My story. Caitlyn gets a dog. A doberman. But the dog and Vi don't get a long. That is until Caitlyn is hurt. Then Vi and dog have a bonding experience. Vengeance.
Based on these prompts,
[Part 1], and [Part 2].
@armeenix I think you were interested?
I can't promise it's any good. But I enjoyed I writing it. I suppose that's what it is all about in the end.
A truce between monsters
"What is that?" Asked Vi.
""That", is a dog. His name is Brutus." Replied Caitlyn.
"I knew you were talking about getting a dog, but I thought it'd be something smaller."
"We've always had dobermans. I grew up with them. I got him from the shelter. His previous owners weren't the best. He needs a little TLC."
Caitlyn looked at him.
"Brutus, sit."
He obeyed, sitting immediately.
"Good boy!" She exclaimed, patting him on the head.
"You can pet him Vi. He will be OK."
Vi reached out to touch him. She was hesitant. She had been bitten before by dogs just like him. He growled at her when she got close. She knew that noise. She took her hand away quickly.
"He doesn't like me, Cait."
"Nonsense, he just needs to get used to you."
Vi looked at the dog. We aren't going to be friends, are we, she thought. She couldn't help feeling that the dog thought the same thing.
A few weeks later
Vi was home late. The house was dark. She could hear the dog barking, stuck in a room somewhere. Stupid mutt. Where was Caitlyn?
"Caitlyn? Are you home cupcake?"
She turned a corner on the way to the kitchen. Caitlyn was lying on the floor. There was blood on her face. She may have screamed her name, she couldn't remember.
The doctors took her away. She had a head injury, probably a concussion. They wanted to watch her overnight. The enforcers said it looked like a burglary, but Caitlyn had no shortage of enemies. They would investigate. She wanted to go with Caitlyn, but someone had to watch the dog. She was alone in their big house. Just her and Brutus. In the sitting room, Brutus sat by Caitlyn's chair. His head on the seat.
"You miss her too, huh." Said Vi.
She spent the next day at the hospital. Caitlyn hadn't woken up yet. They said she was stable, but she just needed time to heal. It was like the hexgates again. Waiting for her to recover, feeling helpless. She hated that feeling. She needed to do something.
She went to the enforcers headquarters. They hadn't made any progress yet, but they had made several arrests. Useless. Arresting people was the only thing they knew how to do.
At home, Brutus was waiting for her.
"Are you smart, Brutus?" She said.
The dog looked at Vi when she mentioned his name.
"Caitlyn said you were smart. Just had a temperament problem. Well, I got a problem like that myself."
Vi reached into her bag and pulled out a jacket. It was evidence that the enforcers found at the mansion. It belonged to whoever broke in that night. Some idiot of an enforcer left it out in the open. Easiest thing in the world to swipe it. She put it in front of Brutus. He sniffed it, then growled.
"Yeah, you recognise that, don't you? This is the guy who hurt Caitlyn. Can you find him? If I take you to the undercity, can you sniff him out?"
Is this going to work? The enforcers weren't going to find him. Too busy looking in the wrong places. It was up to her. They hurt Caitlyn. Someone had to pay for that.
Zaun
She got off the tram in the undercity. The conductor would have normally said something about Brutus. But he took one look at them and decided that today he wasn't paid enough for this.
Vi took out the jacket again. She let Brutus take a good long sniff. She remembered the words Caitlyn had used.
"Brutus, hunt." She said.
He sniffed the ground around the tram. There were so many scents, but there, he recognised that one, that way!"
He made off into the crowd, Vi chased after him. He stopped every few yards to sniff the ground, and then he was off again.
They eventually stopped. He circled, sniffing. But didn't move.
"Well? Where is he?" Demanded Vi. "Have you lost him? Stupid dog. I knew this was a dumb idea."
She leaned against a wall, slowly sliding to the ground. Stupid. What did she think would happen? The dog could just find him? Then what?
Brutus walked over to her.
"Get away from me. Stupid dog."
Where the hell was she, anyway? Yeah, I recognise this place. Alleyway, near the vents. The vents. Would they have blown the scent away? If the vent was blowing air out in one direction, and they were heading in another.
"Brutus, come here, come with me."
She lead him away from the alleyway, down a side street.
"Hunt." She said.
He sniffed the ground for a few moments, he raised his head and he was off again.
They finally came to an old warehouse. Brutus stopped and growled.
"This it?" Asked Vi.
It looked old, falling apart in places. Who would come here? Perfect if you wanted to lay low for a while.
Vi twisted her neck from side to side, then stretched her arms. If they were in there, then things were about to get violent.
She looked at Brutus. He just stared at the building.
"Well then, let's see if anyones home."
She gave the door a solid kick, and it caved in under the force.
There were three of them. They sat around a table playing cards. They jumped when the door smashed open. Had the enforcers found them? No, just a girl and a dog.
"Get lost, go and find somewhere else to sleep." One of them said. He looked like the one in charge.
"Not looking for that." Answered Vi. "I'm looking for you."
"Us? We don't owe you anything. Get outta here before you get hurt." He replied.
"Ain't me getting hurt tonight." Replied Vi.
