets you go, but doesn’t break eye contact. “I almost killed your girlfriend.” 

Vi clears her throat. “Caitlyn isn’t my girlfriend.” At your snort of disbelief, she continues, “We had a—” she sighs, rubbing the back of her neck. “We had a thing, but—”

“We can forget about it,” you blurt. 

“Forget?” 

“What Powder said.” You can’t bear to say it. You slide down on the bed, turn your back on her and curl up. Tears stream down your cheeks and you wipe them away. “It was nothing. She was just messing with you.” 

Vi says your name tenderly, squeezing your shoulder. You don’t budge. “Sweetheart, why exactly do you think I’m here?” 

“I don’t know.” Despite yourself, you take a gross, sniffling breath in, your voice wobbly, “Just making sure your kid sister is okay. Like always.” 

“Do you really think I ever thought of you as a kid sister?” 

“Didn’t you?” 

“No.” Vi tugs at your shoulder again, and you turn this time, immediately wishing you hadn’t. She’s looking at you like—like how you look at her. Your heart is in your throat. Her lips quirk. “Aren’t you going to ask me what I think of you?”

“No,” you breathe. You start to turn away from her, but her other arm comes down on your other side. If she was on top of you, she’d be caging you in. You sigh in defeat, your gaze flicking back up at her. 

“Fine,” she says, “I’ll show you.”

Before you can protest, do anything, even fully turn to face her, her hand cups your cheek, and she leans over your shoulder and kisses you, firm and warm. You gasp against her lips, make an embarrassing squeak as you jerk away. 

Vi, to your relief, sits back on her heels and smirks. Very carefully, you do not look at her mouth and sit up, biting your lip. You can still taste her. Vi asks, “Understand, now?” 

“What is there to understand?” You ask, your voice very nearly a shriek. 

Eternity ticks by as Vi watches you. “You’re making this really difficult. I—” She pauses, swallows twice, then drags you into the circle of her arms. It feels like on the bridge, like a goodbye, so you hug her back. And you do what you’ve always wanted to do, but never did: you clutch the back of her jacket. She buries her face against your neck. The tip of her nose is cold. “I’ve survived losing my parents. Vander, and Mylo, and Claggor. Your sister. I thought I’d lost Ekko and Powder. But, if I truly lost you, I couldn’t—” her voice breaks on the last word.

You can barely hear her over the blood rushing in your ears. This has to be a dream, right? Vi tightens her arms around you, almost crushing your ribs it’s so painful, but you don’t let go. She whispers, her lips brushing your neck, “I’ve loved you for so long. I don’t know how to do anything else.” 

There are no words. Does she really mean it? You just keep holding her, like you’ve always wanted. But then, you think of your sister’s ghost. “Are you sure I’m not dead?” 

“Do I have to convince you?”

You’re confused by her suddenly playful tone. “Yes?” 

Vi huffs out a laugh and unwinds her arms, leaning back to look at you. Her face drops when she sees your expression. She cradles your cheek with one hand, thumb wiping away the tears there. “Oh, sweetheart.”

“Vi, I don’t—” You sniffle and hiccup. She’s such a crybaby, Mylo’s voice echoes in your mind. “I see her, all the time. I don’t know if this, if you’re—”

You stop as Vi grabs your other hand, intertwining your fingers. “I’ve always liked you. You’re cute. You were always, always there for me. My home is wherever you are.” She kisses the back of your hand and smiles. “It’s real, this is real, I promise. Actually,” she laughs, “ask Ekko if you don’t believe me. He wouldn’t shut up about it.” 

Your chest unclenches, and you find yourself laughing too, really laughing. Not forced, or scared, but happy. “He told me that.”

Vi urges you to lie down. You curl into the curve of her body, and she wraps her arms tightly around your waist. You feel her smile against your hair. You spend a few minutes tracing patterns on her back, face pressed against the warm skin of her throat. You draw back, looking into her eyes, and ask, “Vi? Can I kiss you ag—” You don’t get to finish, because she’s leaned forward and kissed you.

You want to, you really do, but you’re not sure what to do. You freeze. Vi’s thumb strokes over the side of your throat, your jaw, your cheek, and the comfort helps. You relax, your lips parting. She makes a tiny, desperate noise that flares through you, and kisses you deeper. 

You pull back, gasping, and Vi laughs at your stunned face. She kisses your forehead, then your closed eyelids, your cheeks, and you stay still until it’s too much. Grinning, you hide your face against her neck. 

Vi holds you tight, running her fingers up and down your back. She clears her throat, and you’re pleased that her cheeks are pink like yours. “There is something I need to tell you.” 

You wait. She presses her lips together, then shakes her head. “No. I’ll—I’ll tell you tomorrow.” 

You’re content to wait, but, still… “I’m not leaving you. Whatever it is, we’re doing this together, alright?”