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At first, Caitlyn wasn't sure why the scar on her stomach troubled her so much.
While the stab had gone deep, the overall damage paled in comparison to the shard of metal Ambessa drove into her eye—lid split, vision lost. To be run through was never pleasant, although Caitlyn knew she was remarkably lucky that every vital organ in her torso had been missed, and the healing process was simply a matter of time. Trying not to strain her core while in recovery was its own trial, but she and Vi shared a bed together while convalescing, and eventually the wound closed, the stitches were cut away, and it was merely a raised, pale line amidst so much skin.
A line she ran her fingers over every morning while getting dressed, even though there were a thousand more important things to worry about—relearning her house and life with half her sight, the toll of casualties and less lethal but equally devastating losses across Piltover and Zaun, calculating what of Noxus' threat remained now that Ambessa was gone and the Hexcore had vanished into a distant, impossible light along with Jayce and Viktor. While Caitlyn had surrendered the Kiramman seat on the Council to Sevika, she was still the head of a noble house, and expected to guide the city back to some semblance of stability.
There were more pleasant distractions, too, of course. Vi was in her life again, wholly in her life again, slotting into a thousand empty spaces Caitlyn once struggled to admit were inside of her heart. They talked and cooked and helped each other dress; they argued and showered together and had sex which made Caitlyn grateful she was alive with a soft animal body that could take those sensations and translate them into love. On some nights, they simply wept in each other's arms, years of tears wearing through the stone shields around both their hearts.
Yet the scar still bothered her. Every time Caitlyn caught a glimpse of it in the mirror, or accidentally brushed the subtle divide through fabric, a part of her startled like it was some glitching bit of Hextech, waiting to shock and corrupt. When she was particularly stressed, the twin mark on Vi's stomach upset her with equal intensity, and Caitlyn had to stop herself from snapping her rifle in half, even if the true damage had come from a Noxian spear and not that terrible instant when her mind shattered from grief.
Vi, ever-observant, skirted around the mark with care, without saying a word, but even such a quiet acknowledgement made the struggle in Caitlyn's mind that much more salient. What was the difference between that rough band of skin and the one which cut down through her eye, equally as deep?
Both had caused incredible agony, although Caitlyn only remembered each piercing moment in an adrenaline-laced blur, color and rage and raw instinct carrying her from one second to the next until the enchanted Rookern around Ambessa's arm was severed and darkness claimed everything else. Yet the consequences were on almost opposite ends of the spectrum, one disabling her in combat and the other a mere aesthetic concern.
She had never been vain, to the point that her mother actively worked to instill an interest in her own appearance beyond practicality at a young age. If Caitlyn had her way, she would have stayed the little mud-splattered huntress in boots and leather, running around until leaves and sweat made a makeshift crown out of her hair. The importance of being put together made perfect sense—whether or not people liked to acknowledge it, physical composure and dress could have outsized influence on actions and words alike—but Caitlyn didn't care about being seen as beautiful, lovely as it was when Vi whispered the word into her ear.
The malaise was insistent, so insistent that Caitlyn knew she had to do something about it, if not what exactly that entailed. She approached the topic in the dark, one night after she and Vi had made love, their bodies cooling down in tangled sheets. Vi was stretched out on her stomach as Caitlyn flanked her side, running slender fingers over powerful planes of muscle marked indelibly with black ink, chasing the engine-like spire up a spine that had carried the world.
"Why did you decide to get these?" Caitlyn asked. "I've always wondered."
Vi turned on the pillow just enough to meet her curious gaze. "The ink?"
"Yes." She drew a fingertip over one small key, then copied the gesture on the other. "The design is so intricate. It says so much about you, your life, your strength. I think it's quite impressive."
A little crinkle went through Vi's brow, the asymmetrical tug mirrored on the scarred side of her mouth; she always had that look when accepting a compliment, learning how to swallow kindness without fearing it might choke her on the way down.
"It was my third or fourth year in Stillwater," Vi murmured. "I had the picture in my head for a while before that, because there's not really a ton to do, you know? I had to barter for some paper and the shittiest knot of pencil lead you've ever seen in your life to even start drawing it out. Became a project to... keep me going. Something I could build."
Caitlyn bit her lip. "Something that would stay?"
Gray eyes warmed—with the moonlight streaming through the bedroom window, they were pure silver—before Vi reached out to cup her cheek. "What's up, Cait? If you want to talk about my tattoos, we can, but I don't know if that's what this is about."
