Chapter Text
Soft morning light spilled across the bedroom, catching on the rumpled sheets and the clothes scattered from the night before. Caitlyn and Vi lay tangled together, their bodies pressed close in the warm, quiet aftermath of the night. Vi's arm was a heavy, comforting weight across Caitlyn's waist, her breath slow and steady against Caitlyn's shoulder.
Caitlyn lay still for a moment, savoring the familiar ache in her muscles and the lingering scent of their shared warmth. A small, private smile touched her lips as she gently traced a thumb along Vi's jaw, following the faint line of the scar through her eyebrow.
Then, a soft, melodic chime cut through the quiet. Her alarm.
Vi stirred with a low groan, her grip tightening as she pulled Caitlyn flush against her, burying her face deeper into the crook of her neck. Their legs remained stubbornly intertwined beneath the sheets.
"Five more minutes," Vi rasped, her voice thick with sleep. Her hand slid slowly up Caitlyn's side in a lazy, possessive caress.
Caitlyn chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to the messy pink hair near her face. "I have to get up, love. Council briefing is at eight. They want another useless update on the sweeps. Nothing interesting, but I prefer to be prompt."
Vi groaned again, clearly unimpressed. She pressed a warm, lingering kiss to the side of Caitlyn's throat, then another just below her ear. "Tell them you're sick," she murmured, her voice dropping into a low, suggestive rumble. "I'll make it very worth your while."
The offer was incredibly tempting. Caitlyn closed her eyes, allowing herself a single second to just feel the heat of Vi's body before discipline prevailed. She kissed Vi's forehead, letting the moment linger, then gently disentangled herself and swung her legs over the edge of the bed.
"You know I can't do that," she said, standing up and reaching for her clothes. "As leader of House Kiramman, they expect me to show my face. As you are well aware, these past six months have been rather turbulent."
Vi propped herself up on one elbow, her playful demeanor fading into a look of quiet, genuine support as she watched Caitlyn pull on her shirt. "I'm sorry about quitting the Enforcers. I really did try, you know. I put on the damn uniform every day, but we both knew it was a ticking clock. I'm shit at 'yes sir, no sir,' especially when the orders come from people who've never had to fight dirty to survive. The paperwork alone almost killed me."
Caitlyn nodded in quiet agreement as she stepped into her trousers, her expression sincere. "I think it worked out for the best in the end. Now you can channel all that restless energy into The Last Drop. Vander would be proud to see it back where it belongs—and even prouder to see you running it so successfully."
Vi’s smile faltered. She looked away, gaze drifting to the arched windows. In the six months since Jinx’s attack claimed Cassandra’s life, everything had changed. Caitlyn had inherited the mantle of Sheriff and head of House Kiramman far too soon, while her father had withdrawn into a year-long sabbatical to grieve, leaving her to manage the family’s vast political and financial legacy alone. Compared to that weight, running a bar in the Undercity sometimes made Vi feel painfully out of place.
Caitlyn noticed the shift. Pausing as she buttoned her vest, she offered a teasing smile. "Whatever the case, at least I know I’m dating the most attractive bartender in the district."
Vi’s expression softened, the armor slipping away. "I’m honored, Cupcake. Glad all my hard work pays off."
Caitlyn finished fastening her holster and slipped on her jacket, adjusting the silver badge on her lapel. She returned to the bed, eyes warm, and leaned down for a slow, deep kiss full of quiet promise.
"I'll see you tonight," she murmured against Vi's lips.
"Damn right you will." Vi stretched out, looking thoroughly pleased. "And full credit for the Undercity chaos I’ve brought to this family fortress. Best decision you ever made, letting me move in."
Caitlyn’s gaze tracked the scattered clothes on the floor, a soft laugh escaping her. "My mother would have had an absolute fit. She always said a messy room was the first sign of a compromised mind. You’re doing an excellent job of it, Vi."
Vi chuckled, leaning forward with a wicked grin. "Just wait until tonight. I’ve got plans—classified, of course."
Mildly intrigued, Caitlyn pulled back just enough to meet Vi's eyes, a teasing glint mirroring her partner's. "Do I sense there will be a lack of decorum?"
Vi's grin widened. "No promises."
"In that case, the new Sheriff of Piltover is very much looking forward to the investigation," Caitlyn purred.