He nodded to the other two. The first one was a big guy, she fought bigger. The second one was smaller, but he had a club. Three on one? Not good odds. But the leader was hanging back, coward. So, two on one. Brutus growled beside her. No, two on two.
"Brutus, sic 'em!"
And as one, they moved. Brutus launched himself at the nearest attacker, grabbing hold of the arm that held the cudgel, his teeth sinking deep.
Vi hit the second one, a right fist to the face. She followed with a left to his stomach, and as he bent over, she grabbed his head and bought her knee up into his face.
When he was down, she turned to the other one.
"Brutus, heel."
He still had hold of the attacker, unwilling to let go.
"Heel!" Vi Shouted.
He let go, returning to Vi's side.
"Look what he did!" Cried the attacker, "I'm bleeding!"
"Could have been worse." Said Vi, "Could have gone for your balls."
The attacker looked at her. Half panicking about could have happened. Vi hit him, a powerful right fist. He was out like a light.
She looked at their leader then. Brutus growled. Vi knew that noise, but it wasn't for her this time.
He looked nervous. He'd just seen his henchman taken down within minutes. He genuinely couldn't say who scared him more, the dog or the girl.
"Look, we can make a deal. I'll cut you in on what we stole, like, er, 10%?"
"I'm not after money. You hurt her. You put her in a hospital bed." Said Vi.
"What? The one from the big house? She shouldn't have made a fuss, the bitch had it coming!"
"Wrong answer." Said Vi.
He turned and started running, Vi gave the command, and Brutus set after him. He grabbed his arm, dragging him to the ground. Vi raced over, she told Brutus to heel, and when he was clear, she pounced on the leader.
She landed a blow and felt his nose break. She hit again and again. Hands that could hit prison cell walls could make short work of a human face. She thought of Caitlyn, finding her unconscious on the floor. Another punch. She remembered seeing her after the hexgates. Blood, so much blood. Another punch. She raised her fist again for another blow when a noise made her pause. Whining. The damn dog was whining. She turned to look at him, ready to tell him to shut the hell up. His ears were low, not perked up as usual. He was afraid. Why was he afraid?
She looked back at the man who had attacked Caitlyn. His face was a bloody mess. She did that. Brutus, he's afraid of me, she thought.
She remembers a frightened little girl, her first night in prison. No one will tell her why she's there. When she asks, they tell her to shut up. That night, she got her first beating from the guards. To stop her whining, they said.
She got up off the leader. Her hands were bloody, but not her blood. Would she have stopped? If it wasn't for Brutus, would she have carried on hitting him? She didn't have an answer. At least not one she liked.
She looked down on him as he lay unconscious at her feet.
"Lucky. You got lucky tonight. You're never gonna know how close you came." Said Vi.
"Brutus, let's go home."
There was an anonymous tip sent to the enforcers. They found the thieves handcuffed outside their hideout. The enforcers found stolen goods from other robberies. They were going to Stillwater for a long time. Their leader, when he woke up, said he couldn't recognise who attacked him. But he remembered, he saw them in his nightmares.
She showered when she got home. She needed to wash the blood away. She fed Brutus, then sat in a chair and let him eat. What do you see when you look at me? Last night, I did something terrible, I beat someone unconscious. But it could have been so much worse. Am I a monster to you? Is that what you see?
"I'd never hurt Caitlyn." She said out loud.
Brutus looked over to her.
"I don't know if you know that. She said you came from a bad home. She never went into details. Did they hit you?"
Brutus sat but continued looking at her.
"I've had my share of being hit. They didn't think I was even a person, undercity trash, no better than a dog like you. I was locked in there for seven years. I've never told Cait, but I don't know how many more beatings I had left in me. Before I finally broke. How many beatings does it take until you turn into the monster they say you are? But Caitlyn got me out. She saved me."
She looked at Brutus.
"Just like you, I guess. Her mom was right. She likes bringing home strays."
She reached out her hand to Brutus. Gently, she stroked his head. He didn't growl at her this time.
A few days later, Vi visited Caitlyn in hospital. She'd woken up, and doctors expected her to make a full recovery.
"How are you feeling today, cupcake?" Asked Vi.
"Much better. The doctors say I can go home tomorrow."
"That's great! Oh, I bought someone to see you."
She whistled, and Brutus came into the hospital room.
"Brutus! Come here, my beautiful boy!" Said Caitlyn.
He went to her side, jumping up onto the bed. His tail wagged with excitement.
"Have you two been getting along?" Asked Caitlyn.
"Yeah, I think we've come to an understanding." Replied Vi.
Vi reached out, gently stroking his head and neck. He looked at her but didn't growl.
A truce between monsters. Not for vengeance, not for fear, not for hate, but for love. For the love of Caitlyn Kiramman, they could live with each other.
Caitlyn smiled. And that smile made it all worth it.
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lieee by tori amos.
"i know you wanna save every little hair on my head, you little arsonist/i know we're dying/there's no sign of a parachute/why can't it be beautiful?/why's there got to be a sacrifice?"
THE BUTCHER
There are roughly seventy-five trillion cells in the human body.