She leaned into the touch even as her stomach roiled. How could she not, when Vi being with her was a gift every waking moment? "It's so... superfluous."
"Not if it's putting that line right between your eyes," Vi said, gesturing toward it with a fingertip. "You know you can tell me anything."
That was true. One of the greatest things Vi had given her was the space to be radically honest, no matter the subject or time of day. Caitlyn was used to everyone expecting her to couch her words, play nice, present a united front even when something was terribly wrong.
"You know the scar I have here?" She gently nudged her knuckles against the bottom of Vi's ribs until the other woman shifted just enough for Caitlyn's hand to meet the pattern of smooth, raised tissue. "Like yours, but on the other side."
"Yeah," Vi said. "What about it?"
"It bothers me all the time." Such a simple fact and yet uttering it gave her the sense she had just spit out poison. "I don't know why. There's no actual pain or discomfort, but mentally it... stings."
The crease in Vi's brow deepened. "Does your eye do that?"
"No, that's the thing." Caitlyn's hand shied away from Vi's stomach; it felt wrong to keep touching there when she was too wary to bare her matching mark. "I remember that perfect moment when I knew I could expose Ambessa. What it would cost me. I didn't even think about taking the trade."
"You sacrificed part of yourself in order to win." When Caitlyn nodded, Vi added: "To save people."
"And that felt right. I mean, of course it did, because it was the right thing to do." She was babbling now, scrabbling around in the water of her thoughts to find something solid, a stone beneath the tide. "But before when Ambessa stabbed me, she said, 'desperation is the doorway to oblivion'. I was desperate, but I was also afraid and tired and ashamed—"
Vi interrupted her with a gentle stroke, the circle of a calloused thumb over Caitlyn's cheek. "Ashamed?"
"That I ever trusted Maddie." One rock between her fingertips, the edges sharp. "That I wasn't there for you the moment you lost Jinx and Vander again." The second truth was heavy, straining the palm. "That I gave up so much of myself out of anger that Ambessa almost won in the end, and so many people died because—"
Were the stones real, Caitlyn would have squeezed them so tight she drew blood. "It feels like a rot inside me, Vi. I know I can't ever truly make up for it. But I can't let go of that moment the knife sank in, when I was staring at the hilt sticking out of my skin, because the only thought in my mind what what did you expect, Caitlyn?"
Tears surged hot to the corner of her eyes; even if her left side was a wall of darkness now, the ducts there still obediently spilled out salt. Then Vi's hands were there, both of them, cupping her face and diverting the trails before they fell past her cheeks.
"Cait, you didn't deserve to get hurt. Or betrayed. You didn't deserve to lose your mother. Yeah, it happened, we can't escape that shit no matter how much we might want to, but torturing yourself isn't going to fix anything either."
She covered Vi's hands with her own, making contact with those rough knuckles she knew so well, the friction a comfort. "I don't want to feel this way. But something needs to change, and I can't figure out what. The battle's over. My body's healed. And I'm stuck."
Vi leaned forward, just enough to put a whisper-soft kiss against Caitlyn's lips. "Is that why you asked about my tattoos?"
"I wondered... if getting them helped you in Stillwater," Caitlyn admitted quietly. "If it gave you command of yourself again."
"Oh yeah, that was definitely part of it." A small, wry smile parted Vi's lips, and Caitlyn treasured that brief flash of teeth more than any trophy or medal awarded to her name. "Some of it was a memorial, for Mylo and Claggor and Vander. Some of it was reminding myself that I was still a part of Zaun, no matter what little box they stuck me in. But after I was under the needle, listening to that mind-numbing buzz for hours and hours praying it healed clean and I didn't get a damn infection, when I saw my reflection the first time in someone's meal tray... I felt unstoppable. I had nothing, but I'd gotten what I wanted anyway. I made the impossible happen."
That was what she needed. To see the change, have it writ upon her flesh on purpose. A choice, not a tragedy, not some brutality imposed upon her. Caitlyn sniffled to try and clear her eyes; the next breath was a little easier, then the next.
"I think I'd like to get something there," she said softly. "I don't know what yet, but maybe you could help with ideas? We can find out who in Piltover and Zaun still has a working tattoo gun."
"Absolutely." Vi tilted forward to kiss her again, and this time Caitlyn returned the gesture with lips and tongue, warm with gratitude. "But how about for now we get some sleep? You wore me out earlier."