"Be careful out there, Cupcake," Vi said, her hand lingering on Caitlyn's waist for one last beat. "Don't do anything stupidly heroic."
With a light swat to Vi's arm, Caitlyn turned toward the door, tossing the words back over her shoulder. "No promises."
The heavy bedroom door clicked shut behind Caitlyn, and the soft domestic warmth of the morning evaporated in the cool expanse of the hallway.
She descended the sweeping marble staircase, her boot heels clicking sharply against the polished stone. Below, the estate already hummed with quiet activity. Near the base of the stairs, Thomas—the elderly servant who had served House Kiramman for years—emerged from the dining room carrying a sleek thermal travel mug, a neatly wrapped pastry, and a banana.
"Your coffee, Miss Kiramman. Black, as requested," he murmured with a polite bow. "And a little something for breakfast. Your mother was always particular about good nutrition."
Caitlyn offered a wistful smile. She had once resented her mother's constant reminders about healthy eating. Now she would give anything to hear that voice again, even in rebuke. Pulling herself from the reverie, she accepted the items. The mug's warmth grounded her hands, though her appetite had long vanished.
"Thank you, Thomas." She met his gaze. "And please… call me Caitlyn. We have had this conversation several times these past six months."
Thomas hesitated, his posture stiffening slightly as a look of quiet reservation crossed his face. "Miss Kiramman, your mother always insisted on proper protocol. She felt it maintained the necessary structure within the household. Old habits are difficult to break, I’m afraid."
"My mother isn't here anymore, Thomas," Caitlyn replied softly, her voice gentle. "Please. I insist."
The old man looked at her for a long moment, the strict formality in his eyes softening just a fraction. He offered a small, respectful nod. "Very well."
Caitlyn turned her gaze toward the grand staircase, staring up toward the master bedroom where her partner was still resting. "Please ensure Vi eats something before she leaves today. She is still unaccustomed to being waited on, but tell her it is an order—no excuses."
Thomas inclined his head with a gentle, knowing bow. "Of course, Miss Caitlyn. I will see to it personally."
Hearing the compromise, Caitlyn offered a faint smile. She realized she could live with being met halfway. "Thank you."
Instead of proceeding to the main entrance where her official transport awaited, Caitlyn turned toward the back wing of the mansion. She passed the formal parlors and her father's vacant study before entering a secure utility room equipped with the estate's advanced climate and security systems.
She set her breakfast aside on a sleek console table. The servants knew better than to disturb her during "private council business" in the secure sectors. From her inner jacket pocket, she withdrew an untraceable electronic keycard and swiped it across a concealed panel behind a decorative sconce. The panel hummed softly in blue light, scanning her biometrics. A heavy reinforced door slid open with a hiss, revealing the entrance to the subterranean bunker.
The elevator descent was one Caitlyn always dreaded. She stepped out and forced her breathing steady as she navigated the maze of dimly lit hallways until she reached the small circular holding area. Only a handful of reinforced cells had been built here — most stood empty and dark, save for the one occupied at the far end.
A discreet utility room off to the side handled the basic necessities: simple meals, fresh water, and occasional changes of clothes. Caitlyn paid two private mercenaries handsomely for their silence and discretion, rotating their shifts so that one was always active while the other handled the supplies.
As she approached the occupied cell, the mercenary currently on duty straightened immediately. "Miss Kiramman."
Maintaining her composure, Caitlyn nodded. "I am here to see the prisoner."
The guard noted the tension in her shoulders. "Would you like me to stay with you ma'am?"
"No. Leave us."
With a curt nod, the guard departed, his boots echoing until a heavy iron door sealed shut in the distance.
Caitlyn approached the bars, the weight of her deception pressing heavily against her chest. Only moments earlier, she had stood in the bedroom, buttoning her jacket while Vi watched from the pillows. She had spoken of a routine council briefing on the sweeps. Vi had trusted her without question.
In truth, the deception had begun two months ago. After only four months of official sweeps and investigations, there had been no further sightings and not a single credible trace of Jinx. The Council and the Bureau grew increasingly impatient, demanding tangible results and exerting relentless pressure on Caitlyn in her new role as Sheriff. Public confidence was eroding, and she felt the weight of their expectations crushing her authority. Unable to accept the stagnation—and driven by her own unresolved grief—Caitlyn had taken matters into her own hands. She launched a discreet, unsanctioned investigation through a trusted private investigator, which finally led her to Jinx’s makeshift lair.