This is a rough estimate, as most things are. There are more cells in a body than living beings on Naboo; even Coruscant has only three trillion people. Padmé likes to keep track of these things- numbers make sense, biology is quantifiable, a census can track a population, a heart monitor can count the beats of a heart. Hers runs too fast right now for her to count. Padmé sees the lava flowing around her, but she does not feel it.
There are seventy-five trillion cells in a human body, she thinks, and in that moment it feels like every single one is being ripped apart.
She was dead a moment ago and now she is alive. This fact alone is already difficult to comprehend, but her strange hyper-awareness of the world around her compounds with her existing bafflement and tips her over the edge into terror.
She laments that she doesn't know how many midichlorians are held in a force-sensitive body. If she knew, maybe Padmé could quantify her pain. That's what this is, isn't it, the Force has resurrected her? It's brought her back to life?
Ahsoka told her once that the same thing had happened to her. She'd been dead, and then alive, though when she whispered into the palm she cupped to Padmé's ear she confided that she had not come back unchanged. How miraculous. To think then that brave, glorious Ahsoka was the Jedi's little sacrificial lamb until they found someone else to execute.
Her throat burns. It's raw from screaming, crying, howling at Anakin. She has Anakin's blood under her nails where she'd clawed at him in desperation. She raises her hand to brush the skin of her neck and finds the imprint of a hand-shaped bruise, there, digging into her trachea.
The one greatest tool of her life- her voice- has been taken from her.
Padmé spits blood and scrapes herself off the ground.
She keeps waiting for the pin to drop, for everyone to leap out from behind a pillar or wall and shout surprise, like it's a party with fanfare and not the death knells of democracy. The genocide around the galaxy isn't real if she doesn't think about it, but it's all she can think about, so everyone is dead.
Except for her. She ought to be, but she's not. Judging by the kick in her belly, neither is her child.
Trudging over the edge of the cliff, Padmé peers down at Mustafar. She's been here before, she thinks, in a dream, a vision, she has waded through these red-hot waters and awoke screaming. She clutches the bannister. Below, two lightsabers swing in a flurry of motion, arcs of light so blinding she cannot see the fighters. They are out for blood, each of them.
So is she.
Padmé cannot run or leap to the surface like a Jedi can, but she is smart, and- she freezes. Her hands tingle fiercely. Though back from the dead, she feels larger than life! Isn't that strange? Unusual? Like some dark petal unfurling within her she feels knowledge and power at her fingertips. More now than ever before.
The toes of her boots touch the very edge of the platform. Below, a rock face is just flat enough that she may find purchase on it to safely cross the bubbling lava.
When she was just a girl, Sabé told her that courage requires only initiative. She inhales, exhales, and takes initiative. Padmé falls. Her braid whips in the air behind her, and she lands flat on her feet, weightless, as though in water.
It seems that gravity is no longer her master.
She cannot take any glee in the realization, not when her world is gasping it's dying breaths, but she can smile through the soot and sweat and tears. This much she allows herself.
Across the fire the men still fight. Obi-Wan leaps to the high ground; Anakin looms below.
Anchored to the spot, she clutches her swollen belly and watches her husband's limbs be severed in two swift motions.
Obi-Wan leaves, in the end. He leaves him there, percolating in the sludge of lava and resentment. She's seen Anakin's rage up close. She has felt it wrapped around her throat. Suffering will not satisfy him, not now, when he is no longer begging for scraps but simply fighting for his Masters praise, uncaring if they swing a hand at him so long as they clap when he mauls his next opponent.
She sobs as she runs, leaping from stone to stone. Pebbles float around her; chunks of lava rock vibrate and burst into the air, spewing chunks that hover and hesitate around her. Her braid snaps in the air as she falls to her knees before him.
He doesn't even see her. He can't. His left eyelid has melted shut, and he does not open the right.
Padmé touches her belly. You could help him, the meek part of her mind says. Our children need a Father, says the meaner one. She reaches down to caress his deformed face. In another world, she loves him, their children love him, he does well. She knows better now.
The Jedi eat their young.
In the air around him, she can now feel the vibration of the force, a scintillating and colorless warble of indescribable power. His hate bends around his love and the core crumbles, and snaps, is reformed again like a bone broken back into place. He lies at her knees, prone.
She has no voice to use. Padmé's throat burns. Her hands now black with his broiled blood, fingertips trembling against his shoulders, she whispers to him through the Force; This will be my final act of mercy.
From her pocket, she withdraws the knife she'd come to kill him with. Anakin's single eye opens, yellowed in the iris and too weak to emote. He says nothing when she rolls him onto his side for a cleaner cut, like a loyal dog presenting his underbelly. In his eye he loves her.
He watches her kill him.
Anakin goes limp. Her knife digs deeper with a sickening crunch, ensuring his spine is cleanly cut from his brain, like she'd seen the butcher do. She is many things, but never imprecise.
There are roughly eighty-six billion cells in the human brain, and she is sure to snuff out every last one. Padmé likes to be sure of these things.
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“Violence is always an answer. It may not be the right answer, but it’s still an answer. Who knows? Maybe they’ll give you half credit for being close”