The comment jolted a laugh from Caitlyn's throat, breaking the tension lingering through her limbs. She slipped her arm over Vi's gorgeous back and pressed close, immediately comforted by the familiar spill of breath against her throat as the other woman nuzzled against her collarbone, the hands that had guarded her face secure around her shoulder blades instead.
Life continued its grueling march the next morning, and it wasn't until a week or so later that Caitlyn carved out some spare time after dinner to actually come up with some designs. She freed up one of her case boards and opened a new box of paper, then hunted down a sealed box of ink for a proper Kiramman pen so they would have a range of colors to choose from.
Vi, as it turned out, was quite the artist. Caitlyn watched over one sculpted shoulder as her lover traced out various requests, not even needing a ruler for the lines. Her hand was impossibly steady, keeping a firm but careful grip on the pen with every drag and swirl of ink back and forth.
Thankfully, she was also patient, because Caitlyn wasn't pleased with the first half dozen ideas they kicked around. It didn't feel right to bear the gears and steam like Vi, as she wasn't from Zaun, and Caitlyn already felt captive enough by her duties of her bloodline that a specific symbol of the family would be more burden than liberation. Vi sketched out a few different icons from books of Piltover and Ionia that Caitlyn fetched from the library, but neither combination seemed to do the trick.
"What about flowers?" Vi asked after rolling out a fresh piece of paper.
Caitlyn paused, a finger pressed to her lip in thought. "Flowers?"
"Yeah, I mean, maybe it's too raw of a thing to think about still, but when you talk about your mother, you mention the garden a lot. There were all of those petals at the funeral. And... it's growth. Nature."
"Violets," Caitlyn said softly. "They were violets."
Vi blinked a few times, her face going a touch pink. "Oh, yeah. That's probably a little strange since I—"
"It's not strange." The interruption was soft but insistent before Caitlyn leaned to wrap her arms around Vi from behind and squeezed tight. "I know that name is a special thing to you, just like you're eternally special to me. Those flowers mean a lot, too, and the garden. But they don't belong to the Kiramman lineage. They're just a part of the world."
Vi turned to press a kiss along the top of Caitlyn's hand. "Okay, give me a minute. I did a lot more mechanical designs in prison than realistic ones."
Much as she wanted to keep holding Vi close, it did restrict her range of motion, so Caitlyn let go and decided to make tea for the two of them instead. Vi hadn't liked the beverage the first few times she brewed it, but Caitlyn kept experimenting with blends until a black leaf heavy with stonefruit and smoke notes captured her lover's attention. Getting a full box imported amidst the greater chaos of Piltover had perhaps cost too much money, although Caitlyn believed to her bones that wealth was fundamentally useless if it wasn't going toward someone's happiness.
She stirred a bit of milk into both of their cups before setting the tray down, and was glad for doing that first, else she might have lost hold of it at the sight of the flowing petals and branches that Vi had meticulously drawn across the paper, using enough wet purple ink that it spread out like watercolor from stem to tip in each flower. For a second, they looked real enough for Caitlyn to pluck the violets right off the page.
"I thought they could spread outward from the scar, you know," Vi said casually, still half-lost in her creative musing. "You said it felt like some kind of rot was trapped there, but it could be fertile ground instead, right? Growing past everything that happened."
Warmth tightened the corner of Caitlyn's eyes. "It's beautiful, Violet."
That soft gray gaze finally broke from the page, and Vi immediately dropped the pen, scattering a bit of purple ink across the table. Caitlyn hoped the stain was permanent. "Fuck, Cait. I didn't mean to make you cry."
"Good tears," Caitlyn insisted, wiping at her face before they could spread any further. "They're good tears, I promise. The design is perfect."
Vi smiled, although there was a shy edge to the expression. "I mean, I don't know if it's that—"
"I do." She wouldn't let the other woman tear herself down, especially not after spending hours on drawing concept after concept. "I'm getting that tattooed on my body, and I want you to come with me."
"You bet." The smile widened to a grin. "Someone has to keep you hydrated and still while you cuss the artist out for stabbing you a thousand times."
Caitlyn let out a soft laugh. "And when is the last time you heard me cuss someone out ?"
"Well, you don't actually say the words. It's this glare that makes every Enforcer in a hundred mile radius piss themselves, is the thing. Do that to your artist and they're definitely going to mess up some of the lines."
Rather than argue, Caitlyn kissed Vi right on the lips and demanded that she take a break to drink her tea. Once their cups were empty and the ink of the design was dry, Caitlyn rolled the paper up with care to store it temporarily inside a message tube so Vi's drawing would stay intact until it could be replicated.