Even after the successful capture, she had delayed this confrontation for over a week. The isolation had clearly taken its toll on the prisoner, but Caitlyn had needed time to summon the courage to face the person who had shattered her family.
Steeling herself, Caitlyn stepped into the dim light of the cell block. Jinx lounged sideways on the cold metal bench, one leg kicked against the wall, blue braids dangling. The forced nonchalance could not conceal the twitch in her fingers or the frantic scuff marks on the floor.
At the sound of footsteps, Jinx's head tilted. Her violet eyes narrowed, a manic gleam breaking through exhaustion before a mocking grin spread across her face.
"Well, well, well," Jinx drawled, voice thick with theatrical flair. "If it isn't Piltover's finest cupcake. The classy enforcer who stole my sister's heart. Fashionably late, as always. How's domestic bliss treating you? Vi still playing house with the enemy, or has she realized shiny badges don't fix family trauma?"
Caitlyn's jaw tightened. She folded her arms, posture rigid. "It is Sheriff now, Jinx."
"Ooh, Sheriff. Even classier," Jinx mocked, sliding off the bench with fluid grace.
"Do you understand why you are here?" Caitlyn asked, voice low. "Terrorism. Multiple murders. Attempted murder. Destruction of property. Enough explosives violations to bankrupt half the city. This is not a social call."
Jinx practically glided across the cell and pressed her face right up against the heavy bars, her eyes wide. "Spare me the lecture, Cupcake, and let’s talk about the real atrocities here."
"Which are?"
"Five-star suffering all around! The hospitality? Non-existent," Jinx cried, starting to pace the small expanse of the cell, gesturing wildly with her cuffed hands. "I've been stuck in this concrete box for a whole week, Caitlyn. A week! And not a single balloon. Not one! Where's the welcome committee? The little mint on the pillow? The continental breakfast? I asked for a rocket launcher-shaped waffle and they gave me oatmeal. Oatmeal!"
She whirled, pointing dramatically. "And this toilet—stainless steel, no seat, fully exposed? My artistic sensibilities are offended."
Caitlyn pinched the bridge of her nose. "You are in a maximum-security cell, Jinx. Not a hotel."
"Then where the hell is the tacky orange jumpsuit?" Jinx dropped her arms, looking down at herself with an exaggerated pout as she aggressively tugged at the fabric of her collar. "Because have you seen this? Gray. Plain, boring, depressing gray. No color, no style. It's an absolute crime against fashion, Cupcake."
"Stop calling me Cupcake," Caitlyn snapped when Jinx persisted. "That name belongs to Vi."
The manic energy drained from Jinx’s face, replaced by raw vulnerability. "Speaking of my sister… where is she?"
Caitlyn froze. "What do you mean, where is she? She's with me of course."
Jinx's grip tightened on the iron bars until her knuckles turned white. "She's with you in what capacity?"
Caitlyn remained silent, her jaw set. She had no intention of revealing the intimate reality of her life with Vi to her mother’s killer.
The heavy silence stretched for several agonizing seconds. When realization finally dawned, Jinx’s eyes widened slightly. A sharp, twisted grin returned to her face, masking the sudden flash of hurt.
"Oh... so we're practically family now, right?" Jinx mocked, her voice dropping into a dangerous, sing-song cadence. "So why hasn't she come down here? Why hasn't she looked me in the eye?"
Caitlyn swallowed her guilt and made her choice. "She knows you're here. And she doesn't want to see you."
Jinx recoiled as if struck. For a moment, she looked small and fragile. "Vi… she said that?"
"Why would she want to see you?" Caitlyn replied coldly. "After everything, you are nothing but a monster to her now."
The words lingered in the sterile air. Jinx’s jaw trembled, but she quickly rebuilt her walls. A hollow laugh escaped her. "Oh, wow. Sister of the year."
Caitlyn couldn't stand to look at her for another second. "I'll see about the oatmeal," she concluded flatly, turning on her heel to leave.
"That’s the spirit!" Jinx called after her, voice cracking. "And tell Vi her girlfriend is a terrible host! Zero stars! Would not recommend!"
Caitlyn did not look back. She walked briskly toward the exit, heart hammering. A thousand unsaid words burned in her throat—anger, grief, disbelief—but none would come. The dual lies she carried—one to Vi above, one to Jinx below—felt heavy enough to crush her.