That night, Caitlyn found it impossible to sleep, although the feeling was far from her historical haunted insomnia, replaying past mistakes across the projector of her mind. This was sheer excitement, a flutter under her skin that she couldn't remember feeling in quite some time. Vi stirred more than once, offering to stay awake beside her, but Caitlyn had long accepted she was going to be tired the next day, and soothed Vi to sleep again with tender touches along her back.
The artist they found was one of Gert's friends down in Zaun, who accepted Vi's condolences with a sad smile, but considered it an honor to work on anyone who had fought in that final, brutal battle. Caitlyn had stripped off her turtleneck and gotten on the table without a second thought, although as she watched ink mixed into the proper colors and got a long look at the sharp tip of the tattoo gun, adrenaline tipped her eagerness into the subtle jitter of anxiety.
"Hey." Vi's hand wrapped around hers and squeezed tight, a grounding weight. "You'll be fine, Cait. All you have to do is lay there and breathe."
"But I'll be different afterward," Caitlyn whispered. "I'll see it every day."
"It will be a reminder of who you are." That charming, dogged smile reemerged, Vi's impossibly gentle eyes and scarred mouth. "And who you are is so fucking great, Caitlyn Kiramman."
"Don't say my name like that," Caitlyn murmured, although she didn't mean the words at all. "I'll make you keep it."
Then Vi brought their joined hands up to her lips, and pressed a tender kiss to Caitlyn's knuckles. "I'd like that someday. But we don't have to talk about it now."
Caitlyn's jaw dropped, and it was only the artist coming over to lay the outline of the drawing over her stomach that gave her the impetus to recover. Her whole body felt warm, but after a few deep breaths—and the cold spritz of water to set ghostly blue tracery around the boundaries of her scar—the sensation began to fade.
She flinched with the first buzz of the needle, although it was reflex more than anything else. The pain wasn't intense so much as constant, and as the vibration faded to a dull roar against her nerves, Caitlyn was able to close her eye and breathe. Vi kept a light hold on her hand, thumb drawing idle circles, and that point of contact kept her from drifting off completely.
An hour in, the artist asked Caitlyn if she wanted a break, but after quickly draining half the bottle of water Vi had brought, she insisted on continuing. It took all of her willpower not to look at the design half-made, but Caitlyn wanted to take in the tattoo as a whole, not make herself nervous with the smear of blood and ink. Her fingers did start fidgeting against Vi's, though, at least until her lover began to hum.
"That song again?" Caitlyn smiled. "You're going to train me to relax every time I hear it."
"Then I'm doing my job," Vi teased. "Just breathe, Cait. You're almost there."
On the other side of that ache and sting was something better. She told herself that on repeat until the artist finally pulled away and got a clean cloth to wipe off the mess and what remained of the outline underneath. Caitlyn was trembling by the time she was told to stand up and look in the mirror, grateful once more for Vi's guidance out of the chair and onto her feet.
Like the moment she had seen Vi's drawing as wet ink on paper, the tattoo jumped off her skin as it had burst to life from there, damp petals flush with life and beauty. Strands of violet curled outward from the scar, overlapping one another in a tender embrace, finding root in the ragged soil of raised and rejoined tissue. Each flower was beautifully detailed, layers of purple ink spreading out to black lines, dots of yellow in the center kissing lilac and white. Caitlyn had to resist the urge to run her fingers over them, aware of how much it would hurt, but the entire design was—
"Perfect," she whispered. "Oh, Vi, it's perfect."
"Yeah." The awe Caitlyn felt was echoed in her lover's voice. "Wow. Something I drew is really on you forever."
Caitlyn laughed softly, turning to look Vi in the face rather than sharing the mirror's reflection. "Well, that was the point."
Vi's expression softened. "Still allowed to make me a little weak in the knees, isn't it?"
No matter how long she lived, Caitlyn would never stop being amazed at how such a full, passionate heart had survived so much while staying intact. She wasn't sure if she moved first or Vi did, but it didn't matter because their lips had found one another's, and only Vi's hands carefully directing her hips prevented a rather painful collision.
"Good thinking," Caitlyn mumbled against her mouth.
"Don't want to damage the masterpiece," Vi whispered back, "or your new tattoo."
Heat spread across Caitlyn's face, but that warmth was proof that she was here and alive, that the story of her life—and a life with the gorgeous woman before her—was still being written. The battles ahead of them were too numerous to count, yet they could survive it together. They could thrive together.
And what war couldn't be won with Vi by her side?